Born to Be Either Rich or Noble - Chapter 28

The injured took priority, so Qian Tong yielded and turned her back as the physician tended to him.

The room was so quiet that the faint rustle of fabric being removed filled her ears, making the atmosphere almost awkward. Song Yunzhi’s gaze lingered on her back as he asked, “Who was that?”

“You mean Young Master Duan?” Qian Tong turned slightly.

“Don’t turn around,” Song Yunzhi ordered.

Qian Tong couldn’t help thinking—how could a man be more chaste than she was? The day she’d been wounded, hadn’t he seen her too? She hadn’t said a word about it…

She began explaining the origins of the bandits. “The leader of the mountain bandits around Yangzhou is surnamed Duan. He’s been entrenched here for over twenty years. The man has no ambitions—only ever wanted to be king of his little hill. Whether in chaos or peace, he only robs rich merchants and never meddles in political disputes. Now he’s fifty or sixty, too old to fight, so everything’s managed by his son, Duan Yuanjin. That young master’s no better—no ambition either. Just inherited his father’s trade, specializing in plucking the four great merchant families like fat sheep…”

Her voice trembled faintly with hatred.

What Song Yunzhi had known before was only the surface. Her account went far deeper. His upper garments had already been removed—most wounds were on his arms and back, though one cut ran across his lower abdomen. He’d dodged in time, so it was shallow. When the physician poured burning liquor over the wound to disinfect it, Song paused briefly before asking, “When I met that young master today, he seemed refined—civilized in speech and manner. Different from other bandits.”

Qian Tong nodded. “People always crave what they lack. Old Duan never studied a day in his life—spent most of it as a mountain thief—so he didn’t want his son following in his footsteps. When Young Master Duan was six, he hired a tutor to teach him in the mountains. Whether or not he’d ever pass the imperial exams didn’t matter—his son couldn’t be an illiterate brute like him.”

“And once a bandit gains education,” she added darkly, “he becomes twice as dangerous. These past few years, the four major trading houses have been completely outsmarted by him. Anything he wants, he gets.”

A low grunt cut her off. Qian Tong instinctively turned her head.

The physician was pressing a wad of cotton soaked in alcohol against Song Yunzhi’s abdomen. His frame was leaner and stronger than she’d imagined—his skin darker than his pale face, a healthy wheat-gold from sunlight. Broad shoulders, narrow waist, and the firm ridges of muscle lining his stomach—six of them, perhaps…

Her face flushed hot, yet her eyes refused to look away, boldly sweeping over him again and again.

He noticed. His gaze followed the movement of her eyes, and perhaps out of anger—or embarrassment—he forgot to rebuke her, until she suddenly looked up and locked eyes with the furious blaze in his.

“Turn around!” he snapped.

So fierce.

Qian Tong quickly turned her head back.

Now—what had she been saying again? She couldn’t remember. The half-naked young lord had distracted her entirely. “Why don’t I wait outside?” she suggested. “I promise I won’t leave.”

“Stay here,” he said coldly. He didn’t trust her.

Qian Tong sighed.

To keep her occupied, Song asked, “What’s written in that ledger?”

“No idea,” she admitted. “Just got it back. Haven’t looked.”

“Where is it?”

Qian Tong took out the ledger Ajin had given her and raised it slightly behind her. “Right here.”

The physician was still there, and with his bare torso, it wasn’t exactly convenient to have her bring it over.

Song said no more, waiting silently as the doctor stitched the wound on his arm, sprinkled wound powder, and wrapped it carefully.

The physician—same one who’d treated Qian Tong at the clinic earlier—ignored their conversation entirely. As he left, he instructed, “Young sir must not move too much for the next few days. Keep the wound dry. I’ve written a prescription—take it twice tonight. I’ll return tomorrow to change the dressing.”

“Thank you,” Song Yunzhi said quietly.

When the doctor finally left, Qian Tong asked, “Can I turn around now?”

“Mm.”

She turned, and found him dressed only in an inner robe, the sash tied tightly around his waist—as though guarding against her eyes.

He needn’t be so wary. She could easily look without touching.

Her gaze moved to his face instead. His complexion was paler than usual, faint beads of sweat forming on his brow. She stepped forward, worry softening her voice. “Does it hurt?”

He ignored her, his thoughts fixed on the ledger in her hands, merely shaking his head.

Hard-mouthed as ever. If it didn’t hurt, who had groaned just now?

Qian Tong lifted a silk handkerchief to dab at his forehead. When he tried to dodge, she reached to steady him—but careful not to press against his injuries—grabbing his chin and turning his face toward her. “Don’t move. Think of it as returning a favor—no need to thank me.”

Outrageous!

Song Yunzhi’s face darkened, humiliation burning in his chest—but before his anger could spill out, her faint fragrance surrounded him. His breath hitched. The delicate bridge of her nose and the soft red curve of her lips were mere inches away.

“Don’t worry,” she murmured, sensing his sudden unease. “You’ll get to see the ledger soon enough.”

She wiped the sweat from his brow slowly, deliberately softening the tension between them. Her teasing calm seemed to work—his hostility subsided.

Only with calm could they talk business.

Releasing him, she called for Fuyin to prepare the medicine, then sat beside him and opened the ledger. “Let’s read it together.”

The contents quickly drew all his attention. He leaned in to see, since she didn’t move closer.

She flipped through two pages, scanning the entries line by line. Her expression grew more serious until, shocked, she looked up at him. “The Cui family really is smuggling!”

She moved so fast that their faces nearly touched—her eyes only a finger’s width from his cheek.

Their breaths mingled.

A strange, taut silence filled the air before both of them instinctively leaned back and turned away.

After a moment, Qian Tong spoke first, her tone a mix of amusement and grim resignation. “Well, looks like you and I are officially in the same boat now.”

He’d shown his face before the bandits—and stolen something worth a fortune from them.

That grudge wouldn’t fade easily.

Song Yunzhi didn’t bother answering. When she’d plotted to make him steal the ledger, surely she’d already considered all this.

He snatched the book from her hands, flipping through it carefully while she sat with her chin propped on both hands, studying his expression. “What should we do? Looks like we’ve gotten ourselves into big trouble.”

He didn’t even lift his eyelids.

“If we hand it over to the authorities,” she continued eagerly, “that magistrate, Lord Wang—and that big shot behind the screen—they’ll have to reward the Qian family with the salt permit, right?” Her eyes sparkled. “They definitely will. Compared to two ships of tea, the salt license is far more important to us now.”

He frowned. All that scheming, all those risks—for a salt permit?

She didn’t even want the tea anymore?

Qian Tong frowned in thought, then brightened. “Let me analyze this.”

“First, we’ve offended Young Master Duan. He’s not going to let us off easily. He might come after us—or after you—again. Second, the Cui family’s smuggling isn’t a small matter. The government’s already investigating, and the other merchants in Yangzhou are watching closely. Once this ledger surfaces, who knows how many big snakes it’ll drag out of their holes? If word gets out that it’s in our hands, we’ll be in real danger. The Qian family’s too small to fight them all…”

She clapped her hands, coming to a decision. “So, I’ll hand the ledger to the authorities tomorrow. Once they’ve got what they need, they’ll stop bothering us. We’ll get our salt permit and our peace. Two birds with one stone.”

But peace was the last thing Song Yunzhi wanted.

The murkier Yangzhou’s waters became, the better.

If they handed the ledger over, the Cui family’s smuggling would be officially exposed, giving the government solid evidence to act—but that would also mean alerting their enemies.

The Park family had lain low for years; they’d certainly prepared a backup plan. One ledger wouldn’t bring them down—only warn them that the court was coming.

A classic case of beating the grass and scaring the snake (t/n: a Chinese idiom meaning to alert the enemy before striking).

If word got out that the ledger was in Qian Tong’s hands, the other side would surely come for her—and when they did, he’d know exactly who they were.

So no—the ledger couldn’t go to the authorities.

Besides, he was the authorities.

He’d already read everything inside. Turning it in would be a waste.

Watching her so confident and self-assured, Song asked coolly, “You don’t want the tea anymore?”

At the mention of tea, Qian Tong faltered, sighing. “Who wouldn’t want it? Three hundred thousand taels’ worth of tea… enough to open my teahouse for a whole year. Now that the Cui family’s finished, tea’s even more valuable. If I could get my hands on it now, I’d make a killing…”

“Then go trade for it,” he said evenly.

Risking his life for two ships of tea—surely that was worth more to her than a permit.

But Qian Tong was greedy. She wanted both. “I want the salt permit too. The Qian family’s been mining salt for a hundred years. I can’t be the one to lose it. If I do, how will I face my ancestors in the afterlife?”

Song Yunzhi looked away.

“You saw that official from the capital the other day—Lord Wang Zhao. He’s like a rock in a latrine—filthy, stubborn, and impossible to move.”

Song’s throat tightened faintly.

“Forget it,” she went on softly. “We should just seek peace. I can’t keep putting you in danger. If anything happens to you again, I… I couldn’t bear it.”

He almost laughed aloud. She’d survive just fine.

But the ledger still couldn’t be surrendered.

After a pause, he said, “If the court won’t accept bribes, it must value fairness. You can ask Lord Wang to personally inspect each of the Qian family’s salt wells and salt posts. The Qians have generations of experience—replace them with another family, and the market will suffer. Unless there’s real misconduct, the court won’t easily reassign the salt merchant license.”

It was the first time she’d ever discussed serious matters with him—and she hadn’t expected such insight from a mere escort guard.

Her eyes brightened with surprise. “How do you know all that?”

“Spent some time in Jinling,” he replied calmly. “Learned a bit about official customs.”

Taking in his suggestion, Qian Tong fell silent for a moment, thinking it through. Then she said, “We’ll wait. Thinking too much at night leads to reckless decisions. You rest and heal first. I’ll come back in the morning.”

She stood and left, gently closing the door behind her. Through the small gap, her soft voice drifted in one last time—

“Finish your medicine, and go to sleep early.”