Born to Be Either Rich or Noble - Chapter 32

Song Yunzhi sheathed his sword and stepped out from behind the round pillar beside the bed.

Lu Daozhong’s neck stiffened as he turned, eyes twitching toward the movement. From the corner of his vision, he caught a faint glimpse of a tall, slender figure—but before he could look again, the only lantern in the room was snuffed out with a flick of the newcomer’s blade.

The room fell into darkness. The light from the corridor seeped faintly through the papered windows, far too weak to reveal even the color of the stranger’s clothes.

After taking a seat in the official’s chair by the desk, the man asked evenly, “Where did the Lu family head go tonight?”

Lu Daozhong was still trying to guess his identity. The man claimed to be from Wang Zhao, the Assistant Minister of Justice—yet he’d spoken the name directly and bypassed all the Lu family guards to appear silently in his private study. Whoever he was, his rank had to be far above ordinary.

Then Lu remembered what Wang Zhao had mentioned—the person from above.

Nerves and excitement mingled in his chest. The Lu family’s business was unlike the other three merchant clans of Yangzhou; they traded in silk and spices, industries that relied on commerce and routes beyond the city. Lu had traveled to Jinling and Chang’an himself, and his ambition had long since outgrown Yangzhou.

He needed to expand—to open a broader path for his family.

To free himself from the Park family’s grip and move beyond Yangzhou, the fastest route was to secure imperial backing.

A year before the court sent an envoy to Yangzhou, Lu had already started distancing himself from the Park family and attempting to make contact with the court. The new emperor was a man of war; the empire had been at peace for four or five years now. The Parks might be powerful, but even they could not oppose the throne. If Lu played both sides carefully, then even if conflict broke out, it wouldn’t touch him.

In fact, he might even profit from it.

He studied the figure in the dark. Though he could not see him clearly, he could feel the man’s presence—calm, poised, commanding. The more he sensed, the more certain he became: this man outranked Wang Zhao.

He ventured, “My lord, you’ve come… at Lord Wang’s command?”

“No need to test me,” the other replied, immediately seeing through his thoughts. “I ask. You answer.”

Lu Daozhong forced a laugh. “In case someone’s using Lord Wang’s name to steal information that shouldn’t be shared…”

The stranger silently handed him a bronze waist token.

Lu stepped forward to feel it. The emblem belonged to the Prefect of Yangzhou. Relief flooded his chest. Lowering his voice, he reported, “Tonight, the Park family summoned the remaining three great families.”

Song Yunzhi listened quietly.

“Since the Cui family’s collapse, only three families remain. Tonight, it was just me and Miss Qian of the Qian family who attended,” Lu continued. “We were received by the Park family’s third branch—Lady Third herself. Recently, after the Cui and Qian families clashed, Cui’s downfall didn’t leave Qian unscathed. The eldest lady died, and Miss Qian went mad at sea—blew up all ten of the Cui family’s ships. As fate would have it, the Parks’ eldest young master was also in that strait at the time. Concern turned to rashness, and now he’s come to Yangzhou.”

Fearing the man might not understand, Lu added quickly, “Years ago, that same eldest young master of the Park family and Miss Qian had a romance. Childhood sweethearts—very close. But the four great families never intermarry, and the Parks believed she wasn’t worthy, so they forced them apart—”

“Spare me the details.” The cold voice cut through the dark like a knife.

Lu flinched and fell silent—but after thinking it over, he realized he couldn’t avoid the topic entirely. Forcing himself to continue, he said, “Today, the eldest young master of the Park family was also present.”

A pause. When the man didn’t interrupt, Lu went on, “With the Cui family gone, their tea business was left ownerless. Lady Third gathered us tonight partly to remind us of our place, but also to decide who should inherit the trade.”

“Before the eldest son arrived, Lady Third was quite displeased with Miss Qian. But once he showed up, the situation changed entirely.”

He had expected the Parks to favor him. Yet both the salt licenses and tea trade ended up in Qian Tong’s hands. Bitterness slipped into his tone. “It’s my own failing. If I’d secured that tea business, I could have helped the court uncover smuggling operations. But alas, the eldest son shielded her like a cub, and gave the tea trade to the Qian family…”

The man’s voice turned faintly cold. “Didn’t she trade the account book for it?”

Lu’s heart skipped. How does he know about that?

He had planned to conceal the matter, staying neutral between both sides—but since the court already knew, he dared not hide it any longer. “Miss Qian does indeed have a ledger. It was originally in the hands of the Duan family’s young master up in the mountain stronghold, but she and her husband stole it not long ago. She meant to use it as leverage to gain control of the Park family’s tea trade.”

Leverage.

Just another word for bargaining chip.

It was Song Yunzhi’s first time meeting the head of the Lu family, and he already found the man’s speech distasteful—slippery, calculating.

Not half as sharp as that cunning woman from the Qian family.

Once he’d learned what he came for, he didn’t linger. Before leaving, he said, “Since you’ve pledged yourself to the court, keep your hands clean. If you commit a crime, the court won’t forgive you just because of today’s cooperation.”

The cryptic warning sent a chill down Lu Daozhong’s spine. The man disappeared through the rear window, and only then did Lu’s tense body go slack. He collapsed to the floor, soaked in cold sweat.

He didn’t sleep that night, replaying that final sentence over and over—until morning brought a messenger from his gambling house.

“Master, the young lord of the Lan family has been found locked inside our casino.”

“Who?” Lu thought he’d misheard. The Lan family’s people had been escorted back to Jinling.

“Lan Yizhi,” whispered the messenger. “Half a month ago, the Park family’s second son reserved a private room in our casino and imprisoned him there. Last night, a martial man came and broke him out. Many saw it.”

Why would the Park family’s second son imprison him?

Lu couldn’t understand.

But no matter the reason, it happened in his casino—and recalling that man’s warning last night, Lu rushed to the Prefect’s office to find Wang Zhao and clear his name before trouble spread.

—

Qian Tong had slept late and woke even later.

When she opened her eyes, sunlight shimmered peacefully across the courtyard, birds chattered softly outside, and the air was tranquil and still. Surprised, she called Fuyin in. “Has my husband not come by this morning?”

Fuyin shook her head. “Didn’t you tell him last night to rest properly, madam?”

Strange.

Shouldn’t he have stormed in by now, face cold and voice sharp, demanding why she’d tricked him again and again? Why was it so quiet today?

Seeing her deep in thought, Fuyin asked, “Shall I go fetch him for you?”

“No need,” Qian Tong replied, rising to dress. “I’ll go to him myself.”

The spring rains had been light this year, and today the sun shone brilliantly again. After a good night’s rest, her spirits were high. With a spring in her step, she made her way to find her husband.

When she arrived, Song Yunzhi was seated inside, calmly drinking tea. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed her figure crossing the threshold and deliberately lifted his gaze to the sun outside.

Noon already.

She’d slept well.

Qian Tong beamed at the man sipping tea inside. “Good morning, Yunzhi. Did you sleep well last night?”

Song Yunzhi didn’t bother to answer.

Used to his aloofness, Qian Tong merely walked over and glanced at the tea cake on the table—a prized Jian tea, the finest of its kind. Her eyes brightened. “How’s the flavor?”

A few days ago, after buying tea from the Duan heir, she’d instructed Ajin to bring the best varieties for her husband to sample. She herself hadn’t tried them yet. Seeing the opportunity, she plopped herself down on the cushion across from him, pointing eagerly at the spare porcelain cup beside his hand. “Pour me a cup too.”

Song Yunzhi poured her one.

She lifted it to her nose and inhaled deeply. “Mmm, fragrant. Worth risking our lives for, I’d say.”

Our lives? He hadn’t seen her risk anything. Song Yunzhi remained still, dark eyes fixed on her, waiting for her next act.

Parched after waking, Qian Tong downed the tea in one gulp and slid the empty cup toward him, tapping the table lightly. “Another cup.”

Without a word, he refilled it.

As tea trickled into the cup, she began chatting idly. “When Young Master Duan sent this tea, he said it outright—‘money settled, favors settled; gratitude repaid, grudges avenged.’”

She snorted. “Ha! As if I’d be scared of him.”

Song Yunzhi had met proud women before—the princess herself was proud—but none with Qian Tong’s mix of arrogance and effortless confidence. And yet her face was so open, almost innocent, that her slyness only stood out more sharply. She was like a flower with hidden thorns—beautiful enough to draw you close, only to strike the instant you reached out.

Tilting her head with a secretive smile, she told him, “You know, I’ve found myself a powerful new backer.”

Song Yunzhi knew she couldn’t resist showing off. If he didn’t go looking for her, she’d come looking for him—ready to spill everything from start to finish…

Everything came full circle.
He listened as she explained.

“The person who tampered with my accounts last night doesn’t need to be found anymore,” Qian Tong said with a small, mysterious smile. “They’ve already come to me. Guess who it was?”

Song Yunzhi gave a quiet laugh. “Who?”

She leaned in close and whispered, “The Park family. Early this morning, one of their people came by. After the Choi family’s assets were confiscated, no one took over their teahouses. They want to hand the business to me.” Her eyes glimmered with barely contained excitement as she winked. “This time, our family’s really going to strike it rich.”

Qian Tong watched his eyes carefully, waiting for some reaction—shock, anger, anything. But after a long silence, all he said was a calm, “Congratulations.”

They sat there drinking tea for nearly an hour, the pot refilled twice, yet the man across from her—Young Master Song—did not change expression once.

Qian Tong couldn’t help but marvel to herself: his endurance is remarkable.

But eventually, she couldn’t hold it anymore—she needed the latrine. Trying to maintain her composure, she rose and left his room as calmly as she could, though her steps grew increasingly hurried. It seemed that the more lies one told, the harder it became to keep up the act.

For a moment, she wasn’t even sure anymore whether the Lu family had truly betrayed them.

Her urgency was no longer just metaphorical. After drinking too much tea, she really was about to burst. As soon as she stepped outside, she asked Fu Yin in a rush, “Where’s Lan Yizhi? Has he been sent off yet?”

Fu Yin nodded. “Last night, Madam said he was to be sent back. Early this morning, A-Yin took him to the magistrate’s office. By now, he should already be on his way to the docks.”

“Hurry and find out which route they took,” Qian Tong ordered. “Intercept them—don’t let him leave.”

Fu Yin blinked in surprise, thinking helplessly, Now you say that?

Last night, Young Master Lan had gone through every emotion imaginable—first, joy that she had rescued him, and then, devastation when he learned she intended to hand him over to the authorities. He had cried enough to fill a basin.

Fu Yin quickly dispatched men toward every dock leading to Jinling.

Lan Yizhi was at the harbor, waiting for the government ship.

Because the Lan family’s case had not yet been resolved, none of them had been formally convicted. The officials were merely tasked with escorting him back to Jinling for questioning, so he wasn’t shackled. Given how frail he looked now, even light irons would probably make it impossible for him to walk.

The constables in charge of the transfer recognized him—they’d escorted him once before. Back then, the whole Lan family had been weeping, while this young master had been the only one calmly comforting the others. Now, seeing him all alone and in tears, one of them couldn’t help asking, “Didn’t he already board the ship? What’s he doing back in Yangzhou crying like that? Tried to escape and got caught again?”

“No idea,” another constable replied. “He came to the yamen himself this morning, said he wanted to surrender and return to Jinling. Hasn’t said another word since. Just keeps crying. Well, he’s back now—let the folks in Jinling deal with him.”

They didn’t bother lowering their voices, and the words were carried straight into Lan Yizhi’s ears by the wind.

He clenched his fists so tightly his knuckles turned white.

When he’d been trapped in that dark room, all he’d wanted was to escape. But now that he was free, the sunlight seemed too clean for the filth that clung to him. That ordeal had become a stain he would never wash away, a humiliation that would haunt him for life. Staring blankly at the vast stretch of sea before him, he suddenly felt a powerful urge to throw himself into it.

Once that thought took root, it was unstoppable.

He took a step toward the jagged edge of the pier—one step, two—

“Young Master Lan!”

A familiar voice called out behind him. He turned and saw a figure descending the stone steps.

The sea breeze whipped her skirt to one side, outlining her slender form. Brushing the stray hair from her face, she approached the two constables, pressed some silver into their hands, said something quietly, and then beckoned to him.

Lan Yizhi hadn’t expected to see Madam Qian again. When she waved to him, his feet moved of their own accord.

The wind was fierce, stinging her face as she spoke quickly, “I can help you avoid punishment for now. Do you want that?”

Lan Yizhi froze.

Seeing the tears on his face, Qian Tong said sharply, “You’re a grown man—what are you crying for? The Lan family hasn’t fallen yet. Even if you go back to Jinling, you won’t be sentenced to death. At worst, they’ll confiscate some property, your father will lose his position, maybe spend some time in jail, and that’ll be the end of it. What’s there to despair over?”

She handed him a handkerchief. “Wipe your face. Don’t let others laugh at you.”

When the magistrate’s office had still been in power, there had been no shortage of young women flattering this pretty young master. They’d called him clever, charming—anything to make him smile. This was the first time one had scolded him outright.

Yet Lan Yizhi wasn’t angry at all. His chest tightened, a lump forming in his throat. Before the tears could fall again, he took the handkerchief and turned away to dry his face.

“Forgive me for making a scene, Madam Qian.”

“There are three kinds of people one shouldn’t laugh at—the poor, the simple, and the timid,” Qian Tong said evenly. “But that doesn’t mean you should let people walk all over you. If you just go back quietly, you’ll never forget what they did to you. Evil people deserve to be punished.”

Lan Yizhi stiffened, his ears flushing crimson. In a broken voice, he asked, “You… you know?”

Seeing how mortified he looked, Qian Tong quickly shook her head. “I don’t know the details. Only that you were held at the Lu family’s gambling den.”

Lan Yizhi exhaled shakily in relief.

“Come with me,” she said. “We’ll go to the authorities.”

He blinked, startled.

“We’ll accuse the Lu family of abusing their power for revenge—of kidnapping you. We can’t just swallow this humiliation.”

Lan Yizhi instinctively wanted to refuse, but Qian Tong pressed on.

“Your family fell because your parents broke the law. The court punished them to uphold justice. But this time we are the ones who’ve been wronged. The court will still give us justice. You were raised in an official’s household, educated in law and virtue—surely you understand that silence never solves anything.”

She gave him a once-over. “Besides, you’re already like this. What more do you have to lose?”

“I…” Lan Yizhi didn’t know how he ended up following her. When he came back to himself, he was already in her carriage on the way to the magistrate’s office.

Was he willing? Of course not.

Before the Lan family’s downfall, he had been the pampered darling of the city. Afterward, those same people had taken revenge—dragging him from a ship, locking him away, humiliating him beyond words.

He hated them.

He hated the Lu family. Hated the filth that had defiled him.

If he left quietly, who would ever know what he’d suffered? He’d live forever with that shame buried in his heart.

If he wasn’t afraid of death, what was there left to fear?

The carriage soon arrived at the magistrate’s gates. Qian Tong suddenly leaned toward him and said in a low voice, “Remember—don’t mention Young Master Park. Insist it was the Lu family. Let them deal with Park on their own.”

Lan Yizhi turned to her in despair. “So you really do know everything.”

Qian Tong looked away and cleared her throat. “That’s not important.”

“It is!” he burst out, nearly in tears again. “You’ll—you’ll—”

“I won’t look down on you,” Qian Tong interrupted. Meeting his eyes without a trace of disgust, she said earnestly, “You’ve done nothing wrong. The filth belongs to them, not you.”

Then she added softly, “As long as you don’t mention the Park heir, no one will ever know what happened. He’s already engaged to a princess—he’ll make sure no word of this leaks.”

After watching Young Master Lan step through the magistrate’s gates, Qian Tong finally returned home.

The next morning, she knocked on Song Yunzhi’s door. “Yunzhi, are you up?”

No response.

Leaning against the door, she called out, “Our tea leaves have arrived. It’s time to get the teahouse running. Come with me to the magistrate’s office—we’ll take over the Choi family’s seized teahouses.”

Building a new teahouse required money, which the Qian family treasury sorely lacked, and it would take too long besides. The fastest way was to purchase the confiscated properties directly from the authorities and register them under her name.

She kept talking through the door. “Last time I went to the yamen, I barely made it out alive. Come with me this time, will you?”

“You’re afraid?”

The calm, quiet voice came from behind her. Qian Tong jumped, turning to see Young Master Song already fully dressed, his clothes damp with morning dew.

He handed her a piece of sweet pastry as if to remind her of something, his tone faintly mocking. “It’s not cold. Still soft.”

Qian Tong blinked in realization—it had been a month. Time to give him the gold cicada antidote.

She reached for the thin red cord around her neck and pulled it out. A tiny shell hung from its end. She pressed it open and took out a small brown pill. “Here. Take this—it’ll fix everything.”