Born to Be Either Rich or Noble - Chapter 33

By the third day after Song Yunzhi was poisoned, his shadow guards finally brought a physician.

The physician examined him carefully and said with a grave tone, “The poison of gu insects can only be cured by the one who rears them. I dare not prescribe medicine rashly. If next time His Lordship can obtain the antidote, hand it to me—I will study it thoroughly to ensure safety.”

Song Yunzhi’s expression didn’t change. He watched as Qian Tong pulled out a small seashell from the inside of her robe. She opened it and retrieved a single pill, which she handed over to him.

That was this month’s antidote.

He could rest easy for now.

Qian Tong put the seashell back into place, lifted her head, and glanced toward him. “Let’s go, we’re heading to the yamen.”
(t/n: “Yamen” refers to the local government office in imperial China)

Song Yunzhi said nothing.

That was as good as consent.

Qian Tong turned and called out, “A’Jin, prepare the carriage.”

Her tone was bright, cheerful even. As she descended the steps, Song Yunzhi stood behind her, watching her graceful figure disappear from view. He suddenly realized—ever since she secured the Cui family’s tea business, her mood had been remarkably good.

Within just one month, she’d obtained the salt license and swallowed up the Cui family’s entire network of properties. It was, in every sense, a commercial triumph. No wonder she was in such spirits.

Inside the carriage, she couldn’t contain her excitement, eagerly discussing her future plans for the Qian family’s tea shops.

“The one in the east side of the city will cater to commoners—cheap loose tea, low margin, high turnover.”

“The west-side teahouse sits right next to the Hongyuetian gambling hall. That area’s filled with rich merchants and young nobles, and many big clients from out of town like to stay there. In a place of wine and decadence, we’ll use only the finest leaf teas—pressed teas, cured teas—and we’ll add a few private tea rooms to sell ‘Small Dragon Tuan’…”

Song Yunzhi turned his head slightly to look at her.

She asked, “Does Jinling still produce tea balls? The ones like the ‘Small Dragon Tuan’ we drank? Do you know how much a single sip of that cost us yesterday?”

She held up her fingers and waved them teasingly before his eyes, whispering, “Forty thousand coins per ball. ‘Dragon Ball Surpassing Snow,’ imperial tribute tea…”

Of course he knew.

Before the founding of the new dynasty, the emperors of the realm were obsessed with indulgence and luxury, preaching “enjoyment in the moment.” The Marquis of Yong’an’s household—his family—had once been granted that very tea as a reward. Just a small box of it had drawn the entire household to gather and taste it. Yet now, in the eyes of a merchant’s daughter, it was merely something to quench thirst and a tool to make money.

Song Yunzhi stared at her waving fingers, his tone calm and distant. “Then I must thank you for your generosity, Miss Qian.”

“No need to thank me,” she said lightly. “You earned it.”

He had always considered himself a man of restraint, cold and composed. But ever since he met this woman, he’d found his emotions stirred far too easily whenever he spoke to her.

Suppressing his thoughts, he leaned his head back, closed his eyes, and decided to ignore her.

“Tired, aren’t you? I told you there’s no need to get up so early. You could’ve slept longer. My Qian family isn’t as strict as those noble houses—you don’t need to greet the ancestors every morning…”

His eyelids twitched twice.

At least she finally stopped talking.

By the time the carriage reached the prefect’s yamen, it was right when court was in session. The crowd outside was huge. Qian Tong grabbed Song Yunzhi’s sleeve and squeezed her way to the front with him in tow.

Inside, a trial was underway.

Both of them recognized the young man kneeling before the magistrate.

The woman beside him suddenly tensed, gripping his wrist tightly. “Why is it Young Master Lan? Didn’t the officials send him back to Jinling?”

When Wang Zhao had informed him last night, Song Yunzhi had already gone through his share of shock. But with her staring at him, he had no choice but to furrow his brows and play along. “I’m not sure.”

She gave a quiet “Oh,” and turned to listen attentively.

Wang Zhao was questioning the case. He pointed at a man kneeling on the ground, whose wrists were swollen and limp. “Is this the one?” he asked.

Young Master Lan shook his head.

“What about him?”

Another shake.

None of them were the culprit.

Since the previous day, when Lan Yizhi had beaten the drum to file his complaint, the Lu family had brought out more than ten men, promising to give him justice if he could identify the true assailant.

But he recognized none of them.

Lan Yizhi insisted, “I want to see the Lu family’s master.”

The Lu family was at a critical stage of currying favor with the court, and now they had this mess on their hands. The Lu patriarch was near despair. He rushed over at dawn and almost dropped to his knees in front of the young man. “Young Master Lan, please, tell me—who was it?”

“I don’t know them.”

The Lu patriarch’s face crumpled. “If you don’t know, then there’s nothing I can do!”

But Lan Yizhi retorted coldly, “I was kidnapped and taken to your Lu family’s gambling house. If I don’t ask you, who else should I ask?” His voice was heavy with resentment. “If my Lan family is guilty, the court will judge us. But your Lu family—like the Cui family—has long been lawless in Yangzhou. You think that because you have money, no one can touch you. When my father was in office, you bribed him with silver…”

“Young Master Lan, you mustn’t slander me!” The Lu patriarch’s face was drenched in sweat. He knew perfectly well that Lan Yizhi recognized the second son of the Park family, but he didn’t dare say it. To do so would mean making an enemy of the Parks entirely.

He kowtowed to the magistrate. “My lord, I truly know nothing, but I am willing to cooperate fully with the investigation.”

It was clear this trial would not conclude soon. The crowd murmured eagerly—there was nothing the people loved more than watching the powerful tear each other apart.

“Why did the Lu family imprison Young Master Lan, anyway?” someone asked.

“Not surprising,” another replied. “They suffered losses under Lan Mingquan before. Now that the Lan family’s fallen, this is payback.”

“I think the Lu patriarch is a polite man. Doesn’t seem the vengeful type.”

Qian Tong snorted softly at that, leaned closer to Song Yunzhi, and whispered, “Don’t be fooled by appearances. That man’s a master at putting on a face—smiles to your front, stabs from behind. Who knows what he truly is?”

She never minced words when speaking ill of someone. “I’ve dealt with him for years without a single quarrel. You believe that? People call him easygoing, but it’s those types who are the most calculating. Remember that, when we deal with him in the future.”

Song Yunzhi recalled how Lu Daozhong had warned him just last night that Miss Qian was not to be underestimated—and now here she was, saying the same of him.

That was the way of merchants: always biting at each other’s throats.

Suddenly, she whispered, “Want to hear a secret?”

He turned his gaze toward her.

She lifted her chin proudly and winked. “I know who did it.”

Her eyes gleamed mischievously—Well? Don’t you want to ask me?

He inhaled slowly. “Who?”

She tiptoed, but realizing she was too short, pressed a hand to his shoulder and tapped it lightly. “You’re too tall—bend down a little.”

He wasn’t even sure whether he lowered his head, but her voice brushed right against his ear as she whispered, “The second son of the Park family.”

She was still leaning on his shoulder, her chin resting lightly there. The warmth of her breath burned against his skin, seeping through flesh and bone. His heartbeat spiked—ticklish, tense, and unsteady.

He couldn’t tell whether his racing pulse came from shock at her words or from her shameless proximity.

He turned his head and looked at her as she slowly withdrew, her gaze soft and glimmering.

Her eyes seemed to say: See? I knew you’d be surprised.

She went on, fanning the flames. “The Lu patriarch knows it too, but he doesn’t dare tell the officials. He fears offending the court. After all, compared to the imperial government, it’s the Park family’s influence that truly terrifies us merchants. One word from them, and they could cut off his sea routes. Block the roads, and his silk and spice business would be done for…”

She rattled on, her companion remaining utterly silent beside her.

Soon, several townsfolk recognized her and came forward with friendly greetings.

She turned around, chatting with the women. Dressed in a shimmering robe worth thousands of taels, she stood amidst rough linen garments without seeming the least out of place.

Song Yunzhi lowered his gaze—his palm was cool, yet the side of his neck, where her breath had touched, was still burning.

——

After half an hour, with no progress made, Magistrate Wang Zhao adjourned the session for another day.

The Lu patriarch, looking thoroughly humbled, promised again and again, “I will gather everyone from the gambling house. If Young Master Lan identifies the culprit, I swear I won’t protect anyone. I’ll hand them over to the court and give him justice.”

Wang Zhao didn’t detain him, granting three days to find the culprit. After that, the Lu patriarch himself would be held responsible.

As soon as he exited the hall, he spotted Qian Tong standing at the front of the crowd beside her “husband.”

She was speaking quietly to him, and the man beside her—head slightly bowed, one shoulder dipped—listened intently. When the Lu patriarch emerged, the man suddenly turned and met his eyes.

Lu Daozhong’s heart stirred with reluctant admiration.

The Qian family’s Seventh Miss truly had a keen eye for people.

When the Cui and Qian families had competed for the marriage with the prefect’s son, it had been a fiery struggle. The Cuis had thought themselves the victors. Yet now? The Cui family was destroyed—dead or imprisoned—and the once-proud Young Master Lan was now a criminal begging for mercy.

And there she stood, poised and smiling, beside a man who carried himself like a pine in winter—upright and cold.

Even after just a few days, the Qian family’s “son-in-law” seemed to have grown more dignified and imposing.

Lu Daozhong, ever the smiling Buddha, never showed anger nor pride, no matter who he faced. Even now, burning with anxiety, he managed a polite smile and nodded to Song Yunzhi.

Song Yunzhi nodded slightly in return.

Qian Tong also noticed him and instantly put on a face of concern. “What happened, Master Lu?”

The Lu patriarch shook his head. “Miss Qian came to see a joke, I suppose.”

“You’re too kind, Master Lu.”

The next scene nearly made Song Yunzhi question reality. The same woman who had just called Lu Daozhong a hypocrite was now offering him gentle consolation.

“I know your character, Master Lu. I believe you had nothing to do with this. Don’t worry—the innocent will be cleared. Magistrate Wang is a righteous man; he’ll make sure justice is done.”

Lu Daozhong wanted to curse aloud. Did she really think him stupid? Didn’t she realize it was she who’d taken that Young Master Lan off the docks?

He hadn’t even offended her!

She’d already stolen his salt license and the tea business—he should be the one hating her!

But Lu Daozhong wasn’t one to tear faces in public. He merely forced a smile. “Thank you for your concern, Miss Qian… Did you come to the yamen today just for the spectacle?”

Qian Tong shook her head. “Pure coincidence. I came to negotiate for a teahouse.”

He froze.

She lowered her voice conspiratorially. “Don’t tell anyone, but I just bought two boatloads of tea from Young Master Duan. They’re already en route. If I don’t find a place to sell it, I’ll be sitting on a pile of unsold stock. The Cui family’s teahouses are sealed, so someone needs to take over. I’m here to buy one from Magistrate Wang.”

There was no way Lu Daozhong could feel happy for her.

She’d bought tea from Duan Yuanjin? He sold to her?

A sharp pang of jealousy stabbed his chest, his temples throbbing faintly. Despite years of practice concealing his feelings, his expression stiffened.

And before he could recover, the young woman—half his age—smiled bashfully. “Actually, I was planning to visit the Lu estate in a few days. Our Qian family just secured the salt license, and we’ll need to expand our salt wells. Plus, now we’ve got the tea trade too, and I’m a bit short on capital. Uncle Lu, if you have any silver to spare, could you lend me a little for now?”

She really dared to ask.

Lu Daozhong’s face turned from green to white, murderous intent flickering in his eyes.

“Miss Qian jests. The Qian family’s been rich in salt trade for generations—how could you possibly lack money? Don’t tease an old man like me.” He could stand it no longer. “I have matters to attend to. Excuse me.”

He turned and strode off in haste.

Behind him, her voice called out cheerfully, “I really don’t have any!”

By the time he squeezed through the crowd, his face was so dark it was nearly unrecognizable.

Song Yunzhi watched her quietly.

At some point, she had picked up a floral hand fan, twirling it before her face. When she turned, her eyes gleamed with mischief. “Do you know what I’m feeling right now?”

He answered dryly, “A petty villain’s triumph?”

She smacked his shoulder lightly with the fan and corrected him. “Wrong. It’s called ‘making him so mad he could die, and not even paying for the coffin.’”

——

The trial had ended. The Lu patriarch was gone. Young Master Lan had been taken away. The crowd dispersed.

Now it was her turn to handle business.

Qian Tong smoothed her expression, straightened her robe, and, with her “husband” beside her, entered the inner hall. Handing over her calling card, she said, “I am Qian Tong of the Qian family. Lord Wang has met me before. Please inform him that I’ve come today regarding the teahouse—I assure you, my offer will be to his satisfaction.”

After the Cui family’s assets were seized, their taverns and teahouses had become the most profitable holdings.

Buying one was simply a matter of paying enough silver.

But from what Song Yunzhi had seen, this woman never spent a single coin more than necessary.

When Wang Zhao heard her name, his eyelid twitched. Though her engagement with the Marquis’s heir was technically forced, they were still publicly betrothed.

He couldn’t offend her—but neither could he indulge her.

Since the heir’s identity had yet to be revealed, he decided to stall. “Tell her I’m occupied today. We’ll discuss tomorrow.” He wanted to consult the heir first before making any decision.

He’d already given the salt license to the Qian family and hadn’t yet granted the Lu family’s promised benefit; there was no rush with the teahouse.

But the messenger whispered in his ear, “My lord, the heir is here too.”

Wang Zhao froze. In that case, he couldn’t refuse the meeting.

Soon, the three of them sat in the council hall.

Wang Zhao tried not to stare at the heir’s hand holding that floral fan. It took all his strength to drag his gaze away. “Miss Qian, what are your terms?”

Qian Tong held up her hand, five fingers spread. “Five hundred people.”

“The civilians rescued from the Cui family’s brokerage, Lord Wang still hasn’t resettled them, has he? Whether they’ve lost an arm or a leg, I’ll hire them all. As for the rest, I’ll take in more refugees on your behalf.”