Born to Be Either Rich or Noble - Chapter 35

The waiter finally carried that stack of five-hundred-tael silver notes to report it upstairs.

Since they’d already paid, it would be a waste not to enjoy it. Qian Tong waved to the young man across from her. “Eat more, Yun Zhi—five hundred taels, after all.”

Remembering how he’d thrown out those silver notes earlier without even blinking, Qian Tong couldn’t help but think that this man must be the type who’d rather break than bow. Curiosity sparked in her eyes as she asked, “You didn’t spend a single coin? I told you to help your relatives.”

She’d given him five hundred taels to rescue his kin, yet he’d used all of it to pay for their own meal.

Song Yunzhi replied calmly, “No rush.”

Qian Tong couldn’t possibly use his money for real. “Don’t worry, I’ll earn it back for you.”

“All right.”

Qian Tong rather liked how straightforward Mr. Song was. Thoughtfully, she picked up her chopsticks and placed food on his plate. “Try the coral shrimp. Only deep-sea ones get this big. Compared to these, what we caught last time were just tiny fish.”

Unfortunately, the two of them only had two stomachs. No matter how they tried, they couldn’t eat that much. Thinking of the five hundred taels, Qian Tong felt her heart ache. She called the waiter back and had him pack the leftovers in a food box to take home for Second Master Qian and Madam Qian.

Sea delicacies from the Park family weren’t something ordinary people ever got to taste.

When A-Jin brought the food box back to Second Master Qian and his wife, one look at the dishes told them everything—they were not simple fare. Suspicion flashed in their eyes as they asked, “Where did Seventh Miss have her lunch today?”

A-Jin replied, “At the White Pavilion.”

The couple’s faces changed instantly.

A-Jin continued, “Sent by Young Master Park.”

Their expressions grew even darker.

A-Jin added hurriedly, “But the son-in-law didn’t accept it—he paid with silver notes.”

Could he not say things all at once? Master Qian pressed, “So the son-in-law went too?”

Madam Qian asked anxiously, “Did they meet?”

A-Jin nodded, then shook his head. “The son-in-law went, but Young Master Park never came out.”

That was a relief. Both of them exhaled deeply.

It had been two years, and she hadn’t stepped into the White Pavilion even once. She’d meant what she said—never again would she have anything to do with that man. Her sudden visit today naturally made them nervous.

Madam Qian glanced at the food box and felt a pang of guilt.

She thought of how she’d once knelt before her daughter, begging her to put the family first. The way Qian Tong had looked at her then—shocked, unfamiliar—still made her unable to lift her head even now. “It’s our fault for not having a son. If we did, she wouldn’t have been tied to this family so tightly…”

If she wanted to love someone, she should have been free to love.

But what use was there in talking about the past? Looking at how things stood now, that decision back then had proven to be the right one.

The two families had not joined by marriage—and both had flourished in peace.

The Park family’s young master had gone to Haizhou, securing the Yellow Sea Strait and locking down sea trade routes. He had made a fortune over the years. As for the Qian family, they had weathered their hardest storm and secured the salt permit. Next came taking over the Cui family’s teahouses.

The more Master Qian thought about it, the more uneasy he felt. What if old feelings rekindled? Turning to his wife, he said, “Didn’t she send someone to Jinling to find out about the son-in-law’s family? It’s been a month—she must’ve made contact by now. Since she chose him herself, let’s settle it. Send a ship to fetch all his relatives from Jinling, however many there are, and hold the wedding here in Yangzhou. Best not to leave room for complications…”

——

The next day, Wang Zhao sent word: the matter of the teahouse was nearly finalized and asked Qian Tong to come.

It was wonderful news. Qian Tong could barely contain herself as she rushed to knock on Mr. Song’s door. “Yun Zhi! Yun Zhi!”

The door opened quickly. Song Yunzhi looked well-rested. He had just finished washing up, and his face, still misted with steam, was smooth and fair like thin porcelain. His clear eyes reflected a faint chill that set him apart from the world.

Qian Tong stared at his face for a moment, dazed.

He asked, “What’s the matter?”

Snapping back to herself, she smiled brightly. “Good news! Our teahouse is secured. You’re coming with me to sign the papers.”

Song Yunzhi nodded and turned back inside to straighten his half-worn robe, pressing down the crown on his head before turning again—only to find the young woman standing there with her head tilted, her eyes fixed squarely on him, not moving an inch.

Everyone loved beauty, and besides, hadn’t she kidnapped him in the first place because of his face?

He smiled faintly. “Let’s go.”

Qian Tong thought her “husband” had changed—he was gentler now, more considerate. Wanting to treasure this time, she took him everywhere she went.

After obtaining several tavern and teahouse deeds from Wang Zhao’s office, she threw herself into preparations.

The teahouse was secured, but she disliked the Cui family’s old décor.

And the hundred-plus people she’d brought back from the prefect’s manor—former victims of exploitation—couldn’t possibly work in a place that once brought them trauma.

Qian Tong spent seven days busily planning, taking her “husband” along as she personally designed the new layout.

By the time the teahouse opened, half a month had passed.

The first group of hired workers were those same wounded and disabled people from the prefect’s estate. Qian Tong told them: “I won’t give you special treatment, and you shouldn’t think of yourselves as special either. Do your best to live well. Choose any job you can handle—so long as you finish your work, your pay will be the same as everyone else’s.”

Most of them had thought they’d spend the rest of their lives begging or waiting for death. The chance to earn honest wages again left them both doubtful and overwhelmed.

But once Qian Tong personally led them through the teahouse, arranging positions one by one, they began to believe—Miss Qian truly meant to hire them.

No more beatings. No need to lie or cheat. Just honest work for fair pay.

Those with injured legs were assigned to washing dishes while sitting down; those missing hands used their feet to draw water from the well. By the end of the day, everyone had a role to fill.

When they finally turned to thank her, Qian Tong was already gone.

In the back hall, crates upon crates of tea leaves were stacked high. Qian Tong asked, “Have both shipments of tea arrived?”

A-Jin nodded. “Just as you ordered, Mistress. We’ve divided them among the teahouses. Both ships’ cargoes have been delivered.”

On opening day, everything ran smoothly.

After the Cui family’s teahouses were shut down, only small tea stalls and roadside shops remained. The city’s young elites had nowhere proper to spend their leisure time. So when the Qian family’s teahouse opened, every seat was instantly taken.

The tea sold fast, and silver flowed in like water. As she tallied accounts, Qian Tong still found time to ask about the Lu family.

A-Jin reported, “Young Master Lan won’t let go. Lu Daozhong’s run out of options—he even went to see Second Young Master Park in secret, hoping he’d silence Young Master Lan. He went in fine and came out with a black eye. Most likely Park beat him up.”

Lu Daozhong felt wronged, while Second Young Master Park thought him utterly useless. A gambling den, and yet people had walked in and taken someone right under his nose.

The trouble was, the fighters who’d rescued that night wore masks, so no one could tell who they were. Furious already, Park’s second son had to endure Lu Daozhong still coming to ask for solutions.

What solution could there be—turn himself in and admit that he was the one who’d kidnapped someone?

Lu Daozhong ended up offending everyone and couldn’t put out the fires he’d started.

Qian Tong laughed. “No wonder he ignored my invitation.”

She’d been exhausted these past few days. Rubbing her sore arms, she set down her brush and turned to Mr. Song. “That’s enough for today. Let’s rest early tonight.”

They had grown unusually close through all their shared work. Whatever she did, Mr. Song quietly lent a hand.

Qian Tong also kept her word—she withdrew one thousand taels from the accounts and handed them to him as they boarded the carriage. “This is for you, Yun Zhi. Keep it, and don’t spend it on me next time.”

Song Yunzhi didn’t explain anything. She gave; he accepted.

Noticing that only A-Jin had been accompanying her lately and that her usual maid hadn’t been around, he asked, “Where’s Fu Yin?”

Qian Tong blinked, then chuckled behind her hand. “If Fu Yin knew you remembered her name, she’d be over the moon. Don’t be fooled by her temper—she’s just a young girl, shy underneath. I picked her out myself because she’s honest and hardworking. While we’ve been busy in the west of the city, she’s been handling the east side. It’s chaotic there, lots going on. She won’t be back for a while.”

Then she leaned closer, teasing, “Do you miss her? I can have her come back tomorrow.”

She always spoke so recklessly. Song Yunzhi sighed and stopped her gently. “Don’t talk nonsense.”

“All right—” Qian Tong’s tone stretched playfully. Then she straightened up, and as her head bowed slightly, she murmured softly, almost to herself, “I know—you only have me in your heart.”

The words slid into Song Yunzhi’s ears like fire. His neck turned warm, his hands restless on his knees. He wanted to deny it—but experience told him that the more he reacted, the more she’d tease.

Any reply from him would only fuel her mischief.

He stayed silent.

When no sound came from her for a long while, he finally glanced sideways—only to find the girl fast asleep. The carriage jolted along, her head bumping against the wall. Just as it was about to fall, he shifted, letting her head rest against his shoulder.

He’d followed her around the teahouse for days, watching her tire herself out.

It stirred something in him. His younger sister had never lifted a finger for their household, while this girl bore the weight of an entire family—of so many people’s livelihoods.

When the carriage finally stopped, he didn’t wake her right away, wanting her to sleep a bit longer.

A-Jin, unaware, lifted the curtain and froze. Inside, the son-in-law sat quietly, gaze soft as he looked down at the sleeping young woman on his shoulder. For a moment, A-Jin couldn’t tell if his mistress was truly asleep—or pretending.

But time was ticking. He called softly, “Mistress, we’ve arrived.”

Qian Tong woke with a start, blinking in confusion. “Sorry—I’ve been so tired lately, must’ve dozed off.” She rubbed her face, looking more awake, and stepped out of the carriage first.

“You must be tired too, Yun Zhi. Rest early.” Too weary to tease him further, she bade him goodnight and hurried back to her courtyard.

Song Yunzhi stood under the corridor, watching her go. From behind, her steps faltered slightly, exhaustion weighing on her.

He returned to his own room but couldn’t sleep.

The moonlight was hazy tonight, and the silence pressed deep. Suspicion flickered in his mind. Calling one of his shadow guards, he ordered quietly, “Go to the new teahouse in the east of the city. Check whether Miss Qian’s maid, Fu Yin, is truly there.”

——

At the same time, in another part of the Qian estate—

The same Seventh Miss Qian who had looked ready to collapse moments earlier now wore dark fitted clothes under a raven-blue cloak. Stepping lightly beneath the pale moonlight, she slipped out through a side gate.

The night wind left no trace on her; her face was calm, her eyes clear of any hint of weariness. She said softly to A-Jin, “Let’s go.”

That night at the Red Moon Gambling Den, the Park family’s Third Madam had named her price:

“I want a shipload of tea. Delivered to the sea. Can you do that, Mistress Qian?”

(t/n: “Tael” refers to a traditional unit of silver currency used in imperial China, equivalent to roughly 37 grams but varying by region and era. “White Pavilion” is a high-end restaurant or establishment in Yangzhou.)