Born to Be Either Rich or Noble - Chapter 36

A dog barked somewhere in the night, jolting Song Yunzhi fully awake.
He sat before the faint glow of the oil lamp, his eyes fixed on the pitch-black world outside. For a moment, it felt as if he had returned to the battlefield of years past—every sense sharpened, every nerve drawn taut, as though something unseen in the dark had stirred his instincts.

Half an hour later, the dark guards returned with their reports.

“The maid who serves Lady Qian is not at the teahouse in the east of the city—she left half a month ago.”
Moments later came another message. “Lady Qian is not in her quarters.”

Song Yunzhi couldn’t tell whether what he felt was more disappointment or disillusionment. A dull weight settled in his chest, a fleeting sense of loss—but it lasted only an instant. Soon, his expression was composed again, his clear eyes hard and cold, incapable of tolerating even a grain of dust.

She was a merchant’s daughter.

Such an ending was, perhaps, inevitable.

When the third report came—“Lady Qian has gone to the docks.”—Song Yunzhi rose without hesitation. “Inform Wang Zhao. Ready the warship. Seal off the Yellow Sea.”

He left with the remaining guards before the order had even finished being delivered. “Head for the Lu family’s port. Seize one of their cargo ships.”

After the Cui family’s ten cargo ships had been blown up, the government’s patrol fleet had been scouring the seas daily. By the time Wang Zhao reached the warship and gave chase, she might already have fled beyond their reach—and she would surely have a clever excuse waiting.

The fastest route was to commandeer a Lu family ship and pursue immediately.

He was half an hour behind her. He didn’t know if that was enough—but he would use every means to stop her.

Mask in place, he no longer hid the presence of his dark guards. The group vaulted over the roofs of the Qian estate. When the moon slipped behind the clouds, the city lights beneath them shimmered like gold dust. Mounting his swift horse, Song Yunzhi galloped into the night, hooves drumming on the stone streets like a thunderstorm racing past.

He rode straight for the Lu family’s docks.

Lu Daozhong happened to be at sea that very night.

For days he had been tormented by Young Master Lan—pulled back and forth between the imperial court and the Park family. The court demanded he expose Park Er; Park Er, instead of helping, had forced him to produce Young Master Lan.

He was exhausted.

Tonight, he’d planned to hide out on his ship, drink a little wine, and clear his head enough to come up with a clever solution.

But after only two cups, a commotion erupted outside.

He cursed aloud, “Useless fools! Can’t a man have a quiet night?”

He had dismissed his attendants, wanting solitude, and when no reply came to his outburst, a chill pricked his spine. Something was wrong.

He rushed out of the cabin—barely straightened his back before a sword pressed coldly against his throat.

Lu Daozhong froze, cursing his luck. He must not have prayed enough lately—why else would disaster keep finding him?

“We can talk this through, sir, what do you—”

“Sail.”

The single word cut him off.

Startled by the voice—oddly familiar—Lu Daozhong looked up and met a steel-blue mask.

A bronze identification tag flashed before his eyes. “By order of the court.”

He remembered instantly—the man who had once broken into his study at night. His soul nearly flew out of his body again. He nodded frantically. “Yes, yes! The Lu family will fully cooperate with the imperial court!”

The sword withdrew.

The guards released the sailors they’d been holding at bladepoint.

Song Yunzhi ordered Lu Daozhong to chase at full speed. Near the straits patrolled by government warships, she would likely find ways to avoid them—but to leave Yangzhou, she had to cross that golden stretch of sea.

The Lu ship was unladen, while hers would be heavy with cargo. They could still catch up.

After boarding, Qian Tong arranged everything, then lay down to rest.

That man’s vigilance was too sharp—she didn’t know how long her deception would hold. She needed her strength. After sleeping an hour, she woke and called for Fuyin. “How much farther?”

“Another half hour, my lady. We’ll reach the strait soon.”

Qian Tong rose and stepped outside. The sea was dark as ink, her ship glowing faintly with scattered lights. She had never traveled this far before.

Of the three great merchant families, only the Qians were barred from sailing beyond the Yellow Sea. The Cui family dealt in tea, the Lu family in silk—both relied on sea routes.

The Qian family’s salt permits, however, confined them to Yangzhou; venturing out would be useless.

Their ancestors had traded grain for salt rights along the border, carving a fortune through countless hardships and deaths. Later generations merely bought those permits from the government.

When the new emperor ascended the throne, he granted the Qians five years of salt licenses to stabilize the empire—no need for bribes, but he imposed an additional twenty percent tax.

An eighty-twenty split—eighty for the court, twenty for the Qians.

Thus, unlike the Cui and Lu families, the Qians couldn’t expand overseas and had never crossed the strait guarded by the Park clan.

Long before the new dynasty, the Park family had stationed warships and troops here. When the emperor marched from Shu to Jinling and then to Hejian, driving invaders from the Great Yu Empire, the Parks had fought countless battles to defend this very sea.

That was why Yangzhou had been the last city to be reclaimed.

A clan that had once guarded the realm would not easily surrender its power or profit. Even the imperial court needed a compelling reason to cross their waters.

Everyone wanted to.

Qian Tong inhaled the sea wind, then turned back toward the corridor.

Just as she stepped inside, Ayin shouted from the deck, “My lady! A ship’s coming!”

Qian Tong froze.

That fast?

A distant light flickered across the water. Everyone tensed. Only the three great families could approach the golden strait—besides them, only official ships.

But judging by the lights, this wasn’t one.

As doubt flickered through her mind, the other ship sounded a horn—a code once used for communication among the four major houses.

The Cuis were gone. That left only the Lus.

Lu Daozhong?

So Young Master Lan and Park Er hadn’t managed to stall him?

“What’s that fool doing here?” Ayin muttered. “Ignore him, my lady. Let’s just—”

A whistling roar cut her off.

A flaming arrow sliced through the night, landing squarely on the deck before them.

Ayin blinked, stunned—Lu Daozhong? Attacking them? And with such precision?

Even in darkness, the shot had fallen flawlessly before their feet.

Furious, Ayin growled, “Does that idiot want to die? Fine, I’ll—”

“Wait.” Qian Tong stopped him. Her gaze, sharp and unblinking, stayed fixed on the ship across the black sea.

Not Lu Daozhong.

He was cautious—he’d never attack first.

As the vessel drew closer, she saw a tall figure standing at its bow. A young man, bow in hand, sleeves fluttering in the wind. Beneath the iron mask, silver brocade gleamed faintly under the starlight.

So fast.

Her lips curved slightly, though her eyes were cold. “Prepare for battle,” she murmured. “As planned.”

Ayin straightened at once and darted below deck. “Ready the fire arrows! Check the ropes on the skiff!”

The distance between ships closed. The figures on the other deck came into view—men in black nightclothes, faces hidden. Not sailors. Shadow guards.

Fuyin whispered, “My lady… those aren’t Lu family men.”

“Of course not.”

Qian Tong watched in silence, waiting for them to speak first.

Lu Daozhong was the one who called out, standing beside the masked man, his round body half his companion’s height. “Lady Qian! The officers are conducting an investigation—I had no choice! Just let them search your ship. I believe you’re innocent! You’ve done so much good for Yangzhou; you’d never commit a crime!”

That arrow clearly hadn’t come from his hand. He lacked the skill.

It was the man beside him—the one who had ordered the horn sounded when Qian Tong’s ship refused to answer.

When his guard handed him the bow, Lu Daozhong had heard someone address him quietly: “My lord heir.”

Heir?

There were only a few heirs of noble houses young enough to match that title. Lu Daozhong, ever eager to curry favor, knew all their names.

Only one possessed such skill with a bow.

The Heir of Anping Marquisate—Song Yunzhi, son of the Princess Royal.

Even suspecting as much made Lu Daozhong’s legs go weak. Whether true or not, he knew one thing for certain: the Qian family was finished tonight.

Lady Qian’s clever schemes and all her recent triumphs would crumble.

He knew exactly what her ship carried—tea leaves from the Cui family trade. A perfect token of collusion. Once the authorities searched her ship, the Qian name in Yangzhou would be no more.

She had mocked him before. Tonight, it was his turn.

Qian Tong could see the smug glee on his face even across the darkness. She smiled faintly. “Officers? Or are you simply jealous of my family’s success—hiring a few mercenaries, pretending to be imperial agents, planning to bury me at sea?”

“No, no! It’s true!” Lu Daozhong stammered. He cupped his hands and shouted in a half-whisper, “He’s—he’s the heir! The Heir himself!”

The masked man glanced sideways, as if rebuking him for speaking too much. Lu Daozhong shrank back.

But Qian Tong had heard. Her brows lifted. “Which heir?”

“Heir Song!” Lu Daozhong blurted. “The Princess Royal’s only son—Heir Song!”

“Oh~” Qian Tong’s tone lengthened, feigned surprise melting into a teasing lilt. “The very same Song Heir famed for both pen and sword? The one said to bring peace with his brush and victory from horseback? Handsome as Pan An, noble by birth—the man who keeps all the maidens of Jinling dreaming?”

Her voice was soft and syrupy, unclear whether she meant to praise or mock.

From the moment Song Yunzhi saw her face, his gaze had never wavered. Beneath the mask, his expression shifted between fury and disbelief.

She had used the teahouse as bait, falsified its accounts to smuggle goods—all leading to this moment: a ship full of tea bound for the open sea.

But where was she sending it? To whom?

He was furious—at her deceit, her defiance, her betrayal of his trust. But most of all, at her greed. Why must she always push beyond reason?

Seeing she finally seemed to understand the gravity of her situation, Lu Daozhong nodded eagerly. “Yes, yes! The Heir is just and fair—he won’t wrong you. Let him board and inspect your ship. If you prefer, you can wait for the patrol to arrive. They should be near. Either way, you won’t be escaping tonight.”

Qian Tong paused, then smiled faintly. “Very well. The Qian family trades honestly—we’ve nothing to hide.”

She turned toward the masked man, bowed gracefully. “I am Qian Tong, seventh daughter of the Qian family. I did not know the distinguished Heir would grace us tonight. Please forgive any earlier offense.”

She was bold to the point of madness—Song Yunzhi doubted she’d show fear even before the emperor himself.

“Lower the gangplank,” she told Fuyin. “Let the Heir aboard.”

A narrow board was lowered between the ships. Seeing it, Lu Daozhong frowned.

Qian Tong explained smoothly, “The wind was rough last voyage. A few planks blew away before we could repair them. For safety, only one person should cross at a time. Please be careful, my lord heir.”

Her tone was earnest, the concern in her eyes almost tender—so convincingly kind it might have fooled anyone else.

Song Yunzhi stepped forward.

The ships were close—if the plank broke, his skill would still carry him across.

But just as his foot touched the board, he caught the faint upward curve of her lips. A silent alarm flared in his mind. He tensed to leap—

Then he heard her soft voice.

“Yunzhi, slower.”

The familiar name froze him.

He looked up sharply—at her playful, mocking wink.

The next instant, she lunged. Like a cannon shot, she slammed into him, arms wrapping around his waist as they plunged into the sea.

“Cut the plank! Attack!” she shouted before they hit the water.

The force of their fall made the wind bite like knives.

Shock, fury, confusion—Song Yunzhi barely had time to think before instinct took over. The freezing sea swallowed them whole. He felt her hands around his waist… then slip away, vanishing to one side.

Unlike Shen Che, Song Yunzhi was a strong swimmer. He surged upward through the waves, following the churn where she’d disappeared.

A flare of light split the darkness—the explosion above revealed everything for a heartbeat.

The Qian ship was speeding forward, a small skiff tied behind it.

And there—hauling herself up the rope, drenched and defiant—was Qian Tong.

Wicked woman.

She actually dared.