Born to Be Either Rich or Noble - Chapter 39

Before tonight, she had used the pretense of opening a teahouse to deceive everyone—hiding away an entire shipload of tea. She had even deliberately brought him along, just to clear herself of suspicion. If she was “innocent” in his eyes, then she would also be innocent before the authorities.

He was now certain that before setting this plan in motion, she had already known his true identity.

Earlier on, she had deliberately brought up the issue of salt permits in front of him, using an accounting ledger as bait. She took advantage of his desire to investigate corruption, making him willingly hand over the salt permits to the Qian family.

After that came the matter of the ledger itself.

She had first dangled the clue of smuggled tea to lure him into the mountain stronghold. That night, surrounded by bandits, he had once suspected that she wanted him dead. But when she later handed over the ledger of her own accord, he had thought he’d misjudged her.

Now, looking back, his first suspicion hadn’t been wrong at all.

She had once harbored the intent to kill him.

But why kill him?

Because he had summoned her to the governor’s office, exposed many of her secrets, discovered that she was the true head of the Qian family, and learned of her past relationship with the Park family’s eldest son. He had begun to suspect that she was colluding with the Parks.

That was when the killing intent took root. And when he later granted the Qian family a month’s worth of salt permits, he had completely enraged her.

All for the sake of those permits—she had taken him to the marketplace to deliver flowers, to show him how beloved the Qian family was among the common people, and then to visit the widows of her workers.

When the government later summoned her, she had believed she could secure the permits. But instead, he had interrogated her harshly.

And so, she had wanted him dead. She had lured him into the bandits’ den, intending to have Young Master Duan deal with him. Yet she hadn’t anticipated that his martial skill surpassed Duan’s. Fearing his retaliation afterward, she had been forced to turn back and save him.

By that time, she should already have known who he truly was.

Going further back—it all began with the second son of the Cui family and his brokerage house. He had only been a poor, struggling young man she’d picked up at random. By reason, she shouldn’t have involved him in such dangerous matters. But that night, she had deliberately sought him out and brought him to the Cui family’s trading office.

She had made him witness the Cui family’s crimes with his own eyes.

Because she knew that once he had seen that scene, the Cui family would never recover.

But how had the Cui family’s secret even been exposed in the first place? Because she had gone to their teahouse, swearing to avenge him. At that time, he still wasn’t sure whether she already knew his identity.

Beyond that, he dared not think further.

If she had recognized him from the very beginning, then everything she had done to him would be nothing short of monstrous. But what frightened him even more than that was this—how had she known?

His journey south had been kept secret. Only his mother and the Emperor’s most trusted aides were aware.

Not even his own family knew. So how had she found out?

Song Yunzhi’s own speculation sent a cold sweat down his back. The warmth in his eyes faded away, replaced by a chill sharp enough to cut. The cold in his gaze hardened into invisible blades, ready to strike the girl sitting across the fire.

“I swear I didn’t lie to you.”

Sensing his murderous intent, Qian Tong stumbled back two steps, her neck shrinking in fear. She raised two fingers toward the sky and swore, “I’m certain—I only recognized you that day at the governor’s office. But if you’re talking about suspicion… maybe there were hints even earlier. Do you remember the incident at the Cui family’s restaurant, when I stood up for you and reported them to the authorities?”

Song Yunzhi said nothing, his silence colder than the sea breeze.

Qian Tong reminded him, “You actually dared to block the constables.”

He remembered. Back then, she had indeed shown signs of suspicion.

“Later, Magistrate Zhang arrived,” Qian Tong went on. “You probably didn’t interact much with him, so you wouldn’t know his character. He came from a small rural town—no background, no connections. After being appointed to Yangzhou, he was desperate to fit into the bureaucracy, so he let Lan Mingquan treat him like a servant. But to be fair, he wasn’t all bad. When Lan Mingquan wasn’t involved, he handled affairs honestly and helped the people. It’s just that whenever Lan Mingquan had a hand in something, he’d never dare to interfere.”

“But that day was different.” Qian Tong’s voice softened. “The moment he saw you, his legs went weak. You helped him up, and suddenly he changed completely—ignored Lan Mingquan’s presence, and right in front of the townsfolk, declared his loyalty to the people, as if trying to prove something to someone.”

“Your and Magistrate Zhang’s strange behavior made me suspicious. Still, I wasn’t certain then.” She sighed, wanting to scratch her head, but her bound hands stopped her. With a wry smile, she said, “Who could’ve guessed I’d have such luck? I randomly picked a poor young man off the docks to marry into my family—and it turned out I’d picked the son of the Imperial Princess herself. The Crown Prince of Song!”

Her tone was self-deprecating, but there was still a spark of wonder beneath it.

“Though when I was little,” she added thoughtfully, “my parents did once have my fortune read by a Daoist priest. He said my life would be no ordinary one—that I would be either rich or noble.”

At that, Qian Tong seemed a bit embarrassed. She lowered her head and nudged the sand with her toe, murmuring an apology. “I meant no offense, Your Highness. I hope you’ll forgive my ignorance.”

After all the defiance and cunning she’d shown along the way, this was the first time she looked truly humble—a merchant’s daughter suddenly aware of her own smallness.

She stole a glance at him, her eyes filled with admiration, tinged with quiet shame.

That one fleeting look dissolved the last of the chill in Song Yunzhi’s gaze.

Then he heard her murmur softly, almost to herself, “If I had known from the start that you were the Crown Prince of Song, even with a hundred times my courage, I wouldn’t have dared offend you. A woman of my background—just having shared your name for a single month is already a disgrace to your title.”

When she finished, she fell silent, staring into the flames. Her back was hunched, her silhouette small and lonely. The once-proud, self-assured girl now bowed her head, too humbled by the gulf between them to meet his eyes.

Though Song Yunzhi no longer trusted her, he still had his own judgment.

The Qian family had been merchants for over a century and had never tangled with the court.

When the new dynasty rose, the court had chosen salt merchants not only for their skill and experience but also because of the Qian family’s neutrality.

The Park family, on the other hand, was closely allied with Prince Pingchang’s household. It wasn’t impossible that the Parks knew about his journey south.

He remembered seeing Park’s eldest son at the Qian estate last time. That man hadn’t recognized him—had he also been pretending, waiting to test him?

Had the Qian and Park families been exchanging information?

Song Yunzhi doubted that their elders would go that far. Years ago, when both families had learned that she and the Park heir were fond of each other, they had not chosen to unite them through marriage. Instead, they had forcibly separated them—proof that their relationship hadn’t reached the level of alliance.

Unless… she had continued seeing Park’s heir in secret, and their feelings had never truly ended.

But without evidence, she would never admit to that. For now, before meeting Park’s eldest son in person, he chose to believe what she said tonight.

Song Yunzhi’s next question came low and sharp. “Are you smuggling?”

Qian Tong looked up at him again, a hint of confusion flickering in her eyes. “Do I look like someone who would smuggle, Your Highness?”

Never judge by appearances—this was the first lesson he had learned from her.

He gave her a cool, sidelong glance and said nothing. His silence was answer enough.

That silence made her forced composure falter. She gave a small, awkward laugh to cover it up, then asked instead, “Has the Lu family pledged themselves to the court?”

Song Yunzhi turned his head sideways, just in time to hear her speak with astonishing audacity.

“That fool Lu Daozhong—he’s worth the effort of trying to win over? What could he possibly do? Last night, he couldn’t even protect you, My Lord.”

Song Yunzhi’s voice was cold. “You sound proud of that.”

She didn’t mean to provoke him, merely stated the facts. “There were signal flares on his ship, but to protect his family’s reputation, he’d rather watch you vanish into the sea with his own eyes.”

Then she looked straight at him, her gaze steady and burning with a kind of reckless sincerity. “If I were the one following you, and I saw you fall into the sea, I’d be the first to jump after you. Signal flares be damned—let the ship crash if it must. We’ll see whose resolve is stronger.”

Song Yunzhi knew she was bold to the point of madness, but he didn’t deny what she said.
Still, she hadn’t said all this just to boast. There was a purpose behind every word.

He waited, but she didn’t yet answer his question.

Qian Tong continued instead. “If not for the foundations laid by the Lu family’s ancestors and their long-standing ties, Lu Daozhong’s silk and spice business wouldn’t have survived this long on the Piao family’s scraps. But even so, the Lu family isn’t exactly thriving. Of every shipload of silk and spice, sixty percent of the profit goes to the Piao family. Of the remaining forty, another twenty percent must be used to grease the wheels of their relationship. In the end, their returns aren’t even as good as my Qian family’s eighty percent from salt taxes.”

Seeing the young lord’s expression, she quickly explained, fearing he might take her words as greed. “The Qian family is different. We walk the righteous path—our salt permits are granted directly by the court.”

Her tone was solemn, her expression earnest. “The world now belongs to the Qi dynasty. It’s only a matter of time before the sea routes return under imperial control. Silk and tea are the lifeblood of Great Yu’s trade; sooner or later, they’ll be taken back by the court. Lu Daozhong knows this too—that’s why he first fought me for the salt permits, then turned to your side. But he can’t break free from the Piao family’s hold. Now he’s just sitting on the fence between the court and Piao, incapable of giving you his full loyalty.”

“But by granting the salt permits to the Qian family, My Lord has already given me the upper hand.”

She tilted her head toward him. The sparks from the fire danced in her eyes like tiny stars. The desire to win burned openly there. “The Lu family can’t live without the Piao family. But my Qian family—we’re different.”

She’d circled around long enough that Song Yunzhi could now guess what she meant. “And what then?” he asked.

The killing intent had faded from his gaze. Seeing this, Qian Tong dared to step closer again, the few steps she had retreated now reclaimed.

“The Cui family and the Lu family both have ambition,” she explained carefully, “but neither has the courage. They’ve been in maritime trade for years, yet all they’ve ever done is pay the Piao family protection money. Never once have they tried to touch Piao territory. My Lord must have asked Lu Daozhong before—how many warships does the Piao family have? How many soldiers? Did he ever answer you?”

She gave him a look that said plainly—of course he didn’t.

Song Yunzhi’s gaze darkened. “You know, then?”

“Tonight, I was supposed to,” Qian Tong said with a sigh of regret. “But then you came chasing after me and dragged me onto this deserted island.”

At that, Song Yunzhi finally understood.
She had gone to the Piao family not for her own gain—but to spy for the imperial court.

He couldn’t help but admit her intelligence. She had fallen into his hands, and this was her only path to survival now.
But why should he believe a woman who lied as easily as she breathed—a woman who’d dared shove him into the sea?

“You still haven’t answered my question,” he said coldly.

Qian Tong didn’t respond right away. After a pause, she said slowly, “A month ago, I intercepted the Cui family’s eldest son at sea—and blew up ten of his tea ships.”

Song Yunzhi’s lips curled in faint mockery. At last, she admitted it.

Qian Tong turned her gaze back to the fire, her voice softening. “My sister took poison. Before she died, she told me Cui Wanzhong was smuggling goods, building his own estates up north in Liao. She said the Qian family must never betray the nation—and ordered me to kill him.”

There was hatred in her voice, unmistakable.

But Song Yunzhi had been played by her too many times to tell truth from falsehood anymore.

“I wanted to know exactly what the Cui family had built,” she continued.

“To uncover their trail, I had to follow it—earn the Piao family’s trust, take over the tea trade, and trace where those shipments were really going.” She suddenly turned to him, her expression sharp. “You confiscated the Cui family’s estate, didn’t you, My Lord? You found their smuggling ledgers. So why haven’t you confronted the Piao family?”

The flickering firelight reflected in her eyes.

Then she smiled knowingly. “Because you understand, don’t you? A ledger alone isn’t enough to condemn the Piao family.”

“I want to build a fleet of my own,” she said at last, meeting his gaze directly, no longer hiding her ambition. “A Qian family fleet. The Qian family is the court’s strongest ally in Yangzhou. I may not be as talented as others, but I dare say I’m far more capable than the Lu family. Had you not stopped me tonight, I would have already met with the Piao family’s envoy. By dawn, my ships would be back in Yangzhou, carrying a most valuable gift of allegiance to Lord Wang Zhao.”

She wasn’t entirely defeated. There was still a chance to turn the tide.
Her eyes gleamed with fierce confidence as she asked, “What does My Lord think?”

Her reasoning was sound—too sound. Even though Song Yunzhi no longer trusted her, he couldn’t deny that she was right.

Of the three great maritime families, the Cui were gone, Lu Daozhong was unreliable, and when it came to conquering the Piao family, this Seventh Miss of the Qian family was indeed the best candidate.

Yet what made her so dangerous was also what made her indispensable.
She was too cunning. Too calculating. He couldn’t tell how much of her loyalty was real.

After all, last night she had dragged him into the sea in front of everyone—fully confident that he wouldn’t seek revenge, nor would her family suffer any consequences.

A woman who could plan this far ahead was no reckless fool—certainly not the kind who’d risk everything just for a few smuggled crates of tea.

Song Yunzhi began to weigh her words seriously. After a long silence, he asked, “You once had an affair with the Piao family’s eldest son. Why should I believe you now?”

Her face was half-lit by the fire. He could see only the curve of her cheek when she answered firmly, “When it comes to family and power, love means nothing. Any feeling that conflicts with profit will end in ruin. Rest assured, My Lord—between me and the Piao heir, there is nothing left.”

She sounded so certain that Song Yunzhi didn’t press further. He didn’t care about her past lovers anyway.

“What does the Qian family want, then?” he asked.

The girl replied instantly, “To bring peace to the people and prosperity to the realm.”

Song Yunzhi gave her a sharp look. “Don’t spout nonsense. One more chance.”

She exhaled softly. “When this is over, I only ask that the court allow the Qian family to keep our sea routes in the Yellow Sea.”

That was fair enough. The Qian family didn’t yet have a fleet there, but they had the connections. It was business, nothing more.

He was still deciding whether to agree when she suddenly laughed. It wasn’t her usual sharp or mocking laugh, but a low, self-deprecating one.

“See?” she said quietly. “Truth or lies—it doesn’t depend on the speaker. It depends on the listener. If they choose to believe, it’s the truth. If they don’t, it’s a lie.”