Born to Be Either Rich or Noble - Chapter 4

“A general falls before victory is won.”

Even in times of war, he had never felt such stifling humiliation. Now that peace reigned across the land and he’d become a relative of the imperial family, to be toyed with by a merchant’s daughter—it was intolerable.

But could he endure it?

He had no choice. The fate of the Heir of the Song Marquisate was still in that woman’s hands. The carriage swayed beneath them, the air heavy with unease. Shen Che stole several glances at the man seated beside him.

That noble young lord—his eyes were dark as a frozen pond, his complexion pale as moonlight, his lips touched with crimson. His brows carried the heroic vigor of the Princess Royal, while his features bore the refined beauty of the Marquis of Song.

Beyond his striking looks, he had a brilliance uniquely his own. Scholar of Jinling, the Jade-Faced General—equally gifted in literature and war. As the heir to a marquisate and an assistant minister of the Ministry of Revenue, he was one of the most sought-after men in the capital.

Ordinary kidnappings were done for either money or lust.

Money was clearly out of the question—given their travel-worn attire, no one would believe they had any.

That left only lust.

Shen Che recalled how the woman had repeatedly questioned the Heir about his betrothal. He already had a guess as to why they’d been targeted. He’d warned him long ago—with your looks, even a burlap sack wouldn’t hide you. What woman wouldn’t lose her senses after seeing you?

He stared too long. The Heir of Song turned his gaze upon him—those deep black eyes, steady and penetrating, seemed to leave no room for ill intent to hide.

Flustered, Shen Che hurried to ask, “Brother Song, are you feeling unwell?”

The Heir shook his head. The poison in his system had quieted, the numbness fading until he felt almost normal again. “Have you determined who that woman is?” he asked.

Of all things, Shen Che hated thinking the most. “Who cares who she is? Once we find Prefect Lan, we’ll force her to hand over the antidote—then gut her.”

Song Yunzhi said nothing.

Realizing his blunder, Shen Che fell silent as well.

At this point, they were already a laughingstock. To invoke their status as the Emperor’s nephew and the Empress’s cousin would only alert the enemy and expose their own helplessness.

The two men hadn’t been close before this mission. When the Princess Royal married the Marquis of Song, the Emperor was still leading his “Straw Sandal Army” in Shu Province. In those same years, Song Yunzhi had been sitting in a classroom studying the classics, while Shen Che had been chasing horses on the battlefield.

Their only connection had been during the Lunar New Year.

Every year, the Princess Royal would bring her son to Shu to visit her brother. Shen Che, often at his uncle’s side, delighted in chatting with the noble boy from Jinling.

Though the young lord rarely responded, that never stopped Shen Che from bragging—he had a noble friend in Jinling.

After the Emperor ascended the throne, Shen Che was assigned to the Ministry of Rites, while Song Yunzhi entered the Ministry of Revenue. Their paths seldom crossed.

What Shen Che admired most about him was his composure. Even the Emperor had once said—as long as Song Yunzhi is present, nothing is impossible.

Shen Che retracted his reckless words and muttered, “I know this mission allows no mistakes. We’ll keep this debt for now. Once we get the antidote, we’ll flay her alive. Brother Song, you have an idea who she might be, don’t you?”

Song Yunzhi had some suspicions, though nothing conclusive.

Among the four great families, the Park family had no daughters.

The Lu daughters were all married, and the remaining girls in the household were too young to match their assailant’s age.

That left the Cui and Qian families.

The Cuis had the most offspring, and therefore the highest likelihood.

The Cui residence lay west of Yangzhou, while the wharf they’d arrived at was in the south. At their carriage’s speed, they’d reach the Cui mansion in half an hour.

But after only fifteen minutes, the carriage stopped.

A familiar female voice called from outside, “Take the two gentlemen through the back gate and escort them to my lady’s courtyard.”

Shen Che’s temper flared. “I’ve never used a back door in my life!”

Before he could rise, Song Yunzhi pressed a hand to his shoulder. Another cold voice sounded from outside.

“Though my lady fancies the young master, I advise you to know your place. Arrogance is unbecoming. Don’t forget yourself.”

Shen Che had never met such an audacious woman. His nostrils flared in fury as he turned toward Song Yunzhi. “Brother Song—”

The Heir’s eyes were calm, but beneath them glinted invisible frost. “We’re dead men walking. Why bother with her?”

Not the Cuis, then. The Qians.

The Qian family—merchants of salt for generations. The current patriarch, Qian Minjiang, had one daughter—named Tong.

Qian Tong.

As her name suggested—copper.

Qian Tong’s carriage stopped before the grand gates of the Qian residence.

Three steps led up to a pair of black-lacquered doors, each fitted with a gold-inlaid beast’s head biting a copper ring. Sunlight made the metal shimmer with a subdued brilliance.

Past the threshold stood a wall of Hetian jade, carved with a “Hundred Sons” motif. Beyond it, a lush garden spread out—crabapple, magnolia, pomegranate, and osmanthus trees planted in perfect order, each blooming by season. At this time of year, magnolias and crabapples competed for fragrance, their scent lingering all the way to the inner courtyards.

From the covered walkway came Steward Cao. “My lady, the Prefect’s wife is here. She’s talking with Madam in the courtyard. Shall I escort you there?”

“I thought they agreed to meet at the next spring banquet?” Qian Tong asked, puzzled.

The steward hesitated, uncomfortable. “They did, but… there was an incident in Young Master Lan’s courtyard. When Madam was leaving, a pregnant woman stopped her. After some questioning, they learned she’s a cousin staying at the Prefect’s mansion.”

A pregnant cousin had detained her mother—while she’d been visiting Prefect Lan’s wife to discuss an engagement.

The same tedious domestic chaos that plagued every powerful household.

Young Master Lan had kept both the Cui and Qian families dangling for years. He wasn’t getting any younger, and his self-restraint was clearly running thin.

“Mother knows, then.”

Her tone was light, not a question. The steward raised his eyes nervously, but her expression was calm, unreadable. He rushed to add, “The Prefect’s wife has promised that before you are formally engaged, that woman will be sent away.”

“Is that even the point?” Qian Tong’s maid, Fu Yin, interjected, her face set. “The marriage isn’t even settled yet. Who says she’ll marry into the Lan family?”

The steward himself disliked this arrangement—but for the Qians, it was their last lifeline. The master and madam clearly didn’t want to give it up.

Caught in the middle, he said nothing.

“I’ll go take a look,” Qian Tong said.

The path to the main courtyard wound through a series of moon gates, where each arch framed a different phase of the moon. At the end of the walkway stood a stone bridge, its nine turns built from dark She stone. Beneath it, a stream ran clear, with red koi gliding through the ripples.

By the water stood a stately woman in Shu brocade, watching her maid scatter fish feed. Her voice was slow and heavy.

“Who could’ve foreseen the future back then? During the war, the palace still had two princes, each commanding fifty thousand men. In eight years, they were both gone. Only His Majesty—tucked away in a remote corner—fought his way out, reclaimed Jinling from the wolves. Such fortune—none of you, not even the old ministers, could’ve predicted it…”

The woman beside her, richly dressed, nodded quickly. “Yes, yes, Madam, you’re absolutely right.”

“His Majesty has a generous heart,” the noblewoman continued, “but being refused in his darkest hour… that’s not easily forgotten. My husband stayed in Yangzhou too long, got too attached, started thinking of this place as home. He risked his neck mediating matters for your family to buy you five more years of peace. But the tide’s turning again. For old friendship’s sake, I’ll tell you this—the men sent to investigate Yangzhou this time include the Empress’s nephew. That would be the young Marquis of the Shen family…”

“The boy’s been with His Majesty through countless campaigns. With that temper, he’ll dig up old debts soon enough.”

The other woman’s face blanched.

The noblewoman pressed on. “Your Qian family’s fortune comes from salt. But the salt permits you hold—they expire this year, don’t they?”

Color drained further from the woman’s face.

The noblewoman took in her sweating brow, smiled faintly, and softened her tone. “Still… there are ways to remedy this.”

“If the Prefect can help us through this, the Qian family will—”

“My lady has returned,” a maid’s voice interrupted from a distance. The woman looked up in relief and saw Qian Tong crossing the bridge, her steps light but assured. Her mother exhaled, wiping her brow, then turned to the noblewoman with a forced smile. “Didn’t you say you wanted to meet my daughter? There she is.”

Qian Tong came forward and greeted politely, “Lady Prefect, welcome.”

Her smile was bright enough to make the garden’s blossoms fade in comparison.

It wasn’t the first time Prefect Lan’s wife had seen her, yet each time she couldn’t help but think—if only she weren’t a merchant’s daughter, she’d be the perfect match for my son.

If her son must marry a merchant girl, she’d rather it be this one than that Cui girl.

“Spring’s in full bloom lately,” the Prefect’s wife said kindly. “Where have you been admiring the scenery, Lady Qian?”

Qian Tong curtseyed gracefully. “Mother enjoys deep-sea yellow croaker, so I went to the docks this morning to see if any fresh ones had come in.”

“Such a filial girl,” the Prefect’s wife said with envy, turning to her mother. “Madam Qian, you’ve raised her well.”

The praise gave Madam Qian some confidence. She assumed a gentle maternal tone. “You think I live for good food? Steward Cao’s been searching for you half the day—why so long?”

Without meeting her mother’s eyes, Qian Tong replied, “I ran into Sixth Miss Cui on the way.”

Though the Qian and Cui families were tied by proposed marriage, relations were far from friendly. Lately, both had been vying for the Prefect’s younger son—so tense they were nearly open rivals.

With the Prefect’s wife present, Madam Qian dared not probe whether the girls had argued.

Qian Tong continued, “I invited Miss Cui to visit, but she said she was busy—apparently rushing off to redeem a saddle for a certain young lord.”

The Prefect’s wife’s expression froze.

Her good-for-nothing younger son had lost a bet to the Parks and owed them a saddle. In his frustration, he’d told her—if the Qians buy it back for me, I’ll agree to the marriage.

And now—he’d gone to the Cuis instead.

Idiot.

How much could a saddle cost?

She’d spent weeks mediating between the two families, smoothing over their petty disputes, all to secure the best offer—and he’d sold himself for a saddle.

“You two should catch up,” she said coldly. “I’ll take my leave.”

Madam Qian panicked. “But Madam, I’ve prepared a meal for us—”

“Another time. We’ll have plenty of chances to meet.”

Worried, Madam Qian followed after her. “Madam! We had an agreement—”

Qian Tong watched them disappear down the path. Calmly, she took the feed from her maid and scattered it into the stream, smiling faintly as the koi darted about.

When Madam Qian returned, she found her daughter crouched by the water, laughing with the maids. Furious, she stamped her foot. “You—you still have time to feed fish? The marriage is slipping away!”

Without turning around, Qian Tong said lightly, “If they want it so badly, let them have it. I never said I wanted to marry.”

Madam Qian froze. “You won’t marry? What about our family? Do you even know who the court has sent this time—”

“Who?” Qian Tong suddenly straightened, nearly bumping heads with her mother. Before she could scold, Qian Tong’s tone turned sharp. “The Prefect’s wife came today to threaten you with the salt permits, didn’t she?”

“Everyone knows our permits are about to expire. It’s no secret. If the court truly wanted to crush the Qians, do you think that petty Prefect could stop it?”

Madam Qian faltered. “Then what do we do? He’s the highest official in Yangzhou! The Prefect’s wife said the Lan family still holds influence in court…”

Qian Tong’s lips curved coldly. “Naïve. The Lan family’s just cashing in before the four great houses fall. If the Qians want to survive, we don’t cling to power—we cut our wings and lie low.”

“How?” her mother asked, bewildered.

“I’ll marry.”

Madam Qian blinked, confused. “You just said you wouldn’t—”

“Not into the Prefect’s family.” Qian Tong’s tone was calm, decisive. “I’ll marry a ruined man.”

She turned toward her stunned mother. “I’ve already chosen him. When Father returns, I’ll make it official.”