Born to Be Either Rich or Noble - Chapter 42

Qian Tong smiled faintly and repeated the excuse she and Song Yunzhi had agreed on beforehand. “That old fool Lu Daozhong panicked and tried to report my ships to the authorities. My husband and I were caught off guard and fell into the sea. I must trouble you, Young Master Park, for coming all this way.”

Park Chengyu, the eldest young master of the Park family, glanced briefly at the “husband” she referred to. His gaze was calm and courteous; he gave a polite nod and said mildly, “The wind is strong on this island. Let’s continue this conversation on board.”

“My apologies for the trouble.” Qian Tong walked beside him, asking casually, “The cargo ships—did they reach your hands safely?”

Park nodded. “They did.”

As they spoke, Fuyin and Ayin hurriedly came down from the ship. Fuyin, her face pale and drawn, looked as if she might cry when she saw her mistress unharmed. “My lady, are you all right? You scared us half to death…”

She had seen her mistress fall into the sea with that so-called young lord—though it was part of her lady’s plan, her heart had been in her throat the entire time. Later, when she found only a splintered piece of the small boat still tied to the rope, she’d nearly fainted on the spot.

If not for Young Master Park’s calm assurance—saying that Lady Qian was clever and would not come to harm—and instructing them to ready ships to search the surrounding waters, Fuyin might well have leapt into the sea herself.

“That damned old Lu Daozhong—let’s hope he got himself blown to bits,” Ayin muttered, spitting to the side. “To dare send assassins pretending to be government officials to raid the ships…”

But her curse trailed off as her eyes landed on a familiar face. She froze as if struck by lightning.

The husband?!

What in the world—how was he here? When had he rejoined her lady?

Fuyin saw him too, and her expression mirrored Ayin’s shock. Last night when Lady Qian called out that name—“Yunzhi”—neither of them had heard. She even remembered how her lady had deliberately avoided him earlier, saying she didn’t want to make her “husband” worry.

How had he suddenly appeared?

The two maids stared for a long moment before remembering their manners. “My lord,” they greeted him quickly, then followed Qian Tong into the cabin, leaving Song Yunzhi to bring up the rear.

His face was composed and cold, eyes sweeping over the bustling group ahead before turning to inspect the Park family’s vessel.

It was a fu ship, built with a sharp keel—steady, deep-water craft suited for long voyages. During wartime, such merchant ships could be refitted into warships to defend against foreign raids.

The imperial fleet, by contrast, used mainly che ships—lighter, faster vessels suited for river warfare.

In the second year of His Majesty’s reign, the court had inquired about the Park family’s warships. The Park patriarch had claimed that peace reigned under Heaven, that warships were relics of the past, and that all their ships now served commercial purposes.

Yet five years had passed, and neither the Imperial Navy nor the Liao forces had managed to cross the Park-controlled straits.

Song Yunzhi had met the Park heir twice before. Judging from his manner, he hadn’t recognized him.

The group moved farther ahead; Song’s steps slowed as he silently took the measure of the Parks’ strength—until a soft voice came from behind him.

“I need a word with him. Wait for me outside.”

He turned. The girl who had left him behind was suddenly in front of him again, speaking under her breath.

“Looks like he hasn’t recognized you. Go change clothes first. I’ll have Fuyin bring you some food. Once I learn more, I’ll tell you.”

Afraid he might be stubborn, she added, “Young Master Park is extremely cautious. He won’t trust anyone but me.”

She didn’t bother to hide anything from him.

Song Yunzhi’s gaze flicked toward her, then past her—Park Chengyu stood ahead, smiling patiently, waiting.

Song’s eyes returned to her face. Qian Tong winked and whispered, “Remember, I’m your wife now.”

That said it all.

He stayed silent, which she took as consent. “Then wait for my good news,” she said briskly.

From Fuyin’s vantage point, she couldn’t hear what they said. All she saw was her mistress leaning so close that her head nearly brushed the young man’s shoulder.

Fuyin had expected to meet Young Master Park tonight—but not her lady’s “husband.”

Once upon a time, her mistress and that gentleman had sworn eternal love. What must he feel now, watching the woman who had once vowed herself to him whisper intimately with another man?

She dared a glance.

Park Chengyu was smiling—but to Fuyin, that smile looked strained.

At least her lady was still clear-headed enough not to bring her “husband” into the negotiation cabin.

Among the four great families, there was a long-standing rule: during talks, only one personal servant and one maid could accompany each representative—everyone else had to wait outside.

Tonight, Qian Tong brought Fuyin. Park kept only a young page beside him.

Inside, the boy stepped forward politely. “Greetings, Lady Qian.”

Qian Tong gave him a quick look, then brightened. “You’ve grown taller.”

“It’s been two years, my lady. Of course I’ve grown.”

His name was Ayuan—short for “yuanman,” meaning completeness.

When she’d first met him, he’d been just a scrappy boy. Later, Park had adopted him, given him a name. Now he was pale-skinned, taller, and far more polished.

“Your master’s raised you well,” Qian Tong said.

“The young master is generous,” Ayuan replied, bowing.

“He is generous. Meeting him was your good fortune.” She turned toward Park with an easy smile.

He was sitting cross-legged on a floor cushion, brewing tea himself. He hadn’t spoken once during her teasing, only watched her with that mild, unreadable smile.

Qian Tong leaned in slightly, recognizing the aroma. “Jian tea.”

“You’ve tasted it before,” Park said softly. “Do you like it?”

“I do, but it’s far too expensive. Last time, I splurged on one small bundle—and couldn’t bear to waste it. I ended up drinking both the tea and the leaves.”

To be precise, she and her husband had drunk them together.

Behind her, Ayuan chuckled.

Qian Tong turned, “What’s so funny?”

“I’m just happy,” he said. “After two years, my lady is still as straightforward and spirited as ever.”

Her brows lifted. “And your master still prefers women like that?”

Her tone was careless, teasing—as if their once-fiery love affair had never existed at all.

The room fell suddenly quiet. Fuyin drew in a sharp breath and didn’t dare look up.

Park’s hand stilled over the teapot, then resumed its motion. “Don’t tease him,” he said mildly.

Ayuan blushed and stammered, “I—I’ll fetch some snacks for Lady Qian.”

Qian Tong raised a brow. “Since when do you keep snacks aboard?”

“The young master had them prepared yesterday,” the boy said. “He knew you were coming.”

She turned back to Park, curiosity in her eyes. Her gaze lingered too long, forcing him to meet it. Those black eyes—familiar, yet distant.

“Don’t like it anymore?” he asked quietly.

She smiled. “If you act like this, I might think you never got over me.”

He didn’t answer.

But she saw it—the faint, buried warmth flickering back to life behind his calm façade.

She looked away first, chuckling. “Don’t frighten me, Young Master Park. I’ve just gotten aboard—I’d rather not be tossed off so soon.”

Then, in a more businesslike tone, “The goods are delivered. You’ve inspected them. Does that mean I’ve passed your test?”

He nodded once. “Yes.”

“Then what’s next?” she asked. “If you’re after tea, you’ll have to wait. The Cui family’s already stripped Shuzhou bare this year.”

“I’m not trading tea,” Park said softly. “The Park family does only legitimate business.”

She studied him.

He looked much as she remembered—composed, self-contained—but there was something sharper now, an authority he hadn’t carried before.

“Whatever the Cui family does has nothing to do with us,” he continued evenly. “We simply provide free trade to merchants. They pay their dues; we let their ships pass. What they carry is the court’s concern. I’ve already explained this in my letter, Lady Qian. You needn’t test me again.”

She smiled faintly. “Your family really does leave no cracks, do you? No wonder the Cuis died without even knowing who struck them. So what—you’ll let my Qian family follow their path? I smuggle, and you take the profits?”

“No one’s asking you to smuggle.”

“But what if I insist?”

“Then I’ll let you through.”

“And the split?”

“How much do you want?”

Two lovers, once inseparable, now sat across a negotiating table like strangers.

She sighed. “Never thought I’d live to see this day—talking business with you.”

He smiled faintly. “You thought of it long ago.”

“You destroyed the Cui family’s ten ships of tea. If the court doesn’t ease the tea trade soon, the Yellow Sea will see war—and if not war, pirates. You know that, don’t you?” he said quietly. “You just want to see us fight.”

She blinked, feigning innocence. “Young Master, you still overthink things.”

“Do I?”

“It was my fault—I was blinded by revenge. I wanted to ruin what Cui Wanzhong had left, to make sure he could never recover. I was foolish. After that, the officials were watching me day and night. I’ve had no peace since. If my elder sister had only listened to her elders, she wouldn’t have met such an end.” She looked up at him and smiled. “It’s lucky we both cut our losses when we did. No harm done.”

At that, Ayuan entered carrying a tray of sweets—and dropped to his knees.

“My lady, please—don’t tear open the young master’s heart again. Two years ago, he—”

“Enough,” Park cut him off sharply.

Qian Tong hated half-told stories. “Two years ago, what happened? If you won’t let him speak, will you tell me yourself?”

“It’s nothing important,” he said.

She studied him, then guessed. “That night—you didn’t come because… something held you back?”

She’d waited outside his gates all night, through the first spring rain—until Park’s mother had arrived instead.

There was no need to hide now. “My leg was broken,” he said simply.

She froze. Then guilt flooded her face. “Why didn’t you tell me? I hated you for a whole month.”

“More than a month, I think,” he murmured. “I deserved it.”

“Is it healed now?” she asked softly.

“Copper.” His voice was quiet, strained. “That’s enough.”

It was as if he’d conceded defeat. He looked at her helplessly. “You’ve got your salt license. The Lian Alley salt fields are yours. But you can’t touch the Two Huai regions yet—those belong to Prince Pingchang’s men. If you like the Yellow Sea, I’ll grant you a shipping route. Transport what you like. Set the price with Lady Third.”

He was offering more than she had ever expected.

She blinked in mild surprise. “Thank you for your generosity, Young Master Park.”

He didn’t look at her again. “Go change your clothes. You were in the sea all night. I’ll have Ayuan send you medicine to drive out the chill.”

The negotiation ended faster than she had imagined.

Fuyin hurried after her mistress as they left the cabin. “My lady, weren’t you going to ask for a proper meal for the young lord?”

Qian Tong paused. “Forget it. Didn’t you see? Young Master Park looks ready to shatter.”

Fuyin gave her a sidelong glance. “But you too, my lady…”

Qian Tong slowed her steps, sighing. “Too long in the sea last night. I didn’t sleep. My eyes ache.”

She tilted her head back and blinked hard until the corners of her eyes flushed red. When she lowered her gaze again, she saw—standing at the far end of the corridor—Song Yunzhi, watching her coldly from the shadows.