Born to Be Either Rich or Noble - Chapter 43

That faint ache that had welled up from somewhere deep in her chest—she couldn’t even tell if it came from regret or from stubborn unwillingness—had barely begun to spread when her gaze collided with his.

In those eyes, she saw unmistakable contempt—the kind that came from someone utterly detached, who had seen through everything yet would not bother to expose it. It was like a bucket of cold water, dousing her brief, sentimental melancholy to ashes.

Whatever moisture had gathered at the corners of her eyes was forced back. Money Tong quickly curved her lips into a smile. “Yunzhen.”

Song Yunzhi turned and walked away.

Money Tong hurried after him. “Have you eaten? Let’s—”

“We’ll talk when you calm down,” Song Yunzhi interrupted, his tone clipped and steady. “Right now, every word out of your mouth is something I’ll treat with suspicion.”

Then, reaching into his sleeve, he drew out a pristine white silk handkerchief and held it out to her. “Wipe your eyes. By tomorrow morning, I hope you’ll have figured out what it is you truly want.”

Money Tong: …

Fuyin didn’t know what had happened, but she thought the young master’s attitude was even more arrogant than the day they first met. She muttered under her breath, “Did the young master take the wrong medicine?”

Money Tong knew better than anyone—he hadn’t taken the wrong medicine.
He could act so arrogantly because he was the man who could make her Princess Consort.

Money Tong didn’t even have to ask for food or drink. The Park family’s eldest son had his own way of treating guests—with impeccable manners. He had already arranged a private cabin for her family’s son-in-law, fully stocked with fine wine and food.

The Money family’s ship still needed to unload its cargo, so everyone would be spending the night aboard the Park family’s vessel before returning to the city in the morning.

The night was long, and Song Yunzhi had no desire for sleep. Instead of staying in his cabin, he walked the deck, letting the wind blow against his face as he familiarized himself with the ship’s structure.

On his way back to his quarters, he ran into Ayin.

“Young master, why are you still up?” Ayin greeted him, carrying a tray with a wine jug on it.

Song Yunzhi cast a glance at the jug but said nothing, merely stepping aside to let him pass. When he reached his own cabin door, he paused, then moved on without opening it.

The past two days had been grueling for Money Tong. She’d spent a night half-submerged in seawater, her clothes soaked and then dried by fire until the salt clung to her skin.

Once she returned to the cabin, she finally changed into a fresh outfit from Fuyin’s pack. Clean and dry at last, she was ready to collapse into sleep—until she noticed a bowl of sobering soup sitting on the table.

“Who brought this?” she asked in surprise.

“The young master,” Fuyin replied.

Money Tong blinked. “Where’d he get sobering soup?”

Fuyin was just as confused. The young master had shown up, handed her the bowl, saying it was for the lady’s recovery—even though the lady hadn’t drunk a drop that night. Before she could ask more, he had already walked away.

On the Park family’s ship, there was only one place he could’ve gotten it. Fuyin had already asked Ayin, who said, “He went to Master Park’s cabin to ask for it. Borrowed a stove from the ship’s kitchen, too—made it himself.”

Money Tong stared at the bowl, trying to imagine the twists and turns behind its creation. She didn’t know what made Song Yunzhi decide she’d been drinking—but something he’d made personally couldn’t be wasted.

“Sobering soup isn’t easy to brew,” she told Fuyin. “Can’t waste it for nothing. Go fetch a jug—I’ll have a few cups to celebrate our victory.”

So, for the sake of one bowl of sobering soup, Money Tong drank half a bottle of Yangzhou plum wine.

The liquor’s warmth dulled her senses, and at some point, she drifted into dreamless sleep. By the time she awoke, the sun had risen.

The Money family’s cargo had been fully unloaded—turned over to the Park family as a gesture of goodwill.

Years ago, when His Majesty was still stationed in Shu Province, it was tea that had bought horses from neighboring lands, step by step leading him to Jinling and the throne itself. But peace never lasted. Five years later, the neighboring countries restricted horses, and Great Yu responded by restricting tea.

Under that double blockade, smugglers like the Cui family had flourished.

As Park Gongzi had said, the Cui family’s ten ships of tea were now gone, and the imperial crackdown would soon ignite a “tea war.” The Park family, sitting astride the Yellow Sea and Dengzhou, would be the first to feel the flames.

So, the Money family’s single shipment of tea had arrived at just the right time—enough to stave off crisis.

In return, the Park family’s eldest son had been generous: beyond the salt field and shipping route he promised, he also gifted her a sea hawk ship—a light, fast vessel once used in naval warfare.

It was a good bargain, one that would satisfy even the cautious Song Yunzhi.

When she found him on deck, he was still wearing last night’s clothes, though perfectly clean, the faint scent of seawater gone. He must have washed and dried them himself.

Money Tong leaned close and whispered, “So? How’d I do? One ship of tea for another ship and a whole shipping route. I’d say we made a profit.”

Song Yunzhi glanced sideways at her.

The young lady was glowing—cheeks flushed, eyes bright as snowlight. There wasn’t a trace of sorrow left on her face.

Good. She’d woken up. This wasn’t the place to talk, so he said nothing as she went to bid farewell to her old acquaintance.

When they disembarked, Park Gongzi himself came to see them off. He stopped five paces away, no closer. After last night’s business, they hadn’t met again.

Their reunion after two years had gone better than she’d expected. Both had clawed their way out of that old quagmire, clear-headed and standing on their own ground now.

Money Tong stepped forward to thank him. “Thank you for your hospitality, Master Park. I’m sure we’ll have plenty of dealings in the future—please take care of me then.”

Her tone was friendly, yet distant.

Park Gongzi noticed but only smiled gently. “You’re welcome anytime, Miss Qian.”

“Then I’ll be going,” she said, waving.

“Did you take the medicine?” he asked.

“I did.”

His gaze shifted to Song Yunzhi. “Young Master Song, until we meet again.”

Song Yunzhi returned the courtesy. “Until next time, Master Park.”

They had seen each other once more in the small hours of the night, when Song came asking the servant boy for sobering medicine. Hearing the commotion, Park Gongzi had come out to meet him. The son-in-law hadn’t spoken much—just nodded, thanked him, and left.

Later, Ah Yuan asked, “That’s the lady’s future husband?”

Park Gongzi nodded. “What do you think?”

Ah Yuan smiled. “The lady’s taste has always been excellent—two years ago and now, both times.” Then he asked, “Why is it that you and the lady can never be?”

“Because she’s someone who never looks back,” Park Gongzi said simply.

“And you, Master?”

He gave no answer.

Both had learned the same lesson the hard way: no single person could stand against power. Families and marriages were not sustained by love, but by mutual interest.

Only shared interests could last forever.

“Send word to Third Madam,” Park Gongzi ordered quietly. “Tell her to keep an eye on Second Brother. I don’t want him to become the first Park ghost under Miss Qian’s blade.”

Back on her own ship, Money Tong sat across from Song Yunzhi, reporting yesterday’s results. “I’ve secured the route. Master Park himself promised that my family’s ships will have safe passage. I can ship whatever I like—the price will be settled with his Third Madam.”

Song Yunzhi studied her.

“Don’t worry, I won’t smuggle,” she assured him before he could speak. “That was the last ship of tea I’ll ever send. Besides, Shu’s tea has already been stripped clean by the Cui family—there’s nothing left to buy.”

“Then what will you transport?”

“Cloth,” Money Tong said.

Of course. That explained why she’d needed Lu Daozhong “dead.” Selling cloth or tea—it was smuggling all the same.

Before he could rebuke her, she pressed her palm lightly against the back of his hand resting on his knee and said softly, “Listen to me first.”

Song Yunzhi’s gaze dropped to her bold little hand.

Money Tong acted as if she hadn’t noticed. Looking straight into his lowered eyes, she said quietly, “We don’t have to call it smuggling.”

Song Yunzhi’s lips twitched. He waited for the trap she was about to spring.

“You can secretly issue me an official sea-trade permit,” she whispered. “On the surface, it’ll look like smuggling—but in truth, it’ll be legitimate export. We can even do the same with tea. As trade on the Yellow Sea grows, we can reduce exports elsewhere. My family’s ships will move freely through the strait, and giving the Park family a taste of profit won’t hurt anyone. I can afford to earn a little less. What matters is that it gives you a foothold—to plant your own men there, learn the terrain, and rebuild the imperial fleet.”

Her calculation was flawless—borderline terrifying.

She had secured salt permits, tea rights, textile trade, and now even a maritime license—an absolute winner’s hand.

Song Yunzhi resisted the urge to pull his hand away and sneered faintly. “And then you sit back and reap the spoils?”

“That’s not fair, Your Highness. Even without me, the court and the Park family are bound to clash sooner or later. Two tigers can’t share one mountain. How could a merchant family stand against the empire?” She smiled. “Besides, I’m to be the Princess Consort. Lu Daozhong couldn’t do what I can. The court wants to reclaim the Yangzhou market? Then they need someone who knows it best. Once I’ve taken it back, everything—tea, silk, fabric, spice—goes to you.”

Then she drew back her hand, lowered her lashes just so, her voice softening into a shy murmur. “I’m just a merchant’s daughter. I can’t climb into the royal family empty-handed. The Park family gave up two salt fields to win over the Prince of Pingchang’s daughter. I should at least offer His Majesty—my uncle—a small token of sincerity.”

That one line—“His Majesty, my uncle”—made Song Yunzhi’s vision darken.

There was no rush to untangle that mess. He simply asked, “How did your talk with Park Chengyu go?” Then, firmly, “The truth. Every word.”

Every word? That would be difficult—some things were too private to repeat. Money Tong was still deciding where to begin when he added,

“He gave you a shipping route, the right to trade any goods you wish, and even a warship. That alone exceeds the worth of any ledger or cargo you’ve offered. So—” his eyes sharpened—“what did you give him in return?”

The Park family had been in business longer than the Money family. They were no fools; every deal required equal value. What could she possibly have offered that was worth all that?

He wanted an answer.

Their gazes met. Under his steady scrutiny, Money Tong blinked, her dark eyes flickering with feigned helplessness.

“You must have noticed it too,” she said finally, her tone troubled, almost reluctant.

Then, with a sigh of feminine distress, she murmured, “It seems… he’s still not over me.”