Born to Be Either Rich or Noble - Chapter 46

No matter how arrogant the Lu family grew, it no longer mattered.

Now that she possessed a textile license of her own, Qian Tong experienced for the first time the delight and convenience that came with power. She didn’t know how to thank the heir standing before her—so she could only shower him with praise.

“To have met you, Your Lordship, must mean smoke is rising from my ancestors’ graves in gratitude! If Madam Qian ever finds out her daughter’s marrying into nobility, she’ll faint dead away—” She paused to imitate her mother’s shrill voice. “‘You ungrateful girl! You’ve lost your mind!’”

Her expression was so vivid and her mimicry so precise that Song Yunzhi couldn’t help the faint curve of his lips.

The moment Qian Tong saw that immortal-like smile again, she went slack-brained all over.

Now that they were about to be engaged, their relationship naturally wasn’t the same as before. The subtle affection that should exist between betrothed couples—Song Yunzhi didn’t reject it. She liked to watch him, and he didn’t stop her. But she seemed to have forgotten one thing, and he reminded her quietly:

“Give me the medicine.”

Qian Tong froze, jolted back to reality, and smacked her own forehead. “Look at my memory! I should’ve told you long ago.”

She confessed the truth. “The golden cicada root wasn’t poisonous at all. I lied to you. The night you were poisoned and I captured you—it was because you inhaled the fumes from my lamp wick. As for the pill I gave you earlier, that was just an ordinary tonic.”

As she spoke, she watched his expression closely. The more she explained, the guiltier she felt, until finally she pressed her lips together. “I’m sorry.”

Song Yunzhi frowned before he could stop himself. No wonder even the physician from Jinling couldn’t detect any trace of poison in his body.

Instinctively, he glared at her. She peeked up at him timidly, as though expecting him to lash out—her neck shrinking like a turtle’s.

Though anger still simmered from having been deceived, their circumstances were no longer what they once were. He couldn’t afford to reopen old wounds or stir up unnecessary resentment.

After a long breath, Song Yunzhi said evenly, “Since I’ve shown you a proper path forward, you’re not to use such tricks again.”

Qian Tong exhaled in relief and nodded earnestly. “All right. With you by my side, I’ll never do anything bad again.”

But even if she refrained from wrongdoing, others were quick to provoke her.

Five days later, the batch of fabric she’d purchased had been distributed to taverns and salt depots. The summer heat had just arrived, and once the laborers donned their new clothes, they immediately discovered the fabric’s advantages.

Word spread from one to ten, ten to a hundred. The once-suppressed white hemp, now dyed in fresh colors, swept through Yangzhou like wildfire.

By the time the Lu family realized their mistake, it was already too late.

When the Lu merchants tried to buy more from out-of-town suppliers, they were told that the Qian family had already purchased every last roll. In other words, the hottest-selling textile in Yangzhou was now entirely under Qian Tong’s control.

The fabric’s popularity didn’t just fill the Qian family’s coffers—it also revitalized the city’s tailoring shops and dye houses.

Because the material wasn’t coarse, even families of moderate means took a liking to it. It was light and breathable, and after seeing everyone in the Qian household wearing it, people rushed to order their own. Once dyed and cut into varying patterns, the simple hemp became fashionable and novel, overturning everyone’s old impression of such cloth. Soon, everyone wanted a piece.

The Lu family’s silk and satin, by contrast, sat untouched.

If this continued, the year’s inventory would rot in their storerooms.

Second Master Lu, unlike the steadier Lu Daozhong, couldn’t hold back any longer. He couldn’t wait until Qian Tong’s shipment reached the harbor to strike—he had to act now. Yet the four great merchant clans had long ago agreed to certain rules: since each family held evidence against the others, none could report another to the authorities unless absolutely necessary.

So, Second Master Lu took the crude route—he sent assassins.

With the battle-hardened Song Yunzhi by her side, Qian Tong had no need to worry about her safety. The moment the assassins drew near, he sensed them. While he fought the killers in a dark alley, Qian Tong lifted her carriage curtain and held up a lamp to light his way, calling anxiously, “Behind you! There’s another one on the left—be careful, my lord—!”

Once Song Yunzhi dispatched every last attacker, she stepped down from the carriage, planted her foot on the chest of one man still barely breathing, and forced out his identity.

Hearing the Lu family’s name, Qian Tong wasn’t the least surprised. She turned to complain to the man beside her. “You told me not to take revenge, but they couldn’t resist trying to kill me. What should I do now?”

Song Yunzhi saw the glint in her eyes. “The authorities will handle it. You’re not to seek vengeance yourself.”

Righteous to a fault—that was Song Yunzhi, to the point of exasperation.

Qian Tong tried to reason gently. “Business is like war. A preemptive strike isn’t always a bad thing. If we capture Second Master Lu and interrogate him under pressure, he’ll confess soon enough.”

But Song Yunzhi was firm. “I’ve already told you—no abuse of authority. Without evidence, no one is to use private punishment.”

Fine. Whatever he said was right.

Since he wouldn’t let her interfere, she dropped it. After all, she wasn’t the one fighting. The assassins came; he handled them. She remained perfectly unharmed.

After three consecutive attacks, Song Yunzhi finally uncovered the mastermind: the Lu family’s second son. But when the officials went to arrest him, the man had already fled.

Inspector Wang Zhaolun summoned members of the Lu family one after another, but threats and questioning yielded nothing.

Once Wang and Song became allies, the inspector privately sought him out again. Song Yunzhi no longer kept things from Qian Tong, and as they spoke outside, she heard every word from inside the carriage.

When he returned, she couldn’t hold back any longer. “Catching Second Master Lu shouldn’t be hard for you, should it?”

“You have an idea?” he asked.

She nodded. “Of course—but you won’t approve.”

Knowing her cunning mind, he humored her. “Tell me anyway.”

Brimming with confidence, Qian Tong offered, “That Lu fellow loves children—he’s fathered one after another. Especially his youngest, the eighth boy, whom he dotes on like a treasure. If we capture that child and pretend to threaten him, the second master will have no choice but to show himself.”

She had barely finished when Song Yunzhi’s gaze turned sharp, his voice cutting like a blade. “Ignorant and obstinate! Did you forget everything I’ve told you?”

Ah, the gulf between officials and merchants.

His shout left Qian Tong stung and resentful. Biting the hand that feeds you, she thought bitterly, but managed a meek, “All right then—pretend I never said it.”

But Song Yunzhi couldn’t pretend not to have heard. Seeing her turn away so hard she nearly sprained her neck, he realized it would take time to change a merchant’s instincts. So he tried another approach. “And if something went wrong?”

“Then we make sure nothing goes wrong,” she said matter-of-factly.

“There’s no such thing as certainty,” he countered. “If that child were to die by the sword, how would either of us live with it?”

Why imagine the worst when it won’t happen? she muttered, “I already said it wouldn’t go wrong. If you insist on thinking the worst, there’s nothing more to say.”

If one always expected failure first, who would ever take a risk?

Fortune favors the bold, she thought. In business or investigation, it’s the same.

But that single muttered phrase made his expression tighten instantly. Seeing how close he was to exploding, she quickly backtracked. “You’re right, my lord. I shouldn’t think that way. We’ll play it safe, take our time. It’s not like he can sprout wings and fly away—he won’t escape your grasp.”

She didn’t know what methods he used, but two days later, results arrived. Though they hadn’t caught the second master, they did seize his second wife, who’d tried to flee with him.

Charged with harboring assassins and plotting murder—two crimes together meant certain execution.

—

Having failed to kill her and now facing his family’s ruin, Second Master Lu finally broke. He went to the magistrate’s court and beat the grievance drum himself, publicly accusing the Qian family of smuggling.

The case fell to Wang Zhaolun.

Lu pounded the drum and shouted his accusations: the Qian family flouted the law, selling fabric without a license and reaping illegal profit, thereby disrupting Yangzhou’s market order.

It was Qian Tong’s second time standing in the main hall. Listening to Lu list her supposed crimes, she remained calm and said to the magistrate, “Whether the Qian family has truly smuggled goods or not, I ask for your fair judgment.”

Because of confidentiality, Wang dismissed everyone else and privately showed Lu the textile license—bearing the official seal. “The Qian family has not smuggled anything.”

Lu stared at the document, speechless.

How had the Qian family obtained it?

First the salt license, then the teahouse approval, and now this textile permit—everything had come so easily for them. Suddenly he thought of his own elder brother, who’d spent years trying to curry favor with the court, yet had never succeeded. But somehow, the Qian family had.

Who had they aligned themselves with?

He knew well how much silver his own family had spent for that same permit, climbing through layers of bureaucracy until the Ministry of Revenue itself made the decision.

Whoever the Qian family had found must wield extraordinary power—getting the license so quickly from the Ministry’s hands.

From behind a pillar, Qian Tong watched him leave the magistrate’s office in a daze. She couldn’t hold back any longer and muttered, “My lord, that man’s too clever for his own good. For safety’s sake, I suggest we silence him.”

Song Yunzhi rubbed his temples. Her constant calls for blood made his head ache. “The document I gave you bears the Great Court’s seal. Even if he investigates, the trail leads only to Wang Zhaolun.”

Wang was the imperial inspector sent to reform Yangzhou. He had full authority to revoke or grant business privileges.

“The Qian family has provided porridge to refugees, aided the wounded, and employed the disabled through its teahouses,” Song said levelly. “They are a model of virtue among merchants. Granting them a textile license is perfectly proper. Don’t act recklessly.”

It was the first time she’d ever heard him speak so favorably of her family. Qian Tong blinked in surprise, then grinned in delight.

“You’re absolutely right, my lord. The Qian family trades fairly and aboveboard. We got our salt, teahouse, and textile permits through hard work, not connections. We’ve nothing to hide.”

Song Yunzhi: “…”

He gave her a long, cool look. She met his gaze with feigned solemnity, lips pressed tight, but the glimmer of mischief in her eyes betrayed her amusement.

Song Yunzhi could only sigh and stride away.

The moment he was gone, Qian Tong called for Fu Yin and whispered, “Keep an eye on Second Master Lu. If he dares meet Madam Park, silence him immediately.”

(t/n: “Beating the grievance drum” was a traditional means for commoners to petition a higher authority for justice when local officials failed them.)