Born to Be Either Rich or Noble - Chapter 47

When Wang Zhao learned that Song Yunzhi planned to hand the fabric trade permits to the Qian family, even he was caught off guard.

He had never held a high opinion of Miss Qian, not because he disliked her personally, but because her way of doing things was impossible to grasp—neither wholly righteous nor truly corrupt. A woman like that, if allowed into government dealings, would inevitably breed uncertainty.

But now, with the Lu family out of play, only the Park and Qian families remained among the four great merchants.

To infiltrate the Park family, they would need another family’s cooperation.

The court seemed to have no other choice. Wang Zhao warned Song Yunzhi solemnly:
“That woman is clever—too clever. Her ways are secretive, calculating. Without leverage to keep her in check, she could turn on us at any time, just as Lu Daozhong did.”

Song Yunzhi had already thought of this back when he was stranded on that deserted island in the Yellow Sea. He had found what he believed to be the best solution.
“I’ll marry her,” he said simply.

Wang Zhao froze.

What?!

He thought he must have misheard. Who was Song Yunzhi? The son of the Imperial Princess, nephew to the Emperor himself, and currently the Assistant Minister of Revenue—a man whom countless noble families in Jinling dreamed of marrying their daughters to.

And who was she? The daughter of a merchant. In social rank, she was at the very bottom. He’d already been humiliated once—kidnapped by the Qian family and forced to play the role of a fake son-in-law. To actually marry her? That would be pure madness.

Wang Zhao stared at him for a long time before blurting out, “This concerns your reputation! Even if it’s only for appearances, you needn’t go to such lengths…”

“It’s not for show,” Song Yunzhi interrupted. “She already knows who I am. Once the alliance is sealed through marriage, the Qian family will have no reason not to serve the court faithfully.”

Wang Zhao was completely stunned.

Not a pretense—an actual marriage?

He truly meant to marry a merchant’s daughter? Wang Zhao opened his mouth, but seeing the unshakable resolve on the young lord’s face, he knew he had no right to question him further.

But how was he supposed to explain this to the Marquis, to the Princess, to His Majesty…?

It wasn’t his place to worry about that. Song Yunzhi merely told him, “Three days from now, we’ll make the betrothal official at the teahouse.”

“My lord,” Wang Zhao risked overstepping, unable to hold back, “she’s still just a merchant’s daughter—no matter how you look at it, she’s not worthy of you…”

Outside the door, Qian Tong had been passing by—and heard every word.

There was a banyan tree in the rear courtyard of the Prefect’s mansion. The cicadas were in full voice that summer afternoon. Curious to hear how the righteous young lord would respond, she leaned lightly against the white wall, pressing her ear to the window.

Inside, his voice was steady and clean. “Her birth doesn’t matter to me. She’s not a bad person. With proper guidance, her wit could bring great benefit to the people—no less than either of us.”

For the first time, Qian Tong understood why some people fluttered with shy pride after being praised. Hearing his assessment of her, she found herself momentarily dazed.

The upright Song Yunzhi, she realized, wasn’t rigid or self-righteous after all. There was something quietly appealing about that.

Later, when she left, she told Fuyin lightly, “Forget it. If Second Master Lu isn’t looking for death, let him live.”

Perhaps Lu Second Master had suddenly grown wiser. After the Lu family went to the magistrate’s office to beat the grievance drum (t/n: a public act of appealing injustice), they fell completely silent, staying home and keeping out of sight.

Soon, the day of Qian Tong’s betrothal arrived.

Everything concerning the ceremony was arranged personally by Madam Qian.

The Cui and Lu families had fallen, and only the Qian family continued to flourish. They knew better than to flaunt their success when others had fallen on hard times, so both Second Master and Madam Qian agreed—the quieter the celebration, the better. They would invite only close relatives and hold the banquet in their own teahouse.

The engagement announcement went out just one day before.

Everyone in Yangzhou already knew the Qian family had found their seventh son-in-law, so the news surprised no one. When passersby saw members of the Qian family on the street, they greeted them with cheerful congratulations.

Madam Qian invited all the proper relatives. As for the groom’s side, things were… complicated. His parents were long gone, and his relatives didn’t seem to think much of him.

When Second Master Qian sent people to Jinling to find them, they located the courier station where the groom had once worked. The men there were cold and indifferent, making it clear they didn’t care whether the brothers were alive or dead.

Such kin were better left uninvited.

Fortunately, the groom had one younger brother still alive. A few days earlier, Madam Qian had told Qian Tong to fetch him—“Your brother’s engagement is tomorrow. As his only living kin, he must attend.”

Qian Tong obeyed and sent someone to the transport yard.

That someone was A Jin.

When A Jin found “Young Master Song,” he was in the middle of arguing with A Zhu.

“Why didn’t you chase after them?” he demanded.

“That mountain’s shrouded in fog. You don’t know the terrain—you’d be riding to your death.” A Zhu’s tone was calm and dismissive. “So they took the goods. Let them have it. Your safety comes first.”

Shen Che was furious.

Those goods belonged to that witch—nothing worth protecting. But after being harassed by bandits for over a month, having his convoys repeatedly robbed, it had become a matter of pride.

They were testing his competence.

Yangzhou had its own canals, but several sections were blocked by rocks. The Qian family’s salt shipments couldn’t move by water and had to go through mountain roads—roads now infested with bandits who vanished into the terrain like ghosts.

Because Qian Tong had once raided the bandit stronghold herself, stealing from their young leader, they’d been nursing a grudge ever since. Recently, they had targeted Qian shipments specifically.

This was the third time.

Every time, his cowardly guards scattered the moment the bandits appeared, leaving him to face them alone—and now they wouldn’t even let him pursue.

He’d nearly caught one of the raiders just moments ago, only to have A Zhu’s horse block his way, as though some great beast lurked in the forest beyond. “Young Master Song, don’t go!” she had cried in panic.

He would go. He had come for this very reason—to meet the young bandit chief face to face.

He’d never known fear in his life. Ignoring A Zhu’s protests, he barked, “Move!” and spurred his horse toward the forest. But just then, A Jin arrived, shouting, “Young Master Song, wait! Your brother and the young lady are to be betrothed tomorrow—please, you must return to the city at once!”

The wind roared in his ears; he barely caught the words—only “betrothed” reached him.

He yanked his reins hard. The horse reared up, hooves slicing the air. He nearly lost his seat, then steadied himself and turned sharply back toward A Jin. “Who’s getting betrothed?” he demanded.

The betrothal banquet.

Because it was held in their own teahouse, surrounded only by family, Madam Qian no longer bothered to hide her delight. Sitting with Second and Third Madam, she laughed and chattered nonstop.

“Our Tong really has an eye for people! How did we not see the young lord’s worth before?” she whispered with a grin. “To think I once plotted ways to drive him out! Have you noticed how noble he looks now? Remember when he first came, dressed in that ridiculous green robe he’d supposedly picked up off the street? I nearly fainted!”

Sometimes, Madam Qian had to admit—her late mother-in-law had been a shrewd woman.

When the eldest son died, the old matriarch hadn’t chosen any of her three sons to inherit the family business. Instead, she’d chosen her ten-year-old granddaughter, Qian Tong.

On paper, Second Master was the head of the household, but in truth, it was their only daughter who held it all together.

The third and fourth uncles had both objected at first, as had her father. But three years under Qian Tong’s management, and the family had only prospered further.

Every decision she made was sharper and more farsighted than her father’s ever were.

Once, Madam Qian had clung to the fortune-teller’s prophecy—that her daughter would be “either rich or noble.” She’d dreamed of grandeur and blamed Tong for disobedience, for failing to grasp her “destiny.” But now?

The Lan family had fallen, their young heir languishing in the prefect’s mansion awaiting judgment. The once-proud Cui family had been raided, its members either dead or imprisoned.

When Sixth Miss Cui was escorted to Jinling, Tong even sent silver for her journey, so the poor girl wouldn’t be mistreated.

If it had been their family betrothed to the Lans instead, would they still be sitting here in peace, celebrating an engagement?

No—Madam Qian now looked at her future son-in-law and saw comfort in his modest birth.

Lowly origins meant a safer life.

Second Madam chuckled. “It’s not as if this is the first time you’ve noticed how handsome he is. Tong’s always been one to judge by looks—anyone pretty, she’ll make friends with.”

Third Madam, unwilling to give up, sighed wistfully. “He’s fine, yes, but if you ask me, my nephew would’ve been a better match. Family marrying into family—what could be better?”

Madam Qian shot her a glance but didn’t bother replying. Second Madam sneered, “Still going on about that nephew of yours? Aside from his birth, what does he have that’s better than our son-in-law?”

The women’s chatter drifted across the room. Qian Tong wanted to feign deafness—and stuff her future husband’s ears as well. She regretted inviting the entire extended family; she should’ve just held a quiet meal at home and called it done.

Madam Qian was growing bolder. “Once they’re married, they should have a few children. Sons that take after the father—tall and handsome; daughters after their mother—our Tong was such a beauty, remember? Everyone envied me when I carried her around as a baby…”

Qian Tong turned stiffly to the side. The tips of Song Yunzhi’s ears had turned faintly red.

“Feeling stifled?” she murmured. “Want to get some air?”

He nodded.

Qian Tong rose and said to the others, “You all go on. I’ll take Yunzhi for a walk.”

They’d already finished the main meal and were now lingering over tea and pastries. Seeing the young couple’s discomfort, Madam Qian smiled indulgently. “Go on then, take a stroll.”

“Strange,” someone remarked. “Where’s the younger brother? He’s not here yet.”

“He should be along soon,” Qian Tong replied quickly, leading Song Yunzhi out of the noisy room.

They stepped into a quiet private chamber overlooking the teahouse’s inner courtyard, lush with flowers glistening from the previous night’s rain.

With the noise behind her fading, Qian Tong relaxed. She opened the window, letting in the scent of wet greenery, and said over her shoulder, “They don’t know who you are. Women talk carelessly—please don’t take it to heart.”

“It’s fine.”

After a pause, he added, “This is for you.”

“For me?” She turned, puzzled, as he held out a small lacquered box.

A gift? From him?

Still dazed, she took it. “You’re giving this to me?”

“Yes,” he said. “A birthday gift.”

She had only mentioned her birthday in passing, and yet he’d remembered. More than the value of the item itself, she was curious what a man as austere as he would choose to give.

She opened the box before him. Inside lay a pale moon-white jade pendant, its tassel neatly tied.

Qian Tong, who had seen her share of fine goods, recognized immediately that this piece was extraordinary.

She had just begun to marvel at his generosity when he spoke again, voice low and steady:
“These are uncertain times. I’ll make up the formal betrothal gifts later. This pendant is the one I used to wear—it’s now yours. Consider it both a token of our bond and a vow. Though my parents aren’t here today, this betrothal is the first and last in my life. I give you this jade as my pledge—to never abandon you, in this life or the next. I hope you’ll cherish it.”

His tone was calm, each word deliberate. From the mouth of a man so upright, such vows sounded almost sacred.

Qian Tong stood frozen.

The warmth of the jade seeped into her fingers. Even a heart of stone, she thought, would melt before such sincerity.

When that warmth rose within her, she didn’t resist it.

She traced the smooth curve of the jade, its coolness blending with the warmth of her skin. Looking up at the earnest young man before her, she smiled faintly. “Do you truly think I’m worth it? You won’t regret this?”

She was only a merchant’s daughter. Someday, he would leave this place and return to his world of privilege. Would he still remember this moment once he was back among the blossoms and grandeur?

“I won’t regret it,” he said simply.

Once he made a choice, he would never look back.

“Then I’ll accept it.” She lifted the pendant from the box and hung it at her waist. Glancing down, she frowned playfully. “Doesn’t really go with my clothes today. Too flashy.”

“It looks fine.”

“You think so?” she asked, tilting her head.

He smiled—just as the door burst open.

Shen Che stood there, still dusty from the road, cloak flying. He’d ridden hard from the city gates, not even pausing to dismount before demanding to know where this so-called “seventh son-in-law” was.

Fu Yin had led him straight here.

Before she could knock, he shoved the door open with a crash. Inside, the two people he sought looked up in surprise, mid-laughter.

They hadn’t even had time to wipe the smiles from their lips.

But Shen Che saw none of it. Blinded by his own assumptions, he strode in and shut the door behind him, barking to the attendants outside, “Leave us. I have something to say to Miss Qian—alone.”

What point was there in hiding the truth now? The time for pretending was over.

He would tear away the mask, force this arrogant little merchant girl to see the truth for herself—to see who the man she’d tried to claim really was.

“Witch, do you even know who he—”

“Young Master Shen,” Qian Tong cut in calmly, “watch your tongue.”

“And if I don’t?” His eyes burned. “For everything you’ve done, you should’ve lost your head long ago—” He froze mid-sentence, eyes widening. “What did you just call me?”

Qian Tong ignored him and turned slightly toward the man behind her. “My lord, Cousin Shen says he wants to cut off my head. What should we do?”