Born to Be Either Rich or Noble - Chapter 49

Qian Tong changed into a new outfit to match the jade pendant she had received.

The cloth was dyed in zhupi red—a newly mixed hue from the local dye shop—and embroidered with clusters of peonies by a skilled seamstress. Beneath her short sleeves, a thin layer of white gauze shimmered faintly; her skirt, dyed in pomegranate red, rippled with each step.

She looked very much like a noblewoman from Jinling.

Qian Tong turned to Fu Yin. “Well? How do I look?”

“Beautiful.” Fu Yin nodded. Her mistress was lovely no matter what she wore. And today, with joy in her eyes and a hint of warmth softening her brows, she looked radiant.

Afraid Qian Tong might think she was being perfunctory, Fu Yin added, “My lady, the young master will love it.”

“Who said I dressed for him?” Qian Tong scoffed. She never dressed for anyone else’s eyes—only to please herself. Flicking Fu Yin’s forehead in mild rebuke, she said, “Let’s go. The banquet should be ending soon.”

They had barely stepped out of the Qian family alley when Ah Jin came charging toward them, face grim and voice sharp. “My lady, the master’s been attacked by the Lu family!”

Qian Tong froze. “Who attacked whom?”

Grinding his teeth, Ah Jin spat, “That old dog Lu Erlang! We spared him before—we should’ve crushed him while we had the chance. He waited until the master was drunk, then ambushed him in the street with his servants!”

A chill flashed through Qian Tong’s veins. “How is my father?”

“Two ribs broken. He’s still unconscious. Madam’s taken him to the physician’s hall,” Ah Jin replied, hesitating only to withhold the Young Master’s earlier warning: Tell Miss Qian not to act rashly.

But how could anyone endure such an insult?

Ah Jin’s fists trembled. If it were up to him, he’d storm the Lu household this instant and beat Lu Erlang within an inch of his life—one bruise for every injury on his master’s body.

Qian Tong hadn’t expected the Lus to still have such gall.

Her father might look robust, but years of indulgence had left his body frail; he was forever complaining of aches once the doors were shut at night. And now—two ribs shattered?

The Lus were asking for death.

“Surround their manor. Don’t let anyone escape.”

Last time, the Lu family’s second son had fled before they could seize him. Not this time. Without waiting for a carriage, Qian Tong swung onto her horse, Fu Yin and Ah Jin close behind as they thundered toward the Lu estate.

Meanwhile, Song Yunzhi had carried the injured Qian master to the physician’s hall.

The man on the bed was nearly unrecognizable—his face swollen and mottled, his body covered in bruises. Madam Qian wept uncontrollably, cursing the Lu family between sobs and demanding to report them to the magistrate at once.

Song Yunzhi sent Shen Che to accompany her to the prefect’s yamen, instructing quietly, “Tell Wang Zhao to dispatch men to the Lu estate immediately.”

He stayed behind to watch over the wounded.

It was the height of summer, and the stifling heat filled the air with a restless tension. The noise and commotion inside the hall only deepened Song Yunzhi’s unease as he stood outside, waiting for the injured man to wake.

Something in his chest burned like fire.

The Qian and Lu estates stood on opposite ends of the city. To reach the Lu residence, one had to pass through the bustling central market.

Since the Qians’ engagement banquet had drawn half the city to gawk, the streets were packed. Qian Tong and her party had to slow their horses and push through the crowd.

By the time they reached the Lu estate, dusk had fallen.

They galloped into the narrow lane leading to the mansion. The gates were shut, and no guards stood in sight.

Ah Jin sneered. “Cowards. Think hiding will save them?”

He leapt down, kicked open the doors, and shouted, “Is Second Master Lu here? Miss Qian has questions for you!”

No answer.

Ah Jin strode deeper inside, Fu Yin and Qian Tong following. Both servants carried blades—this was no social call.

They crossed the front hall into the inner courtyard. Still, not a sound.

“What’s this? Second Master Lu too scared to face us?” Ah Jin barked.

Fu Yin moved ahead to search.

Qian Tong, several paces behind, began to sense something was wrong.

The last time she’d visited the Lu residence, the place had been full of children’s laughter. The family was large—no matter how frightened the adults were, the little ones could never stay quiet for long.

But now… not a single sound.

The silence pressed in on her like a weight.

She stopped walking—just as Ah Jin kicked open another door.

At once, a wave of stifling, metallic air rushed out. The stench of blood hit them so hard it made their stomachs turn.

Ah Jin froze, rooted to the spot like a statue.

Behind him, Fu Yin whispered hoarsely, “My lady… don’t come any closer.”

But Qian Tong stepped forward anyway.

What she saw made her breath catch.

Blood. Everywhere.

Bodies sprawled across the courtyard, the veranda, the steps—men, women, the elderly, even infants.

Ah Jin found Lu Erlang among them.

He sat slumped against a pile of corpses, his throat slashed so deep the bone showed. His robes were soaked scarlet, the blood still fresh. His eyes bulged wide, fixed in eternal terror toward the doorway.

Behind him rose a small mountain of the dead: women run through by swords, children with their throats cut, young men lying stiff and unavenged.

Someone had slaughtered the entire household.

Anyone could see it—the Lu family had been wiped out. And yet here stood the Qian family’s people at the scene.

Why?

Qian Tong’s face blanched. “We’re leaving,” she ordered sharply.

She had barely turned when a faint voice rasped from the blood-soaked heap. “Lady Qian… wait…”

She knew that voice—it was the Lu family’s second son.

He hadn’t escaped after all.

Qian Tong hesitated.

“My family has been butchered,” he gasped weakly, his words broken by pain. “Only my youngest son still breathes. I know Lady Qian is a woman of mercy… you’ll not leave a child to die. Though the Lu family has wronged you, we are not demons like the Piao clan. Please, save my boy… and in the underworld, I’ll light you a lamp for peace.”

His voice faded, barely a whisper. He was dying.

Tragic as it was, Qian Tong understood she couldn’t linger—staying would only trap them all.

Ah Jin urged, “My lady…”

“Go,” she said. “Now.”

The copper scent of blood filled every breath she took. By the time she reached the veranda, her steps felt heavy as stone.

Song Shizi’s earlier words echoed in her mind: She isn’t a bad person.

She clenched her jaw. “To hell with being a good person,” she muttered. “I was never one.”

Then she turned back.

“You two—guard the gate,” she told Ah Jin and Fu Yin.

Qian Tong returned to the courtyard. Behind the mound of corpses lay the Lu family’s second son—already dead, his arms still wrapped around a small child.

She recognized the boy.

Lu Erlang’s eighth son—the one he’d once bragged about to her. Barely two years old.

The boy’s belly had been stabbed. His eyes were shut, his face ghostly pale. Qian Tong pressed a hand to his nose—still breathing, faintly.

She pried him from his father’s arms, kicking the body aside when it refused to yield.

But as she straightened, cradling the wounded child, she froze.

Standing in the doorway was Song Yunzhi—his face white as snow, eyes burning red with fury.

Qian Tong sighed inwardly.

Her luck truly couldn’t be worse.

“Qian Tong!” Song Yunzhi’s voice tore through the air like a blade, heavy with anguish.

She knew nothing she said would matter, but still she tried. “If I told you this has nothing to do with me—that I came to save the boy—would you believe me?”

Song Yunzhi’s gaze was unyielding. Never, not even when they had nearly drowned together at sea, had she seen him look so grim.

Qian Tong glanced down at herself—her hands and gown soaked in blood, Lu Erlang’s corpse at her feet, the child limp in her arms.

“I swear, I came to save him,” she insisted quietly. “When I arrived, Lu Erlang was still alive—he asked me to save his son. Look, he’s still breathing—”

She bent to check again.

Cold. Still.

The boy’s last breath had left him.

And just like that, everything she’d said turned to dust.

Once, she’d even suggested using the boy as a hostage—to help Song Yunzhi. Now that single memory branded her a murderer.

Qian Tong placed the child gently on the ground. Her voice broke. “Yunzhi… please. Pretend you didn’t see me today. This whole thing is too strange—think about it. However much I hate the Lus, would I really slaughter an entire household? You know I wouldn’t. You—”

She stopped short.

Shen Che had arrived, with Wang Zhao close behind—and her mother.

The moment they saw the carnage, their expressions froze in horror.

“Tong’er…” Madam Qian whispered. She had come to confront the Lu family herself, taking a side route to catch them off guard. She had never expected… this.

Seeing her daughter standing amid the blood, she collapsed to her knees.

She understood at once what everyone else would believe.

The Lus had crippled her husband. The Qian daughter, blinded by rage, had retaliated and massacred the Lus in vengeance.

Even her own mother wouldn’t believe she was innocent—how could a man as upright as Song Yunzhi?

There was no clearing her name now.

Wiping her bloody hands on her skirt, Qian Tong looked to Wang Zhao. “Are you going to arrest me, or should I save you the trouble and walk myself there?”

Wang Zhao recovered from his shock and barked, “Take Lady Qian into custody.”

Qian Tong didn’t resist. What was the point?

They seized her, along with Ah Jin and Fu Yin.

She had been to the prefect’s office countless times, but tonight was the first she’d seen the inside of its prison.

Facing her, Shen Che’s eyes were cold as iron.

Qian Tong smiled faintly. “Well, Young Master Shen, you must be pleased. I’ve finally fallen into your hands. You can take your revenge now.”

All he could feel toward her was hatred.

Seeing the fury in his eyes, she tried again, half in jest, half in plea. “I’m afraid of pain. Can we just talk this out, without torture?”

Shen Che said nothing.

Only hours ago, Song Yunzhi had praised Qian Tong as not a bad person.

And now, before the day was even over, she stood accused of annihilating an entire family.