Born to Be Either Rich or Noble - Chapter 5

“Not marrying into the magistrate’s household, but to a fallen man instead.”

That was, without a doubt, the most absurd thing Madam Qian had ever heard. She thought her daughter must’ve lost her senses after being humiliated by that wretched Lady Cui. Gently, she tried to soothe her. “Don’t worry. When you were just a month old, the fortune-teller read your fate — this life of yours will be either rich or noble. You’re destined to marry into power and wealth. How could that Cui girl ever compare to you…”

The Qian family’s fortune might not rival the Pu or Lu families, but against the Cuis, they still held confidence.

Worried that the young master of the Lan family might have changed his mind, Madam Qian quickly turned to her trusted servant. “Go find out how much that saddle is worth, and make sure we buy it back before the Cui family makes a move…”

When Madam Qian was young, she had frail health. Years of medicine had given her just one child. Luckily, that fortune-teller’s words — “She will be either rich or noble” — had comforted her heart over the regret of never bearing a son.

She had spent nineteen years basking in that prediction, her hopes and pride growing with her daughter. To her, the magistrate’s son was clearly the “noble” the prophecy had spoken of.

But Qian Tong had heard this same refrain far too many times — so often her ears were calloused from it.

Simple-minded and stubborn by nature, she saw no point in arguing. She hadn’t expected her mother to truly listen anyway. Instead, she turned to Butler Cao and asked, “When will Father be home?”

“The master said he wants to gather more dowry for you,” replied Butler Cao. “After leaving the Lan family, he went to collect debts. Said he won’t return until he gets the money back.”

This marriage negotiation had drained nearly all the Qian family’s ready cash. What remained were only unpaid debts owed by others — whether they could be recovered depended entirely on his skill and luck.

But knowing the master’s timid nature — never daring to offend anyone — he likely wouldn’t be back tonight.

Qian Tong decided she wasn’t going to wait. She stopped her mother, who was busy preparing the betrothal gifts. “Mother, you don’t need to trouble yourself. I’ve already spoken with Young Master Lan. I know my station is low and unworthy of him, so I won’t delay his marriage any longer.”

This time, she said something her mother actually heard.

Madam Qian’s thoughts were a tangled mess. Her daughter’s words struck her like thunder — she froze for a few breaths before her face twisted and her voice rose sharply. “What did you just say?!”

Qian Tong ignored her shock and turned to Butler Cao again. “Please, Uncle Cao, go tell Father the news and ask him to return soon.”

The Qian family had deep roots in Yangzhou. By her father’s generation, there were four brothers. The eldest had died young, before reaching thirty. The current head of the family, Qian Minjiang — her father — was the second brother.

And with those words passed along, there was no need to urge him. The Qian family master galloped home without pause.

When he entered the house, he was clutching a stack of account books and holding a pair of spectacles with golden rims and natural crystal lenses.

He was drenched with sweat from the hurried journey. The moment he saw Qian Tong, he scolded, “Utter nonsense! Do you have any idea how much effort your mother and I have put into securing this marriage? If you refuse, the Cui family will swoop right in—”

Qian Tong met his eyes calmly. “If the Cuis want to marry him, then let them. What does that have to do with me?”

“You—!” Qian Minjiang was speechless, seething with frustration. “Do you realize the fortune-teller said you were born for wealth and nobility? You’re meant to marry into officialdom!”

Same old tune, never changing.

She had come prepared today, standing quietly while the two of them took turns bombarding her.

Madam Qian’s lips were nearly blistered from talking. She wanted to explode several times but forced herself to stay calm. “Tong’er, I know the young master of the Lan family is a bit of a libertine, but the magistrate’s wife has already promised — once you marry in, all those mistresses and playthings will be driven out. Just endure it for now. The days ahead will be good, you’ll see…”

Qian Tong lowered her gaze slightly, her expression still and unreadable.

“You think she’s listening to a word you say?” her father snapped. “She’s been strong-willed since she was a child — because you spoiled her! Now look what’s become of it. The magistrate’s wife herself came to our door, and you sent her away? If the Lan family actually marries into the Cuis, what will become of us?”

“And how is that my fault for spoiling her…”

Afternoon sunlight slanted through the doorway, streaking across the floor. Qian Tong watched the shifting patterns of light, picking out the faint outlines of bamboo leaves swaying outside. The noise around her faded, replaced by the soft chirping of sparrows.

To outsiders, her temperament matched her delicate looks — a quiet, obedient girl.

But she was not that girl.

Her parents argued themselves hoarse, yet she didn’t waver an inch. “No matter what either of you say, it’s useless. I’ve made up my mind.”

When her father grew so furious he threatened to invoke the family law — corporal punishment — the servants in the courtyard finally realized the gravity of the situation.

Word spread quickly. Within moments, the third and fourth uncles came rushing over with their wives and concubines. At first, they tried to calm the master, but after learning the full story, they turned their persuasion on Qian Tong.

Seven or eight mouths chattering at once, analyzing every possible consequence and benefit — all for her own good, of course.

Qian Tong lifted her head, sweeping her gaze across them. With a faint smile, she said, “This scene feels awfully familiar. Two years ago, the same group of people forced me to yield to your will. Back then, I had no choice but to obey.”

Her smile sharpened. “But this time, you won’t win.”

At her words, everyone — starting with Madam Qian — fell silent.

Madam Qian’s voice trembled with pain. “Tong’er…”

But Qian Tong hadn’t come for their guilt. She was waiting for an answer.

Just then, an elderly matron entered. Dressed plainly, her hair was neatly combed, her bearing solemn and dignified. She stepped before the master, bowed, then spoke evenly: “The Old Madam sends word — the marriage with the magistrate’s household is hereby annulled. The promise she made to the Seventh Lady two years ago still stands.”

Two years ago — what promise?

The master remembered at once. The Old Madam had said publicly: aside from the four major families, her granddaughter could marry whomever she wished.

A fine, honorable match abandoned — who would she marry instead?

Qian Minjiang sank onto the soft couch, unable to defy his mother’s decree. All he could do was bark at his daughter, “Foolish girl!”

Then let her be foolish, so be it.

Having gotten the answer she wanted, Qian Tong rose to leave — but Third Madam suddenly spoke up. “Brother, let’s be honest — the magistrate’s family has strung us along for two years. If they truly wanted this marriage, they would’ve agreed long ago. That young master is a flirt with a weak will, easily swayed by pretty faces. If Tong’er marries into that mess, she’ll only suffer. I say she’s right — at times like these, we should keep our heads down instead of reaching for some lofty match. Find someone decent and reliable. After all those years of war, we survived without clinging to anyone, didn’t we?”

She leaned slightly toward Qian Tong. “Last year, my nephew visited our estate. You’ve seen him before, haven’t you, Tong’er?”

Climbing high was difficult — but stepping down, the road widened. Since the magistrate’s son was off the table, the next candidate would soon be discussed.

Fourth Madam also chimed in. “Even if she doesn’t marry into a noble house, Tong’er should at least marry someone of equal standing. But Third Sister’s nephew might not be suitable. I, however, have someone in mind — good character, decent looks, and most importantly, he lives nearby…”

—

In the Rear Courtyard

Song Yunzhi and Shen Che had already been taken to the guest quarters.

One sat in a pearwood armchair inside, while the other stood straight-backed by the window, staring at the lush spring garden beyond. Neither spoke.

The Qian residence was an ancestral estate — originally only three courtyards deep. But thanks to their salt-trading business and long partnership with the imperial court, it had expanded over the years to occupy nearly a third of the eastern district.

The compound was divided into three main sections, separated by covered corridors and latticed walls.

At the center was the Old Madam’s residence, where the family’s Buddhist hall stood. The western section, near the river, housed the third and fourth branches of the family. The eastern row, closer to the marketplace, was home to the master and his household.

As the family’s only daughter, Qian Tong had been given the entire western wing of the eastern compound — three courtyards in total, complete with a private gate cut into the southern wall.

White walls, black tiles, ink-brushed elegance.

Inside, rock gardens and flowing water lined the halls. Curved corridors framed by carved windows revealed a series of changing views — here, a burst of white magnolia; there, a branch heavy with pink peach blossoms.

At one corner, bamboo shadows danced under a skylight.

Lift your head — and the sunlight met the scarlet blossoms of a flowering crabapple.

Wherever one looked, there wasn’t a single item that appeared ostentatious, and yet, the understated elegance in every detail screamed of wealth. To maintain these flowers and trees alone must cost a fortune in both manpower and care.

From the moment they stepped through the back gate, Shen Che’s emotions had gone through countless twists and turns—shock, sighs, envy, bitterness, and finally circling back to anger once more.

When he was shown into this side room and saw it furnished entirely with pearwood furniture, his urge to eradicate evil for justice reached its peak. His voice was bitter and sour as he said, “Back then, I begged His Majesty to grant me a small garden to use. He told me the empire was newly founded and that many meritorious officials were still awaiting their rewards—told me to wait. I waited five years. Five years, and the garden that never came to me has now become her residence.”

Because of the venom implanted in him, their captors didn’t even bother closing the door after leading them in. Song Yunzhi stood just outside the threshold, facing the courtyard with his fists clenched, frozen in place for a long time.

Though the heir of the Marquis of Changping’s household had seen his share of luxury, Shen Che’s words weren’t entirely out of spite as he huffed, “Brother Song, your own courtyard isn’t even seven-tenths as fine as this.”

They had entered through the back gate, so naturally, they were staying in one of the estate’s most ordinary guest rooms—yet it was furnished with premium pearwood. One could only imagine how lavish the main residence must be where that “female thief” lived.

A mere merchant from Yangzhou, yet she lived more extravagantly than nobles of imperial blood.

Something about this was deeply wrong.

“Lantianquan’s been in Yangzhou for some time now,” Shen Che muttered darkly. “He must’ve already been corrupted. We can’t wait any longer. We need to find a way to eliminate that woman before she bleeds the people dry any further.”

The Marquis’s heir spoke up, his voice calm: “Qian Tong.”

“What?” Shen Che frowned.

“Her name,” Song Yunzhi replied. “It’s Qian Tong.”

Shen Che straightened abruptly from his chair. “Qian… from the Qian family? The salt merchants?”

Song Yunzhi nodded, having already scouted the surroundings. He stepped into the room, sat in another armchair, and placed the bronze sword he carried onto the low table.

Shen Che sneered. “When His Majesty first established the nation, the four great families of Yangzhou turned their noses up at him and refused to lend aid. Out of compassion, His Majesty spared them—wanted to rebuild the people’s livelihood first, so he gave them five years to repent. Yet these vile merchants still haven’t learned restraint. Living in such excess… Has the Qian family forgotten that their salt monopoly license is about to expire?”

It wasn’t that they didn’t know restraint.

The wars had lasted too long; peace had been too brief. Dynasties came and went, but the great merchants endured. They were merely watching—waiting to see how long this emperor could hold onto his throne.

Shen Che’s mission this time was to gather evidence of local merchants oppressing the common folk—but that wasn’t his only goal.

Those who enter the tiger’s den must carry a sharp blade if they wish to strike true. Song Yunzhi, unaffected by Shen Che’s indignation, merely said, “Since we’re here, we may as well make ourselves comfortable.”

They were served a sumptuous lunch, and as the hours slipped into dusk, they waited still. The night deepened, yet the so-called young lady had yet to appear. Shen Che, unable to hold back, asked the servant attending them, “When is she coming?”

The servant answered politely, “Please be patient, Young Master. When my mistress finishes her current affairs, she will come see you.”

And so they waited—until the moon climbed high among the branches.

After the day’s ordeal—nearly drowning, fighting for their lives—no danger could rival the exhaustion now weighing them down. Shen Che finally succumbed, dozing off in his chair.

Song Yunzhi didn’t wake him. He sipped a few cups of tea to keep sleep at bay.

There weren’t many lamps in the courtyard that night; the moon hanging from the trees was brighter still.

As he lifted his cup again, a flicker of movement caught his eye—a shifting circle of light approaching through the misty night, slowly coming toward their quarters.

The sound of light footsteps followed, soft and rhythmic, until they reached the doorway.

The warm orange glow crossed the threshold and illuminated the young woman’s face. She smiled at him, apologetic yet poised. “I’ve kept you waiting, Young Master.”

She had changed her clothes—gone was the Song brocade from earlier; now she wore floating-light silk that shimmered faintly under the lantern’s glow.

Song Yunzhi’s eyes stayed cold as he watched her step closer. She stopped before the sleeping Shen Che, raised her lantern so the light fell directly on his face, and instructed her maid behind her, “The younger Young Master Song looks tired. Take him to rest.”

Shen Che jolted awake, startled.

The sudden light nearly blinded him. Instinctively, he swung out a hand, but the young lady deftly drew her lantern back, standing calmly before him as his glare burned into her.

Shielding his eyes, he snapped, “You wicked woman, I swear I’ll kill—”

“It’s late,” Qian Tong interrupted, not bothering to hear him out. “I wish to speak with your brother alone.”

Shen Che barked back, “My brother and I were raised together—what secret could you possibly have that I can’t hear?”

Well, there was something he couldn’t hear.

Unbothered by his lack of tact, Qian Tong smiled faintly and said, “Your brother hasn’t taken his medicine yet.”

That, of course, shut him up. The younger Song’s eyes widened in alarm as he turned toward his brother.

Song Yunzhi, curious about her intentions, gave Shen Che a reassuring glance. “It’s fine. Go on ahead.”

Though uneasy, Shen Che finally obeyed. “Brother, this woman isn’t simple. Be careful.”

He was right to worry. Song Yunzhi was capable in many things, but he had little experience dealing with women like her—and he’d already fallen into her trap once. He couldn’t afford another misstep.

Qian Tong thought he was overreacting. The way he looked at her, as though she were some terrifying beast—it was absurd.

She wasn’t that frightening.

Once the younger brother left, she took a seat beside Song Yunzhi. The lantern rested at their feet, its soft amber light spilling upward, bathing her in a faint glow. Her pale-green brocade shimmered with traces of gold like fireflies in midsummer night, scattering starlike flecks across her face. In that gentle light, she appeared pure, innocent, almost harmless—a picture of untainted beauty.

The striking contrast made Song Yunzhi’s heart falter for an instant.

The young woman tilted her head, studying him closely. Catching that subtle flicker in his expression, she curved her lips into a smile. “Do you find me pretty, Young Master?”

Song Yunzhi quickly turned his gaze aside.

She lowered her eyes too, appearing bashful, though her words were bold to the point of brazenness. “Even if you say I’m not pretty, I wouldn’t believe it. After all, who can truly know another’s heart? How do I know you’re not just saying the opposite of what you mean? I’d rather trust your eyes than your mouth.”

…What was wrong with his eyes?

Before he could ask, she reached into her sleeve and pulled out a sheet of fine paper, handing it to him. “Tomorrow, Young Master, you will answer according to what’s written here.”

He frowned, wary. “Answer what?”

“Questions,” she said simply.

He glanced down at the sheet—it was densely covered in neat handwriting.

His instincts told him this was nothing good. His gaze fixed on her. “What is it you’re after?”

“If you answer well tomorrow, riches and glory beyond measure will be yours.” Her voice softened, brushing against him like silk, the edge of the paper grazing his sleeve. “Do you like this courtyard? If you do, it will be yours.”

There had been too many suitors offered to her by her family, and she was tired of evading them. So, to make things proper for Song Yunzhi, she had decided to hold a marriage selection exam.

Tomorrow.

Tonight, she was merely here to deliver the answers.