Born to Be Either Rich or Noble - Chapter 55

At that time, Song Yunzhi’s understanding was simple: she was a merchant. Someone like her hadn’t yet reached the point of caring about reputation — what drove her was personal vengeance, the thrill of immediate satisfaction.

That was precisely why he insisted on pulling her up.

“You may not care,” he said, looking down at the girl beneath him. The faint light flickered across her eyes — now bright, now dim — and as her face slipped into shadow, unseen by her, he whispered, “But I do.”

He turned, intending to retrieve the prisoner.

Before he could rise, a pair of hands suddenly circled his neck and yanked him downward.

Caught off guard — or perhaps because he’d already begun, unknowingly, to let his guard down around her — Song Yunzhi fell forward, pressing tightly against her body. Before he could register her intent, her lips brushed his.

Soft as cotton. Hot as fire.

It was the gentlest of touches, yet it set his entire body ablaze, as if he were engulfed in flame.

Born into a marquis’s household, Song Yunzhi had been raised under the strictest moral code. Every word, every gesture had to embody the decorum of a gentleman. The Princess — his mother — had decreed that neither he nor his sister were to have any physical contact with another before marriage.

As for visiting brothels — the son of a princess? Unthinkable.

In his twenty-one years, Song Yunzhi had never even held a young woman’s hand. Now, he had touched her lips. The shock of that contact sent his thoughts spinning. For an instant, he drifted — until the meaning of her act struck him like a thunderclap. He came to his senses, braced himself, and glared at the girl whose arms still hung around his neck. “Qian Tong,” he ground out between his teeth, “don’t you dare try to trick me with these games—”

Before he could finish, she tilted her head up and kissed him again — just a light brush, like a dragonfly skimming water. “Since the engagement banquet still counts,” she murmured, “I’m still your fiancée. If I kiss you, don’t you want it?”

One kiss wasn’t enough? Would two make a difference?

He felt the lock of her arms tighten around his neck — as though if he didn’t relent, she would keep going.

The spot where her lips had touched still burned; the faint scent of her skin clouded his thoughts. All the propriety he had ever been taught failed him now. He could only warn her hoarsely, “Stop this nonsense…”

But she wasn’t in the mood for lectures. “Do you like it?” she asked softly. “I’ve never kissed anyone before — I don’t know if I’m doing it right. Maybe next time, you can teach me?”

Thank heaven it was dark. She couldn’t see the turmoil in his eyes — the mingled restraint and desire.

He prided himself on his calm, on his control. But with her, that composure shattered again and again. Every spark of anger she lit in him dissolved the moment he faced her.

“If you truly believe our betrothal still stands,” he said, steadying himself, “then hand over Park Chengjun. I’ll restore your family’s innocence. Whatever the Qians want, we can discuss it.”

She said nothing for a long time.

“You don’t trust me?” he asked.

“It’s not that,” she replied quietly. “It’s that our positions are different. Even if I’d told you beforehand that Park Chengjun couldn’t fall into the governor’s hands — that I needed him given to me — would you have agreed? According to everything you’ve been taught, everything you believe in… you’d never have trusted me. You’d never have given him up. So I acted first.”

Her reasoning left him silent. For once, he had no words.

An official and a merchant — already a gulf between them. An official and a thief — an abyss.

“Let go,” he finally said, lowering his voice. “We can talk properly.”

Seeing that his temper had cooled, Qian Tong released him.

Song Yunzhi rose and sat beside her on the pile of dry grass. Beneath them roared the river — its current finally audible now that the chaos had passed. He watched her sit cross-legged opposite him.

“Who are you giving him to?” he asked.

The very first question left her at a loss.

She looked at him pleadingly. “Could I tell you in a few days?”

He gave her no chance to bargain. His tone went cold. “You may refuse to answer — but from this moment on, you don’t take a single step away from me.”

From above came faint voices — their men had found a rope and would soon descend.

Under his unrelenting stare, Qian Tong finally said, “The Prince’s residence.”

Song Yunzhi froze, then immediately understood. His gaze on her sharpened — once again, she had stunned him with her audacity.

He tried reason. He always did. “Once you involve yourself in the Prince’s affairs, you’ll never escape. You have no background, no power. Those killers of yours may have fooled me tonight, but before real soldiers, they’re nothing.”

“Who said I have no backing?” she countered, meeting his eyes. “My backing is justice. My backing is you. The court.”

“Why would you ally with me if not because I’m difficult to deal with?” she added lightly. “Since you’ve chosen to use me, I can’t rely only on beauty to win you over. I have to prove myself — to serve the court.”

That single word — beauty — made his brow twitch again.

She went on, “With my background, what could I possibly offer that’s worthy of you? Only by making myself useful to the empire. When we go to Jinling one day, when I meet your parents, at least no one will say, ‘Look at her — just a merchant girl. How could she ever deserve our son?’”

“They won’t.” His answer was firm, almost fierce.

“Hmm?”

“I won’t allow my mother to speak of you that way. She never would.”

Qian Tong’s voice softened. “But I’m afraid.”

The cliffside wind was harsh. Gusts rose through the cracks in the planks beneath them. She rubbed her hands together for warmth, but it didn’t help. Finally, she extended them toward him. “Your hands are warm. Will you warm mine, just for a bit? After that, I’ll go.”

Without waiting for permission, she slid her small fists into his palms.

The chill slowly gave way to warmth. She glanced upward — men were nearing from above — and felt his hand begin to close around hers.

In the end, Song Yunzhi did warm her hands.

When the voices grew close, Qian Tong withdrew, her tone gentle. “I’ll be gone no more than five days.”

She didn’t look at his face. His silence was already a concession — another word might break it.

Reluctantly, she pulled her hands free, rose, and took a coil of rope from her belt. Before his eyes, she fastened it to a stake in the platform.

This time, she left her trust with him. Clinging to the rocks, she turned back once more and called, “Yunzhi — don’t worry. I’ll be fine.”

He said nothing.

When Shen Che arrived with the guards, he found only Song Yunzhi sitting alone on the platform, his expression unreadable. Shen Che’s heart skipped — he leaned over the edge to look at the river below.

“She… died?”

“Ran,” Song Yunzhi replied. Then simply: “Return to the manor.”

Shen Che bit back his words. He didn’t dare show the slightest satisfaction that the witch still lived, not before his besotted master. But anger churned in him all the same.

“Park Chengjun was taken,” he said tightly. “If not for her interference… The man’s capture could have cleared her family’s name! What more did she want? Now that he’s gone, how is the case to be tried? With no suspect, no testimony — post a public accusation? The Parks won’t stand for it.”

“And if they don’t?” said Song Yunzhi coolly. “The case will close all the same.”

At the Red Moon Gambling House

That night, Blue Yizhi waited in a private room, having been led there by the butler. Before leaving the dungeon, he had seen the words written in Qian Tong’s palm: Follow the Qian family’s people.

The noble heir was trustworthy — high-born, principled. Blue Yizhi knew Song Yunzhi would seek justice for him.

But deep down, he trusted Qian Tong more.

Three years ago, when the Blue family first arrived in Yangzhou, crowds had scrambled to curry favor with him. She alone had stood at a distance, watching. Later, when the others had gone, she sent him a set of brushes.

She’d said she knew he liked them.

In all their dealings since, she had always seemed to know what he wanted — and never once had she disappointed him.

This time, too, he believed she wouldn’t.

After burning one stick of incense in waiting, he heard the sound of a crow’s cry — a call he himself had once practiced for seven nights straight. Recognizing it, he excused himself to the lavatory, pried open the window, and slipped out. Following the sound, he found Ahzhu, one of Qian Tong’s four chief guards.

She led him to a carriage waiting beyond the city walls.

After half an hour, more riders arrived. And when he saw the man they brought — Park Chengjun, bloodied and bound — Blue Yizhi trembled.

Gone was the arrogance; Park’s injuries were grave. Even when he saw Blue Yizhi, he could only rasp, “If you help me escape, I’ll reward you beyond your dreams.”

The sight of him made Blue Yizhi’s stomach turn.

He surged forward, striking and kicking until all the humiliation of those past days was spent.

Qian Tong’s second sister watched impassively, letting him vent.

When Park lay crumpled on the ground, unable to rise, Blue Yizhi sank down, laughing and crying at once.

Qian Tong arrived to find him tear-streaked, disheveled, looking as broken as the man he’d beaten. She hauled him to his feet with a smile. “Feel better now?”

She cast a glance at Park’s swollen face and said, for both their benefit, “This is only the beginning. You’ll see what becomes of him.”

Park’s wounds hadn’t dulled his mind. When the strangers had first come for him, he’d thought his stepmother had sent men to rescue him — until the beating, and the moment they threw him into another carriage. Then he realized whose hands he was in.

He hadn’t imagined that Miss Qian could pull him from Song Yunzhi’s grasp.

But what could she do that would be worse than prison? Wasn’t revenge about proving her innocence?

Only when they reached the wilderness outside the city did fear begin to creep in. Wherever she was taking him — it wasn’t a good place.

When she finished speaking, Park Chengjun struggled weakly against his bonds.

Qian Tong looked at him as one might a mangy dog, then turned to her sister. “Second Sister, how’s your leg?”

“That Song heir’s a stubborn one.” Second Miss Qian, her face half veiled, replied coolly. Her brows — delicate and curved — faintly resembled their late eldest sister’s. “So fast, though. You handled him already?”

Qian Tong shook her head. “You’ll understand when you meet him. He’s rigid — it took some effort to convince him.”

Her sister didn’t ask what sort of “effort” that had required. Time was short. As the last traces of night bled from the horizon, their group pressed on toward neighboring Chuzhou.

The next evening, in Chuzhou.

A maid hurried through the courtyards, crossed the winding gallery and the hanging-flower gate, and stopped before a lavishly adorned room. Removing her shoes, she stepped in on stockinged feet.

The air was heavy with the sweet scent of longnao incense. The silence was oppressive.

Lifting the bead curtain, she bowed to the woman seated inside. “Your Grace, someone seeks an audience.”

The woman on the dais was watching two crickets fight. Just as her favored one was about to lose, she speared it cleanly through the head with a thin iron needle. “Useless thing,” she muttered.

The sharp, dying chirp made the attendants flinch and avert their eyes.

The messenger dropped to her knees, trembling.

When the last twitch ceased, the noblewoman finally looked up. Her expression was one of bored curiosity. “Who is it? I’ve only just arrived in Chuzhou — who could possibly know me already?”

The maid stammered, “It—it’s the second young master of the Park family.”

The noblewoman blinked. “Who?”

“The Park family’s second son, Your Grace.”

She hadn’t misheard. The Park family’s second son — indeed. Her lips curled. “The Parks pleaded with my father for that marriage — swore their utmost sincerity — and yet they sent him. That madam of theirs sang his praises to the heavens. I’d like to see for myself what makes him so extraordinary. Bring him in.”

They brought him in — carried, in fact.

And following close behind was the young master of the Blue family.

The princess hadn’t expected to see a familiar face here, least of all one so battered. “Blue Yizhi? I thought your family was under investigation — are you fleeing justice now?”

Blue Yizhi didn’t flinch. Face flushed, he said firmly, “I’ve come today, Your Grace, to deliver someone to you.”

Three nights later, in Haizhou.

A servant boy led the way with a lantern, winding through three courtyards and five corridors before stopping at a quiet chamber. Stepping aside, he gestured. “Please, Miss Qian.”

Qian Tong nodded and entered.

The moment she crossed the threshold, the conversation inside ceased. All eyes turned toward her as she lifted her veil — revealing a face of startling beauty.

“You’re quick,” said the Third Madam coolly.

Beside her, seated in the place of honor, was a dignified woman whose gaze had followed Qian Tong from the instant she entered. Now, seeing that face, she sighed softly.

More dazzling than ever.

“If my second son hadn’t forced me,” the woman said at last, “I doubt you’d have ever come to see me again, Miss Qian.”