Born to Be Either Rich or Noble - Chapter 58

That day, under the weight of Park Mingyi’s pained gaze, Qian Tong asked quietly, “So, Young Master Park—will you help me stage a play? I’ll pretend to agree to Madam Park’s proposal and get engaged to you.”

For a moment, he couldn’t tell which of her words cut deeper. Through the blur of tears, he murmured, “And what about me, Tong’er? What am I supposed to do then?”

Qian Tong’s tone softened, almost tender. “You’ll keep walking your own path. You’re clever and capable—it’s only fitting for you to become the Park family’s final retreat.”

Park Mingyi looked straight at the woman before him—the one who had just said her heart no longer belonged to him, the one ready to walk toward another man—and he managed a smile. “And if I refuse?”

“You won’t.” Qian Tong couldn’t meet his eyes. Her gaze dropped, and her voice lowered, thin and guilty. “I’ve handed Park Chengjun over to Princess Mingfeng.”

At that, Park Mingyi’s brow twitched.

She went on, her tone calm but sharp. “Lan Yizhi was there too. Mingfeng is proud and ruthless. She was already furious that the Park family promised her the second son instead of you. Once she learns what kind of man your brother truly is, she’ll demand an explanation. How will the Park family answer then? Your father offered plenty of favors for that royal match—two salt fields across Lianghuai, each worth a fortune. Prince Pingchang has taken more from your family these past years than even the imperial court. If things blow up, the prince won’t let go so easily. No matter what you choose, that marriage will still fall to you.”

He realized, with a dull ache, that she’d calculated all the way to him.

He couldn’t tell whether he felt bitter or impressed. A weak, hollow smile touched his lips.

“But before that happens,” she continued, “if you pretend to agree to my engagement, and since it was your mother and third aunt who arranged it, even if your father questions you, you’ll have an excuse. I can’t promise the outcome—but at least this will buy you some time. Enough to come up with a perfect solution, won’t it?”

Her words hung in the air. When no answer came, she looked up—and found him watching her closely. When their eyes met, Park Mingyi rasped, “When did you start calculating me?”

Qian Tong dropped her gaze again, her fingers idly twisting her sash. She didn’t answer his question, only said softly, “That night at the Yellow Sea, I pushed him into the water.”

She paused. “But the night I left Yangzhou, I fell off that cliff on purpose—to lure him out. He suspected something, I could tell, but he still threw himself after me without hesitation. In twenty years, I’ve never met anyone who treated me like that.” She added, “Mingyi… it was hard not to be moved.”

Even though she knew Park Mingyi had treated her well too.

Two years ago, when he hadn’t managed to come for her, it wasn’t betrayal—it was because his legs had been broken. He’d been unable to move.

But she didn’t tell him what she had endured that same day.

How she had personally offered to resign as head of the Qian family. How her relatives surrounded her, berated her, how her own mother had fallen to her knees, begging her to repay the pain of childbirth and stop being selfish.

How she had knelt in the ancestral hall and taken twenty strikes across her back.

And even then, she’d walked out—bloodied, barely standing—and gone to the Park residence to find him.

Just as Park Mingyi had hidden the truth about his broken legs from her, she too would never tell him these things. He would never know.

When he heard her words now, it felt as if a thousand tiny needles pricked through his chest.

She was comparing his love—his years of sincerity—to a man she’d known for merely three months. And then she told him outright that he didn’t love her as much as the other man did.

Park Mingyi’s voice went low and rough. “Qian Tong, you’re cruel.”

Qian Tong knew she was guilty and didn’t argue back.

That same afternoon, Qian Tong sent a message to Madam Park: “I agree.”

But before the message reached Madam Park, a servant rushed in to report, “Someone from the Qian family is here. They insist on seeing Miss Qian, or else—”

Qian Tong had been in Haizhou for seven days now. It made sense for her family to worry. The third madam frowned slightly. “Or else what?”

The servant kept his eyes lowered. “He… he’ll destroy the Park family.”

The third madam blinked. Then, suddenly, she burst out laughing—so hard she nearly doubled over. “I’d like to see who dares to say that. Bring them in.”

Moments later, A Jin and Fu Yin were led into the courtyard.

A Jin, broad-shouldered and imposing, stood tall and solemn. When he saw the third madam, his manner changed entirely; he bowed politely. “Miss Qian has been staying in your residence for some days. Her family is worried. We ask that you allow her to return home.”

The third madam, expecting someone of importance, lost interest the moment she saw two servants. Her voice turned languid. “What’s the rush? Is our house smaller than the Qians’? Afraid we can’t give her a decent room? Go tell your madam this: I, Third Madam Park, wish for Miss Qian to stay longer. She’ll be well treated, she needn’t worry.”

A Jin pinched his thigh to keep from trembling, but the past few days’ fear had dulled even pain.

Fu Yin stepped forward. “To be honest, before coming here, we stopped in Fuzhou. We retrieved the small Dragon Tuan tea—and brought Steward Chai along as our guest.”

Her words froze the third madam’s mocking smile.

Fuzhou. Dragon Tuan tea.

The Park family’s only remaining store of tea.

Now the third madam truly looked at them. Their clothes were travel-worn and dusty from days on the road, but she recognized them—Miss Qian’s guards.

Could these two alone have wiped out the Fuzhou tea house?

The Qian family had grown too bold. The third madam’s face chilled.

A Jin drew a deep breath, then raised his voice until it echoed across the courtyard. “We ask that you release Miss Qian at once—otherwise, by dawn tomorrow, the tea, the ledgers, and the men in Fuzhou will all be handed to the court!”

His booming voice carried far—and since Madam Park, worried they might flee, had locked Qian Tong and the young master in the adjoining courtyard, she heard every word.

Qian Tong had been waiting for Madam Park to come unlock the door. The sudden roar startled her. “Did you hear that?” she asked.

Park Mingyi’s expression was calm again, his medicine prepared. He didn’t answer. Instead, he rose, walked to the door, and called out, “Come in and tidy up the room.”

The servant had barely pushed the door open when a handful of powder hit her face. She collapsed instantly. Park Mingyi kicked the door wide, turned back to the girl inside, and said quietly, “Go on. Take your road.”

That bright road that would never again include him.

He would remain in the shadows, alone.

Qian Tong felt the same heaviness she’d seen in him days ago—when he’d stood before her, unable to face her guilt, managing only a broken “sorry.”

Now she said the same. “I’m sorry.”

And added softly, “Thank you, Mingyi. You’ve been good to me.”

Park Mingyi said nothing.

He didn’t look back.

He simply turned and walked forward.

His martial skills were poor, but he’d survived chaos and even built a fleet at sea—he knew how to protect himself.

He was skilled with medicine: to heal, and to harm.

Some powders didn’t even need contact; once inhaled, they worked as if through air.

When the maids arrived to unlock the door, following Madam Park’s orders, they froze at the sight of the young master and Miss Qian stepping out—hand in hand.

A Jin and Fu Yin’s faces lit up. “Miss!” they called, relieved.

But their joy faltered as their eyes dropped to the pair’s joined hands.

What did this mean?

Not only they saw—it was visible to Madam Park and the third madam too. They had already heard Qian Tong’s words. Seeing them appear together now, the third madam’s voice turned icy. “Impressive, Lady Qian. You arrive at our home, and the next thing I know, someone’s razed my tea house. Since when did the Qians gain such power?”

Her tea house guards were skilled fighters—none easy to defeat.

Could these two servants truly have done it?

Qian Tong already understood. She smiled slightly and soothed, “It’s my fault for being overly cautious. Before coming, I didn’t know you and Madam Park would make such generous offers.”

Ignoring the chill in the third madam’s expression, she glanced at Park Mingyi and smiled. “Since Mingyi and I have reconciled, we’re family now. Naturally, the tea house and its people will be returned to you.”

She couldn’t afford to linger—someone outside was still waiting. She turned and bowed. “As a convict under suspicion, I shouldn’t stay any longer. Once you return to Yangzhou, Madam, I’ll pay a proper visit.”

Then she bent toward Madam Park with respectful warmth. “Please take care of yourself, Aunt. If Mingyi ever angers you again, tell me—I’ll scold him for you. When you have time, come to Yangzhou for a visit.”

Madam Park smiled gently and helped her up. “It’s been some time since I’ve gone to Yangzhou. When I hear good news from you, I’ll make the trip.”

“You can count on it,” Qian Tong said, nodding.

Finally, she turned to Park Mingyi. “Take care. I’m leaving.”

And with that, she departed the Park residence with A Jin and Fu Yin in tow.

Just before they reached the gate, she murmured under her breath, “Don’t tell him.”

A Jin blinked. “Tell who, Miss?” He glanced at Fu Yin, who looked equally puzzled. “Miss, the young— the heir—”

“I know he’s here,” she cut him off quietly. “I mean don’t tell him what you just saw. Understood?”

Though bewildered, both nodded. “Understood.”

Outside the Park residence stretched a busy street, alive with the noise of evening crowds and the glow of countless lanterns.

The moment Qian Tong stepped through the gates, her eyes caught on a figure across the way—standing by a carriage.

Even dressed in plain servant’s garb, the young man’s bearing was unmistakable. One hand rested on his sword, the other clasped behind his back. He stood straight and poised under the swaying lantern light, tall and solitary like a pine tree in the night.

He scanned the passing crowd, and after a long moment, as if sensing her gaze, turned. His eyes found the girl by the gate.

She was unharmed.

And smiling at him.

They’d agreed on five days.
It had been eight.

(t/n: “Dragon Tuan” refers to compressed tea cakes once made as tribute for the imperial court. Highly prized, it symbolized wealth and political favor.)