Born to Be Either Rich or Noble - Chapter 59

Qian Tong never expected him to come—much less that he would bring A-Jin and Fu Yin with him, and even seize the Fuzhou tea stockpile.

Had he come to rescue her?

Had he been following her all along?

The young lord’s heart was too pure. Even if he had tracked her—violating her principles—and even if he had struck Fuzhou’s tea house ahead of time, risking everything for a fraud like her, he still looked upright and unashamed. His steady gaze never wavered as he stared at the girl who had broken her word. He seemed entirely unafraid of her questions about why he was standing here now.

Qian Tong walked up beside him, lowering her gaze to the worn bronze sword in his hand. She’d disliked that sword for a long time. Bending slightly, she reached for it and said lightly, “Next time, I’ll forge you a new sword—one made of refined steel. It’ll suit you much better.”

She had said she’d return in five days.

Song Yunzhi looked at her composed face but did not loosen his grip.

Qian Tong tugged at the sword with a little more strength and said gently, “All right. I’m already out and safe. You’ve traveled thousands of miles to get here—you must be exhausted.”

A-Jin had told her that the three of them had been on the run for days and nights without a single rest—because the young lord wouldn’t allow one.

At last, Song Yunzhi released his hold.

She took the heavy sword into her arms, smiled at him, and said, “Come on, get in the carriage. We can talk slowly.”

He waited for her to “talk slowly.” But once they climbed inside, Qian Tong set the sword aside, then patted her own shoulder and said, “You should sleep for a while. Once you wake, we’ll talk.”

“I’m not tired,” he said.

“You are.” Qian Tong looked at the bluish shadows under his eyes and coaxed, “Your martial arts may be excellent, but you’re not made of iron. A-Jin and Fu Yin are already resting inside; you should too. Once you’re rested, I promise I’ll tell you everything.”

They were in Haizhou now—no place to linger. The sooner they left, the better. They couldn’t stay at an inn, so they had to make do with the hired carriage.

It was a carriage originally sent to fetch Qian Tong—roomy enough. Song Yunzhi resisted at first, but his body was bone-tired. He leaned his head against the wall of the carriage and closed his eyes.

Qian Tong didn’t push him further.

If he really had rested his head on her shoulder, that wouldn’t have been the Song heir she knew. She sat quietly by his side, not disturbing him.

He hadn’t slept in days.

Now that she was safe, something inside him finally loosened. His body relaxed, and he fell into a deep, half-conscious sleep. He didn’t know how long had passed before he awoke—to find himself lying in the girl’s arms.

The unfamiliar warmth startled him. His whole body went rigid.

Qian Tong noticed and looked down at him. “Awake?” she asked softly.

Her faint fragrance clung to him, seeping into the dreams he’d just left. It felt oddly familiar. Before he could process it, he found himself staring up into a pair of bright, amused eyes.

His heart lurched violently. He straightened at once, the composure on his face cracking into embarrassment and a hint of red. “Forgive me,” he said stiffly. “That was improper of me.”

He hadn’t leaned on her shoulder—but somehow had ended up in her arms.

“You’re not to blame,” Qian Tong said kindly. “I saw you asleep and took the opportunity to pull you into my arms myself.”

Song Yunzhi frowned faintly and turned to look at her.

Qian Tong waited for him to scold her. But after watching her in silence for a long moment, he said seriously, “If I behaved improperly, then I must own it. You don’t have to shoulder the blame just to make others feel better.”

Qian Tong blinked in surprise.

“Why did you come to Haizhou?” he asked.

The question she’d been expecting finally came. The young lord was awake—and ready to interrogate.

Qian Tong shook off her brief daze and replied, “Do you really think the Park family didn’t know that Park Chengjun slaughtered the entire Lu household?”

He listened silently.

“They knew. Or rather, the second son’s actions probably served their purpose. First the Cui family, then the tea houses and the salt permits, and now the cloth licenses. I’ve been too conspicuous, too aggressive. If they claim they didn’t notice, then they must be blind.” She lowered her voice. “If I hadn’t come to Haizhou, who would be next after the Lu family? My Qian family? My tobacco warehouses? The workers at my tea shops?”

“You knowingly walked into the tiger’s den,” she went on. “But I had no choice. I had no bargaining chips, and I came alone. I was reckless. If you hadn’t come to save me, I don’t know how long they would’ve kept me.”

She looked at him and asked softly, “Yunzhi, why are you so good?”

He knew she had deceived him before…

Her curious gaze locked with his, dark eyes searching his face as though she could read the depths of his heart. It was too intense. Song Yunzhi turned his head away and said quietly, “You gave me your word. I hope you’ll keep it.”

Qian Tong smiled. “All right. I’ll return to the prefect’s office with you—let you protect me.”

He didn’t know what new schemes she was hiding this time, but just hearing her promise eased him a little.

That night, he had raided the Park family’s tea warehouse in Fuzhou. Though he’d used Qian family men as cover, the deception wouldn’t last long. The Parks would soon discover the truth.

His identity would surface sooner or later.

The letter he’d sent half a month ago should already have reached his parents. When it did, the Qian family would be bound tightly to the Yong’an Marquisate. Before then, he only hoped she would behave herself.

Qian Tong asked, “What do you plan to do with the Park family’s second son?”

“Handle him according to the law,” Song Yunzhi said.

“But he’s gone,” she replied.

“He’s gone, but his crimes remain,” Song said evenly. “Once we’ve gathered the evidence, the prefecture will issue a public notice to the realm.”

Qian Tong nodded, her eyes lowering to the bit of dust on his robe. No one knew what she was thinking. After a long silence, she said in approval, “You’re right. A life for a life—that’s only just. You’re acting on Heaven’s behalf, not only clearing my family’s name but avenging the Lu family. The people of Yangzhou will look at you and see hope—proof that no matter one’s rank or birth, evil deeds will bring rightful punishment.”

Then she added, “Don’t go back to my family’s estate.”

Song Yunzhi frowned slightly.

Qian Tong explained, “The household’s a mess. Lady Qian’s superstitious. If you return now, she’ll probably blame you—say you’re a jinx, that your engagement brought calamity, that you’ve thrown the family into chaos.”

Song Yunzhi was silent.

“They don’t realize,” she went on, tugging lightly at his sleeve in amusement, “how blessed they are to have someone like you. Once you reclaim your identity and come to propose as the heir of the Yong’an Marquisate, just wait and see their faces then…”

She broke into laughter at the thought, her eyes curving into bright crescents.

Qian Tong tilted her head toward him and asked, “Tell me, do you think Lady Qian will faint on the spot? As for Second Master Qian, he’ll probably drag me into his study, pretending to scold me while secretly wiping his tears.”

She cleared her throat and mimicked his gruff, booming voice: “You’ve done us proud! To think you’ve caught the young lord’s favor! What did I say back then? That Daoist was right as rain—our girl was born with a noblewoman’s fate!”

Then she went on, changing to a shriller tone, “And when Lady Qian wakes up, she’ll pull me aside and sputter, ‘You—you knew and didn’t say a word? Heavens above, what have we done to the young lord? Oh, I can’t go on…’”

Her vivid impressions and laughter were so contagious that even Song Yunzhi couldn’t hold back a smile. The moment his lips curved upward, all the exhaustion from the long journey seemed to melt away.

When her laughter finally quieted, he said, “The road ahead is still long. You should rest a bit.”

Qian Tong didn’t answer. Instead, she turned her head and stared straight at him.

He glanced back. “What is it? Not sleepy?”

After a pause, she said hesitantly, “I am sleepy, but I don’t know how to sleep. If I lean against the carriage wall, my neck drops the moment I doze off…”

Her intent was so obvious that there was no way he could miss it.

Song Yunzhi inhaled softly, turned his gaze away, and after a moment, shifted slightly closer to her. Offering his shoulder, he said quietly, “Then sleep.”

“Thank you, my lord,” Qian Tong replied without hesitation, adjusting her position until her head rested gently on his shoulder.

His palms weren’t the only things warm—his shoulders were, too. Broad, steady, and reassuring.

Qian Tong closed her eyes and cursed silently to herself, Who knows which unfortunate woman will benefit from this someday. Yet the thought didn’t stop her from savoring this fleeting moment that belonged entirely to her.

Song Yunzhi kept his word.

Upon returning to Yangzhou, he immediately issued an official proclamation.

The true culprit behind the Lu family massacre was not the Qian family, but Park Chengjun, the Park family’s second son. Witnesses, evidence, and testimony were all complete. A national warrant was issued, offering a bounty of one hundred taels of gold for his head.

Alive or dead—it didn’t matter.

As long as it was him.

The announcement sent a shock through Yangzhou.

Not because the townsfolk cared whether it was the Qian or Park family behind the slaughter—but because it was clear now: the imperial court had declared war on the Park clan.

When giants clash, the weak suffer first. But turmoil breeds opportunity. Some saw ruin; others saw fortune. The bold began to watch and wait. The old Four Great Families had fallen—new ones were bound to rise. Who would be next to rule?

The Park family’s Third Madam received word of the second son’s downfall the very day after Qian Tong’s departure.

She immediately rode hard for Yangzhou.

Her first destination: the water manor behind the Red Moon Pavilion, where her son had once hidden. She summoned every servant who’d been on duty that day.

All their accounts were the same—the second young master had been abducted by Lan Yizhi.

Lan Yizhi? That incompetent fool? He couldn’t even hit a target with an arrow. And they expected her to believe he had stormed the Red Moon Pavilion to kidnap her son?

Her first suspicion was the prefecture office. But before she could send anyone to investigate, the prefecture had already issued the wanted notice for Park Chengjun.

So—they were making their move.

He’s not in their hands? She didn’t believe it for a second.

After disposing of the useless servants, she turned to her trusted aide. “Go remind that Qian girl. It’s time she acted.”

Her confidante, an elderly nursemaid, hesitated. “Miss Qian is shrewd, Madam. She’s likely discovered who she really is by now. Are you certain this gamble will work?”

The Third Madam sneered. “And what if she knows? Do you really think a girl who once begged in the rain with a rotting wound on her back can refuse the terms I offer?”

She gave a cold laugh. “All those little tricks she’s been playing under my nose—does she think I haven’t noticed? A merchant’s daughter, impure in heart, daring to think she’s fit for my eldest son? Hardly!”

She smiled faintly. “For now, let her enjoy the illusion of favor. Sweetness makes the trap easier to swallow.”

The message was sent, and Qian Tong’s reply soon followed.

“Miss Qian says,” the old nursemaid relayed, “she’ll bring all the Small Dragon Tea cakes in two days’ time, sailing from Qian family’s Mingzhu Port. By nightfall, both the goods and the girl will be handed over to you.”

Once the Qian family’s name was cleared, Lady Qian had firecrackers set off at the gates all day long.

Qian Tong, however, was subjected to three rounds of ritual cleansing by a Daoist priest, who splashed her from head to toe with talisman water infused with cypress branches.

From morning till night—not a patch of her clothing was spared.

When she tried to move away, Lady Qian pressed down on her foot and said, “The Daoist said it must be done three times a day for three days straight. Not once less, or the evil won’t be fully expelled!”

She had seen the Lu family’s carnage with her own eyes. Since that day, her nights were filled with nightmares—visions of Qian Tong standing blood-soaked amid corpses, haunted by the Lu family’s vengeful spirits; or lying dead on the ground, no matter how loudly she was called.

Once the family was released from investigation, Lady Qian immediately invited masters to perform blessings at home.

First for Second Master Qian, then for Qian Tong.

Every day, she led groups of attendants through both their rooms to pray and drive away evil spirits. When the ceremonies ended, she brought in yet another Daoist to sprinkle sacred water.

Let those wronged spirits know their debt has an owner.

If they wanted revenge, they could go find that Park second son—leave the Qians out of it.

When the rituals were finally done, Lady Qian leaned close and whispered to her daughter, “Where’s your betrothed? Ever since the engagement banquet, I haven’t seen hide nor hair of him.”

It had been so long. The young lord hadn’t shown up once—not even that polite little Song fellow.

Lady Qian’s voice lowered suspiciously. “You don’t think he ran off after our family’s troubles, do you? They say misfortune reveals true hearts—perhaps his couldn’t withstand the test after all…”