Born to Be Either Rich or Noble - Chapter 6

Every great family had its own rules when it came to marriage.
Even merchant clans had their own standards for evaluating a potential husband.

To outsiders, these “tests” were no simple matter.

With this answer sheet in hand, tomorrow Young Master Song would surely stand out from the crowd, seize first place, and become the chosen son-in-law of the Qian family—provided that…

“Young Master Song, can you read?”

He had never once in his life been asked such a question. The young man’s cold, proud gaze instinctively revealed both warning and offense.

Qian Tong understood instantly.

Though he was a man of martial training, his refined features and sharp, clear eyes betrayed intelligence. Surely he could read.

“Tonight, Young Master Song, memorize everything on this sheet. Tomorrow, simply answer according to it.”

“It’s getting late, so I won’t delay your studying.”

Qian Tong spread out the sheet of rice paper and draped it gently across his arm. Then she bent down to lift the lantern at her feet.

But when she straightened, a cold bronze sword was suddenly resting against her neck.

Bathed in the flickering light, she tilted her head slightly. Under the pale glow of the night, her light-colored eyes showed no trace of fear—only mild bewilderment.

“The medicine,” Song Yunzhi reminded her.

The sword hadn’t been drawn. Qian Tong calmly stood, her delicate shoulder brushing the blade aside. She smiled lightly and said in a quiet, teasing tone, “I lied to the young master. Your poison doesn’t need medicine—at least not for now.”

In just a single day, the little lady had already carved out a reputation in his mind as being cunning to the core.

The bronze sword in his hand rose again, pressing against her throat and barring her way.

“What now?” she asked, arching a brow.

“Who are you? And where is this place?”

This woman had drugged a child, then leaked word to the men at the alley’s mouth, forcing them into a trap so she could play the rescuer. Later, she had lured them with wealth and promises, then planted a poisonous parasite inside him while he was off guard.

Her plan—flawless from start to finish.

Her mind was sharp, her methods ruthless. If he was to act according to her scheme and infiltrate the Qian household, he couldn’t afford to let her sense any suspicion. He needed to draw her out first.

He expected the woman to dodge his question again, to spin another trick.

But she only smiled sweetly and answered, “My surname is Qian. Given name, Tong. I’m nineteen this year, born in the Year of the Tiger.”

When she finished, she gazed at him expectantly.

There was no need for such a detailed answer.

Song Yunzhi’s dark, ink-like eyes flickered. He seemed to catch on to something, his expression shifting with a trace of surprise and disbelief. His gaze lifted toward her.

“The Qian family—one of the Four Great Houses of Yangzhou?”

Qian Tong nodded lightly. “Mm. Are you pleased, Young Master?”

He was a proud man. Even upon learning she was a wealthy heiress, he had no intention of flattering her. After a brief pause, he replied stubbornly, “I don’t find being taken hostage to be a cause for joy.”

To that, Qian Tong had no argument. She only said softly, “You’ll be happy later.”

His good fortune was yet to come.

He had endured enough for one day. Fearing she might truly frighten him, Qian Tong decided to save the biggest surprise until after he triumphed tomorrow.

Song Yunzhi said nothing more, only silently sheathed his bronze sword.

That was better.

He sought wealth and opportunity. She had both—and could offer him a future brighter than silk. Why would he refuse?

Qian Tong preferred dealing with clever men. But then she remembered—there was still one who wasn’t so clever.

An idea struck her. She turned toward the man watching her from behind. “How about I find your younger brother a job?”

Without waiting for his reply, she added, “He leaves tonight.”

And before he could object, she concluded briskly, “It’s decided.”

From thought to action, she allowed no pause for consideration, no time for argument. Her disdain for wasting a single breath on others made her every word sound like a threat.

Before Song Yunzhi could react, she had already reached the doorway, lantern in hand, and instructed her maid, “The freight office is short on a bookkeeper. The younger Song gentleman will do nicely.”

With their lives in her grasp, she was utterly unrestrained.

From inside the room, Song Yunzhi soon heard Shen Che’s furious shouting drawing near:

“Why should I go?”

“You thief! Don’t push your luck!”

“It’s dark already! How am I supposed to walk when I can’t even see the road—”

“Young Master needn’t worry,” Fu Yin interrupted coolly. “Someone will guide you.”

She escorted him to the door and gave them a brief moment to say their farewells.

With a sharp bang, Shen Che slammed the door shut. He clenched his jaw, lowering his voice in complaint, “That woman’s sending me on some errand—who does she think she is?”

He paced the room in anger.

Only when his temper cooled did Song Yunzhi finally speak: “You should go.”

There were ears everywhere. They couldn’t speak plainly. Song Yunzhi hinted, “If Lady Qian is willing to give you the chance to learn, take it as fortune. Becoming a bookkeeper—isn’t that what you’ve always wanted? Consider your wish fulfilled.”

The hidden meaning was clear enough.

Shen Che hadn’t forgotten why they’d come to Yangzhou.

The Four Great Houses had ruled unchecked for years—they wouldn’t fall easily. Ending up inside the Qian household like this was an unexpected advantage.

Still… it irked him that he hadn’t even spent one night in such a fine courtyard.

“What task did she assign you, then?” he asked curiously. “Why send me away?”

Song Yunzhi glanced at the sheet of rice paper lying on the table. He still couldn’t quite guess her true purpose. “To answer questions,” he replied.

Though both were in dire straits, Shen Che couldn’t help noticing how differently they were being treated. Glancing quietly at Song Yunzhi’s calm face, he reminded him again, “Brother, be careful of that woman.”

The gentle, handsome heir—who wouldn’t be drawn to him? He mustn’t let a merchant girl take advantage.

Song Yunzhi nodded. “I know what I’m doing. Take care of yourself.”

A mere merchant woman—no matter how vicious—was hardly something to fear. A man who had survived the battlefield wouldn’t lose his life to her tricks.

“I’ll go, then.” Shen Che cupped his hands respectfully before leaving with Fu Yin.

When they were gone, the night grew still again.

A servant entered, carrying a basin of water. After setting it down, he closed the door behind him.

Song Yunzhi didn’t so much as glance at the paper. He lay down fully dressed on the soft couch.

He’d once been particular about where he slept, but the army had long cured him of that. Still, after everything that had happened today, sleep wouldn’t come easily.

Only toward dawn did he finally force himself to rest, gathering strength for what lay ahead.

By the time sunlight pierced through the window lattice, movement stirred outside. Hearing footsteps approach, Song Yunzhi immediately rose.

“Young Master Song, are you awake?” called the servant at the door.

When Song Yunzhi opened it, the young man presented a tray bearing a set of fine brocade robes.

“Please change, Young Master. After breakfast, I’ll escort you to the front courtyard.”

Qian Tong often marveled at the talents of the women in the inner residence.

Normally, if she asked them to walk two miles to check on the salt wells, they’d complain of exhaustion—yet somehow, in just one night, they’d managed to gather nine eligible bachelors for her.

Each one was a relative by some distant connection, all of them able to call her “Cousin.”

Madam Qian, who had tragically lost the prestigious engagement with the magistrate’s family just the day before, hadn’t slept a wink. The dark circles under her eyes made that obvious.

Now, flanked by the Third and Fourth Madams and a retinue of concubines from the third and fourth branches, she arrived at the main hall.

After a round of flattery, her wounded pride began to heal, replaced by a smug sense of satisfaction.

“First and foremost,” Madam Qian declared, “anyone who marries into our Qian family must be quick-witted.”

“Naturally!” chorused the women around her.

“And looks do matter as well.”

“Don’t worry, Second Sister,” one said with a smile. “Our Tong girl is so lovely—her husband can’t possibly be anything less.”

The front courtyard’s garden had a raised pavilion built for leisure—a place open on three sides, airy and bright. In summer, it was for cooling off; in winter, for enjoying the snow. Today, Madam Qian and the other ladies sat within, facing the long, mural-covered gallery across from them.

The soft bamboo mats were edged in crimson lacquer, rolled neatly beneath the eaves. Morning sunlight poured through the corridor, illuminating the painted walls until they shimmered like celestial palaces in the heavens.

Below the gallery ran a row of seats separated by landscape screens. Each seat had a small wooden desk before it, fully set with brush, ink, paper, and inkstone.

At this moment, nine young men were already seated.

The ladies below watched them closely, their gazes drifting between the faces of the various gentlemen and Qian Tong, trying to catch even the smallest hint of where her attention might fall.

But Qian Tong didn’t look at anyone. She didn’t join the cluster of women either—she stood beneath one of the wooden pillars to the side, half her figure in sunlight, eyes drifting lazily toward the moon-gate entrance.

The servant had delivered a new outfit early that morning—woven from Shu brocade, custom-made overnight since there was no young man of his build in the Qian household. Yet the young man hadn’t changed. He still wore the same green robe from yesterday.

A handsome face needs no fine clothes. Walking down the pebble path lined with flowers, he seemed to carry sunlight with him; the warm golden light fell over him like a halo. Even the brilliantly painted murals of the gallery paled beside his quiet brilliance.

“Which family is that young man from?” Madam Qian was the first to notice him. Her question made the other ladies exchange knowing glances, suspicion flickering in their eyes.

The young man followed the servant beneath the gallery—yet halfway through, he turned suddenly, looking straight toward the young lady standing by the pillar. His gaze didn’t dodge, didn’t hide—just a bold, unrestrained look.

And he didn’t look away for a long time.

The women’s gazes darted between the two of them again. Surprise turned quickly to distaste.

He wasn’t one of theirs.

Madam Qian stared at the bashful smile blooming on her daughter’s face, momentarily stunned, before calling out, “Tong’er, aren’t you afraid of getting sunburned standing there?”

The servant reminded the youth politely, “Young Master Song, please take your seat.”

The young man hesitated, clearly struggling with himself, but in the end he followed the servant and sat down.

On the dais, Madam Qian turned to ask which branch of the family had sent this “cousin.” Her expression showed faint irritation. “Looks decent enough, but one mustn’t forget manners.”

Worried that the others might lose heart, she added reassuringly, “To marry into the Qian family, what matters most is ability.”

The women’s faces, previously clouded, lit up again with renewed hope.

Song Yunzhi was the last to arrive. His seat was near the far end. Seeing the brushes and paper before him, he realized the Qian family must be selecting talent—but for what purpose, he couldn’t tell.

The woman seated above the others, surrounded by flattering attendants, was clearly Madam Qian herself.

The family head wasn’t present. So this selection couldn’t be for any major position—or so he thought, until he overheard a hushed voice nearby.

A maid refilling tea for the next seat whispered, “Third Madam said you must answer carefully, young master. If you do well, you’ll enjoy glory for a lifetime. If not, this family connection will end here.”

“Tell Aunt not to worry,” the young man replied. “I won’t waste her efforts.”

Song Yunzhi raised an eyebrow, surprised.

Before he could think more, a steward entered with servants, distributing sheets of fine paper one by one. “The time is one stick of incense,” he announced loudly. “Gentlemen, you may begin.”

A sheet of excellent Xuan paper was handed to Song Yunzhi. He accepted it silently.

Since the Qians were salt merchants, the test would likely involve bookkeeping or knowledge of salt—things he was confident in. But when he unfolded the paper, he saw the questions were nothing of the sort.

The incense began to burn. Around him, the others wrote vigorously, brushes flying. Only Song Yunzhi’s writing slowed, until finally, his brush stopped entirely.

“You didn’t look at the test sheet last night?”

A familiar voice broke the silence by his ear.

He stiffened slightly, turning toward the young lady who had somehow appeared behind him.

Perfect timing.

He had wanted to ask her what her true purpose was in bringing him here.

Qian Tong didn’t meet his gaze. She was looking down at his paper, frowning. “That’s wrong.”

The question read: “A tree bears ripe fruit. Six birds land upon it. A hunter fires and kills one. How many birds remain?”

He had selected option A: None remain.

“Choose this.” She pointed, her slender finger—nails tinted pale peach—landing on the option ‘Five.’

Though the question seemed trivial, he couldn’t agree with her logic.

“Trust me,” Qian Tong said, explaining, “The test isn’t about arithmetic—it’s about courage. Wealth comes to the bold. A bird dies, but the rest remain and gain more fruit for themselves. If they flew away, wouldn’t that be a pity?”

Her words made him look at her with cold disdain. He gripped the brush, showing no sign of changing his answer.

“Huh?” She noticed something, tugging lightly at his sleeve. Pulling his arm aside, she found the page beneath almost entirely blank. “Half the incense has burned, and you’ve only answered one question?”

He glanced at her. He wanted to ask—how could he possibly answer these?

—“If your wife disagrees with your in-laws, whose side would you take?”
—“Would you oppose becoming a live-in husband?”
—“How do you view the status of a son-in-law of the Qian family?”

“So you really didn’t read the answers,” she said, not surprised at all. Calmly, she looked over his paper and began pointing out the correct choices. “This one.”

His dark eyes flickered, like black ice catching fire, staring at her so intently that she almost flinched.

When he still didn’t move, Qian Tong reached forward, her hand wrapping around his as she guided the brush.

Her fingers brushed his, soft and warm like jade with a faint heat. Song Yunzhi’s ears went slightly red. He jerked his hand back. “Let go.”

But she didn’t. Her tone was firm. “I said write.”

In strength, he could easily overpower her—but he remained still, unmoving. “Lady Qian,” he said quietly, “Tell me truthfully—if I’m chosen today, what position would I hold?”

A position? There was none.

Unless son-in-law counted.

When she saw his obvious reluctance, her own temper soured. What was wrong with her? She was the daughter of a wealthy merchant—hardly plain—and he wasn’t even pleased?

“Does Song Yunzhi think I went through all this trouble to capture you, not to make you work or send you to haul goods in the mountains, and even had clothes tailored overnight—for what reason? You haven’t guessed?”

Ungrateful man.

She’d been watching him all morning; if he hadn’t just sat there motionless, she wouldn’t have needed to risk embarrassment by stepping in front of everyone like this.

Her look now was one of clear disappointment.

Song Yunzhi wasn’t sure what he felt—only that her pure, serene face was the most deceptive mask he’d ever seen. Behind it hid cunning, absurdity, and shamelessness.

He recalled Shen Che’s warning glance the night before. The heat in his ears spread down the side of his neck, beneath his collar. His voice, however, remained calm. “I cannot agree to this.”

“Why not?” she asked, puzzled.

He thought—only a reckless merchant’s daughter would even ask why.

Marriage was no trifling matter. It required one’s parents’ blessing, formal betrothal documents, proper rituals. Yet for a wandering, impoverished soldier like him, such traditions were luxuries he couldn’t afford.

The empire was still recovering; countless people struggled to eat. For men like him, simply earning a living and feeding a family was a blessing. What wealthy girl would marry such a man?

Much less the daughter of one of the richest families in Yangzhou—a dream countless men would kill for.

He had no reason to refuse. Yet, somehow, he still couldn’t bring himself to say yes.

Her expression darkened. “Do you even know what that Gu insect is?”

She released his hand, leaning closer, voice steady. “It’s one of a kind—and very expensive.” Seeing his expression grow uglier, she added, “Now that it’s inside you, it can never be removed.”

She wasn’t lying. That Gu had cost her a fortune from a traveling trader of the Western Regions—and even more effort to capture him alive.

All of it was an investment.

She never did business at a loss, nor wasted effort on things without return. He was no longer who he had been—she had to make him realize his worth now.

“With that priceless Gu inside you,” she said with a smile, “do you really think I’d treat you poorly?”

What was she talking about?

Song Yunzhi stared at her blankly. He didn’t understand a single word.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Madam Qian approaching furiously.

Qian Tong sighed, reached into her sleeve, and pulled out another sheet identical to his test paper. “I knew you’d overthink things, so I prepared a spare in advance.”

Before he could react, she waved to the steward. “Uncle Cao! My husband is submitting his paper!”

He lunged to grab it, but she’d already lifted her skirt and leapt lightly down from the gallery steps into the passageway.

Half his body hung over the table as he glared after her, lips pressed tight with fury.

Around him, whispers erupted into an uproar.

“How could he do that?”
“That’s outright cheating!”
“Who does that shameless pretty boy think he is—”

He’d never heard such insults directed at him before. His head buzzed, blood pounding in his ears.

And for the second time, Song Yunzhi thought—he truly wanted to kill this woman.