Born to Be Either Rich or Noble - Chapter 62

Even though the Third Lady still doubted her intentions, the moment she heard the girl mention the Eldest Young Master, a sliver of trust returned. Seeing her half-dead appearance, dragging her injuries all the way here just to deliver the warning, the Third Lady’s heart believed about seventy percent of it.

The remaining thirty percent came from panic.

Her own people had already failed. She absolutely could not allow a living witness to fall into government hands.

—

Song Yunzhi and his men returned to the administrative offices just before dawn.

Shen Che had not gone with them tonight. He remained at the prefect’s residence. Since Song Yunzhi and Wang Zhao were both personally taking action, he believed capturing that “Seventh Young Lady of the Qian family” would be effortless. But after hearing Wang Zhao recount what had happened…

He shot up from his seat. “Brother Song—if we don’t mobilize troops now, then when?!”

Merchants, no matter how powerful, were still just merchants.

Daring to openly attempt the assassination of a member of the imperial family—what would be next? Marching on the capital to seize the throne?

Song Yunzhi was unusually silent tonight. Before he left, his eyes still held a trace of hatred. But by the time he returned, that hatred had burned down into nothing but exhaustion—an emptiness Shen Che had never seen in his eyes before.

Song Yunzhi said quietly, “Rest first. We’ll discuss everything tomorrow.”

So Shen Che said nothing more.

After tomorrow, he and the Heir of Song would no longer need to hide their identities. Announcing themselves would be better—let the world know who they were, and see if those criminals dared to step foot inside the prefect’s residence again.

Shen Che returned to his own quarters.

Just as he reached the courtyard gate, a government runner hurried toward him, thrusting a letter into his hands.

“A girl just came—said she was the Fifth Young Lady of the Qian family. She insisted that I deliver this into Young Master Shen’s hands personally.”

Now, the moment Shen Che heard the surname Qian, his eyelid twitched.

He opened the letter. On the entire sheet was a single line:

[Cousin Shen, don’t panic. Wait for me—I’m coming to break into the prison.]

Cousin Shen…

Who else would dare call him that?

That witch still had the audacity to come! Break into what prison? The dungeon held only Lu Daozhong—what did that have to do with her?

She was already this brazen. Could he possibly refuse to cooperate now?

He had been holding back frustration toward the Four Great Merchants for days. With nowhere to vent it—her timing was perfect. Shen Che stormed toward the dungeon.
“Everyone, on your feet!”

—

Qian Tong had drawn a full layout of the prefect’s residence for the Third Lady, pointing out the dungeon and where her people were most likely being held.

This was her last gamble. The Third Lady no longer dared entrust her fate to others. She summoned a group of hidden guards from Red Moon Heaven, disguised them as merchants, and before dawn even touched the horizon, set out for the prefect’s residence.

Once the Third Lady left, the single breath Qian Tong had been holding collapsed, and she fainted inside the carriage.

When she next awoke, she was lying on a cot inside a medical clinic.

The woman physician, having already treated her wounds, saw her open her eyes and couldn’t help scolding, “I’ve never seen a girl throw away her life like this. If you hadn’t swallowed that pill in time and covered the wound with herbs, even ten lives wouldn’t have been enough.”

Qian Tong, supported upright to drink her medicine, joked, “You’ve got it backward. If I wasn’t certain of success, I wouldn’t have taken that sword at all. Don’t worry, I’m not someone who dies easily.”

Who doesn’t die?

Human flesh and bone—fragile enough that even a small illness could take a life.

The woman physician sighed. “I know I can’t talk you out of anything, but I’ll say it anyway—the wound isn’t shallow. No matter how busy you are, you must rest for at least five days.”

For once, Qian Tong listened. “Alright. I’ll do as you say.”

She didn’t return to the Qian household and instead stayed in the clinic.

After finishing her medicine and breakfast, news began pouring in from outside one after another:

First, the Third Lady of the Park family had attacked the prefect’s residence at dawn, was captured on the spot, and in her estate the authorities found ten wagonloads of tea—tea the government had previously seized in Fuzhou.

Second, the officials sent by the imperial court were the heir of the Marquis of Yong’an—the son of the Eldest Princess—Song Yunzhi of the Ministry of Revenue, and the Empress’s own nephew, Young Master Shen Che of the Shen family.

Third, the Heir of Song was none other than the Qian family’s former groom-to-be.

The three pieces of news exploded through Yangzhou like thunder.

Everyone had already heard that imperial officials had come south to investigate the Four Great Merchants—but no one expected the ones sent to be members of the imperial family.

No wonder, the moment they arrived, the Cui family and Lu family fell in succession. People originally assumed the next target would be the Qian family. No one expected the Park family to be so reckless, striking at the imperial court first.

Attempting to murder an imperial official—an imperial nephew, at that. The Park family was influential, yes, but they were still merchants. This was outright defiance of the emperor.

The same went for the Qian family.

While the first two pieces of news inspired political debate among the well-informed, the third piece became fodder for idle gossip.

Earlier, many believed the Qian family had simply found a handsome young groom. Now that the groom’s true identity was known, people sighed in mock sympathy.

“I wonder how the Seventh Young Lady of the Qian family feels—picking someone at random and it turns out he’s the son of the Eldest Princess.”

Someone laughed. “How else would she feel? No one has seen any member of the Qian family these past days. They’re probably hiding inside, too embarrassed to show their faces.”

People who once thought it wise for the Qian family to marry someone of humble appearance now mocked the situation as a sparrow trying to perch in a phoenix’s nest.

“Besides, what does a merchant’s daughter amount to? Pretty? Rich? So what? Does she deserve a royal heir? The Qian family should look at their ancestors before dreaming so high. The Marquis of Yong’an and the Qi family are noble houses of military merit. To put it bluntly, the Seventh Young Lady of the Qian family is like a worm trying to—”

“You filthy creature!”

In the Qian family’s teahouse, a servant with one missing leg couldn’t bear it. He flung a cup of tea directly into the man’s face.

“My mistress has never stolen nor cheated. Everything she achieved, she earned with her own hands. She’s honest, kind, and uses her wealth to help the people. How many refugees has she fed? How many lives has she saved? If we’re talking merit, she deserves a place in the ancestral temple! Who is she unworthy of? And you dare come into our teahouse to slander her?”

Half an hour later, Qian Tong received word from the teahouse steward.

Learning she was at the clinic, he rushed over in a panic to report that a young servant carrying tea had gotten into a fight with a patron. The patron refused to let it go and threatened to call the authorities.

Now that members of the imperial family were here, they no longer feared offending merchant clans. The patron shouted nonstop:
“The Qian family assaulted someone! They abuse their power! I’ll report this to the authorities—”

A man with one crippled leg—what harm could he do? In fact, the servant had been slapped several times himself. His face was already swollen.

The steward, wanting to avoid trouble at such a sensitive moment, tried to settle it with money. But the surrounding crowd egged the patron on, insisting he make a scene—either report the matter to the officials or force the Qian family to apologize publicly.

After five days at the clinic, it was time for Qian Tong to step out anyway. She decided to meet the patron herself.

The crowd finally saw the Qian family’s young mistress, who had been “hiding” for five days. She truly looked pale and worn. Everyone silently prepared to enjoy the spectacle.

But after the man rattled off a litany of accusations, Qian Tong neither apologized nor offered compensation.

She slapped him across the face.

He froze. “Y-you—you actually hit me!”

Qian Tong nodded. “I did. Go report it. Go on—have the Heir of Song arrest me.”
She swept a cold look across the gawking crowd.
“If any of you have complaints, feel free to report them too. But think carefully. I hold grudges. Before you act, be sure you have the ability to withstand my retaliation.”

Most people, by nature, bully the soft and fear the hard. They loved stirring trouble but avoided being the one to take the blame. The Qian family hadn’t been punished yet—no one dared touch this hornet’s nest.

The patron she had slapped deflated, though he refused to lose face. He flung his sleeve violently. “Fine! I’ll report it right now!”

Whether he would actually do so, Qian Tong did not care.

She hadn’t returned home for days. The Qian residence was undoubtedly in even greater turmoil.

What must be faced could only be faced.

The moment she stepped over the Qian family threshold, the servants scattered in panic, rushing to report her arrival. By the time she reached the courtyard, relatives from all three family branches had swarmed over.

Master Qian and Madam Qian were at the front. Madam Qian wanted to question her immediately, but Master Qian stopped her.

“Where have you been these past days? Why didn’t you send word home?”

Master Qian, having suffered a beating, was thinner now, his back more hunched. Qian Tong glanced at him briefly, then sighed.

“Avoiding the storm.”

Hearing this, whatever thin hope Madam Qian held shattered. She asked in a trembling voice, “So he—he really is the Heir of Song?”

Qian Tong nodded. “Yes.”

Just as she predicted, shock rippled across every face—stunned, pale, fearful. There was no joy—only terror.

Madam Qian clutched her chest and lowered her voice.
“Tong’er, tell me honestly—where did you meet him? Did you ever treat him… improperly?”

Wasn’t that obvious?

It wasn’t just her. When he arrived at their estate, not a single member of the Qian family liked him. They called him poor, tried everything to drive him out, and Madam Qian even insulted him to his face—calling him a pretty boy.

Later, when they found him pleasing enough, they called him “son-in-law.”

Everything the three of them had said—he had heard it all. Thinking back now, their blood ran cold. Not only Madam Qian, even Master Qian didn’t know how to face this situation. For days, he hadn’t dared leave the house, waiting only for Qian Tong to return and explain what had really happened.

Did the Heir of Song intentionally disguise himself to infiltrate the Qian family?
Or did their daughter simply happen upon him by sheer luck?

The former seemed far more likely.

A royal heir using his charm to lure her in, hiding among them to investigate whether the Qian family had committed any crimes… and Master Qian hadn’t realized a thing. He even treated him as his own, held a betrothal banquet…

Whenever he recalled what he had said at the banquet, Master Qian wished that beating had left him blissfully amnesiac.

He couldn’t remember exactly how many inappropriate remarks he had made in front of the heir—but remembering now was pointless.

What next?

Now that the Heir had reclaimed his identity, would he move against the Qian family?

Master Qian asked seriously, “Tong’er—did you have any involvement in the Park family’s Third Lady’s actions?”

The Park family had run rampant in Yangzhou for years. The imperial court had long wanted to suppress them. That they would eventually provoke the court was inevitable—but he hadn’t expected the Third Lady to be so reckless as to attempt an assassination at the prefect’s residence.

A suicidal act.

What worried him was this: if she enraged the Heir of Song, he might send troops immediately. If the imperial court and the Park family clashed, Yangzhou would be doomed.

It had taken five peaceful years for the city to recover—from desolate ruins to the commercial capital of Great Yu. Though refugees still existed, most were new arrivals seeking livelihood.

If war broke out, Yangzhou would fall back ten years—famine, corpses, chaos.

Qian Tong didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she stood and reassured them:

“It’s been five days. You’re all still well, aren’t you? Don’t worry. I’ve already apologized to Lord Song and expressed my sincerity. From now on, none of you must mention the past in his presence.”

She had returned all the tea to him untouched.

Though she took Park Second Young Master off his hands, she delivered the Third Lady to him.

She had even placed half the family’s fleet under his control.

Everything she promised him when they formed their alliance—she had fulfilled.
Everything except offering herself—she had given.

Surely… he wouldn’t still be angry?

It had been five days. He hadn’t sent anyone to settle accounts with her, nor arrested her. He must have sensed her sincerity.

The thought had barely formed when A’jin entered with an envelope.

“My lady, a letter has arrived from the prefect’s residence. The Heir of Song invites the Seventh Young Lady to a banquet tonight.”

Every member of the Qian family stiffened, eyes turning simultaneously toward Qian Tong.

Qian Tong asked, “Just me?”

A’jin replied, “I heard the Park family and several cloth merchants have been invited as well…”