Born to Be Either Rich or Noble - Chapter 68

As expected, the moment she mentioned the matter, the faint warmth in the young heir’s expression vanished completely.

“When my condition acts up, I have no awareness. I didn’t mean to offend you last night.” After explaining herself, Qian Tong looked at the completely unreadable Song Yunzhi and apologized sincerely. But if all the blame fell on her, that seemed unreasonable too. “Didn’t I warn you last night about the inconvenience of sharing a room with me? Fortunately this is the prefectural residence—it’s your territory. No one will spread rumors. If this were to leak outside, what would happen to your reputation?”

Song Yunzhi drew in a long breath, cast her a cold side glance—clearly done listening—and abruptly turned to leave.

Qian Tong blinked, then hurried after him. “Did I roll into you last night? Did I scare you? I took over your bed, so where did you sleep—”

She still wanted to ask how she had ended up in his bed at all.

He could easily have pushed her away—his martial skills were more than enough. Yet he hadn’t resisted, and had even wounded his own lip…

She truly could not make sense of it.

The young heir walked faster and faster, as if he couldn’t bear another second of seeing her or hearing her voice.

Qian Tong couldn’t keep up and focused on what mattered. Even though her chances were slim, she shamelessly asked, “Young Heir… could we discuss my salt field again…?”

Without looking back, almost disappearing around the corner, he tossed out, “Speak to Wang Zhao.”

That meant there was still hope.

Delighted, Qian Tong called toward the vanishing corner, “Thank you, Young Heir. You truly are kind.”

She didn’t chase after him again and instead immediately went to find Wang Zhao.

Returning the salt field outright was impossible—once something was signed and stamped, there was no taking it back. If they created such a precedent, wouldn’t that mean the Pei family’s First Madam could also withdraw her promise regarding the canal?

After last night, Wang Zhao’s attitude toward Seventh Miss Qian had shifted again, and now he had no choice but to be polite. “The salt field still belongs to the court,” he said. “But the young heir stated that if you truly wish to continue operating there, the court can hire you to manage the fields on its behalf. You may bring your own workers, your own skills and equipment. As for your pay, the young heir will ensure you receive a satisfactory wage.”

Qian Tong frowned.

Her family had been in the salt business for generations. From production to sales, the Qian family had always been the sole owners and operators.

This was the first time she’d heard of being hired by someone.

Seeing her displeasure, Wang Zhao secretly thought she was being ungrateful. The young heir had given her every advantage—what more could she want?

Did she truly think the officials sent here were only settling the old debts from five years ago, or simply targeting the Pei family?

Not at all.

The salt fields of Yangzhou were the court’s real aim. “You should think it through,” he reminded her. “Once the canal opens, the only region that can share profits with the great salt fields of the Two Huai provinces will be Lianxiang.”

He didn’t need to say it—Qian Tong fully understood the value of Lianxiang’s salt field.

If it were anyone else trying to seize it, she might fight to the bitter end. But the one taking it was the court—and the young heir she had just taken advantage of. What could she possibly argue?

Wang Zhao’s words did sway her. She accepted with a bright smile.
“I’m grateful for the young heir’s favor. I won’t fail the opportunity he’s given me.”

Once everything had been settled, she didn’t linger. As she took her leave, she added, “Help me tell the young heir I’ve gone.”

—

Summer heat had grown fiercer by the day. After everything that had happened in the past twenty-four hours, Qian Tong woke drenched in sweat. The hot wind only made the sticky dampness cling more stubbornly.

Fuyin had been waiting in the shade near the courtyard wall.

Everyone else had come out last night—everyone except her mistress. Fuyin had sent someone to inquire with Lord Wang, and he’d quickly responded, “The head of the Qian family has already turned in for the night. Come pick her up tomorrow.”

He hadn’t said where she was sleeping, and Fuyin, being sensible, didn’t pry.

Now that the young heir’s identity had been restored, everyone in the Qian household—including Second Master and Madam Qian—worried he might take revenge.

Only Fuyin and A’Jin knew he wouldn’t.

After all, when their mistress had been held by the Pei family in Haizhou, the two of them had personally witnessed the young heir travel day and night to rescue her—changing horses three times along the way. His worry for her had been unmistakable.

A married couple shared affection even after a hundred days. Though their initial engagement had been fraught with calculations on both sides, the two of them had still lived as betrothed for a period. Feelings were unavoidable.

Fuyin believed that given the young heir’s identity—and everything he had endured after being deceived by her mistress again and again—the very fact that Seventh Miss Qian still lived comfortably proved the young heir had already forgiven much.

Nothing would happen to her while in his care.

And sure enough, not long after, their mistress emerged looking positively radiant.

Fuyin quickly walked up and checked her over. Seeing that she wore the same clothes as yesterday but her hairpin was missing, she asked, “Mistress, where is your jade hairpin?”

Qian Tong had forgotten all about it.

Oh well—she’d retrieve it later. Losing a small thing wasn’t worth fussing over.

She and Fuyin boarded the carriage together. Once no one else was around, Qian Tong broke into a slow smile. “Tomorrow we can start working the salt fields.”

Fuyin blinked. She didn’t quite understand. “But hadn’t the eldest young master already given the salt field to Mistress long ago?”

Qian Tong gave her a helpless look. “Didn’t I tell you and A’Jin to stop fighting each other every day and eat more walnuts? Use your brains to beat him for once, but you refuse to listen.”

Realizing she’d been scolded, Fuyin scratched her head. “Mistress knows… I really don’t like walnuts.”

Qian Tong: “……”

She cast her maid a defeated glance and no longer bothered trying.

It was impossible to know when they would depart today. Fuyin hadn’t prepared ice inside the carriage. Under the scorching afternoon sun, heat had baked the carriage roof for hours, turning the interior into a steaming cage.

Fuyin lifted the curtains on both sides to let in the breeze and fanned her mistress nonstop.

Calm heart, cool body.
Leaning her head against the carriage wall, Qian Tong closed her eyes to rest.

But her mind was far too excited to settle.

The young heir was not an unreasonable man. She had secured the canal for him, and in return, he had rewarded her generously.

Back then, the Emperor had marched on the capital leading nothing more than a ragtag army in straw sandals (t/n: “straw-sandal army” refers to impoverished peasant troops). Most of the trusted followers who fought at his side never lived to see him ascend the throne. Their deaths had since become a lifelong burden on his heart—he had sworn to give those who fell for their country the honors they deserved.

But when he first took the throne, he possessed nothing. Not only could he not grant them lavish burials, he didn’t even have anything to reward the old followers who had survived.

After ten years of warfare, Great Yu had been left battered and broken.

Everyone has their strengths. The Emperor knew how to wage war, but he did not know commerce. To restore the people’s livelihood swiftly, he had to rely on the merchants whose minds were filled with calculations of profit. Thus, he promised five years of peace—placing the recovery of the common folk first, allowing wealthy merchants in various regions to rise. His purpose was simple: let these merchants drive the revival of the economy.

Those five years were not because he was too busy to settle accounts with the four great clans of old, but because he was deliberately allowing them to grow.

In five years, his armies were fully rebuilt. And just as he had intended, Yangzhou had become the first commercial powerhouse of Great Yu.

It was time for him to reap.

At such a moment, who would dare accept anything the Pei family offered? And a salt field, no less. Before long, all salt production in Yangzhou would return to the court’s hands.

The benefits the canal brought the imperial court far exceeded what Madam Pei had imagined.

Sea salt had already surpassed well salt in both yield and quality. But because the canal had been blocked, Yangzhou’s sea salt could not be transported out. Each year’s output depended entirely on how much the Pei family and Prince Pingchang allowed to move.

Once the canal opened, Yangzhou would inevitably become the greatest salt city in all Great Yu.

Madam Pei agreed to the canal because she saw these benefits as well. If the Emperor wished to push his influence from the inland toward the coast, how could the Pei family not yearn to move their influence from the coast into the inland?

But if merchant ships could sail through, then so could imperial cavalry. As the young heir told her that day—whatever men she secretly raised were nothing before real soldiers.

How could merchants contend with officials?
How could a regional lord contend with an emperor?

The court would eventually establish its own Salt Transport Office. And she—she was the first salt merchant to cooperate with the imperial court. It would not be an exaggeration to call her a founding figure in the new commercial era of Great Yu.

Tea houses—she held the court’s approval.
Textiles—she possessed the court’s official seals.
Salt—her family’s salt was now imperial salt.

While every other merchant in Yangzhou scrambled to protect themselves and search for opportunities, she had already completed her transformation.

She had not relied on the Pei family.
She had not relied on any marriage alliance.
From here on, she only needed to help the young heir win this campaign, and the entire Qian clan could flourish for at least a hundred years.

How could she not be pleased?

Her good mood lifted her lips without her noticing. Fuyin didn’t know why she was smiling, but seeing her mistress happy made her cheerful as well. She asked, “Mistress, where did you sleep last night?”

Qian Tong: “……”

Dragged abruptly from her pleasant thoughts, Qian Tong opened her eyes and stared straight at her. The stare made Fuyin panic, and she blurted, “I—I won’t ask anymore…”

But Qian Tong suddenly leaned closer and lowered her voice. “Fuyin, have I ever had sleepwalking episodes before?”

Fuyin blinked. “Sleepwalking? What sleepwalking?”

That reaction said everything—she clearly had no such condition.

Then how in the world had she climbed into the young heir’s bed last night?

Utterly baffling.

Just as Qian Tong was about to rake her fingers through her hair in frustration, the sound of pounding hooves erupted behind them. Before the coachman could steer aside, a horse was already almost on top of them.

“Move! Move aside—!”

Charging through the market at that speed—did they mistake a busy street for a racetrack?

Fuyin’s expression changed. Before the oncoming horse could crash into them, she flung aside her fan, lifted the curtain, and shouted, “Mistress, hold on!”

She snatched the reins from the coachman, leapt onto the horse’s back, and yanked hard. The horse’s head jerked sideways, dragging their carriage off the main path.

But the second horse was already upon them. Instead of slowing, its rider spurred it harder. The horse sprang upward, attempting to leap clear over Qian Tong’s carriage.

Yet their carriage swerved sharply at the exact moment the horse vaulted. The rider’s mount stumbled as its hooves slammed onto empty air before crashing back down with a shrill neigh.

The scene sent the gathered townsfolk into screams and chaos.

The woman on horseback had originally intended to show off her riding skills. She hadn’t expected to miss her mark—and had clearly noticed Fuyin’s martial agility. She did not rush away. She reined in her horse and glanced back—just in time to meet the gaze of an exquisite face peeking out from the carriage window.

A young woman.

Compared to her own arrogant, wild gaze, the girl’s expression was calm and gentle. Their eyes met, and instead of a hint of blame, the girl offered her a light nod.

Mingfeng froze for a moment.

She wasn’t sure whether she was stunned by the girl’s beauty or by the subtle, unconstrained smile at her lips. After a brief pause, she flicked her heels and rode away.

—

Once the uninvited rider was gone, the surrounding townsfolk immediately began complaining. The Pei family was infamous for throwing their weight around in Yangzhou, but even they rarely galloped through crowded streets like this.

Fuyin had broken into a cold sweat. Seeing her mistress unharmed, fear surged through her again. She dismounted, glared in the direction the rider had vanished, and snapped, “Who does she think she is?”

Qian Tong remained perfectly calm, replying softly, “A noble guest.”

A noble guest? With manners that atrocious?

If she hadn’t reacted in time, the woman would have flown straight over her mistress’s head—and that was assuming she cleared the carriage. If she didn’t, Mistress Qian would be dead by now.

Seeing Fuyin fuming—her hair stuck together with sweat—Qian Tong said gently, “Enough. Let it go. It’s too hot; let’s head back quickly.”

Back at the residence, Fuyin was still grumbling.

Qian Tong, sticky with sweat, couldn’t stand it anymore. As soon as she entered her room, she ordered hot water prepared. Last night at the young heir’s place, she had only washed up briefly—no proper bath.

Entering the washroom, she shed her clothes—and froze.

A faint fragrance lingered at her shoulder, right where her sword wound lay.

Qian Tong touched the wound lightly with her fingertips. The scab had just fallen off, revealing tender new skin. A thin layer of nearly transparent ointment covered it.

It was not the ointment she usually used.

She turned her head sharply. “Fuyin, did you put medicine on me yesterday?”

Fuyin came closer. “Medicine? What medicine, Mistress?”

“Nothing.” Qian Tong let it drop, leaning in instead to inhale the scent. It was nothing like her own ointment. This one carried a cool, subtle fragrance—clean, faintly sharp.

Almost the exact scent from her dream last night.

Qian Tong stood motionless for a long, long time.

Then she suddenly laughed to herself.

Young heir… how in the world did I crawl into your bed?