Born to Be Either Rich or Noble - Chapter 7

The prefect’s son refused to marry her, and all the well-born young men from the extended family were passed over. No one knew where she’d found this stranger—but somehow, he’d become her betrothed.

Housekeeper Cao hurried to disperse the crowd that had gathered to watch the commotion, while Qian Tong and her new “son-in-law” were blocked beneath the veranda by Madam Qian and the women of the Qian family.

Madam Qian’s gaze swept over the pair, back and forth several times, before she clutched her chest and demanded, “Who—who on earth did you drag out of a gutter this time?!”

She had already asked the third and fourth branches of the family—none of them recognized him.

“Song Yunzhi,” Qian Tong said.

“What?”

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the rigid shadow standing motionless in the sunlight. He looked ready to explode, yet still didn’t move into the shade. Turning back to her mother, she repeated calmly, “His name is Song Yunzhi.”

“Song—Song…” The name hardly mattered.

One look at his plain coarse robes made Madam Qian’s head spin. Even the household servants dressed better than that. “Don’t tell me,” she hissed, “you picked him up under some bridge—”

Was this child trying to drive her to an early grave?

“Mother, please mind your words.” Qian Tong didn’t let her finish. “He can hear you. We’ll be seeing a lot of each other in the future—better for both sides to save some face.”

Acceptance takes time. Ignoring the fury rising in Madam Qian’s expression, Qian Tong stepped forward, positioning herself in front of the young man to block most of the onlookers’ stares. “You’ve all seen him now. No matter who else shows up today—he’s still the son-in-law.”

They were the ones who had promised her before that whoever she liked, they wouldn’t interfere.

Now that she’d chosen, they had no right to object.

Having presented him to the family, she turned slightly, introducing the young man one by one: “This is my mother, my third and fourth aunts… They’re busy today, so we won’t disturb them further. I’ll take you to meet my father.”

With that, she stepped forward, pushing through the crowd, waiting for him to follow.

After walking a few steps and hearing no movement, she turned back.

Under the blazing sun, the young man’s face had turned slightly red, yet his gaze was still cold and unyielding as he stared at her. He hadn’t moved an inch.

“Come on,” Qian Tong urged softly.

Everyone’s eyes were on him. The scrutiny of the inner court’s women was suffocating—they stared as though they could peel him open to see every secret inside. Didn’t he feel uncomfortable?

Song Yunzhi was, in fact, astonished—by this woman’s sheer audacity.

There wasn’t the faintest hint of guilt or hesitation on her face. Her insistence felt completely natural, as if she were certain he’d fall in step behind her without question.

But… enduring a small indignity prevents greater ruin.

At this point, he couldn’t afford to ruin everything over pride.

After a moment’s pause, he finally moved, following behind her.

By the time Qian Tong arrived with her chosen man, the Qian family patriarch, Qian Minjiang, had already heard from the servants what had happened in the garden.

That his daughter refused to marry the prefect’s son didn’t surprise him; to the Qian family, any match other than that was all the same now.

Upon hearing the news, he didn’t even have the strength to be angry anymore. So when Qian Tong entered, he didn’t even lift his head. “As long as you’re happy. As your father, I clearly have no say in your affairs.”

Qian Tong said nothing. She left the “son-in-law” waiting outside and walked in alone, quiet and composed.

Since childhood, Qian Minjiang had been the most ambitious among his brothers. Except for the hours he slept, he spent all his time in the study. His eyes were nearly ruined from years of reading and accounts, yet he still buried himself in ledgers every day.

The open book before him was a record of bad debts he’d tried to recover just yesterday—

As expected, not a single coin returned.

Qian Tong leaned forward, picked it up, and flipped it open.

He glanced at her, thinking she’d come to apologize. His tone softened slightly—he had only one daughter, after all. “Old debts. If they can’t be collected, so be it. Since you’re not marrying into the prefect’s family, they won’t be of use anyway.”

He sighed and rubbed his face wearily.

The family’s prospects were grim. Losing the prefect’s household as an ally meant losing their foothold in court. If the imperial government turned its back on them—where could the Qian family go from here?

They might try approaching the Park family… but that was a desperate measure.

Years ago, when the Emperor sought assistance, the four great merchant clans had consulted each other. In the end, it was the Park family that led the decision to refuse him, and the others—including the Qians—followed suit.

The four families had supported each other since the days of chaos. Now, however, the Park family stood above them all. Their merchant ships dominated the southeastern seas—powerful enough that even the imperial court tread carefully around them.

If these were still the days of rebellion, the Qians could have safely followed the Parks again and stood united against the court. But times had changed. The empire had been stable for five years; the armies were stronger than ever.

And the Park family had already switched sides.

Just recently, the Parks’ second son had become engaged to Princess Mingfeng, the youngest daughter of Prince Pingchang.

If even the Park family was aligning with the court, how could the other three remain idle? Each was growing restless, looking for ways to secure favor. The Qians held the salt transport license in Yangzhou, but had no real connections in the capital. The only official they knew was Prefect Lan.

The marriage alliance had fallen through, but the goodwill remained.

Perhaps, if he went to see Prefect Lan personally—and offered some silver—Lan might speak a few kind words for the Qian family when imperial inspectors arrived, or even recommend them a chance to curry favor.

Either way, the engagement with the prefect’s family was now completely lost.

Qian Minjiang lifted his head to look at his only daughter. She was calmly studying the account book, her expression serene—so unlike the stubborn girl who had once knelt in the ancestral hall two years ago, demanding to know why.

A thin thread of guilt tugged at him, but more than that, helplessness. Finally, he turned his gaze toward the young man waiting outside. “Where are you from?”

“From Jinling,” Qian Tong answered for him, eyes still on the ledger. “He used to make a living escorting merchant caravans. His parents are gone, and he has a younger brother studying for the imperial exams. I’ve already arranged for him to handle the shipping accounts.”

Rich families taking in strays wasn’t unusual—but to tie one’s lifelong marriage to such a man?

Qian Minjiang finally snapped out of his daze. He tapped his daughter’s forehead with a finger. “You are utterly—” He stopped mid-sentence, then got up himself to take a better look at the man outside.

The young man was tall, broad-shouldered, strikingly handsome.

He stood beneath the eaves in plain green robes—one hand resting before him, the other clasped behind his back. His posture was steady; his gaze, calm. Not servile, but not arrogant either.

At least the boy had presence. Perhaps that was why she’d chosen him.

“What’s your name?” Qian Minjiang asked.

A silence stretched between them.

From inside the room, Qian Tong looked back just in time to see the young man’s dark eyes flashing with restrained fury, almost sparking. Fearing his temper would flare, she answered for him again: “Song Yunzhi—‘Yun’ as in sunlight, ‘Zhi’ as in growing grass.”

A flicker of surprise crossed his face—so brief most would have missed it. But Qian Tong noticed. She picked up a few ledgers from the table, her eyes lighting up with the pride of a child awaiting praise.

She had guessed correctly.

People’s names often reflected their fates, and this name fit him perfectly.

But Song Yunzhi didn’t acknowledge her pride. His mind was elsewhere—silently enduring the humiliation. While the Qian patriarch examined him, he, too, was assessing the man. His age matched what he’d heard—around fifty, slightly overweight, wearing a silk belt and a large gold thumb ring on his left hand.

The look of a typical wealthy merchant.

He wondered idly how long the man would last once thrown into prison.

“Since you’ve entered my family’s gates, you won’t be treated unfairly,” Qian Minjiang finally said. “But remember this—the Qian family cannot tolerate anyone lacking in moral character. Do your duty well.”

The girl had already brought him home and shown him to everyone. There was no way to send him away now. Whether this marriage would hold or not—they would keep him in the household for a trial period.

He called for a servant to bring a fine inkstone and two banknotes worth a hundred taels each as a meeting gift.

Song Yunzhi didn’t reach for them. Qian Tong accepted them on his behalf.

As they turned to leave, under the patriarch’s watchful gaze, Song Yunzhi had no choice but to bow politely. “I thank you, Master Qian.”

On the long veranda back, Qian Tong carried the ledgers and the inkstone in her arms. She glanced sideways at the young man walking beside her, whose face had been cold the entire way. “Still mad?” she teased.

Song Yunzhi turned his head slightly, caught the smile on her lips, and immediately looked away again in silence.

Qian Tong didn’t mind. She continued softly, “I don’t know how much you understand about Yangzhou—or my family—but from today on, whatever you want to know, I can tell you.”

His eyes flicked toward her.

She went on, “My family has been mining and refining salt for generations. With our perfected techniques, we secured Yangzhou’s salt license and have been based here for over a century. We’re one of the Four Great Families. Sounds wealthy, doesn’t it?”

Didn’t it indeed?

Remembering the gold hairpin she’d worn before, he noticed that today she wore a white jade coronet instead—no less extravagant, likely worth even more.

He said nothing, but his expression confirmed her assumption.

“Exactly,” Qian Tong said. “Those in power think the same way—that the Four Families have grown too arrogant, too rich, and must be cut down. The Qian family now stands right at the center of the storm.”

The corridor was wide and empty. She stepped a little closer as they walked, her tone low and measured. “When a tree grows too tall, it catches the wind. The only way to survive is to keep our heads down. So, believe it or not, bringing you here wasn’t some whim to insult you. It’s partly to narrow the gap between rich and poor, and partly to quiet the resentment of others. Let the world see that even wealthy merchants have their own hardships.”

She’d bared her thoughts to him completely, trying to bridge the distance between them.

Song Yunzhi stopped walking. His voice was cool. “So I’m one of your hardships, then?”

Well… she wasn’t wrong.

She would indeed suffer for this choice.

Caught off guard by his resentment, Qian Tong froze. So, the young master was not only proud—he was sensitive, too. She quickly waved her hands. “No—you’re my salvation.”

“Does she not see the kind of face she’s making?”

Song Yunzhi ignored her. Without a word, he withdrew his gaze and strode forward—only to hear her call after him.

“Song Yunzhi.”

He instantly regretted having used his childhood name. Back home, only his mother ever called him that, and he had grown used to responding.

“Mm.”

“I don’t look down on you.”

The young woman caught up to him, standing slightly to the side to avoid the glare of the sun. With the light against her face, her eyes gleamed with a sincerity as bright and unyielding as gold. “I truly mean to live this life with you.”

Song Yunzhi turned his head away.

If it weren’t for the parasite still in his body, he might have actually been deceived by her.
Whether her words were true or not didn’t matter—sooner or later, she would fall into his hands and taste every form of earthly suffering.

Before he could move again, the young woman beside him dumped everything she was holding straight into his arms and murmured, “So heavy.”

Rubbing her sore arms, Qian Tong reached back and took only her ledger, leaving him with the inkstone and two silver drafts. She soothed, “It’s not much as a gift for meeting again, but better than nothing. Think of it this way— you’ve only been in Yangzhou for two days, and you’ve already earned two hundred taels of silver. Doesn’t that make you feel happier?”

He might have entered the Qian household now, with all its immeasurable wealth, but only those who knew contentment could live contentedly.

When they reached the crossroads, she had other business to attend to and no time to linger. “Go back and rest for now. I’ll have A Jin show you around the estate this afternoon. Everything that’s due to you will be given to you—don’t let me down.”

She moved swiftly, like a gust of wind—here one moment, gone the next.

When Song Yunzhi turned his head, he caught only the faint flutter of her skirts. He watched as she handed her ledger to a maid and instructed, “Don’t let anyone touch these ledgers. Lock them up in my room.”

He lingered on the scene a moment longer.

The servant she called A Jin was an enormous man, round as a barrel—the very same who had stood guard at the teahouse door yesterday, one of the so-called “Four Gate Gods.” Despite his rough appearance, he was surprisingly perceptive and quick to read the room. He stepped forward to take the inkstone.

“Son-in-law, allow me to carry that for you.”

Song Yunzhi turned his cold gaze on him.

A Jin, who had witnessed the entire process of the new son-in-law’s “recruitment,” instantly understood the meaning behind that look. He chuckled and quickly corrected himself.

“Young Master Song, allow me to carry it for you.”

He was already through the door—why the stubborn pride now?

——

Qian Tong made her way to the Old Madam’s courtyard.

The old lady was devoted to Buddhist practice, and her courtyard was designed like a small temple. Passing through the family’s main garden, down a narrow corridor, and into the inner yard, the scenery changed entirely—no flowers or greenery, only towering ancient trees, and an air of solemn stillness so deep that not a whisper could be heard. The faint scent of incense drifted through the air.

Servants sweeping the courtyard and young maids tending to tasks all bowed quietly when they saw her.

Qian Tong went straight to Jingyue Pavilion, where the Old Madam usually resided.

Just as she reached the eaves, a familiar matron—the same she’d seen the day before—came out to greet her.

“Seventh Young Miss is here. The Old Madam is still chanting sutras; I’ll take you in.”

Normally, by this hour, the Old Madam would have finished her prayers.

Qian Tong glanced toward the interior, then softly asked before entering, “Is Grandmother well today?”

The matron, Xing Momo, smiled. “Quite well. Before you came, she even finished a whole bowl of sweet potato porridge.”

The family garden incident had occurred over half an hour ago; any important news would have reached the Old Madam by now. Her good appetite meant her mood was good as well—a silent sign that she approved of the “son-in-law” Qian Tong had brought home.

As expected.

Qian Tong entered and waited quietly inside.

The Old Madam had always preferred peace and quiet. Even after her children and grandchildren filled the house, she never forced daily greetings like other noble families. Years ago, she had excused the younger generation from such formalities altogether.

Unless something important happened, few ever entered this courtyard. The furnishings were simple and clean—bare wood floors polished to a soft shine, the windows open wide so that sunlight streamed into the room, pure and bright.

Qian Tong did not sit. She went to the shrine at the front of the room and lit a stick of incense before the statue of Guanyin, bowing three times.

When she rose, Xing Momo was helping the Old Madam into the room.

Nearly seventy, the Old Madam still stood straight. Years of devotion had softened her features, leaving her face calm and serene, though her sharp, clear eyes still hinted at the intelligence and decisiveness of her youth.

“Grandmother.” Qian Tong bowed deeply.

The Old Madam nodded, gesturing for her to sit. Her voice was slow but steady.

“Your father never did understand that the tallest trees catch the most wind. This move you made—it was a wise one.”

Praise was rare from the Old Madam. Xing Momo lifted her head to glance at Qian Tong—the obedient, clever Seventh Miss—and couldn’t help but smile as well.

“Since you went through so much trouble to find him, I trust you’re satisfied.” The Old Madam’s gaze turned sharp. “But make sure you’ve investigated everything clearly. Don’t be left in the dark.”

Nothing that happened in the Qian family could escape this matriarch’s eyes. The abduction, too, she clearly knew.

Qian Tong inclined her head. “Yes.”

The Old Madam fell silent, studying her granddaughter quietly.

Qian Tong said nothing, remaining perfectly composed and upright.

After a long stillness, the Old Madam finally withdrew her gaze and spoke again, her tone faint.

“As for the Cui family’s eldest branch—remember, your eldest sister is still there. Don’t burn every bridge. Leave her some dignity.”

——

Fu Yin hated going to the Old Madam’s courtyard—it made her chest tighten just to breathe there. Qian Tong had long noticed this and stopped bringing her along.

So when Qian Tong stepped out of the courtyard and saw Fu Yin waiting at the gate, breathless and agitated, she knew something was wrong.

“My lady, you mustn’t go back to your courtyard!”

“Debt collectors again?” Qian Tong asked dryly.

Fu Yin shook her head, though the truth wasn’t far off. “The gates are nearly being broken down. Third Master and Fourth Master have gone to speak to the family head, while Third Madam and Fourth Madam have come to demand an explanation from you—asking why you couldn’t have chosen one of the cousin gentlemen instead!”

Why should she have?

Those idle, self-satisfied women, who thought themselves wiser than everyone else—it was no surprise they’d come up with such ridiculous notions. She hadn’t eaten all morning, and lunch had already passed. If she went back now, she likely wouldn’t get to eat at all.

You can’t reason with them, but you can avoid them.

“Get the horse ready,” she ordered. “We’re going to the teahouse.”

The four great families of Yangzhou each had their own sphere of influence. The Qians held the salt licenses; the Cuis controlled the teahouses and taverns. Nearly every large establishment in the city belonged to the Cui family.

Qian Tong chose a teahouse near the bustling market district.

Though the four families competed fiercely behind closed doors, they maintained civility in public. Everyone in Yangzhou recognized Qian Tong on sight, and the shopkeeper personally led her to a private room upstairs.

When the food and wine arrived, it wasn’t the shopkeeper who came in—but the prefect’s younger son, Young Master Lan.

Handsome and famously flirtatious, his gaze was warm and lingering, the kind that made every glance feel like a promise.

Qian Tong hadn’t expected to run into him here. Only then did she realize she had made a mistake—this teahouse was no longer her elder sister’s property. The Cui family had acquired it, and it now belonged to Young Master Lan himself.

“Lady Qian,” he greeted with a polite bow.

“Young Master Lan.” She returned the courtesy.

It was awkward—meeting one’s former betrothed by chance was bound to be. Young Master Lan smoothed his sleeve and asked cautiously, “What brings Lady Qian to my teahouse today?”

After sending a message just yesterday to break off their engagement, she appeared at his doorstep the very next day—it was, admittedly, suspicious.

“I—” she began.

But he interrupted eagerly, “I knew you’d come.”

“About what was said yesterday—I didn’t take it to heart.”

Qian Tong looked at him, caught off guard.

“The Cui family head met my father for tea today,” he added quickly, as if confiding a secret. “They’ve been talking for half an hour already.”

She blinked, uncomprehending for a moment. Did he want her to rush over, challenge the Cui family, and stage a farce of two women fighting over a man?

He was out of his mind.

Young Master Lan took a step closer. “Seventh Miss, the arrangement between our families—it wasn’t my choice. I—”

“I came to collect a debt,” Qian Tong cut him off flatly.

He froze.

“This teahouse has owed my family payment for salt these past few years—twenty-five thousand seven hundred taels in total. I’ve heard you’ve been quite flush with silver lately, Young Master Lan. Kindly settle the account.”