Born to Be Either Rich or Noble - Chapter 70

Song Yunzhi followed Wang Zhao’s gaze.

This was the salt field. Night work couldn’t go without light, so two horn-lamps hung beneath every eave in the compound. Under their hazy glow, the double wooden doors of the main room were tightly shut, not a flicker of light escaping from within.

Wang Zhao pushed open the door of the room next to it. “You should rest first, my lord. I’ll have someone prepare hot water and bring in fresh bedding.”

Seeing how much dust clung to the hem of the man’s black robe, he must have rushed back from the Two-Huai region. Wang Zhao didn’t ask why he had come here so late at night. By now he understood—wherever the seventh daughter of the Qian family was, the heir’s presence needed no explanation.

Song Yunzhi said nothing.

His head tilted slightly toward that closed door. His feet stayed planted just outside the threshold. He didn’t step inside.

——

In the same courtyard, even a bird call outside could be heard clearly—let alone voices, separated only by a single wooden wall.

Right before the group entered the courtyard, Park Chengyu had watched her blow out the lamps in a panic. Now the three of them were trapped in darkness, her hand tightly clutching his arm, tension gradually radiating from her slender body.

The feeling was strange.

And suffocating.

Park Chengyu lowered his gaze. In the faint glow seeping in from the window slats, he saw her grip tighten harder and harder. “Tong’er…” he murmured helplessly. He wanted to ask—how in the world had they ended up like this?

Hiding in the dark like guilty lovers.

Back in Haizhou, she’d told him she had fallen for Song Yunzhi because the heir loved her more—loved her enough to leap off a cliff to save her.

So what did she think of his love? That he wouldn’t jump after her? Or that his gentler temperament, his weaker influence, made him the one who should step aside—the one who would willingly let her cast him away?

How long did she intend to grind down the guilt he’d once carried?

What if he didn’t want to step aside?

Qian Tong didn’t have time to care about what he wanted. When he uttered that small sound, she immediately covered his mouth, whispering urgently into his ear: “Don’t make a sound!”

He didn’t know how skilled Song Yunzhi truly was—but martial artists always had sharp hearing.

Was it a holiday tonight? Why was everyone coming to the salt fields? If she’d known, she should have delayed her trip by a day.

She had fought so hard to gain management of this salt field. She couldn’t afford any mishap now.

She knew this wasn’t fair to Park Chengyu—but what choice did she have? He had picked the wrong night to show up, and the heir had suddenly arrived as well. She could only whisper, “Bear with it a little.”

Just a little.

Once the heir went to sleep, she would sneak Park Chengyu out.

But the always-accommodating eldest son of the Park family—the one who usually indulged her, who cooperated with her without complaint—refused to be handled tonight. He grabbed her wrist, pulled her hand away, and looked down at her with shadowed eyes. “Tong’er, why?”

When she handed Park Er over to Princess Mingfeng, had she even considered the consequences the eldest son would one day face?

She’d left him nowhere to retreat—so why should he cooperate?

Qian Tong couldn’t offer a reason. Her head throbbed, so she cut straight to negotiation. “What do you want?”

To a businesswoman, everything could be exchanged with terms. Park Chengyu didn’t know whether that was her strength or her flaw—but tonight, she wasn’t the only one capable of calculations. “In Haizhou, I promised you something. It still stands. Our engagement remains valid.”

Her original plan had indeed been to announce a fake engagement, using her supposed “old feelings” to infiltrate the Park family and help the heir from the inside.

For that strategy to work, she and the heir had to appear to be on opposite sides.

But that man was too perceptive. Somehow, he’d seen through her disguise—forced her into the dungeon, used the third mistress’s confession to tear away her mask. And now he already knew her engagement to Park Chengyu was fake.

And last night… the bruise on his lip, the medicinal salve on her shoulder—those were proof he had begun developing feelings he shouldn’t have.

If he discovered that the woman he had just kissed was now hiding her supposed former lover in her room… what would he think? That she was a liar through and through?

He might really kill her.

Qian Tong ground her teeth. “Fine—I agree. I’ll help you deal with Princess Mingfeng.”

She gave him her word. She didn’t try to cover his mouth again, but she kept her hands on his shoulders, preventing him from moving, waiting quietly for the sound of the door next door closing.

But that sound never came.

Instead, after a long silence, a voice sharp as winter frost cut through the darkness:

“Qian Tong. I’ll give you a choice. Come out yourself, or I’ll come in.”

Qian Tong: …

The heart she’d been holding up finally dropped—straight into icy water.

Song Yunzhi stood in the courtyard, restraining himself for a long time before forcing out a fragment of mercy. “I’ll count to three. Three.”

Qian Tong had never faced anything like this before. She hadn’t done anything wrong, yet somehow she had been cast into the role of a two-timing, scheming villain. She let go of Park Chengyu, trying to keep the coming mess contained. “I won’t forget my promise to you. Once I calm him down, you leave—quickly.”

“Two.”

Fuyin was bracing her whole body against the door, sweating bullets. She’d long predicted that her mistress’s constant juggling of identities would blow up one day—she just hadn’t expected it tonight. She didn’t know if she could stop the heir if he forced his way in. “Mistress…” she whispered in panic.

Before Song Yunzhi spoke the final count, Qian Tong yanked the door open.

The heir stood beneath the dim lamp glow, his face darker than the black robe he wore. His cold, heavy gaze locked onto her, one fist clenched so tightly the tendons stood out beneath the skin—barely holding his self-control together.

Qian Tong walked toward him step by step.

Once she stood before him, she didn’t dare meet his eyes. She stared instead at the dust-stained hem of his robe and asked softly, “Why did you come?”

Her voice was gentle. She didn’t call him “my lord” or “heir”—didn’t call him anything at all. But the tone carried an intimacy, a private warmth that existed only between the two of them.

But just that small shift in her tone wasn’t nearly enough to smooth over the shock she’d dealt him tonight. Song Yunzhi’s face remained rigid, his voice trembling faintly from anger. “If I hadn’t come, what exactly were you planning to do?”

Spend the night talking by candlelight with Young Master Park?
Share a room until dawn?

She was the one who insisted she no longer liked Park Chengyu, said they’d long since ended.
Yet she was also the one secretly meeting Park Chengyu here in this remote salt field.

If he hadn’t come—if he’d arrived even a step later—how far would things have gone? Or was it that her mind was so meticulous, every move made only to deceive him?

In the depths of his gaze hid a pain he hadn’t even noticed himself. He stared at the girl standing before him, head bowed so low she couldn’t even muster the courage to look at him—not after tonight. He refused to let her slip through this with a few excuses. He wanted to hear her say it herself.

“Answer me.”

What else could she say?

How could she have known Young Master Park would show up? Now they were inexplicably trapped in a mess of three people, and she couldn’t let them fight. If they did, would Park Chengyu have any chance of survival?

She finally lifted her head. “It’s really not what you think.”

“Then what is it?” Song Yunzhi already anticipated the sort of answer she’d give. He had no patience left for her fabrications. “Don’t try to distract me with pretty words. I’ll only ask you one thing. Answer truthfully.”

Answer what?

With Park Chengyu inside the room, how could she say anything cleanly?

Anything she said now would only make matters worse. So before he could even ask, Qian Tong stepped forward, opened her arms, and offered him the only choice he’d accept. She gently wrapped her arms around his waist, rested her head against his chest, and spoke softly:

“Let him go, and I’ll give you an explanation.”

Song Yunzhi didn’t move.

Her cheek rested against the rapid beat of his heart. And then she tore open the thin veil between them, whispering:

“Do you still have the wound salve? After this… help me apply it again.”

The night was silent. Dim lantern light brushed the young man’s features. Hidden guards stood somewhere in the shadows, but none could see his expression. Only Qian Tong felt the shift—felt how his body went taut all at once.

So the truth was this:

The night before, it hadn’t been her climbing into his bed.
It hadn’t been her kissing him.

It was him—Song Yunzhi—who had burned calming incense, waited for her to fall asleep, kissed her, carried her to his own bed, and applied the healing salve onto her injured shoulder.

And afterward, he’d taken her to confront Madam Third, forcing the truth from her lips—that her engagement with Park Chengyu had been a lie.

Once the misunderstanding cleared, he probably expected her to question what happened that night. But in her mind, Song Yunzhi had always been a moral, disciplined gentleman—so upright she’d mistaken who was the one who had crossed the line.

Song Yunzhi liked her.

He had no idea how stunned she’d been when she realized that.

But she liked him too.

Qian Tong tipped her head up, her chin brushing against his chest, her gaze fearless as she looked at the young man nearly consumed by jealousy. “I promise I’ll give you an answer you’ll be satisfied with.”

For a moment, the frost in his eyes finally began to melt.

Qian Tong turned, ready to tell Park Chengyu to come out and go—quickly—but the instant she looked back, she froze.

Park Chengyu was already standing in the doorway.

Silent.
Unmoving.
Watching her cling to Song Yunzhi, seeing she was trying to secure him a chance to leave.

She didn’t need to do this.

Liking someone had nothing to do with rank or status. Before Song Yunzhi ever appeared, Park Chengyu had liked her for a very, very long time. No one could erase their past.

Not even the noble heir Song Yunzhi.

As for why he was here—Park Chengyu had never planned to hide it, nor felt any need to explain himself to Song Yunzhi. Upon seeing him now, he stood openly and bowed with calm dignity. “Young Lord Song.”

This was not their first meeting.

Three times in total.
And at last, Song Yunzhi recognized him.

Expressionless, the normally courteous Song Yunzhi offered not a single response.

Park Chengyu didn’t mind the slight. He stepped out from the eaves, and as he passed the two of them, he glanced at Qian Tong and said quietly:

“I’m leaving.”

Qian Tong only held the man in her arms tighter.

Wang Zhao arrived, carrying a stack of bedding. The moment he stepped in, he nearly collided with Young Master Park walking out. He froze, baffled as to how Park Chengyu had materialized from inside.

Park Chengyu still greeted him politely. “Sir Wang.”

Wang Zhao watched him walk off into the night. Only then did the realization hit him, and he rushed forward with hurried steps. The moment he crossed the threshold, he saw them—Song Yunzhi and Qian Tong—locked tightly in each other’s arms.

“Let go,” Song Yunzhi said.

Slowly, Qian Tong loosened her hold.

Song Yunzhi turned and walked straight toward the adjoining room.

Wang Zhao had no idea what had happened, but even with just a toe’s worth of intuition, he could guess the consequences of Young Master Park showing up here at this time of night. He didn’t dare imagine what the scene must have looked like moments ago. Gritting his teeth, he glared at Qian Tong.

“Miss Qian, you—”

She had actually dared to hide a man in the room…

Qian Tong already had a pounding headache and absolutely no desire to be scolded. She snatched the bedding from his arms.

“I’ll take it in to him.”