Born to Be Either Rich or Noble - Chapter 72

At dawn the next morning, Qian Tong rose early. Since she had claimed she would “work hard,” she went straight to the heir apparent and Wang Zhao to discuss the salt-field expansion.

Seeing her utterly unbothered, chatting and smiling as usual, Wang Zhao couldn’t help lifting his eyes to secretly study the heir apparent several times. Last night, she had hidden Young Master Park inside her room and had been caught red-handed by the heir himself.

Such a monumental matter — and it was simply… over?

He had assumed she would either be sent away or forced to stay in the heir’s room as punishment. But they had guessed all wrong. Nothing happened to her. In fact, she rose earlier than both of them today. By the time the two men finished breakfast, she had already toured the salt fields once and come back.

“The salt fields were previously owned by the Park family. Their management was decent enough but not large in scale. My idea is to expand the acreage by a few more mu (t/n: a mu is a traditional Chinese unit of land area, roughly one-sixth of an acre) and build a main waterway connecting to the inner river. When the Grand Canal opens, our sea salt can travel inland through it…” After finishing her thoughts, Qian Tong asked humbly, “My lords, if either of you have requirements or concerns, please say so. The Qian family will follow your wishes.”

Her manner was open and professional, as though she truly were nothing more than a merchant negotiating business with the court.

Aside from mutual profit, she seemed to hold no stray thoughts.

No emotions — only work.

A good arrangement.

Song Yunzhi hadn’t slept well last night; faint bruising shadowed his eyes. Yet his expression remained calm, betraying nothing. And as Qian Tong had said, he was not the type to form grudges when emotions soured. He spoke strictly on business.
“Once the master plan is drawn up, I will review it.”

Qian Tong had prepared everything early. She handed over a roll of diagrams. “It’s completed. Please take a look.”

After discussing cooperation, the next matter was payment. Song Yunzhi didn’t bother asking what she wanted, nor did he intend to haggle.
“A twenty-eighty split. Any objections?”

This matched the current national salt-tax allocation.

By rights, the salt field originally belonged to Qian Tong, so such a split was disadvantageous. But long-term, the twenty percent would still amount to a significant income.

Qian Tong smiled. “For you to give a mere commoner the chance to serve the court is fortune enough. To be given such generous compensation — why would I be dissatisfied? My lord, rest assured, I will do everything I can to fulfill my duties to the empire.”

Merchants always spoke sweetly.

Song Yunzhi had no desire to watch her pretend sincerity. He left the rest to Wang Zhao and personally went to the salt fields with the diagrams in hand.

Qian Tong had work of her own.

The salt field had once belonged to the Park family. Now that it had been reclaimed by the government, every worker had to be replaced — especially those bound to the Parks by personal servitude contracts. None could remain.

Wang Zhao had already cleared those people out the previous day, sending them all back to the Park residence.

The rest were day laborers the Parks had hired externally. If they were driven off, the salt fields would have no manpower. But if they remained, Wang Zhao worried they might still act as the Park family’s eyes and ears.

So he left the decision to Qian Tong.

She agreed people should be replaced — but in her own way.

Over a hundred workers were ordinary townsfolk who had made their living here for years, with families dependent on their wages. If they were dismissed, where would they find work? After conferring with Wang Zhao, Qian Tong gathered everyone and formally announced:

“From this day on, the Lianxiang Salt Fields no longer belong to the Park family. As of today, they return to the empire. The Qian family is honored to manage this site on the court’s behalf. Anyone who wishes to leave may go — I won’t stop you. Anyone who wishes to stay and continue serving the salt fields must transfer into the Qian family’s household register.”

Merchants preferred day laborers — cheaper, easy to dismiss if sick or injured. Far more cost-effective than long-term workers.

Even so, in a recovering empire where famine victims still starved by the roadside, desperate people flocked to any available job. Thus, those here feared losing their work more than sickness itself. Many worked until they collapsed into the salt pits, never to rise again.

Some had already worked here two or three years. Now, hearing they could join the Qian household as long-term workers, a wave of excitement rippled through the crowd.

But joining the Qian household came with conditions. Qian Tong raised her voice:
“Anyone entering the Qian household must obey the Qian family’s rules. Violate them, and your contract terminates immediately — and you will never again be employed by the Qian family.”

Standing before the crowd in her glittering finery, her expensive silk robes surprisingly stirred no resentment. Instead, her presence gave the workers a rare sense of stability.

“Likewise,” she continued, “if you become part of the Qian family, as long as we have rice to eat, you will not go hungry. Those who wish to join, line up immediately. First rule of the Qian family — respect order. No pushing, no fighting.”

The moment the words left her lips, the crowd surged — but in an orderly way — quickly forming a long line.

Of the Four Major Families of Yangzhou, only the Qian and Park families remained. The Parks refused to hire them; the Qians would. Becoming a long-term worker for the Qians meant that even if these salt fields disappeared, they could still find work elsewhere under Qian employment.

The Qian teahouse was proof.

Qian Seventh Miss hired even the disabled — missing arms or legs — and they still worked there steadily, wages never withheld. Many people had secretly longed for a chance to work for the Qians.

Now that the salt fields belonged to the government, the Qians were effectively serving the empire — a future full of promise.

Who wouldn’t want such a chance? Hardly anyone left; nearly everyone lined up.

Qian Tong told Fuyin to bring tables and chairs.
“Record their names.”

Even with everyone staying, the departure of the Park family’s contracted workers had left many positions empty. By late afternoon, wagon after wagon arrived at the salt field entrance.

Men, women — and even those bringing children. Their clothes were ragged, their faces worn and bleak. When they got off the wagons, they seemed afraid to believe they had truly found work, huddling together in cautious silence.

Qian Tong personally went to greet them.

Some recognized her, their faces lighting up.

“It’s Seventh Miss!”

“Truly Seventh Miss…”

“They weren’t lying — the Qian family is really hiring…”

When she reached them, they rushed forward with gratitude.

“Seventh Miss is a living bodhisattva…”
“Thank you, Seventh Miss…”

The seaside sun was fierce; with no trees, there was no shade. Qian Tong raised a hand above her brow as a visor and swept her gaze over the refugees.

“Don’t thank me yet. See if you can work first. I don’t feed idlers.”

One woman recognized her from the time Qian Tong had given her flowers on the street and comforted her with gentle words: “Don’t despair. Things will get better.”

She never imagined the one who had spoken those words would one day make them come true. Tears rolled down her cheeks.

“Don’t worry, Miss Qian. We’d sooner break ourselves than fail your kindness. For you not to despise us homeless folk, for you to take us in…”

This group consisted of refugees who had entered Yangzhou within the past year. Their hometowns had each suffered disaster. Unable to find work, they had been living under bridges.

Every winter, many froze to death.

To be hired before the cold arrived — they were unimaginably fortunate. They would cling to this opportunity with their lives.

But Qian Tong said, “No need to break yourselves. In the Qian household, if you’re sick, you’ll receive treatment; if you’re injured, you may rest. As long as you follow the rules, no one will kick you out.”

She was paying for labor — not lives.

For her, this might be a trivial kindness. But for those struggling just to survive, it was a lifeline.

As soon as she finished speaking, the woman and a man behind her — who held a boy of about ten — dropped to their knees.

“Don’t kneel.” Qian Tong stopped them. “Heaven is what you kneel to. Earth is what you kneel to. If you kneel, kneel to His Majesty — not to me. I’m only carrying out the court’s work. Our status is the same; our goal is the same. Make salt, earn your wages, support your families, and live your lives. Come — I’ll take you down to the salt fields.”

When Song Yunzhi and Wang Zhao returned on horseback, they witnessed the entire scene.

Qian Seventh Miss walked ahead in her bright gown, followed by a group of ragged refugees. Laughing and talking, they advanced like a small procession across the wide salt-field path.

On either side were vast salt ponds, shallow pools reflecting the vast, open sky.

Under the heavens, everything has a place.

Under the sky, rich and poor, merchant and commoner could walk together, supporting one another.

What made a merchant “unscrupulous”?

Seeking profit? Deception?

Everyone claimed righteousness — but who could truly distinguish the crow’s male from its female (t/n: a classical idiom meaning “who can truly tell right from wrong?”)?

Wang Zhao could not describe the contradictory beauty of the scene before him. From afar, he was momentarily stunned. His complicated feelings toward Qian Seventh Miss surfaced once more.

He glanced sideways; Song Yunzhi’s face was equally calm.

Wang Zhao sighed inwardly. If even the heir apparent could not see through her, how could he?

To reject becoming a noblewoman — she must be a woman pursuing freedom.

Qian Tong also saw them. She half-ran over the uneven ground to meet them. Since they had crossed paths, she turned toward the refugees behind her and said:

“These two lords are officials sent by the imperial court. Lord Song of the Ministry of Revenue and Lord Wang of the Court of Judicial Review. His Majesty cherishes the people. These salt fields now belong to the empire. It is His Majesty who saves you, and the court that gives you food. If you wish to give thanks, thank His Majesty and these two lords.”

The refugees immediately knelt in gratitude upon hearing they faced government officials.

Qian Tong stood beside Song Yunzhi’s horse, looking up at him. Her skirt hem was soaked with mud; the weight forced her to lift it in one hand. With the other, she raised two fingers, the sunset forming a halo around her hair.

She wiggled the two fingers proudly.

“Two hundred refugees. I’ve taken in another two hundred on your behalf, my lord. Well?”

When he simply stared at her in silence, saying nothing even after a long moment, she smiled brightly.

“You’re not going to praise me, my lord?”

Wang Zhao had already dismounted to escort the refugees.

Song Yunzhi guided his horse aside and stepped down. At last — under her expectant gaze — he offered his verdict.

“Miss Qian has done well.”

Joy lit her face instantly.
“Then, my lord… are you willing to continue working with me?”
He had seen the salt-field plans; she didn’t know if he approved.
“When shall we sign the contract?”

The terms were settled; her workers had arrived. But the heir had yet to sign the agreement.

Song Yunzhi held the reins and walked beside her, always keeping the distance of one person between them. His tone remained strictly official.

“Draw it up. I will review it.”

After visiting the salt fields, his robes were covered in mud just like hers. Back at the residence, he ordered water heated and went to the bathing room.

He likely didn’t expect her to arrive so quickly — he had only bathed halfway when knocking sounded at the door.

“My lord, I’ve drafted it. Please review it.”

Song Yunzhi had brought no attendants on this trip except his secret guards — and they would not show themselves in daylight without orders.

When he lived with the Qian family, the one who attended to his daily needs was Ajin. In the prefect’s residence, there were dedicated attendants. But this trip to the salt fields had been a sudden decision; aside from Wang Zhao, there were no attendants stationed inside the house.

The instant the door was pushed open, Song Yunzhi’s expression changed, and he barked, “Get out!”

Qian Tong’s only goal was to settle the contract as quickly as possible. She had hurried back to her room without even changing her clothes, checked the contract several times to make sure everything was correct, and then immediately rushed over next door.

But she had overlooked one thing: the young heir of the Song family was extremely clean-minded. The first thing he did upon returning to his room would undoubtedly be bathing and changing.

Now that she was already here, she had no desire to go back out to wait.

“Are you bathing?” she asked. Not only did she refuse to leave, she even considerately helped close the door behind her. She walked toward the washroom and called out to the man inside, “Don’t worry, I’ll keep watch at the door for you.”

Song Yunzhi: …

Who exactly was guarding whom?

He came out quickly. He hadn’t even had time to towel-dry his hair—the droplets on his head were still sliding down—and he wore only a thin inner robe. Once soaked, the garment was nearly useless, clinging to his body, barely there at all…

He stepped out of the washroom, his expression as cold as ice as he stared at the woman who had barged in.

Qian Tong stared back, momentarily stunned. It wasn’t as if she had never seen him undressed—when he’d been injured by the young master Duan, he had removed his clothes in her room so she could tend to his wounds.

Back then, what had left the strongest impression on her was his well-defined abdomen.

Right now, his lower abdomen was hidden behind his trousers, so she couldn’t see that. But his chest was covered only by a thin inner shirt, soaked through until it was almost transparent, clinging tightly to him—and the two faintly pink bumps on his chest stood out plainly.

Qian Tong: …

“Turn around!”

She turned immediately. Qian Tong faced away from him and quickly explained, “I really am only here to deliver the contract.” No other intentions.

Outside, the sky had only just turned dark—why was he taking a bath already? In this heat, he’d be sweating again before he even went to sleep.

She waited until he was fully dressed before turning around. Because he had used cold water and she had startled him by barging in, his body was still overheated. He had simply thrown on a cloak, tied it loosely, then sat down cross-legged on the cushion beside her. He extended a hand. “The document.”

Qian Tong sat opposite him and handed the contract over.

While he flipped through it, her gaze drifted to the water droplets sliding off the ends of his hair.

One drop. Two drops. Three…

They kept falling.

Endlessly. The cloak on his shoulders had already been soaked through.

She had no idea what Song Yunzhi was saying—he seemed to be pointing out a few places that needed revision—but she quickly realized she couldn’t focus at all. Finally, she gave up and cut him off.

“I can’t concentrate. My head is full of what you looked like without your clothes on. Let’s handle this tomorrow morning instead.”

Song Yunzhi had never intended to verify the contract this quickly anyway. But she had stormed in impatiently, interrupting his bath halfway. He’d had no choice but to come out and accommodate her.

He had finally managed to calm down enough to read—only for her to land that one provocative line, shattering the last bit of rationality and restraint he’d been clinging to.

If she had no intention of marrying him, she should not be provoking him like this. He warned her,

“Qian Tong, do you know what you’re saying?”

Qian Tong didn’t know what was wrong with her either, why she was unable to resist the temptation. She rubbed at her burning cheeks and sighed,

“I think I finally understand why you couldn’t resist stealing that kiss from me that night. Once it gets dark, people get stupid. Just like I am now—I really want to kiss you.”

Song Yunzhi: …

She stared at the droplets of water refusing to stop sliding down his chest, and asked, unwilling to give up, “Do you want… to try being affectionate with someone?”

Perhaps she had pushed him too far, because Song Yunzhi suddenly became calm. He slowly closed the contract in his hands and asked,

“You want to kiss me?”

Qian Tong nodded.

A little, yes.

“But you don’t want to promise yourself to me?”

She nodded again. Had he… agreed?

Song Yunzhi leaned toward her, slowly. His hand gripped her shoulder as he drew closer and closer, his breath enveloping her, swallowing her up bit by bit. She smelled the familiar clean fragrance of his skin. Her heartbeat pounded like a drum. They were only inches apart. She lifted her chin—only five finger-widths from his lips—when suddenly he twisted her shoulders toward the door.

“Out. I’m not seeing you off.”

Qian Tong: “…”

She wasn’t sure how she walked out. The sea breeze hit her once she stepped outside, sweeping away whatever reckless impulse had clouded her head. She slapped her forehead, turned back toward the room, and apologized through the doorway,

“I was being foolish. Please don’t take it to heart. I promise I won’t do it again.”

The moment Song Yunzhi heard her voice, his breath surged uncontrollably.

After sitting still for a long while, he got up and returned to the washroom.

——

The next morning, the person bringing the contract was Wang Zhao.

“Miss Qian says she checked it again. Please review it, and if everything’s correct, sign it.”

From that point on, all messages were relayed through Wang Zhao.

When Song Yunzhi departed in the afternoon, he didn’t see Qian Tong again.

The situation with the canal had progressed—Shen Che had sent word that the army was ready.

The day after the banquet, Song Yunzhi had Shen Che receive the contract already signed by the elder Madam Pu. Before Shen Che moved his troops into position, Song’s men ambushed the Pu family messenger mid-route and seized the letter meant for the prince’s manor.

Thus, news of opening the canal reached the prince’s manor from Shen Che—before the Pu family could deliver it themselves.

Prince Pingchang had not been informed beforehand. Upon hearing the news, he rushed from his fief to the Huainan Canal overnight, first stabilizing Shen Che, and then planning to arrive in Yangzhou the next day to personally meet the young heir of the Song family.

Song Yunzhi left in the afternoon; Princess Mingfeng arrived at the salt fields that evening.

She did not get off her carriage. Instead, she sent the young master Lan out. “Since you already know her, bring her here. I want to ask her what her relationship with the Pu family’s eldest son really is.”

On her first day in Yangzhou, she had told Madam Pu plainly: if the Pu family still wanted this marriage alliance, they should marry their eldest son to her.

Madam Pu had readily agreed.

The eldest son had rushed back that same evening. But upon meeting the princess, he informed her that he already had a betrothal contract with the seventh daughter of the Qian family.

Madam Pu had known this as well, but under the pressure of a princess, she hadn’t dared say anything. After speaking with the princess, the eldest son apologized earnestly:

“This marriage would be a loss for you, Your Highness. But I have already made a prior promise to Miss Qian. I cannot deceive you, and I cannot, for the sake of gaining favor, become someone who breaks his word. I hope you can understand.”

The Pu family sought the backing of the prince’s manor; likewise, the manor valued the Pu family’s wealth. Princess Mingfeng knew very well that in the face of political interest, her father would give up a daughter without blinking.

Since marriage into the Pu family was inevitable and she could not escape it, she might as well choose the one she preferred.

The eldest son was indeed excellent—far better in looks, manners, and temperament than the second son.

Besides, the second son was nearly ruined in her hands already.

She had come today to see the girl who was betrothed to the eldest son—to see who she was, and whether she was willing to give up the match.

When Lan brought her over, Princess Mingfeng was genuinely startled. She hadn’t expected the girl to be the same one who had slipped beneath her horse’s legs that day in the marketplace.

Qian Tong was also surprised. She stepped forward and made a proper bow. “Your Highness.”

Mingfeng looked her over from head to toe. “You are the one betrothed to the eldest son of the Pu family?”

Qian Tong didn’t deny it. “Yes, Your Highness.”

Mingfeng found the situation thorny.

Since coming to Jiangnan, Qian Tong was the only true beauty she had encountered among all the women she’d met. No wonder the eldest son had rejected a marriage to a princess and chosen her instead. Mingfeng motioned for her to get into the carriage.

“Come. I have something to discuss with you.”

Though she had a reputation for being ruthless, she never made things difficult for innocent women. If she was going to take the marriage away from Qian Tong, she would at least give her proper compensation.

Mingfeng said, “Name your price.”

Qian Tong froze, unsure what she meant.

So the princess said it plainly: “I want the eldest son of the Pu family. Hand him over to me, and name your price.”

The beauty before her stared in shock for quite a long time. There was no anger in her eyes—only embarrassment, hesitation, and the desire to speak but not knowing how. Mingfeng was just about to grow impatient when the girl finally said,

“If Your Highness likes him, how could I dare to compete with you? But…”

But what?

Qian Tong asked softly, “Has Your Highness heard the story between me and the eldest son?”

How could a princess know such things? Mingfeng frowned—she had no interest in their past. She only wanted to know how to make Qian Tong give the man up.

But then she heard:

“Years ago, I planned to elope with him…”

These days, a woman eloping wasn’t unheard of—but few truly had the courage to defy their families for a man.

Mingfeng’s ears pricked slightly.

Seeing she wasn’t interrupted, Qian Tong lowered her gaze and continued,

“The Pu and Qian families have been close for generations. He and I grew up together—childhood companions who eventually fell in love. In private, we had already pledged ourselves to each other. But neither family approved…” She paused. “Yet when two people truly care for one another, do you think they wouldn’t find a way to be together? If nothing else, a rice grain can always be cooked until it becomes a meal…”
(t/n: The phrase refers to “cooked rice becomes cooked rice,” meaning once intimacy occurs, families are forced to accept the match.)