Born to Be Either Rich or Noble - Chapter 77

At this moment, Prince Pingchang had a knife pressed against his throat by a supposed “intruder.”

But the man was not really one of the intruders.

He wore a black mask over his face. His figure was tall and slender—not the short, stocky build typical of the intruders. He looked more like a wandering assassin from the martial world.

Prince Pingchang could never have imagined that he would be trapped in such danger tonight. When the guards reported the arrival of the second wave of intruders, he and the Princess Consort had thought, like her, that it was a backup plan set by Madam Piao, aimed at Prince Song.

But when the intruders reached the rear courtyard, they killed the guards at the gate, disregarded the Prince’s name, and charged straight into his room, pressing the knife to his throat.

Pingchang’s arm was already injured, and the newcomer’s skill forced him off the couch. He crawled a short distance before being pinned to the ground, unable to move an inch.

He didn’t know whose agent this was. The first suspicion that came to his mind was Madam Piao. Perhaps tonight the Piao family wanted to take everything at once.

But he could not fathom why Madam Piao would want to kill him. What gain would she have if he died? Without him mediating, all her influence would fall to the court. Would she risk that?

It wasn’t impossible. Unless the Piao family had decided to burn bridges completely, but by the current state of affairs, it hadn’t reached that point.

With the knife at his throat, every breath was difficult, sweat beading on his forehead. He asked the man in front of him, “Whose man are you?”

The man answered smoothly, “Who do you think, Your Highness?”

It was indeed a fake intruder. Prince Pingchang tried to negotiate, “No matter what they offer you, I will pay ten times more. How about it?”

“You are wealthy, Your Highness.” The man smiled, pressing the knife an inch closer. Yet his tone was refined and polite. “But I serve a master faithfully. Tonight, my master has sent me to reveal a secret from five years ago.”
(t/n: This refers to a long-buried atrocity linked to the Pingchang household.)

At the mention of five years ago, Pingchang’s heart skipped.

The man gave him no illusions, slowly revealing the darkest secret in Pingchang’s heart. “Five years ago, the intruders stormed the capital, intent on slaughtering all. Where were you, Your Highness?”

Pingchang’s face drained of color.

Who was this man?

The masked youth continued, “When Your Highness received news of the attack, like other royal family members, you prepared to flee. But carrying so much, you fell behind—and inadvertently ran into Qian Mincheng, a merchant from Yangzhou, who had come to reinforce the city.”

“A hundred Qian family servants, over a dozen carts of military supplies, all urging Your Highness to stay and fight…”

Pingchang held his breath.

“You were reluctant, but Qian Mincheng told you the Shu army was only ten miles away. If you held for half an hour, the intruders would be repelled. Such an opportunity for glory—how could you resist? You agreed to fight alongside Qian Mincheng and his men. The Shu army arrived as promised—but at the last moment, fearing exposure of your own escape plan, you turned and killed Qian Mincheng and his son, framing the rest as intruders and having them shot with arrows…”

The long-buried truth, which he thought had died and rotted in the past, was now unveiled. Pingchang’s heart raced.

That group hadn’t even breached the city, yet he had slaughtered them completely.

How could anyone know?

Could some of the Qian family have survived? Pingchang stared at the masked youth, terrified. “Who are you?!”

“Relax, I am not a Qian family member. They still believe Qian Mincheng died at the hands of the intruders. If they learned that you not only stole the Qians’ merit but also killed their former head, what would they do? Would they report it to His Majesty? And if the emperor knew, what then?”

Pingchang’s face trembled.

The masked youth slowly dragged the knife across Pingchang’s face, carving a long, thin line of blood. Yet his tone remained scholarly and refined. “My master wishes to inform Your Highness: the person with leverage is not just him—there is also you…”

Pain seared through him, and his lower body grew wet.

He wanted to flee, but feared the knife would instantly sever his neck. Finally, he stammered a desperate plea, “H-Help…”

It worked. Prince Song arrived.

Song Yunzhi thrust his long sword from behind the masked youth. The youth had to withdraw the knife from Pingchang’s throat and defend himself.

Blade clashed with sword, sparks flying, the noise drawing the attention of the soldiers outside.

A brief whistle sounded, and the masked youth abandoned the fight, escaping swiftly through a rear window.

Song Yunzhi glanced at the collapsed Pingchang Prince, then pursued him. Outside lay another Piao family courtyard. The masked youth had already leapt onto the roof. Song Yunzhi followed closely, ready to strike with a concealed weapon. Suddenly, a terrified scream rang from the courtyard below.

“Princess Consort!”
“Help! There’s an assassin!”
“The Princess Consort has been killed!”

Smoke and flames engulfed the courtyard. Across the long corridor, a shadow sprinted through the firelight.

Dressed in black, the figure moved with agile grace, emerging from the darkness, seemingly waiting for extraction. Her eyes scanned the rooftops.

Catching sight of Song Yunzhi, her pace slowed slightly.

At that moment, Song Yunzhi froze, unable to move, eyes fixed on the figure.

The soldiers behind arrived. The figure did not look back; she was too fast, too agile. Her hair tie came loose, long black hair streaming behind her, stirred by the night wind, flowing across the burning courtyard like a phantom—and then she vanished.

Wang Zhao rushed forward, spotting Song Yunzhi standing motionless in the courtyard. He asked in frustration, “Prince, where did she go?”

Song Yunzhi didn’t respond.

Wang Zhao realized the figure had escaped, fury rising. “Where did these intruders come from? One wave after another, completely lawless, committing crimes under our noses!”

Only now did Wang Zhao grasp what Prince Song had meant when he said Yangzhou was in chaos. Tonight, it truly was a madhouse.

Soon a report arrived. “Prince, Your Highness, the Princess Consort is dead… She was killed by Madam Piao.”

Wang Zhao froze. “Madam Piao killed her?”

The subordinate explained, “Earlier, the Piao family found the missing Piao Er in Mingfeng’s room. His tongue was cut out, his life and manhood taken. Madam Piao, grieving her son, argued with the Princess Consort. The Princess Consort left, and Madam Piao, in a rage, chased and killed her.”

All evidence and testimony were clear—there was no dispute.

Tonight, the Piao family’s public pretense of entertaining Prince Pingchang, the Princess Consort, and Prince Song concealed their true intent: to hire assassins.

Qian Tong returned home late that night, disheveled.

Fu Yin, who had escorted her, asked, “Madam, how did your hair tie break?”

Qian Tong also wondered how cheaply it had been made. “Once Meng Qing wakes, ask him which stall he bought it from. I’m making that vendor compensate me.”

Compensation or not, Fu Yin considered that trivial. She worried instead, “Madam, have you thought about how to explain this to Prince Song?”

Explain? Qian Tong thought. Wait until he arrives.

The Piao household was in chaos, the Princess Consort dead, the Prince terrified—so many matters kept him occupied. She assumed Prince Song would wait until morning before questioning her.

But unexpectedly, in the middle of the night, Prince Song arrived.

Qian Tong awoke to see him seated beside her bed, holding her fallen hair tie. She had only slept briefly. Dressed in a single layer, she asked softly, “Prince, are you tired? Rest if you need. I won’t run. I promise to answer whatever you ask. Everything I did tonight was for your sake. Imagine if Madam Piao knew the missing Piao Er was hidden in my house while she was flattering others, unaware her son was being tortured. Wouldn’t she go mad?”

Song Yunzhi remained silent, his gaze fixed.

Qian Tong continued, “Even the most tolerant person, if they learned their child had been tortured and mutilated, would turn against them. Especially Madam Piao, who is not broad-minded. Tonight, I simply disrupted the Piao family’s rear courtyard. Now that she knows her son is in the Princess’s hands, the Piao family and Prince Pingchang will fall out. The canal issue will resolve itself.”

“Isn’t that right, Prince?” She knew he was angry but keeping it inward. Her guilt deepened. She whispered, “I truly did it for your sake. I didn’t want to see you bullied.”

He was already at risk of being killed; yet she acted to protect him. When he couldn’t act, she did.

Her gaze was gentle, her eyes shining in the approaching dawn. Yet Song Yunzhi gave no reaction. He lowered his head, gripping the hair tie, seemingly deciding something, then looked up and said firmly, “Qian Tong, when you left the Piao house today, I said that once this matter is settled, I would ask you plainly.”

She remembered and nodded, “Okay, once you’re done, you can ask anytime.”

He said, “Then I’ll ask. Fanzhi.”
(t/n: “Fanzhi” is Qian Tong’s given name.)

He looked at her confused expression and asked deliberately, “Do you wish to have physical intimacy with the Piao eldest son?”

Qian Tong was stunned, completely unprepared.

Song Yunzhi gave no chance to hesitate, raising his voice slightly. “Answer.”

Qian Tong instinctively started to answer, then realized he wasn’t asking if she had been with the Piao eldest son—but whether she wanted to be.

She shook her head firmly. “No. I swear…” She only wanted him, and had only ever kissed him.

Song Yunzhi asked, “I’ll ask again. Do you still have feelings for him?”

She shook her head again. “No.”

“I believe you.”

Before she could respond further, he said, “After dawn, I will formally propose at your home. Within half a month, we will marry. If you dare refuse, I will take you to the prison. From then on, the path you walk is your own choice.”