Shen Jiujiu finished unleashing a combo of punches and waited a bit nervously for Pei Du to speak.
But facing a clever little bird that had braved every obstacle—scaling fake mountains, crossing gardens, trekking all the way back to the study on its own—Pei Du asked nothing, said nothing. Instead, he simply reached out and gently nudged Shen Jiujiu’s tiny bird claw off the brush handle with his fingertip.
Shen Jiujiu’s body pitched forward. “?”
He steadied himself with his claws and craned his neck, staring at Pei Du in disbelief.
He had seen his own reflection in the water. Sure, he’d been a little patchy when he first arrived, but after two days of careful preening, in terms of plumage and poise, he, Shen Jiujiu, was without a doubt the cutest little bird around.
What was Pei Du’s deal?
Didn’t he like birds?
That couldn’t be right… Last time, he’d clearly sensed that Pei Du had a soft spot for the texture of little bird feathers.
Shen Jiujiu scooted tentatively closer to Pei Du’s hand. He unfurled his wings and brushed the back of Pei Du’s hand ever so lightly with their tips.
A little bird’s wings were soft to begin with, and the feathers at the tips were especially delicate. The cautious touch felt like the gentlest sweep of downy fluff.
Pei Du’s fingers twitched.
Shen Jiujiu, watching him intently, caught the tiny motion. His puzzled little eyes flew wide. In one bold hop, he wedged himself right into Pei Du’s palm, claws planted on the desk as he rubbed furiously against the warm skin.
He rubbed his itchy little bird head. He rubbed his wing roots too. Oh, and his bird belly—this spot had to feel amazing to rub.
Shen Jiujiu rubbed with earnest vigor, determined to make Pei Du feel just how adorable and pettable a fluffy little bird could be.
Even the weariest soul, coming home to pet a creature like this, would melt into relaxation and joy!
But as he rubbed away, Shen Jiujiu started to sense something off.
He twisted his bird head this way and that until his hard beak bumped into Pei Du’s loosely curled fingers.
Pei Du was reviewing documents in the study, so a lamp burned steadily on the desk.
In its glow, Shen Jiujiu noticed something dark and grimy on Pei Du’s hand.
The long-tailed little bird—who’d been so diligently scrubbing that palm—recoiled for a moment. Then he reared up on his claws, pinned Pei Du’s fingers, and dragged them toward the brighter light. He craned his neck to peer closer.
Pei Du humored him completely, offering no resistance.
Shen Jiujiu cocked his head.
It looked… dirty?
Wait.
Shen Jiujiu fanned out his wings in front of himself and peered down. Then he glanced back at the dust-caked pad of Pei Du’s finger.
The guilty little bird yanked back his claws, folded his wings tight, and hopped two steps away. He stared silently at the black smear he’d left on Pei Du’s palm, then shrank his neck, dropped his beak, and buried his entire head beneath his wings.
A textbook picture of a guilty bird.
Shen Jiujiu genuinely hadn’t clocked it at first, but now it hit him.
He’d come from the rear garden—skulking along walls, tumbling through grass. His feathers were caked in dirt and dust. That whole enthusiastic rubbing session? He’d basically turned Pei Du’s hand into his personal bird bath towel.
Shen Jiujiu suddenly realized that reincarnating as a bird had dulled his wits quite a bit.
Though, to be fair, that made sense. A little bird’s brain was only so big—dimmer instincts came with the territory.
Still, using his Benefactor’s hand as a scrub cloth? That was beyond the pale!
The indignant little bird balled himself up. In his daze, he caught the faintest low chuckle.
Shen Jiujiu swiveled his head, angling his ear hole toward the sound.
“I’m not blaming you.”
Maybe it was the deep stillness of the night, or the candle’s cozy glow, but Pei Du’s voice shed its daytime chill. It came out almost gentle, warmed by the flickering light.
The little bird peeked out one round black eye.
Pei Du used his clean hand to set aside the letter he’d shielded earlier—keeping it safe from the little bird’s enthusiastic smudges. From his sleeve, he drew a handkerchief and held it out. “Do you know how to use this?”
Shen Jiujiu pondered.
As a little bird, should he act like he did… or didn’t?
Eh, whatever.
The bird already understood human speech, crunched numbers, and pulled midnight cage escapes. What was one more skill?
Shen Jiujiu threw caution to the wind. He stretched out a claw, hooked the handkerchief, and claimed it. He spread it across the desk.
First, he hopped on and scrubbed his claws vigorously clean. Then he flipped it over, flopped belly-up with feet in the air, and rolled back and forth across the fabric several times.
Once spotless, Shen Jiujiu half-spread his wings and gave his feathers a few prim pecks to straighten them.
Pei Du watched the little bird’s flurry of activity, his gaze lingering on the single tuft of fluff sticking straight up from the long-tailed sparrow’s head.
Then he looked away.
As a boy, Pei Du had cherished so many things: kites dancing on the wind, cats that purred for attention, birds with broken wings, a stern father, a tender mother. In the end, though, he’d lost them all.
Liking something—sinking into it—was a weakness he could no longer afford.
Shen Jiujiu wasn’t a real little bird, so he didn’t fuss over perfect plumage.
Besides, when you were mortified, keeping busy was the best distraction.
As he fussed, he snuck peeks at Pei Du’s face and posture.
Only to find Pei Du ignoring him once more—drawing out fresh letters and bending to them with lowered eyes.
Shen Jiujiu: “?”
Wait, what? Why?
He was a whole little bird! A big one!
Perched right there on the desk—wasn’t he obvious?!
Shen Jiujiu twisted to eye the cyan jade paperweight. He sized himself up against it and glumly concluded that, yeah, the bird wasn’t quite as imposing.
He quit preening and fixed Pei Du’s hand with a hard stare. Then he snatched up the discarded handkerchief in his beak and hopped toward Pei Du’s wrist.
Sensing the fluffy approach, Pei Du’s hand stilled for a beat.
Seizing the moment, Shen Jiujiu—handkerchief in mouth—shoved boldly back into the palm. He wedged Pei Du’s fingers apart with his wings and scrubbed at the mess with his claws gripping the cloth.
Good thing it was just dust; it wiped away easily.
Shen Jiujiu erased his evidence, then eyed the soiled handkerchief with disdain. No way was he picking it up in his beak again—he hooked it with a claw instead and single-footed it to the desk’s edge, dumping it there.
Ignoring Pei Du’s reaction entirely, Shen Jiujiu spun around and scampered back. His fluffy body wedged affectionately against Pei Du’s hand once more, long dark tail feathers trailing behind and swaying side to side with every eager step.
Pei Du neither spoke nor shooed the bird away. Shen Jiujiu thus kept leaning against him and lifted his head.
What are you looking at?
The bird glanced over.
Seeing this, Pei Du even lowered the letter in his hand a little.
“!!”
That’s not right. At a time like this, with the Benefactor alone in his study reading a letter—wasn’t this some top-secret intelligence?
Shen Jiujiu had already glimpsed the beginning. With a sudden flick of his head, he shoved it straight into Pei Du’s palm.
The bird didn’t see anything.
The bird couldn’t understand it anyway.
“Do you remember that shopkeeper?” Pei Du’s voice was faint.
Shopkeeper?
Shen Jiujiu flapped his wings slightly.
That shopkeeper from the other day—the one who fudged the accounts so badly he wouldn’t dare answer even a child’s arithmetic?
“This is his confession,” Pei Du continued.
Shen Jiujiu grew a little curious.
The little bird’s claws scratched at the desk surface a couple of times. Unable to hold back any longer, he finally withdrew his head from Pei Du’s hand and twisted around to peer at the letter.
The bird had already embraced the mindset of grilling little bird skewers—if it didn’t work out, he’d just reincarnate. Being a bit smarter wouldn’t make much difference.
Shen Jiujiu steeled himself and dove right in. He craned his neck for a few looks, but it strained his eyes. He even hopped onto Pei Du’s hand, signaling him to bring it closer.
Directed by the bird, Pei Du arched a brow ever so slightly.
“Chirp!”
Shen Jiujiu whipped his head around and let out a peevish chirp.
You’re the one who told the bird to look!
And so Pei Du really did cup the little bird closer to the letter, serving as a stand for a moment.
It was indeed a confession, just as Pei Du had said.
But…
Shen Jiujiu stared blankly at the line on the paper: “The embezzled silver has been delivered to the Zhenguo Marquis Mansion.” His little bird eyes went wide.
It wasn’t anything about the marquis mansion itself—
Shen Xinian had no real attachment to the Shen family. He might once have harbored some filial longing for his father, but even that had faded away.
No—he had simply realized, all at once, that the sight of the all-too-familiar Zhenguo Marquis Mansion stirred no faces in his memory: not his father’s, not Madam Zhou’s, not even his half-brother’s, born of the same father but different mothers.
Shen Jiujiu’s claws tightened on Pei Du’s finger as he desperately tried to dredge up his memories. To his shock, he found that the blur extended far beyond the marquis mansion.
He couldn’t recall his journey north from Jinling to the Capital. He couldn’t remember returning to the marquis mansion or what had happened there…
Even the many experiences of Shen Xinian’s youth in Jinling—growing up, studying, earning his scholarly honors—were all hazy, as if his mind were shrouded in a thick white veil.
Being framed by his stepmother, taking the fall for someone else, dying unjustly in prison… Those events lingered in his mind, true enough, but the details eluded him entirely.
How had his stepmother framed him?
What crime had he taken the blame for?
Imprisoned as he was, what had killed him?
Shen Jiujiu’s claws dug harder into Pei Du’s finger. His wings half-unfurled, every feather taut, their edges quivering faintly.
Was he truly Shen Xinian?
Had he… ever truly been human?
Abruptly, a familiar aura washed over him. Pei Du’s fingertip hovered for a moment in the air before gently brushing the little bird’s wing.
Startled, Shen Jiujiu instinctively drew in his wings—but the expected crush never came.
Pei Du’s finger felt warm. Its tip glided over the little bird’s back in soft, steady strokes, neither too firm nor too light, carrying an oddly reassuring calm.
Little by little, Shen Jiujiu relaxed.
Whatever. Whether he was Shen Xinian or not hardly mattered.
Whether he’d once been human didn’t matter either.
Shen Xinian was dead anyway, and Shen Jiujiu was just an ordinary little bird without a scrap of demonic power.
As a speechless little bird, he remembered Pei Du’s kindness. Even if most everything else had slipped from his mind, Pei Du’s face remained vividly etched there. And so—bird must repay grace!
Shen Jiujiu would be the pampered, trusted bird at Pei Du’s side. Even if he couldn’t help with anything substantial, simply keeping him company would let the ever-tense Prime Minister Pei unwind in private by stroking his little bird.
That would be repayment enough.
True, something terribly important seemed to have slipped his mind as well—but now that he’d made his peace with it, Shen Jiujiu hopped once on Pei Du’s hand. Worried his claws might scratch, he flicked up his tail feathers, stretched his legs forward, and plopped down onto Pei Du’s finger in a very humanlike seat.
“Chirp!”
Leaving the marquis mansion aside, Shen Jiujiu had read the confession’s first half—the shopkeeper’s three years of embezzlement—and already felt a pang for Pei Du’s sake.
No matter how wealthy you were, that money wasn’t for feeding parasites!
Pei Du seemed to read the regretful sigh in the little bird’s eyes. He slipped the confession into the open box nearby. “The Pei Mansion needs dirty accounts.”
This was already the fifth shopkeeper Pei Du had dealt with.
If the Pei Mansion’s external dealings and inner household were an airtight fortress, it was anyone’s guess whether he and the Emperor could keep up their current facade of harmony.
Besides, dirty accounts made it easier for Pei Du to quietly siphon away the silver.
Shen Jiujiu knew nothing of court intrigues. He just ached over that massive sum.
One shopkeeper alone had skimmed so much. All the Pei Mansion’s dirty accounts together must amount to a little mountain of gold ingots.
Pei Du gazed down at the long-tailed tit before him. No longer bothering to hide it, the bird sighed and chirped with obvious distress. “You understand human speech and can read writing. You could have escaped the cage. With such cleverness, why did you starve yourself in the palace?”
Answering that would take some explaining.
But birds didn’t speak human tongue.
Shen Jiujiu cocked his head, considered, then shook it solemnly at Pei Du before opening his beak in a chirp.
He wasn’t some sprite.
Just a little bird.
Pei Du fell silent for a beat, confronting the gulf between human and bird.
“Can you write?” he asked.
Shen Jiujiu flapped his tiny wings and flexed his little claws, eyeing the writing implements on Pei Du’s desk—each one bigger than the bird itself.
Pei Du pressed a hand to his forehead, composed himself, and said, “Ziming will head out to the hunting grounds later. Go with him. I’ll instruct him to set you free.”
Ziming was the young man who had played with the bird the other day—Shen Jiujiu had heard Pei Du call him that.
At Pei Du’s words, Shen Jiujiu panicked. He lost his seat and tumbled off Pei Du’s hand, curling into a feathery ball that rolled across the desk until it smacked into the edge of the inkstone.
“Chirp!”
His head reeling from the impact, Shen Jiujiu let out a miserable cry. He clutched it with his wings, dizzy for ages, before shakily pulling himself upright on Pei Du’s extended finger.
Hm?
Inkstone?
A spark of inspiration flashed through Shen Jiujiu’s mind. He pushed away Pei Du’s fingers supporting the little bird, spun around, and hopped onto the inkstone still slick with remnants of ink. He extended his bird claw, carefully dipping the sharp tip of his nail into the ink until he succeeded.
Thrilled beyond measure, he balanced on one little bird foot and hopped all the way to the sheet of rice paper Pei Du had unrolled across the desk.
He paid no mind to the trail of ink drops splattering behind him in a long streak, only to be smeared into a chaotic mess by his dragging tail feathers.
Standing atop the rice paper, Shen Jiujiu—the little bird on the verge of being released into the wilds as some sprite—raised his claw in a desperate, all-or-nothing stroke—
【I used to be human】
【I came to repay your kindness】
【I’m not a sprite】
【I’ll starve to death if you let me go】
These four simple lines boldly claimed the entire sheet of plain rice paper spread across the desk.
Shen Jiujiu hopped back and forth to dip more ink, scrawling away on Pei Du’s desk for a solid half hour.
Panting with exhaustion, he turned away wearily, unwilling to face his own crooked, utterly shapeless scribbles that lacked even a hint of style. He clenched his little bird claw and gazed pitifully at Pei Du, the man who held the power of life and death over the little bird.
