Chapter 52

Shen Jiujiu was terribly curious about why Pei Du had changed his mind. After all, Sui Ziming, Zhong Bo, and even Mother had all said that Pei Du was not the sort to easily shift his opinions.

Yet Pei Du was also the type who clammed up tight when he didn’t want to talk—no one could pry a single word out of him.

Little Bird clung to Pei Du, peppering him with kisses the whole day, only to be coaxed into a happy daze. He obediently struck pose after pose as Pei Du painted an entire afternoon’s worth of Little Bird portraits.

Seven sheets in all, capturing every imaginable posture—including that morning’s scene of him standing with hands on hips, mid-lecture.

Pei Du’s brushwork was hardly legendary, but as a scion of a great clan, he was well-versed in the Six Arts of the Gentleman. The Little Birds he painted were endearingly goofy, their eyes sparkling with life. Anyone who knew Shen Jiujiu would have praised them to the skies.

Shen Jiujiu was just the sort to puff up with pride at a compliment. He had Jia Shisan carry Pei Du’s portraits of him all around the residence, showing them off to everyone.

—And in doing so, he missed what happened after Little Bird left the study. Pei Du settled into deep focus, his brush tracing the delicate lines of a small child on the rice paper, stroke by careful stroke.

Half a shichen later, Pei Du set down his brush and gazed at the child in the painting, who stared right back out at him, wide-eyed and unblinking.

An unconscious smile tugged at Pei Du’s lips as he dotted a tiny dimple onto the child’s cheek.

Pei Du did not like children.

The ones who had surrounded him in his youth were nothing but fools. And among the noble youths he encountered later, every glance hid layers of scheming.

Even Sui Ziming had been a noisy handful, rolling in the mud as a boy and tugging at his clothes with filthy hands.

For the sake of blood ties, the teenage Pei Du—whose temperament was already taking shape—had drawn a deep breath and endured his cousin. Ziming might not have been clever, but he made up for it with his earnest straightforwardness.

Had Xinian grown up at his side, though, Pei Du would have taught the boy poetry and song, history and classics. With Xinian’s sharp mind and diligent nature, he would have mastered them swiftly, drawing insights far beyond the lessons.

Scholars and great thinkers all dreamed of a disciple to carry on their entire legacy—a true inheritance that would keep their name alive long after they were gone.

The world had dealt Pei Du one cruel blow after another, yet it had also delivered Shen Jiujiu into his life. Fortune and misfortune were fickle threads, woven unpredictably.

Pei Du heard the chattering from the courtyard outside and knew Shen Jiujiu had shifted his bragging from people to the Sparrow Balls. He let out a quiet chuckle.

He switched brushes, dipped it in cinnabar, and added red ribbons to the child’s braids. Then, with a gentle wave, he fanned the ink dry.

Finally, he tucked the painting into the deepest shelf of the bookcase.

~~~

Though the weather had cooled, neither Xie Jingtang nor Pei Du could bear to let Shen Xinian’s features be marred.

With pine and cypress wood prepared, along with plenty of oil, the flames roared high and fierce, swallowing his face and form in an instant.

The blaze raged for a full three hours. Even with all her preparations, Xie Jingtang collapsed in tears at the sight of what remained.

Shen Jiujiu stayed quietly nestled on Pei Du’s shoulder.

He had imagined it would be simple—death to ashes, nothing more to grieve. But he hadn’t accounted for how primitive cremation was in this era compared to the modern world. His body would not burn to powder.

There were the grayish-white ashes he’d envisioned, but the skull and limbs endured.

The sight tugged at Shen Jiujiu’s own heart; small wonder it shattered Xie Jingtang, who had carried him for ten months and raised him through endless hardship.

Shen Jiujiu fluttered to his mother’s side. Sensing her squeeze her eyes shut against the horror, he nuzzled her again and again with his warm little bird head.

Pei Du handled Shen Xinian’s enshrouding himself.

Shen Jiujiu watched his ashes smudge Pei Du’s fingers, watched those elegant, knuckled hands cradle his bones with utmost care. For a fleeting moment, his mind went all lovestruck: this, surely, was the most intimate touch Shen Xinian and Pei Du had ever shared.

Once the burning was done, it was time for burial.

The auspicious hour had been calculated, placing Shen Xinian’s interment at dawn the next day.

Dawn marked the birth of yang—a burial, but also a rebirth.

Just as Shen Jiujiu had wanted, there was no grand affair. Only those who truly knew Shen Jiujiu—and thus Shen Xinian—were present.

Some days after the funeral, Shen Jiujiu—head buried in his meal—suddenly fainted, nearly plunging face-first into his bowl. Pei Du, who had been keeping a close eye on Little Bird these past weeks, caught him just in time.

That sleep lasted a full month.

In his dreams, Shen Jiujiu lived out both of Shen Xinian’s lifetimes.

The dream stretched on forever, heavy and suffocating.

Yet Shen Xinian’s memories held joys amid the pain. His childhood had been plagued by labored breaths and countless shackles, but the days spent with his mother still warmed Little Bird’s heart.

Memories mattered to Shen Jiujiu not for their plot value, but because they revealed his origins.

His soul at last felt its true weight—no more drifting, no more searching. Like a bird folding its wings, he could now fly steadily toward the future.

Little Bird stretched out, claws flexing lazily. Before he even opened his eyes, an unfamiliar voice rang out: “His Majesty’s oral decree… ever frail of constitution… shall practice martial arts to fortify the body… enter the palace to attend… the Heir of Prince Wu among them…”

Hm?

Shen Jiujiu’s mind snapped to the original plot on reflex.

Oh, right—there was this part.

The civil officials were firmly under Prime Minister Pei Du’s thumb, leaving the puppet Emperor desperate to court the generals.

Claiming his frail health required exercise, he summoned the sons of various martial houses into the palace. That was how the Long Aotian Male Lead got in, whispering schemes that set the Emperor against Prime Minister Pei Du time and again.

It was likely one of the reasons the Emperor ended up deposed.

Yes, in the original story, the villainous Prime Minister deposed the Emperor.

The man had ruled for five years—not a short reign by historical standards. Pei Du had tolerated him that long; absent any catastrophic blunders, the throne would have held—unless he sired a son the Empress Dowager despised and had him removed.

But the Emperor pushed things too far, beyond reconciliation. When Pei Du finally acted, he did so openly, citing “cowardice and incompetence, unfit to govern.”

The Deposed Emperor lingered two years in confinement before descending into madness and self-immolating.

Before, Shen Jiujiu had puzzled over it: how could his Benefactor—so kind, so gentle, so attuned to his every chirp—be the big bad? Now, with his memories restored and the full plot laid bare, he wasn’t surprised in the least.

A minister who had reached the point where he could depose or enthrone an emperor without lifting a finger wielded power so vast it blotted out the heavens with one hand. From the protagonist storyline where Long Aotian, the male lead and heir, ascended to the throne, wasn’t Pei Du inevitably the great villain who had to be brought down?

Shen Jiujiu habitually rubbed his cheek hard against Pei Du’s wrist, then groped around with his wings as the entire little bird crawled out like shedding a cocoon.

Hm… Had they changed the incense in the study?

Shen Jiujiu poked his little bird head out from Pei Du’s cuff. His eyes weren’t even open yet as he tilted his head back and took a big sniff.

Pei Du’s bedroom hadn’t burned any Calming Incense in ages, and the study had switched to the pear-scented kind that Shen Jiujiu preferred, with its faint touch of sweetness. Over the past month or so, that soft pear fragrance had inevitably clung to Pei Du as well.

But right now, the scent wafting from Benefactor’s sleeve smelled a bit like the sandalwood incense his mother used to burn for the God of Wealth back in the day.

“Allow it, then.”

It was Benefactor’s voice, sounding a touch subdued, as if he weren’t terribly interested in the matter.

At the same time, Pei Du’s left hand—which had been tucked inside his sleeve—flipped over and pinned Shen Jiujiu right back in.

Shen Jiujiu: “?”

The little bird had only just woken up!

What was so wrong with breathing a little fresh air?

Accustomed to lording it about the mansion with impunity, the little bird stubbornly forced Pei Du’s fingers apart and poked his head out of the cuff once more.

Only this time, Shen Jiujiu’s little bird eyes went wide.

The furnishings all around were utterly unfamiliar. This was no study back home!

The tiny bird dumpling looked a full circle skinnier than he had a month ago, but his feathers were sleek and glossy, clearly the result of meticulous grooming—even the tail feathers trailing behind him gleamed with fine luster.

Shen Jiujiu glanced down at the crimson Prime Minister’s court robe beneath his bird claws, then turned to lock eyes soulfully with the crane patch on Pei Du’s chest. Finally, he peered over Pei Du’s shoulder at the statue of Kongzi atop the rosewood shrine.

The little bird fell silent.

The little bird retreated.

The little bird tucked himself back into Benefactor’s sleeve.

The Pei Mansion never burned sandalwood incense, but Pei Du always came home from court with the scent clinging to his robes.

Shen Jiujiu had heard Zhong Bo mention that Wenyuan Pavilion enshrined a statue of the Sage, and its censer was thus filled with sandalwood.

Wenyuan Pavilion.

To put it simply, this was the ministers of the Cabinet holding their own little court.

So!

Why on earth had Benefactor brought a bird to court!

Shen Jiujiu balled himself up into a feathery puffball. Mindful of his recent lesson, he even used his beak to clamp down on his long tail feather, ensuring not so much as a hint of it poked out.

Pei Du was still speaking with someone, gently patting Shen Jiujiu’s back in a soothing rhythm with his left hand while lightly prodding the little bird’s belly with his fingertip.

Shen Jiujiu dipped his head and gave it a peck.

Don’t play with birds in Wenyuan Pavilion!

…That didn’t sound quite right.

Ever since his memories had returned, Shen Jiujiu’s mind no longer seemed shackled by his little bird brain. His reactions were much sharper now.

Don’t play with the little bird in Wenyuan Pavilion!

Pecked though he was, Pei Du showed no sign of annoyance. Instead, he took advantage of the fact that the little bird was trying so hard to stay hidden and quiet, letting his fingers grow even bolder in their teasing.

Shen Jiujiu lost his temper and launched himself beak-first onto Pei Du’s fingertip, wrapping his wings around it in a tight embrace.

“But my lord, are you truly going to let the Heir of Prince Wu enter the palace and meet His Majesty?”

Enveloped by the warm, lively little bird on his fingertip, the gloom that had clouded Pei Du’s face for a full month finally lifted a little. His tolerance for the matter he’d just heard about grew accordingly.

“No matter. Think nothing of it.”

Only after the ministers in the pavilion had departed did Pei Du raise his hand, bringing the stern-faced little bird dumpling on his finger level with his eyes.

Shen Jiujiu parted his beak to chirp—only for footsteps to sound from outside. He immediately shrank back, burrowing straight down Pei Du’s arm and into his clothes.

Sleeve upon sleeve layered within, Shen Jiujiu panicked and chose poorly, wriggling right into the innermost undergarment. Now pressed flush against Pei Du’s chest, he didn’t dare so much as breathe.

Pei Du went rigid at the feel of the bird dumpling against his bare skin.

The visitor’s voice was soft and reedy, belonging to what sounded like a young eunuch.

The gist of it was this: since Lord Pei had no objections, why not seize the moment? They could summon the young masters from the various mansions into the palace today.

His Majesty had clearly been awaiting just such a word from Pei Du—and was equally certain it wouldn’t be refused.

Once the little eunuch had withdrawn, Shen Jiujiu stiffly extended his bird claws and, head bowed, inched his way out of the clothing bit by bit.

Fortunately, he was only a little bird. The faint pink tint of his cheek fluff was pleasing enough on its own; no matter how hotly embarrassment flushed his face, the downy feathers hid it well.

Shen Jiujiu lifted his wings to shield his cheeks, steeling himself with a bit of mental preparation before peeking his small head out from beneath the feathers.

“Jiujiu~”

Pei Du stroked the little bird from crown to claws. “Is something wrong? Are you hungry? Do you want some water?”

Shen Jiujiu took careful stock of himself, then shook his head.

It was odd. He felt like he’d slept for ages, yet he wasn’t the least bit hungry or thirsty.

This nap had been wonderfully refreshing.

The feathers that used to itch before he slept no longer bothered him at all. He felt clear-headed and full of vigor—ready to pummel Ziming with his fists and kick Big Goose with his feet, no problem!

To prove the point, the little bird launched into a spirited routine of bird-style military calisthenics on the table. He even took to the air, whirling in a flying kick with one claw.

Pei Du’s eyes crinkled in amusement. “Shall we head back to the mansion, then? Madam Xie has been quite worried about you these past days.”

Shen Jiujiu bobbed his head vigorously.

Right—for a normal court session, shouldn’t Benefactor have left the little bird at home?

It wasn’t as if there was no one there to look after him. So why carry him all the way into the palace?

That said, across three lifetimes of dying and being reborn, this was Shen Jiujiu’s first real glimpse of what the Imperial Palace looked like.

Pei Du made his way outward, with Shen Jiujiu perched on his wrist, the little bird’s head peeking out from beneath the crimson cuff of the court robe as he gazed about curiously.

Pei Du keenly noted Shen Jiujiu’s fascination with every sight, every passerby in the Imperial Palace. He paused and looked down. “Want to go watch the excitement?”

Shen Jiujiu tilted his little bird head up at him.

What excitement?

Remembering what he’d overheard earlier, Shen Jiujiu perked right up.

Could it be a chance to see Long Aotian Male Lead and the cannon-fodder Emperor?

This was prime wish-fulfillment plot: Long Aotian Male Lead unleashing his protagonist charm to toy with the Emperor, all while winning over a bunch of martial generals’ heirs!

Shen Jiujiu smacked his lips and glanced at the palace walls, where deep autumn was drawing near.

Moreover, by his calculations, unless something unexpected cropped up, his Benefactor would depose the Emperor next year, wouldn’t he?

In the original story—from the male lead Zheng Min’s perspective—it only described how Pei Du deposed the Emperor with thunderous methods. Yet both the Empress Dowager and Prince Wu remained utterly tight-lipped about the matter, treating it as an unspeakable taboo.

They hadn’t just turned a blind eye to Pei Du’s audacious act; they hadn’t breathed a single word of it to Zheng Min, the heir apparent.

Shen Jiujiu glanced at Pei Du again, suddenly seized by a curiosity that clawed relentlessly at his heart.

Little Bird held himself back time and again, but he couldn’t resist in the end. He dipped his head and gave Pei Du’s wrist a light peck.

Pei Du looked down. “Hm?”

Shen Jiujiu poked his head out and, moving his bird claw with painstaking slowness, wrote stroke by stroke across Pei Du’s palm.

【What reason will you have for deposing the Emperor?】

What was the deal between Little Bird and Benefactor, anyway!

He’d just gone ahead and asked straight out!

Pei Du was taken aback by Shen Jiujiu’s abrupt question, but after giving it some serious thought, he replied, “Unless Prince Wu rebels and throws the realm into chaos, I won’t.”

“It would stir up far too many needless complications.”

The answer came with such calm assurance, such cool arrogance.

Even amid the watchful eyes and teeming crowds of the palace, Pei Du spoke without a hint of restraint.

The sun blazed overhead, its light cascading across the grand palace roofs with their glazed tiles, scattering a blinding halo of reflections.

That vivid scarlet so near at hand burned even brighter in the brilliant sunlight, like a steady, smoldering flame.

No words on the page, no hearsay from others, could compare to the truth of one’s own eyes.

Shen Jiujiu jerked his head back sharply. In that instant, something seemed to seize his chest, and the tips of his bird claws grew faintly warm.

Only now did Shen Jiujiu grasp with perfect, piercing clarity what the name Pei Du truly meant.

Two crimson glints danced in Little Bird’s eyes, like sparks catching fire.

This was… power?