Shen Xinian waited a long time, but still no response came from Pei Du.
The youth shifted from guilty to righteous and back to guilty again, then to utterly mortified, his fingers behind his back twisting until they were on the verge of breaking.
Lying took a strong mind and nerves of steel—sometimes a touch of talent and practice too—and Shen Xinian was sorely lacking in all departments.
But his burning desire to live out his romantic dreams was fierce.
Twice through life as a hopeless singleton, and now, when lightning finally struck and sparks flew at last, it had to be with a bird. Talk about unfair.
The more Shen Xinian dwelled on it, the more wronged he felt. His cheeks puffed out little by little, flattening the faint dimples that peeked out when he pursed his lips.
Shen Xinian knew he had to take the bull by the horns.
He sneaked a glance upward, catching Pei Du right as he massaged his temples, his face twisted in an expression too complex to name.
The Great Zhou Dynasty’s customs were open-minded, and the storybooks Pei Du read to pass the time weren’t all tales of star-crossed lovers.
But that hardly meant he could calmly accept his own student—the little bird—boldly confessing his feelings right to his face.
Deep down, Pei Du remained a scholar who held teacher-student propriety and the cardinal virtues sacred.
But…
Pei Du’s gaze locked onto the youth’s furtive peek, startling him with his own first instinct: not stern rebuke or lectures on human-bird impropriety, but how he’d ever explain himself to Xie Jingtang.
In front of Xinian’s mother, he’d vowed to care for, teach, and protect her son—his student—and now…
Even in a dream, Pei Du felt the headache throb from the inside out.
“Er… cough. What’s wrong? Are you feeling unwell?”
Pei Du’s face was a mask of discomfort, his fingers digging into his temples until the knuckles blanched white. Unable to help himself, Shen Xinian leaned in with worry.
Pei Du recoiled a step on instinct.
Shen Xinian’s expression crumpled into even deeper aggrievement.
Just earlier, while asleep, the little bird had been all cuddles and nuzzles in his neck nest. What, now that he was human, Pei Du was pretending not to know him?
Hold on—that wasn’t right.
In the dream, his role was one he’d scripted himself: not some pet bird, but a perfectly intimate fiancé.
Last dream, Shen Jiujiu had played it straight, claiming he was the Benefactor’s little bird—and after the whole thing played out, he’d gotten zero perks. Ages and stations just didn’t line up.
This time, heaven, earth, and man all aligned perfectly. So why wasn’t the Benefactor asking questions, giving him a chance to turn the tables and set things straight!
Shen Jiujiu’s fingers clenched his sleeve at his side, his mind racing frantically for something—anything—to say.
“If it’s a betrothal by elders or finger-pledge, our age gap… it’s simply too wide.”
Shen Xinian blinked in surprise at Pei Du’s sudden words.
Perfect—conversation! He’d crushed plenty of debates back in university. Bring on the humanities showdown!
Shen Xinian jutted his chin out. “I joined the Pei Mansion to repay your kindness, so if you want to call it something, I’m your child bride. You and my mother already talked it over—both of you agreed we’d spend our lives together.”
Pei Du: “…”
In all his years, Lord Pei had never been struck quite so speechless.
Pei Du’s voice came out strained. “Knowing myself as I do, I’d far more likely take you as a pupil than… bind myself in marriage.”
“Sure, but why can’t we be both teacher and husband?” The words flowed from Shen Xinian smooth as silk; his face and tone made it plain he meant every syllable.
Pei Du went utterly quiet.
He needed time to puzzle out exactly where things had gone off the rails.
But the exchange had reignited Shen Xinian’s courage.
The youth craned his neck toward the Martial Field. “Back during the day, we just left the palace, and that annoying Long Aotian Male Lead was yapping at your heels about what a shame it was you couldn’t ride or shoot anymore. Why’s that?”
“I’ve seen you on horseback—you flip and kick swords right off the saddle. Moves like that are badass!”
Pei Du latched onto the key phrase. “Long Aotian Male Lead?”
Shen Xinian plucked a foxtail from beside the Martial Field, twirling the fluffy tip. “Oh, you know—Zheng Min. Zheng Zhaolin.”
It being a dream made Shen Xinian loose-lipped as ever, though he wasn’t guarded around Pei Du anyway.
“Zheng Zhaolin.” Pei Du echoed the name, a note of amusement in his tone.
The Emperor hadn’t reached his capping ceremony, but the Heir of Prince Wu had a courtesy name—one few knew for Zheng Min.
Zhaolin, though? Now that was intriguing.
“Yeah, probably from ‘sun and moon shining bright, sovereign over the realm.'” Shen Xinian nodded. “Sounds kinda basic, though. Not half as elegant as your Fuguang.”
Pei Du froze, blindsided once more by the youth’s blunt shot, lost in a daze for a long moment.
Elders, kin, brothers in the know—none dared breathe that courtesy name around him.
Pei Du’s own feelings for it ran deep and tangled.
Once, it had sparked eager hope. Later came the letdown, the bitterness, piling into a resentment too stubborn to shake.
“But nobody calls you by it anyway, except that barbed-tongued Emperor with his passive-aggressive jabs.” Shen Xinian pulled a face, dropping his voice to a mutter. “If I could talk, I’d say it way better than him.”
Pei Du stilled.
For the first time, a flicker of relief stirred—at least beyond the dream, Xinian was just a chirping little bird.
Anything else… he didn’t dare contemplate.
Shen Xinian tilted his head at Pei Du. “Hey, you still haven’t answered! What was Zheng Min getting at, poking at that?”
This question beat the rest for simplicity.
Pei Du replied, “After the Qianji Poison struck, the Gu Physician damaged my meridians while drawing it out. Ever since, they ache on rainy days.”
No more martial training. No cultivating internal force.
Shen Xinian: “！！”
The youth bounded forward in one big stride, hands flying to knead Pei Du’s shoulders and arms with utter familiarity. “How’d that happen? You never let on you were hurting… Damn it—the Capital’s been nothing but rain since autumn hit!”
Pei Du went rigid under the touch, snatching up Shen Xinian’s wrists without thinking.
Shen Xinian blinked, equal parts concern and innocence. “What?”
Pei Du released his hand and took another step back. “I exercise regularly these days, so it hasn’t hurt in a long time.”
“Oh, good!” Shen Xinian let out a breath of relief.
The Benefactor might tease Little Bird now and then, but he always spoke plainly and directly. If he said it didn’t hurt, then it almost certainly didn’t.
The two of them lapsed into a subtly awkward silence once more.
Shen Xinian hadn’t forgotten the massive lie he’d told in this dream, all to keep it going—to go on dates with his beloved, to fall in love.
His eyes flicked toward the Martial Field nearby, his mind racing through romantic scenes from TV dramas and novels. When his gaze swung back, a mischievous glint sparkled in their depths.
He rehearsed his words in his head several times, clutching the hem of his robe tightly. Then, in the most natural coquettish tone he could muster, he said, “Fuguang, will you teach me how to ride and shoot arrows?”
“I hear the Six Arts of the Gentleman are all the rage at literati gatherings—poetry and policy essays, sure, but also riding, archery, and pitching arrows. I don’t know a thing about them. Won’t people laugh at me later?”
Shen Xinian pinched his robe hem with one hand and his earlobe with the other, secretly unsure if Pei Du would agree.
After a pause, he mumbled even more softly, “You’re my teacher, after all…”
Pei Du gazed at the young man before him with helpless eyes.
Remembering now that he was the teacher, was he?
What about earlier…
Never mind. Xinian knew exactly what he was doing and saw no problem with it.
Still, teaching him to shoot was far more natural than standing around discussing marriage vows.
Pei Du glanced around them. “There are no horses here, so we’ll start with archery. Riding can come another day.”
Shen Xinian let out a disappointed “oh.”
Riding would have been perfect—they’d share a horse, one in front and one behind, and he could lean right into the Benefactor’s arms.
This was the Benefactor’s dream, after all. If he wanted a horse, he could simply will one into existence.
But Shen Xinian didn’t dare remind him.
He was terrified that Pei Du would realize it was a dream and wake up on the spot.
Archery would have to do. Better than nothing.
~~~
Shen Xinian’s health had always been poor before. Forget riding and shooting—even a full set of Eight Brocades left him gasping for breath for ages.
In his modern life, such elite sports had never crossed his path.
He ran his fingers over the quiver again and again, drawing out each arrow for a close inspection, tugging lightly at the fletching.
Pei Du couldn’t help thinking: If Shen Jiujiu were here, that fletching would probably be pecked clean off.
Having studied the arrows, Shen Xinian shifted his attention to the longbow in Pei Du’s hands.
The bow and arrows had been waiting by the edge of the Martial Field when they arrived.
Shen Xinian had grumbled inwardly at the time: The Benefactor had dreamed up bows, arrows, and targets in the Martial Field—why not a horse too?
Watching archery from afar hadn’t seemed like much, but up close, he realized Pei Du’s bow was enormous.
Earlier, when Pei Du had drawn it to test, the limbs had bent into a perfect arc, the grip—wrapped in red silk and clenched in his strong fingers—looking utterly dashing.
“Let me give it a try?” Shen Xinian said eagerly.
The young man’s eyes shone bright, his features vivid and alive in the sunlight.
Pei Du said nothing, merely lifting his chin in a gesture to take it.
Shen Xinian reached out. His fingertips had just brushed the cool wood when Pei Du let go.
A crushing weight bore down his arm—heavier by far than he’d imagined.
He scrambled to tighten his grip, but the bow slipped free, plummeting toward the stone slabs.
“This is a one-picul bow. It’s not really suited for you. Careful.”
Pei Du’s voice brushed his ear, laced with a hint of breath.
In the next instant, a warm hand clamped firmly around Shen Xinian’s wrist. It guided the bow’s fall smoothly downward, catching it effortlessly.
Shen Xinian’s hand was wrapped in Pei Du’s, his palm pressed against the man’s callused web between thumb and forefinger. His arm went rigid; he couldn’t move. All he heard was the thunder of his heartbeat.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Each one wilder than the last.
Pei Du sensed the tension in Shen Xinian’s stiffness and stepped back, releasing his hand. He planted the bow upright on the ground; the tip thudded dully against the stone.
“Start with the one next to it,” he said steadily. “Hold the pose for half a shichen, and we’ll switch.”
Shen Xinian kept his head down, his fingertips still tingling with the bow’s chill and Pei Du’s lingering warmth. His earlobes burned red.
He nudged a pebble with his foot and mumbled, “Mm. Got it.”
After a quiet beat, he sneaked a glance at Pei Du. “So… we start with drawing the bow now?”
Pei Du’s throat worked visibly; his eyes slid away. “Yes.”
He positioned himself behind Shen Xinian, loosely cupping the young man’s bow wrist with his left hand—careful to keep contact light. With his right index finger, he tapped the taut shoulder blade. “Drop your shoulders.”
Shen Xinian pressed his lips together.
With his beloved so close behind him, that stubborn fire deep in his bones flared up.
His arm muscles quivered under the strain, always just shy of enough. The nocked arrow wavered, its point drifting left of the bullseye.
“Eyes on the bullseye,” Pei Du murmured, voice low and steady. “Not the shaft.”
His fingertip ghosted down the young man’s arm to the bow’s tip, not quite touching. “Full draw. Hold one breath steady… loose.”
Whoosh! The arrow streaked away, clipping the target’s edge before burying itself in the dirt.
Shen Xinian stomped in frustration, his shoulders sagging, a sheen of sweat beading on his nose.
Pei Du stepped back half a pace, releasing him. “That was good already. Accuracy takes time, like riding or reading.”
Just one shot, and Shen Xinian’s arms trembled faintly.
He set the longbow down carefully and rubbed his forearm. “I had no idea a bow could be this heavy…”
He’d always seen generals draw from horseback with such effortless flair. But holding this one took everything he had—that shot had been pure brute force.
Pei Du’s gaze flicked to the hand massaging the young man’s arm; the corner of his mouth curved faintly.
Were they not in a dream, he never would have let Shen Xinian attempt it—too easy to get hurt.
But this was his dream. He ruled it all.
If not for the concern that Xinian landing a perfect shot would arouse suspicion, Pei Du genuinely wanted that puffed-up stubbornness of the young teen to culminate in a miraculous triumph.
“Want to keep practicing?” he asked.
Shen Xinian glanced at the bow, then back at Pei Du.
Practicing archery was great. Conversations flowed so much more naturally during it.
And there was physical contact!
Maybe later he could claim his arm was sore and ask his Benefactor to rub it for him… heh heh.
With that in mind, the youth lifted his chin and bellowed at the top of his lungs, “Yes!”
~~~
A faint bell tolled, rousing him from slumber.
Shen Jiujiu, the little lecherous bird who had indulged in a night of sweet dreams, slunk guiltily out from the crook of his Benefactor’s neck, not daring to so much as glance at Pei Du.
Little Bird Dumpling’s tail feathers were perked high as he flapped his wings, chirping a jaunty rendition of “Today Is a Good Day,” before darting through a gap in the bed curtains.
Mother, Mother, Mother, Mother!
Jiujiu has big news to share with you!
Pei Du, whom Little Bird had left behind in the bed curtains, kept his eyes shut for a long moment.
He had only just woken, yet Pei Du—who had never in his life known the meaning of lingering in bed—felt an uncharacteristic weariness urging him to drift off again.
Or perhaps it was avoidance.
Everything from the dream replayed vividly before his eyes.
From the youth’s startling words to his earnest declarations, and through all their interactions afterward—every expression, every gesture.
And right before waking, the youth’s face had borne an unmistakably clear message…
Happy! Likes it!
I’ll come again next time!
