Chapter 59

Shen Jiujiu hadn’t dreamed at all that night.

When he woke, an emptiness lingered in his heart.

His hand groped beside him, finding nothing there either.

He flapped his wings, but there was no familiar touch. He rubbed his cheek, but no warm skin pressed against it.

With a jolt, he opened his eyes.

Where was his big benefactor?

The moment his eyes flew open, Shen Jiujiu finally sensed that something was off.

Even when flying, a little bird like him was so small that everything loomed tall and vast. A single one of his benefactor’s abdominal muscles made for a perfect pillow.

But now, he gazed around in a daze at the familiar bed—this time from a completely unfamiliar angle.

Drawing on his experience from that previous dream, Shen Jiujiu quickly patted himself down from head to toe. Then he sat there in the bedding, clutching his stylish white plumage streaked with smoky blue, lost in thought.

…A dream within a dream?

Shen Xinian glanced at the bed where he usually shared warmth with his benefactor, and his cheeks slowly flushed red.

Realizing he was utterly bare beneath the covers only made him burrow deeper into them.

…No, it was a wet dream.

But jumping straight to their wedding night? That was a bit too intense.

No, this wouldn’t do.

He wasn’t some reckless, lewd sort of person!

Shen Xinian drew his hand out from under the covers.

He stared at those slender, pale fingers—smooth and unmarked, without a single callus from years of gripping a brush. Steeling himself, he lifted his hand toward his mouth.

A quick bite would tell him if it was a dream or not.

“Xinian?” Pei Du’s voice came from beyond the bed curtains, interrupting his action.

Shen Xinian already had his fingers halfway to his lips. At the sound of Pei Du’s voice, his eyes instinctively lit up, and he reached out to lift the curtain.

But he quickly remembered his current state and pulled his hand back. Clearing his throat, he forced a casual tone. “What’s up?”

After a pause, recalling his role from the dream, he awkwardly added, “Fuguang.”

The man beyond the curtain seemed to still for a moment before replying, “I’ve left some clothes at the foot of the bed. Once you’re dressed properly, shall we talk?”

Shen Xinian didn’t respond.

He bit down on his hand—hard.

Ow, ow, ow!!

It took a moment for it to sink in, but his slightly rounded eyes grew wider and wider.

This wasn’t a dream?

He’d turned human?

He’d turned human!!

Shen Xinian clenched his fist tightly, then yanked a lock of his hair in front of his eyes for inspection.

The color must have been influenced by his little bird feathers, right?

White with smoky blue highlights—pretty stylish, actually.

Alone under the covers, he patted himself down once more, confirming that he now had real arms, legs, and all the important parts intact in human form. Unable to contain himself, he rolled back and forth in his quilt cocoon, his face split in a foolish grin.

In his youth, he hadn’t known the joys of being human. Only now, with his heart stirred, did he grasp its wonders.

Once he’d worn himself out, cheeks faintly pink, Shen Xinian slowly burrowed back under the covers. He scooted to the foot of the bed beneath them, found the clothes Pei Du had mentioned, and dragged them inside.

He knew the bed curtains blocked everything and that his benefactor certainly wasn’t peeking, but he still felt terribly shy.

The undergarments were a touch oversized. Shen Xinian sniffed them—clean and scentless, surely unworn.

That made sense.

Even in the modern world, wearing someone else’s underclothes would be an intensely intimate act. Pei Du clearly wouldn’t do such a thing.

His movements as he dressed started out clumsy; it had been so long since he’d worn clothes, after all. But he’d once been an ancient scholar for over a decade, so he quickly got the hang of it, his actions flowing smoothly.

Unlike the slightly loose undergarments, the middle layer, straight robe, and trousers fit his youthful frame quite well—no ill effects showing.

All top-quality materials.

Especially the outermost sky-blue straight robe, its fabric exquisitely fine. Shen Xinian, raised around fine things, knew at a touch that it was superior Suzhou-Hangzhou kesi silk.

Such cloth was both costly and rare. Beneath the light, its subtle patterns shimmered like rippling water, making it a favorite among the Capital’s nobility. Merchants shuttling between north and south could resell it hand over fist for exorbitant prices.

In Pei Mansion, only Pei Du and Sui Ziming merited garments of this caliber. But this sky-blue hue clearly didn’t suit Ziming’s cheeky, playful nature, so…

Shen Xinian’s throat bobbed gently.

…This was most likely a robe his benefactor had worn in his youth.

In the outer chamber of the bedroom.

Pei Du sat at the table, lost in thought with a teacup in hand.

The servants who usually attended him had long been dismissed from the courtyard. All was quiet now, save for the soft rustle of wind through the treetops.

A sound came from the inner chamber, and the door curtain lifted, revealing a hand with elegant, even knuckles.

Pei Du looked up.

The youth leaned out, his cheek dimpling into a charming whirl, his eyes bright and lively.

Evidently hampered by the bed curtains, the youth’s right lapel was tied askew. The collar rubbed against his ear, leaving a faint pink flush on his neck.

They had spent every day together lately, and his dream had been filled with wandering fancies. Yet standing before Pei Du now in true human form, Shen Xinian couldn’t help a flutter of flustered panic.

When people felt flustered or awkward, they often fidgeted.

Hands clasped behind the back, scratching at knuckles or tugging at hems.

Seeing Pei Du gaze at him silently only made Shen Xinian more nervous. He hurriedly lowered his head to straighten his collar and sash. “Did I put something on wrong? It’s been so long since I wore clothes—I’m really a bit out of practice…”

“Your collar’s crooked.”

Pei Du rose and stepped close, personally retying the wayward sash and smoothing the collar into place.

Shen Xinian didn’t dare meet his eyes the whole time, staring instead at his own fingertips, his ears burning crimson.

“This robe is mine,” Pei Du said, “though I never actually wore it.”

Shen Xinian’s ear twitched. He expertly caught the key details and undercurrent of emotion in his benefactor’s words.

Evidently, his own heart had raced from the simple act of adjusting the sash—but Pei Du’s mood felt more like…

Shen Xinian looked up at him.

In Pei Du’s eyes, he saw a profoundly complex light.

Reminiscence, sorrow, a touch of emotion—but above all, a gentle, heartfelt relief.

As Pei Du withdrew his fingers, they brushed the silver-thread koi fish embroidered stitch by stitch on Shen Xinian’s shoulder. “It suits you perfectly, Xinian.”

“…Mm. Yeah.”

Shen Xinian only felt himself flush even warmer.

Even without glancing in the mirror, he knew his face must be red as a boiled crab.

He was done for.

Why on earth did turning human make his courage shrivel up like this?

Pei Du had been about to tell Shen Xinian to take a seat, but upon seeing how the once bold and chirpy Little Bird had turned into a nervous, fidgety human, he couldn’t help chuckling. He teased, “What’s got you so tense? Isn’t this Little Bird’s room too?”

Shen Xinian’s toes curled tightly inside his shoes as his cheeks puffed out bit by bit. Without a word, he sat down properly and obediently at the table.

So why was Benefactor so utterly calm about Little Bird turning human? Why such effortless acceptance?

Before realizing his own budding feelings, Shen Xinian hadn’t obsessed over being human or bird. Life as Little Bird in Pei Mansion had been blissfully happy and full of excitement, after all.

Nine-tenths of the thrill and surprise he felt at turning human again stemmed from the tantalizing possibility of a future with those feelings.

Yet Benefactor showed no excitement, no joy—not even a ripple of emotion. Every word, every gesture remained as natural as ever, wrapped in his usual poised calm.

After mulling it over, Shen Xinian wilted a little.

He stole a glance at Pei Du, unwilling to let go of that serene composure just yet. With a small probe, he asked, “Benefactor? About me… um, turning human—don’t you have any questions?”

Truth be told, Pei Du had few questions.

He already knew plenty.

And whatever he didn’t know, Shen Xinian might not be able to answer anyway.

That said, Pei Du wasn’t quite as steady as he let on.

But seeing Shen Jiujiu so adorably flustered eased his own nerves.

As a teacher and elder, how could he let a junior catch him in a state of fluster?

Pei Du lifted his teacup.

Shen Jiujiu had been sneaking peeks at him for a while when he suddenly blurted, “Benefactor, what’s going on under your eyes?”

The youth leaned in with concern, cupping Pei Du’s cheeks intimately in both hands as he peered at the dark circles from point-blank range.

With Pei Du’s fair skin, the bluish shadows beneath were starkly visible.

Pei Du’s eyelid twitched as memories flooded back of the sleepless night he’d endured. His right hand shot out to grasp Shen Xinian’s wrists, pushing the youth—who had risen to his feet—back down into his seat at the table. His voice came out strained: “Sit properly!”

“Oh.”

Shen Xinian straightened up in his chair once more. The boy’s clean, fair face radiated natural innocence and obedience, no expression needed.

Inwardly, he gave himself a huge thumbs-up.

Well played, Shen Xinian!

Benefactor’s uncomfortable!

Benefactor’s shy!

Round it off, and Benefactor’s got you in his heart!

Keep pushing—victory’s within reach, Shen Xinian!

Pei Du sipped his tea to steady himself.

Shen Xinian craned his neck toward the dressing mirror placed nearby for last-minute primps before heading out.

It was a bit too far to make out his own reflection clearly, but he could see himself and Benefactor seated side by side at the table.

Hee hee.

He and Benefactor, sharing the same table!

He’d. Turned. Human!

Pei Du suddenly regretted seating Shen Xinian so close for their talk. The boy kept staring.

“If you’re curious, go take a look in the mirror,” Pei Du said, pretending he’d merely noticed Shen Xinian’s interest in it—carefully concealing his own private motives.

Shen Xinian’s curiosity burned bright, so he hurried over and scrutinized his reflection earnestly.

His features hadn’t changed much; he was still Shen Xinian.

But the chronic sickly haze had lifted from his brow, his pallid skin now glowed with healthy luster, his round eyes were endearing, fringed with long lashes that swept up at the corners. His lips were healthily colored and plump, his gaze sparkling bright.

He looked far more vibrant and refined overall, and with that unusual hair color, his entire presence felt transformed. Even Shen Xinian stared, transfixed.

Anyone not intimately familiar with his old self would struggle to link this mirror image to the Shen Xinian of before.

“Xinian, your situation is unique.”

“Pei Mansion may have Dark Guards, but it also houses other servants and attendants. It’s not an impenetrable fortress.”

These were the plans Pei Du had painstakingly weighed through the agonizing, sleepless hours of the night.

“Living in the Pei Family, whether you venture out for business or sit the Imperial Examinations to enter officialdom, countless eyes will fall upon you.”

“So, Xinian—you need a backstory solid enough to convince everyone, one that stands up to scrutiny.”

Shen Xinian twined a lock of hair around his finger, a mischievous glint in his eye as he said deliberately, “Then I could be your accountant or steward, Benefactor.”

“No need to step outside at all!”

Pei Du started to frown in rebuttal, but caught the smile tugging at the youth’s lips in the mirror, the flicker in his eyes. Something was off.

He merely said gently, “Don’t be silly.”

Shen Xinian returned to the table, propping his cheek on one hand, eyes fixed unwaveringly on Pei Du. “Mm-hmm, no more silliness. Go on, Benefactor—I’m all ears.”

Pei Du faltered for a beat.

Then he looked away, avoiding Shen Xinian’s gaze.

“I’ve sent Jia San to fetch Madam Xie. She needs to know about your transformation.”

Jia San excelled at disguise and infiltration, and Madam Xie was no slouch in those arts either—perfect for addressing Shen Xinian’s peculiar hair color.

Mother!

Shen Xinian’s face lit up with delight, his posture snapping straight.

In three quick strides, he was back at the mirror, fussing over his clothes and attempting to neaten his loose hair.

Just then, faint footsteps echoed from outside.

Pei Du hadn’t spoken yet when Shen Xinian heard them first.

In a flash of inspiration, Shen Xinian dove into the bed curtains of the inner chamber.

Puzzled by the sudden move, Pei Du followed.

The curtains closed tightly once more.

Two arms slipped slyly through a gap, gesturing outward in a pitiful, beseeching plea.