Chapter 12: The Past

Pei Du had taken leave from court a few days earlier due to a sudden relapse of an old ailment. He hadn’t attended morning court all this time.

Meanwhile, the young Emperor, whose wings were not yet fully fledged, couldn’t hold back Prince Wu’s faction at court in the slightest. He had essentially been reduced to a puppet perched on the dragon throne.

By all rights, the Emperor should have needed Pei Du even more than Prince Wu did. He ought to have shown greater courtesy to demonstrate his favor and reliance. But His Majesty had ascended the throne by pure happenstance, a windfall that shaped his petty, small-minded nature—though he hid it well from the outside world.

In the rear palace, the Emperor could scarcely hold his head high in front of the Empress Dowager. In the front court, he had no opportunity to realize his ambitions. He didn’t regard Pei Du as a mere subject but eyed him with a trace of jealousy.

And so, even as he made a show of drawing Pei Du close and valuing his service, he couldn’t resist the occasional barbed remark or petty jab—always taking pains to remind Pei Du of his sovereign authority.

Lord Pei never presumed to criticize the sovereign. Instead, every few days, his old ailment would flare up with headaches so severe that he had no choice but to request leave.

The day Shen Jiujiu arrived at Pei Mansion coincided with one of the Emperor’s inevitable provocations. Lord Pei thus followed his usual practice and stayed home—which meant the Pei Du who didn’t have to rise before dawn for court could overlook the little bird’s dream-fueled flailing.

As the one in the wrong, Shen Jiujiu spent the latter half of the night obediently tucked into a box lined with soft flannel and silk.

~~~

The next morning, while Pei Du was still at breakfast, Sui Ziming arrived early to pay a visit. He claimed to have dug up considerable information on the Zhenguo Marquis Mansion.

Thanks to the previous night’s mishap, Shen Jiujiu was on his best behavior today. He stood primly on the dining table, his gaze drifting—whether by accident or design—toward the tempting bowl of Floating Yuanzi before Pei Du.

Ah, Pei Du was clearly no fan of sweets. What a shame to let such delicious Floating Yuanzi go to waste. He could give it to the little bird instead—

Shen Jiujiu was mulling over how to drop a hint when Sui Ziming came striding in. Without a second thought, he dropped into a chair, snatched up the Floating Yuanzi, and shoveled a mouthful.

“I knew showing up early at my cousin’s place meant good eats.”

Pei Du didn’t mind losing one bowl of Floating Yuanzi. He let Sui Ziming have it.

But as Sui Ziming ate, he sensed a resentful stare boring into him. He set down the bowl and traced the gaze, coming beak-to-eye with a sharp-beaked, long-tailed sparrow.

Shen Jiujiu scraped his claws against the tabletop. When Sui Ziming looked his way—still clutching the half-eaten bowl of Floating Yuanzi—he let out a sharp cheep and whipped his head aside in a snub.

“Yo, what’s got our little cheep all riled up and puffed out like that?” Sui Ziming’s tone was pure mischief.

Freshly bathed and blow-dried the day before, the little bird’s feathers looked plush and soft. He even seemed inexplicably rounder than usual—a veritable ball of puffed-up fluff.

Shen Jiujiu kept his back turned, stubbornly ignoring Sui Ziming. When the man reached out to tease him, Shen Jiujiu lunged with beak bared.

Sui Ziming, who kept eagles and trained in the martial arts, dodged the premeditated strike with ease. He waggled his finger smugly right in Shen Jiujiu’s face.

Outraged, Shen Jiujiu’s beak quivered. He nearly let out an indignant cluck.

Pei Du plucked a small banana from the nearby fruit plate and set it in front of Shen Jiujiu. He turned to Sui Ziming, who was still goading the bird. “Enough. Business.”

“Where were we? Right… the Zhenguo Marquis Mansion.”

Sui Ziming tipped back his head and slurped down the rest of the Floating Yuanzi. He set the empty bowl aside.

“We hadn’t paid much mind to this Zhenguo Marquis Mansion, Shen Mingqian, before now. But the story of his mansion really begins back when Marquis Shen was still the heir apparent.”

“The Shen family was a shadow of its former self by then—a scrawny camel, you might say. Sure, Marquis Shen held the title of heir, but it was little more than a hollow honor. The Shens had no allies in court, no noble connections through marriage. To put it plainly, the household servants’ wages were forever being shorted, and the family coffers weren’t much fuller.”

“That changed with a meticulously staged act of heroism—saving a beauty in distress. Marquis Shen won the hand of the sole daughter of a wealthy Jiangnan merchant, Xie Shi. Jinling’s famed foremost beauty, Xie Jingtang, thus became the future heir’s wife and, eventually, the Wife of the Zhenguo Marquis Mansion.”

Sui Ziming had just reached Xie Jingtang’s name when Shen Jiujiu pecked open the banana peel with his beak.

Xie Jingtang.

The name struck Shen Jiujiu like a thunderbolt, leaving him dazed for a moment.

Perched on the tabletop, the little bird felt an inexplicable sting in his eyes. Something welled up inside him, desperate for release—but his fragmented memories and fragile bird form left him unable even to weep.

Warmth bloomed across his back. A gentle touch glided upward, Pei Du’s fingertip stroking softly over the little bird’s head and the base of his wings, over and over, until the turmoil ebbed away.

Shen Jiujiu raised a wing to pin Pei Du’s retreating hand in place. He twisted around and planted a quick, affectionate peck on the man’s finger with his beak.

Pei Du’s fingertip stilled for a beat. He said nothing, but a flicker of softness crossed his eyes.

“…Nothing much worth noting came after that. Not until Marquis Shen began secretly meeting with Madam Zhou. She conceived in secret, and to marry her—securing ties to Prince Wu through her connection to his concubine—and latch onto that powerful patron, Marquis Shen sought to cast off his merchant-born first wife.”

Sui Ziming caught the quiet exchange between man and bird but forbore from comment. He pressed on.

Yet when his gaze fell on Shen Jiujiu, a shadow of pity darkened it.

“Madam Xie was truly remarkable. She was the one who brought the Zhenguo Marquis Mansion back from the brink, bankrolling the entire household’s extravagant facade for the world to see.”

Sui Ziming spoke of Xie Jingtang without a trace of the usual scorn for merchant stock. Admiration laced his words, along with envy—and a sharp undercurrent of regret.

Xie Jingtang might have hailed from trade, unillustrious amid the Capital’s grandeur, but she had taken the mansion’s dwindling ancestral lands and turned them into a compounding fortune, year after grueling year.

By the end, every profitable shop in the Zhenguo Marquis Mansion had been her creation, built and run by her hand alone. Without her, the family might not have scraped together the silver to play the big spender and wed Madam Zhou.

Propping up a sprawling marquis household on a merchant woman’s shoulders? Xie Jingtang had means aplenty to turn the Zhenguo Marquis Mansion into a byword for ridicule among the Capital’s nobility.

Marrying Madam Zhou to climb Prince Wu’s ladder would have been the least of their worries then. The whole clan might not have had the face—or the funds—to linger in the Capital.

So at first, Shen Mingqian pitched it to Xie Jingtang as equal wives: a ploy to keep her placated while he wed Madam Zhou, after which he’d scheme to be rid of her.

Xie Jingtang refused.

She didn’t just turn down equal status. She booted Shen Mingqian aside, demanded a divorce, and returned south to Jinling. With no one in the Shen family daring to object, she swept away her child—their sole legitimate son at the time, Shen Xinian.

“How to put it… In summary, Marquis Shen wanted to divorce his wife, but instead, Madam Xie divorced him.” Sui Ziming spread his hands with a shrug, arching a brow in a light chuckle. “Afterward, Madam Xie’s businesses in Jiangnan flourished like wildfire, while over here at the Zhenguo Marquis Mansion in the capital… tsk tsk.”

“If it weren’t for the marquis mansion being strapped for cash, how could they have swallowed the bait we dangled this time and stumbled right into our trap?”

Pei Du glanced at the long-tailed little bird listening with rapt attention, its tiny claws still busy at work.

Shen Jiujiu was peeling a banana.

The banana might have been petite, but Shen Jiujiu was even smaller. He clamped the tip of the peel in his beak, craned his neck, and hopped to the other end of the fruit, stripping away a perfect length of peel in one go.

For all his busyness, Shen Jiujiu kept his ear holes trained on Sui Ziming. Whenever the story hit an exciting note, his eyes sparkled, and he let out a bright chirp-chirp.

He brimmed with fond admiration for Xie Jingtang, swelling with pride on her behalf.

The breakfast dishes had long since been cleared from the table, and the maids had silently brought tea and pastries.

Sui Ziming paused there to take a sip from his teacup and moisten his throat. “Next comes Young Master Shen, Shen Xinian—the one you asked me to look into thoroughly before, cousin.”

Shen Jiujiu froze. He twisted his little bird head toward Pei Du.

Look into whom?

Shen Xinian?

Me… investigate me?

His wings twitched, nearly fluttering up to point at himself, but he managed to hold back.

Pacing a few steps on the tabletop with his claws, Shen Jiujiu decided to hold steady for now and hear what Sui Ziming had dug up.

Truth be told, he was rather curious about his own past himself.

Sui Ziming met those eager little bird eyes urging him onward and guiltily looked away. “This Shen Xinian… he’s harder to pin down than the entire household at the Marquis Mansion put together.”

Pei Du raised his brows in mild surprise. “Someone erased the traces?”

“Not quite.”

Sui Ziming shot a glance at Shen Jiujiu, his expression turning puzzled. He turned away again just before the banana-munching bird looked up.

“Young Master Shen was born premature and was frail from childhood. Back when he was being raised in the Zhenguo Marquis Mansion, it was only Madam Xie’s meticulous care—watching over him day and night—that let him survive to adulthood.”

“Later, when he lived in Jinling, he hardly ever set foot outside. He kept his nose buried in books in his study, reading diligently without cease.”

At those words, Sui Ziming’s mouth twitched faintly. Even Pei Du fell silent for a moment. Their gazes circled back to Shen Jiujiu—who was industriously hollowing out the banana—over and over.

The bird himself took the description in stride.

In Shen Jiujiu’s hazy memories, Shen Xinian had indeed been just such a bookworm, forever burning the midnight oil over his studies—though Shen Jiujiu couldn’t shake the feeling that it didn’t quite match his own personality.

“But then, during the provincial examinations that year, he fell into the water by accident and was rescued by a kind soul. After that, his health took a turn for the better. He began venturing out now and then to enjoy the spring blossoms or stroll in the countryside. He even started frequenting the Xie family’s shops in Jinling, gradually making his presence known around town.”

Sui Ziming laid particular stress on those last three words: a kind soul.

Shen Jiujiu forgot all about his banana. He threw his little bird head back and nodded vigorously.

Yes—the kind benefactor!

The kind soul in question, Pei Du: “…”

It had only been three years ago, and Pei Du certainly hadn’t forgotten pulling a drowning youth from the water.

He’d had urgent business at the time, though. Seeing the boy passed out and realizing he was a candidate for the provincial exams, Pei Du had simply instructed his attendants to see to him.

Thus, Pei Du had no idea that the youth he’d fished from the river was none other than the future prodigy Jieyuan, Shen Xinian.

Pei Du glanced at the little bird once more.

So it really was all about repaying that debt of gratitude.

He gave Sui Ziming a slight nod, and the other man pressed on.

In truth, investigating Shen Xinian had been almost too easy—precisely because it was so straightforward, Sui Ziming had felt something was off when the initial reports came in.

A year prior, the Zhenguo Marquis Mansion had taken a shine to Xie Jingtang’s thriving enterprises in Jinling. Under the pretext of welcoming their legitimate son back to the capital—where pursuing the imperial examinations would be far more convenient—they had summoned Shen Xinian from Jinling to the capital.

Once there, Shen Xinian lived up to his reputation as sickly and reclusive. He formed no close ties with anyone, but he made subtle inquiries about any families surnamed Pei.

He had even… pulled strings several times in an attempt to purchase a portrait of Prime Minister Pei Du.

Heaven only knew what Shen Xinian had said or done previously, but whenever Sui Ziming made inquiries about him, people would obliquely ask: Was Shen Xinian truly on good terms with Lord Pei?

Aside from that, nothing suspicious marked Shen Xinian’s record.

Until the imperial exam fraud case.

After Shen Xinian “died of illness” in Dali Temple prison, his father—Marquis Shen—pushed to close the matter. Prince Wu’s faction applied pressure as well, and with no one keen to pursue the truth, Dali Temple let it drop. The case faded into obscurity alongside Shen Xinian’s supposed death.

Pei Du’s brows furrowed faintly. “Madam Xie…”

Had Xie Jingtang still been around, Shen Xinian never would have been lured back to the marquis mansion so easily, nor treated so callously.

Sui Ziming’s expression grew keen. “She vanished.”

“Right around the time you headed south to investigate the canal embezzlement case, cousin.” His finger tapped lightly on the rim of his teacup.

This Madam Xie was no small figure in Jiangnan. Her business empire was vast, and her connections ran deep everywhere—there was no telling what secrets she might be tangled in.

Pei Du’s investigation into the Jiangnan case hadn’t gone all the way to the bottom. Everyone knew Jiangnan was Prince Wu’s fief; digging too deep would mean an open clash.

Nor was it simply a matter of Pei Du against Prince Wu’s faction—it hinged on the Emperor’s stance as well.

Pei Du walked a razor’s edge between those two powers. One misstep, and the court would teeter, with the common folk paying the price.

If he were to press on…

Sui Ziming reined in his wandering thoughts and shifted the subject to the little bird.

“By the way, cousin, have you come up with a name for this little bird seductress yet?”

Shen Jiujiu hadn’t been nearly as riveted during the rundown of Shen Xinian’s history as he had been at the start, when Xie Jingtang’s exploits came up. Instead, he seemed distracted, his beak pecking listlessly at the banana flesh.

When her disappearance came up, though, his pecks grew fierce and forceful.

In no time at all, the beak had carved the banana beneath his claws into a proper banana boat.

Only when Sui Ziming brought up the question of a name for the little bird did Shen Jiujiu perk up, turning curious eyes toward Pei Du.

Truth be told, Pei Du had never intended to name the bird. After all, he hadn’t planned on keeping it around.

But now, after hearing about Shen Xinian—and seeing Little Bird listening so calmly and indifferently as he and Sui Ziming talked about Shen Xinian right in front of him—the words rose unbidden to the tip of his tongue.

“There is a name.”

“Hm? What is it?” Sui Ziming asked in surprise.

He knew Pei Du well. If Pei Du wasn’t truly planning to keep this little bird, given his strong sense of propriety and his habit of shouldering responsibilities, he never would have given Little Bird a name.

Pei Du gave an ambiguous half-smile. “Shen Jiujiu.”

The moment those three words left his mouth, Shen Jiujiu’s claws—perched on the soft fruit—clenched with sudden force. The entire little bird plunged headfirst into the sticky banana split.