The stubborn little bird who had refused food and water in the palace, willing to die rather than yield, was now at Pei Mansion devouring its meal from the bird bowl with wild abandon, as if terrified that slowing down might mean starving to death.
Pei Du thought back to the scene when the bird had first arrived and couldn’t help shaking his head with a wry smile.
Shen Jiujiu, stuffed to the gills and truly unable to eat another bite, took a gulp of water. He lifted a wing in a refined, almost dainty manner to wipe his beak, then tucked his wings close and hopped in tiny steps around the cage for a couple of turns. With eager anticipation, the little bird looked toward Benefactor Pei outside the bars.
Pei Du arched a brow slightly.
Zhong Bo was the steward of Pei Mansion and had watched Pei Du grow up from boyhood. Seeing his young master in such a rare good mood, the old retainer smiled and said, “What a clever little thing.”
Ever since the cloth had been removed from the cage, Pei Du hadn’t spoken a word. After that one brief flash of a smile, he had simply watched the long-tailed tit in silence.
Though Shen Jiujiu still couldn’t fully accept his transformation into a bird, every curse carried a blessing. As a human, Shen Xinian might not have been able to do much, but as a bird, Shen Jiujiu had endless options.
Whether eavesdropping or scouting intelligence, as long as Pei Du needed it, Shen Jiujiu would brave fire and flood without hesitation!
However…
The bird had been a gift from the Emperor, but judging from that earlier display, Shen Jiujiu didn’t need to guess—the Emperor and Pei Du were smiling on the surface but at odds beneath. His own position as this bird was thus rather awkward.
A bird’s top priority wasn’t repaying a debt of gratitude but scheming for favor: transforming from a disposable imperial gift into Pei Du the Prime Minister’s indispensable little chirp.
—Otherwise, if he suddenly lifted a claw to write someday, he’d likely be branded a monster and turned into little bird barbecue.
So, how was a bird supposed to win someone over?
Well, Shen Xinian had seen plenty of birds back in Jiangnan.
With the thrill of this first meeting—which felt like a reunion—fading slightly, Shen Jiujiu shyly folded his wings. He tilted his head away from where he’d been peering sideways, stealing another glance at Pei Du.
He wasn’t quite the same as the young man etched in Shen Jiujiu’s memory from three years ago. Pei Du now carried a cold, heavy aura that made him seem unapproachable.
But that made sense—he was the Prime Minister of the realm, after all, a man of immense power and influence.
Shen Jiujiu, whose inner soul was that of a human youth, squirmed a bit inwardly. Suppressing his human pride, he pattered over to the edge of the cage in tiny hops. He lifted his tail feathers, took a deep breath to steel himself, then cocked his head to one side.
The chubby gray-white little bird’s face still bore two faint pink flushes. He rubbed his adorably fluffy head—begging to be petted—against the cage bars while gazing up at Pei Du with big, pleading black-bean eyes.
He drew out a long, warbling chirp, inflecting it with every ounce of avian charm he could muster, hinting desperately for Pei Du to give him a stroke.
Pei Du didn’t pet the bird.
His expression remained inscrutable, his gaze probing.
This silver-throated long-tailed tit was a tribute bird from the Western Regions. Though they were sent to the Central Plains every few years, they were still rare. With their plump, endearing roundness and elegant, slender tail feathers, they were favorites among noble families.
—Even in the imperial harem, where birds were seldom kept, many consorts adored them.
The reason was simple: these birds looked cute but couldn’t speak. They were naturally clumsy and dim-witted, impossible to train for tricks or messages—not even the simplest commands.
Such adorably dumb, harmless creatures made the perfect companions for amusement and relaxation.
Pei Du took another look.
After observing the bird’s unusually sharp movements, Pei Du changed his mind about sending the cage straight to the rear garden. For now, he left it hanging under the study corridor.
~~~
Shen Jiujiu was quite content with his bird life at Pei Mansion for the moment.
He was still confined to the cage, but the servants here treated him worlds apart from the palace eunuchs.
His water bowl was cleaned three times a day, and the porcelain food dish was intricately patterned in blue-and-white. It held not just millet but rice mixed with egg yolk.
There was no meat yet, but Shen Jiujiu already felt pampered.
He didn’t dare hope for braised pork feedings, but some fruit would be nice.
To return the favor, Shen Jiujiu had noticed Pei Du preferred quiet. Ever since being hung outside the study, he only chirped softly when Pei Du passed by; otherwise, he stayed utterly still.
Not just Zhong Bo—even the other visitors to Pei Mansion took a shine to this clever, intuitive long-tailed tit.
“Chirp chirp? Give us a chirp?”
The young man standing under the study corridor was strikingly handsome. His dark brocade robe edged in vivid red swept dramatically from the cuffs, a matching red forehead cloth bound his high ponytail of black hair, and his fingers were slipping through the cage bars to tease the fluffy little bird ball inside—its feathers now looking far less dull and bedraggled.
Shen Jiujiu wasn’t some ordinary bird who’d chirp for anyone.
He was a bird with a plan, loyal to his chosen master!
The gray-white bird ball shuffled sideways a couple steps, planted himself squarely on the central jade perch, folded his wings, squeezed his eyes shut, and settled in without a peep.
The young man burst out laughing. “Cousin, your bird is way too amusing!”
Pei Du glanced up from his desk and lightly raised a finger, signaling the shopkeeper before him to continue.
Emboldened by his cousin’s lack of objection, the young man reached in to poke the bird again—only to discover that from every angle, the cage bars perfectly blocked access to the huddled puffball. He laughed even harder.
He knew the bird’s origins and could guess why his cousin had placed it here. A glint flashed in his eyes as he deftly unlatched the cage door.
At the faint click of the latch, Shen Jiujiu cracked one eye open and watched the young man’s every move.
The young man whispered, “Come on out? I’ll take you to play with your master.”
Trouble—he felt his heart stir.
No bird liked its cage, least of all a fake one like Shen Jiujiu.
From his rebirth up to now, Shen Jiujiu hadn’t left the cage once, let alone gotten close to Pei Du for real.
His feigned dignity lasted only a breath. The little bird ball scampered and hopped right up the young man’s outstretched arm to perch boldly on his shoulder.
The young man jolted in surprise. When he reached to grab it and realized the sparrow hadn’t flown off—instead nestling right against him like an old friend—he found it all the more entertaining.
He strode into the study, plopped down in a seat, and produced an orange from somewhere, peeling it open to offer the bird a taste.
Shen Jiujiu considered himself a bird of principle, one with an owner. He not only shook his head to refuse the young man’s offering but also hopped off the young man’s shoulder of his own accord. Rolling down the young man’s arm, he landed on the desk and fixed an eager gaze on Pei Du.
That stare was so intense and direct that Pei Du couldn’t possibly ignore it.
Pei Du lifted his eyes and looked toward the young man and Shen Jiujiu.
The young man winked furiously at Pei Du, pursing his lips to direct his attention to the little bird dumpling on the desk.
The grayish-white sparrow wasn’t even as big as the oranges in the fruit dish. Its entire body radiated fawning anticipation, its tail feathers perked up as if it were about to wag them.
It was just a little bird, yet it always mimicked the ways of cats and dogs.
Amusement flickered in Pei Du’s eyes, though it vanished as quickly as it came.
He turned his gaze to the old shopkeeper with the goatee standing before him.
The stack of account books on the desk gleamed with a patina of age.
Pei Du had no pressing matters today. He simply needed to remind a few shopkeepers whose ambitions had outgrown their stations.
Such trifles normally wouldn’t demand his personal attention. But with no lady of the house in the Pei Mansion’s inner quarters and Steward Zhong Bo occupied elsewhere, the family’s more visible enterprises ran smoothly enough. Some dealings, however, couldn’t be handed off to outsiders, so Pei Du occasionally took it upon himself to give the shopkeepers a stern talking-to.
Of course, there was also the matter of the bird perched beneath the study’s eaves. Pei Du always found excuses to handle a few tasks, probing the emperor’s true motives for sending the creature to his home.
“Last month’s earnings from the South City Silk Shop,” Pei Du said as a thin wisp of smoke curled up from the incense burning in the copper censer on the desk. “Read them out.”
Shen Jiujiu shuddered and burrowed into the fruit dish behind him.
Truth be told, the shopkeeper wasn’t the only one unsettled by Pei Du’s calm, mild tone—it sent a chill through the bird as well.
A sudden cold sweat prickled the shopkeeper’s nape. His grip tightened on the account book as memories of Pei Du’s ruthless methods flooded his mind. He bowed deeply at once. “My lord sees all. It must have been an error by the recording apprentice…”
Pei Du watched him, though the corner of his eye caught sight of the little bird dumpling.
Frightened, no doubt, the grayish-white sparrow had wedged itself into the fruit dish. But in its haste, it had only managed to hide its head; its dark tail feathers stuck out, bobbing nervously.
The shopkeeper’s throat worked as he cleared his constricted voice. With trembling hands, he opened the ledger.
“March first: sold… sold five bolts of cloud brocade for… twenty taels of silver…”
His voice was faint and quivering, as if he feared disturbing some slumbering beast.
Pei Du remained silent, merely tapping a finger lightly on the armrest.
That single soft sound halted the shopkeeper mid-sentence. Sweat trickled down his cheek and splashed onto the ledger’s page, blooming into a small damp stain.
Plop.
The quiet noise shattered the study’s stifling tension.
The shopkeeper gasped for air as if surfacing from deep water.
The young man in red wore a peculiar expression, his gaze fixed on the little bird dumpling atop the desk. He seemed on the verge of speaking, then thought better of it.
Shen Jiujiu knew the game the moment the shopkeeper began reading the accounts. Auditing was second nature to him. He’d trailed after his mother on business ventures in Jiangnan since childhood—what tricks hadn’t he witnessed?
The trick was to reveal half and withhold the rest, bluffing and intimidating until the culprits confessed everything.
That was why, when Pei Du spoke next, the bird felt no tension at all. Instead, Shen Jiujiu meticulously selected a plump little orange from the dish. He nudged it with his beak until it wedged against the rim.
It had been months since he’d tasted fruit.
He was starving for it.
To prove his loyalty, he couldn’t accept oranges from anyone else. But he could forage for himself.
Shen Jiujiu hopped onto the dish by stepping on a neighboring fruit, perched on the porcelain edge, and attacked the peel with beak and claw. He pecked out a segment of juicy flesh.
That plop had been the sound of him spitting out the seed.
When Pei Du glanced over, Shen Jiujiu’s claw froze on the orange. He shrank back ingratiatingly and tilted his head.
What did a little bird know, after all?
Innocent as could be.
The sight was endearingly daft.
The corner of Pei Du’s mouth twitched upward. He smoothed it away the moment he looked elsewhere.
A smile touched the young man’s face as well.
He rose and strolled to the large desk, snatching up the ledger and flipping through it. “Tsk, cloud brocade is a rare find. It only arrived from Jiangnan at the end of February—not even logged yet—and you’ve already sold it off.”
The shopkeeper’s wits were sharp. He forced a smile. “Young General, this was… last year’s old stock.”
“Oh? Twenty bolts of plain silk at the month’s start, fifteen of gold-woven brocade mid-month, and eight bolts of patterned satin shipped from Suzhou at the end. Aiya, it’s all scribbles—hurts my head just looking. I’m a soldier at heart, no good with figures. Shopkeeper, do the math for me: how much of these three should be left?”
Cold sweat dripped from the shopkeeper’s jaw onto the abacus beads.
“Plain silk sold nine bolts last month… remaining… remaining…”
He kept his own books; he knew exactly how much he’d padded them.
But over the years, the Pei Mansion had never scrutinized them so closely. His ledgers had grown sloppier by the season.
This was no mere arithmetic. Admitting the discrepancies now meant utter ruin if the Pei family launched a full audit.
The young man opened his mouth as the shopkeeper stalled, but Pei Du raised a hand to silence him.
Across the study, Shen Jiujiu—lost in his orange—didn’t hesitate. Tail feathers fanned high, one claw pinning the segment’s edge, he dipped his beak in and elegantly extracted the flesh. He looked utterly enraptured.
All the while, he chirped softly.
“Chirp. Chirp chirp chirp~ Chirp~ Chirp chirp chirp chirp chirp~”
The young man blinked. “?”
He glanced at the ledger in his hand and ventured, “Gold-woven brocade: seven bolts sold?”
Conditioned from childhood quizzes by his mother, Shen Jiujiu didn’t look up. “Chirp chirp chirp chirp. Chirp chirp chirp chirp~”
Eight left, obviously.
Merchant brats could tally that in their sleep.
The shopkeeper wouldn’t even answer a question that basic. The books were blatant fakes—tsk, who knew how much silver he’d pocketed.
Pei Du let out a soft chuckle, his finger tapping a deliberate rhythm on the desk.
“Accounts even a sparrow can tally, yet my Pei family’s own shopkeeper cannot. Most amusing.”
The shopkeeper’s head drooped lower, his forehead nearly brushing the floor. His thoughts raced to how he might shield his kin when Pei Du’s toneless question drifted down from above.
“Speak. Who stands behind you?”
Pei Du clearly wasn’t there to check the accounts. He was checking on the shopkeeper.
But none of that mattered to Shen Jiujiu anymore.
His mind was entirely consumed by Pei Du’s earlier words: “accounts even a little sparrow could calculate.” His tiny bird claws were still perched on the orange segments, but his beak had lost all interest in eating.
What was that supposed to mean…
Birds doing math? That had to be perfectly normal.
…Right?
Lost in these anxious thoughts, Shen Jiujiu suddenly heard a voice: “Oh my, what a clever little bird. It understands human speech and even knows arithmetic. Surely it can’t be some kind of little bird spy?”
The young man, who had quietly returned to his seat at some point, rested his cheek on one hand and gazed down leisurely at Shen Jiujiu in the fruit platter.
“We can’t keep a little bird spy around. Better to roast it.”
“The army camps are always roasting little birds for a quick bite. The meat’s so tender and succulent—absolutely delicious~”
His appetite utterly vanished, Shen Jiujiu held his breath, pulled back his claws, hopped off the platter, and scurried in tiny steps to hide in the shadowed corner of the desk.
He raised his wings to cradle his little bird head, curling himself into a tight ball. His beady eyes pleaded toward Pei Du for help.
Birds weren’t spies!
Wah, he wouldn’t really get turned into roast bird just one day after arriving at Benefactor’s side, would he?
Pei Du let out a soft sigh. Ignoring the young man doubled over with laughter, he walked to the edge of the desk and extended his hand toward Shen Jiujiu.
