Chapter 29

Sui Ziming stared blankly at the sparrows that filled the entire courtyard, clinging to every branch and eave.

Though he hadn’t sustained any fatal injuries this time, he was still covered in minor wounds and utterly exhausted. By all rights, he should have been resting properly at home.

But to deny Prince Wu’s faction any pretext to target him or his cousin, Sui Ziming had returned home, wrapped extra layers of bandages around himself, slipped past Pei Du, and made a show of going to the drill ground.

There, he firmly established the fact that Sui Ziming was “utterly unscathed and bouncing with energy.” Then, forcing himself to stride briskly all the way home, he nearly collapsed the moment he passed through the mansion gates. By the time servants helped him back to his bedroom and unwound the bandages, he was a bloody mess.

So after tying up the loose ends, Sui Ziming had finally settled down to recuperate obediently at home.

If he showed up before his cousin in this state, the self-reflection book might swell to ten thousand words, not to mention the barrage of sharp-tongued scolding that would come raining down.

But…

So many sparrows.

Sui Ziming lay on his bed, listening to the endless chirping outside the window—shifting in waves day and night—his eyes glazing over as he grew more and more dazed.

He hadn’t slept properly in two days.

Raising sparrows was actually quite easy. A single sparrow ball barely ate anything in a whole year.

Even raising a whole flock wasn’t that difficult. Sui Ziming didn’t have bottomless wealth, nor did he command as many talented, money-making retainers as his cousin. But the feed for an entire flock amounted to little more than what it would cost to keep a dozen extra servants in the mansion. There was no reason he couldn’t afford it.

But…

People who were injured always felt a little fragile. Sui Ziming clapped his hands over his ears, trying desperately to block out the bird calls boring into his skull from every direction.

…It was just too damn noisy.

Too! Noisy!

Sui Ziming did like birds.

But he’d never kept so many at once.

When he was raising A Sa, it hadn’t even occurred to him to get another bird. Raptors had fiercely possessive natures, and he had trained A Sa as a war bird—its savage bloodlust far outstripped that of ordinary raptors.

Bringing in another bird would have meant only one of them surviving.

Later, when he’d encountered Shen Jiujiu at his cousin’s place, A Sa had unusually hit it off with the little bird dumpling.

Sui Ziming had figured that if his cousin’s old habit of hating anything encroaching on his space flared up again, he could always take Shen Jiujiu off his hands and raise him himself.

As it turned out, not only had he failed to rehome the bird, but Shen Jiujiu was now strutting around the mansion like he owned Pei Du.

So at first, when Sui Ziming heard about taking in a flock of little sparrows, he’d been genuinely intrigued—and a little envious.

Just picture it: him standing in the backyard, tossing out a handful of millet, and a swarm of fluffy little balls fluttering over to perch all over him!

How adorable.

But fine notions were one thing; reality was another.

Over a thousand sparrows.

When they all chirped at once, it was like a massive bell perpetually clanging over the Sui Mansion’s roof, leaving Sui Ziming’s head ringing from dawn till dusk.

Even A Sa, nestled in the soft bed by the window, couldn’t stand it.

That day in the woods, half of A Sa’s wing had been broken. The veterinarian had treated and bandaged it, but full recovery would still take time. Lately, A Sa hadn’t been on the eagle perch but curled up in the plush nest Sui Ziming had prepared for him.

Yet even with his movements stiff and flight impossible, the thoroughly fed-up A Sa had struggled to his feet, hopped out of the nest, and decisively abandoned his battle-hardened master. Off he bolted toward the relatively peaceful front courtyard.

Sui Ziming had silently endured his lifesaving raptor for a good half hour before he finally snapped. He dragged himself out of bed, hastily packed a bundle, scooped up A Sa from the front yard, and stormed straight out the door toward Pei Mansion.

~~~

Sui Ziming found a shady spot beneath a tree, set A Sa down so he could bask in the sun and catch up on sleep, then made a beeline for the study.

Pei Du and Shen Jiujiu were both in the study.

Sui Ziming wasn’t surprised to find the former there. Pei Du practically lived in that room; he could forgo meals entirely if there were memorials to review.

Nor was it odd for Shen Jiujiu to be tagging along— the little bird was usually glued to Pei Du’s side.

What did surprise Sui Ziming was that Pei Du, who had always been fiercely territorial about his personal space since childhood, had actually carved out a section of the study just for Shen Jiujiu.

Not merely allowing him to hang around, but giving him his own dedicated spot—complete with a little bird desk!

A tiny brush was even tied to one of his wings, clearly custom-made for a bird.

No one could look at that setup and claim Pei Du wasn’t putting in real effort.

Sui Ziming spoke up in a sour tone. “Wow, who was it that used to say, ‘No eating in my study,’ ‘No making a mess in my study’… all those strict rules, but they fly out the window the second a cute little bird shows up, huh?”

Pei Du glanced up at him. “You know that already, so why bring it up?”

“I—!”

Sui Ziming was struck speechless. He stewed in silence for a moment before flopping heavily into a chair.

The armrest scraped across one of his wounds, stiffening his spine and twisting his face in pain.

Pei Du let out a soft sigh.

Almost simultaneously came a long, drawn-out cheep.

Sui Ziming heard it too. He shot an exasperated look at the sighing Shen Jiujiu—and grew even more exasperated when he somehow spotted a glimmer of fond indulgence on that tiny bird face.

Sui Ziming spoke in a sinister drawl. “Shen Jiujiu, you believe I won’t swat a bird? Back when I was four, my slingshot dropped bees dead every single time.”

Shen Jiujiu folded his wings neatly and let out another sigh right in front of him. He even radiated that air of helpless exasperation—like “why haven’t you grown up yet?”—and shook his head for good measure.

Sui Ziming: “…”

This was exactly why he shouldn’t let Shen Jiujiu hang around his cousin!

You are the company you keep!

Just look at what had become of this once adorably fluffy little bird dumpling!

Black-bellied through and through!

Pei Du folded the secret missive in his hand and set it aside. “Don’t badmouth me right to my face. I can tell.”

“And where’s your self-reflection book?”

Sui Ziming was too drained to even retort.

Fine. He’d gotten used to it.

The straightforward general made his peace with the clever one, closed his eyes serenely, and deliberately sidestepped the topic of the self-reflection book altogether. He shifted into a more comfortable position in the chair. “So, Cousin, are you planning to tutor Shen Jiujiu for the imperial examinations? Turn him into some kind of little bird official?”

Sui Ziming was mostly just venting, poking fun at Pei Du’s bizarre habit of teaching a bird to read in hopes of dragging the reluctant student from a few days ago over to his side.

Who could have guessed that the little bird dumpling who’d been dodging lessons just recently wouldn’t chime in with agreement—but would instead let out a loud cheep?

The note of disapproval in that chirp was unmistakable, even to Sui Ziming, who couldn’t understand a lick of bird language.

Sui Ziming blinked in confusion. “Hey, you little bird, how do you flip moods faster than a pancake?”

Shen Jiujiu ignored him, scribbling out the last of what he needed on the paper before letting out two chirps toward Pei Du.

Pei Du got the message at once. He rose and crossed to the nearby cabinet, retrieving Shen Jiujiu’s pearwood ivory abacus.

That’s right—the very same abacus from the time Pei Du had conned Shen Jiujiu into producing a policy essay.

Sui Ziming: “?”

Sui Ziming: “Hold on… what the hell are you even training this little bird for?”

Pei Du replied calmly, “Jiujiu intends to wring the rest of that silver out of the Zhenguo Marquis Mansion.”

Sui Ziming: “?”

He understood every single word Pei Du had said, so why did they make no sense when strung together?

Shen Jiujiu hopped onto the abacus and magnanimously spared Sui Ziming a glance.

“Chirp.”

Little jinx, pay attention. Jiujiu’s about to use his unbeatable smarts to reclaim your pride—and your silver!

Pei Du went on, “I made a bet with Xinian: fifty taels in principal, tripled within a month. If he pulls it off, the Pei Mansion’s accounts are his to manage from here on out.”

The little bird on the abacus puffed out its feathery chest ever so slightly, then set to work on the beads with impressive steadiness and reliability.

Meeting Sui Ziming’s stunned gaze, Pei Du added with perfect composure, “That naturally includes the silver set aside for you.”

Shen Jiujiu’s manipulations of the abacus were nothing if not… nimble.

Crafting a bird-sized abacus hadn’t been difficult, but Shen Jiujiu clearly cherished this trophy he’d earned in exchange for his policy essay.

The ivory beads gleamed pearly white. By comparison, the little bird dumpling—with its pale gray fluff and faint brown stripes across its wings—looked downright drab.

Yet there it was, this fuzzy gray puffball, fine long tail feathers perked upright as it hopped busily across the frame. Tiny claws sent the beads snapping with crisp clacks.

Its wings, adorned with the Little Bird Brush, stayed perpetually spread, while that long tail swept back and forth across the surface.

Sui Ziming muttered under his breath, “…Does he even keep track of the numbers he’s clicking?”

Forget the Pei Mansion’s ledgers—tripling the profit on fifty taels in a single month was on par with the cutthroat margins from smuggling illicit salt or iron. Could a bird brain and stick-figure claws handle that?

No, wait.

The perpetually broke Sui Ziming snapped out of it.

Where was he going to find a racket that lucrative?

If something like that existed in the Capital, he’d have jumped on it ages ago!

With that realization, Sui Ziming slumped forward, sidling ingratiatingly toward the table’s edge where Shen Jiujiu toiled away. In a lazy drawl, he cooed, “Aiya, does our dear Jiujiu need a hand from big brother Ziming? Look at our poor little bird dumpling, worn out from all that abacus-clacking.”

Shen Jiujiu, who had been mentally tallying figures while flicking beads and eyeing his charts, slowly lifted his head. By the time his gaze settled on Sui Ziming, those round little eyes had narrowed into sharp inverted triangles beneath his brow.

Pei Du leaned over to study the plan Shen Jiujiu had outlined up front, along with the lines sketched afterward.

He didn’t recognize most of the rounded or straight diagrams, but watching Shen Jiujiu glance at them now and then between bead-flicks—pausing occasionally to add a stroke or two—it had to be some sort of notation system.

Seeing Sui Ziming rile up the little bird yet again, Pei Du took pity on his cousin for once and offered a rare word of advice. “From the look of things, if Xinian’s scheme can actually be put into play, I may well lose that bet.”

Sui Ziming: “…?”

Sui Ziming had never been one for poring over intricate schemes; he trusted his gut, and his gut trusted Pei Du’s intellect.

If his cousin deemed it viable, that put the odds at a solid sixty percent.

Pei Du losing meant Shen Jiujiu could genuinely triple those fifty taels—or more—in a month. It also meant the Pei Mansion’s books would fall under little bird oversight.

And he, Sui Ziming, would be scrambling for scraps under a bird steward’s thumb!

He resolved to cozy up to the future little bird steward right away—at the very least, to smooth over his earlier blunder.

Feigning nonchalance, he straightened and sidled over to Pei Du, who had settled back at the table.

Step one in winning over the little bird steward: master Chirp Language.

When Sui Ziming declared his intent to learn Chirp Language, Pei Du shot him a look and lifted his teacup. “You won’t.”

Sui Ziming bristled. “Scholarship’s not my forte, but birds? I’ve got that down pat. I’ve got a whole flock of lifesaver sparrows back home! Imagine how handy it’d be if I spoke the lingo. Come on, cousin—teach me!”

Pei Du arched a brow and drawled, “Well, now that you mention it, it’s hardly complicated. Just the art of reading the room.”

Sui Ziming’s face fell. “…”

Distracted by the exchange, Shen Jiujiu paused his abacus work and twisted around, chirping curiously at Pei Du.

Pei Du smiled. “Something like that—he’s been at it for over ten years without picking it up. Where’s the shortcut?”