Even if the emperor didn’t hold real power, he was still the emperor. Once the imperial decree was issued, the young lords hurried into the palace at impressive speed.
It was worth noting that every legitimate son from a prestigious family in the capital with any reputation had received the decree. However…
Shen Jiujiu craned his neck and stared for a good long while. The young lords trickled in, two or three at a time, following the eunuchs into the palace, but he never spotted a familiar figure.
Shen Yuan’s absence made sense—the emperor probably looked down on the Zhenguo Marquis Mansion. There’d been no announcement for the Heir of Zhenguo Marquis Mansion yet; he was likely still at home discussing matters with Prince Wu. But Pei Du was already in the palace—why hadn’t Sui Ziming shown up?
With that fellow’s knack for chasing excitement wherever it cropped up, Shen Jiujiu refused to believe Sui Ziming would pass up such a prime opportunity.
Pei Du chuckled softly and stroked Little Bird’s head. “His Majesty is aiming to win over the military generals and meritorious vassals. Ziming’s friendship with me makes it impossible for him to come.”
Shen Jiujiu propped his wings under his chin, striking a thoughtful pose.
But Benefactor and Sui Ziming were cousins, and if you traced it back properly, the emperor and Sui Ziming were cousins too.
Back in the day, the three Lin sisters had one entering the palace as a consort, another becoming the Duke Consort Pei, and the youngest marrying the General Sui of that time.
Say what you would about it, but Father Lin had a vicious eye for prospects, betting on families brimming with talent and promise.
Who could have foreseen that two daughters would perish in a fire, while the third, grief-stricken by the successive battlefield deaths of her husband and children, would waste away in depression?
Even now, with the eldest daughter’s imperial son ascending the throne, the Lin family couldn’t claim a shred of benefit from those marriage ties—not after the palace arson scandal.
A couple of years back, Elder Lin had requested to leave the capital for Shouchun, the Lin clan’s ancestral lands, claiming he couldn’t bear the painful memories. There he opened a private academy to teach the young scholars, severing all visible ties to the capital’s factions.
Seeing Shen Jiujiu rack his brains in deep thought, Pei Du found Little Bird Dumpling utterly adorable. He watched as Shen Jiujiu scratched at his neck with his claw, leaving tiny branch-like marks in Pei Du’s palm, before drawling, “If he tries to win over Ziming, Ziming will demand a posting to the borderlands.”
“From Jiujiu’s perspective, should he accept the offer… or not?”
Shen Jiujiu followed Sui Ziming’s train of thought and realized it was exactly that.
Sui Ziming’s obsession was the Sui Family Battle Flag—the battlefield itself. At the slightest chance, even if it meant serving as a mere foot soldier instead of leading troops, he’d drop everything to charge toward it.
With Pei Du in court, he certainly wouldn’t block Sui Ziming on this front; he’d even lend a hand. If the emperor stepped in, there was a seventy percent chance Sui Ziming could return to the borderlands.
But did the emperor have the guts for it?
Anyone who sat on that throne, whether they truly wielded power or not, first thought of securing their seat. Their gaze fell immediately on every threat to the dragon chair.
The late emperor had schemed endlessly, in light and shadow, to wrest military authority from the Sui family entirely. Even so, the Sui had the border armies’ hearts, and the late emperor clung fiercely to protecting their sole surviving bloodline, keeping Sui Ziming pinned in the capital.
Now, for the man currently on the throne—did he dare to bet that once Sui Ziming reached the borderlands, brotherhood with Pei Du wouldn’t outweigh gratitude for the emperor’s favor?
So, though Shen Jiujiu desperately wanted Sui Ziming to get his wish, putting himself in the emperor’s shoes amid the current situation, he understood it would be hard to let Sui Ziming return to the army.
Unless…
“The Heir of Prince Wu has arrived—”
Shen Jiujiu’s tail feathers quivered faintly.
Unless the Great Barbarian cavalry pressed at the borders and Prince Wu raised troops in rebellion.
Then, with wars flaring in both north and south, the court desperate and cornered, they would surely deploy Sui Ziming to rally the Canlang Army’s morale.
But war meant rivers of blood, displaced masses, homeless refugees… Sigh.
Shen Jiujiu’s little bird brain darted from one thought to another. He had a bellyful of words but no clear thread to lay it all out for Pei Du.
Besides, Shen Jiujiu felt a twinge of uncertainty deep down. Should he spill the whole truth—that this world was a storybook tale—or go with something easier to swallow, like prophetic visions?
As Little Bird wrestled with his dilemma, the Long Aotian Male Lead, whom he’d earlier regretted not getting a good look at, strode straight toward the pavilion where Pei Du sat.
Zheng Min cupped his hands. “Lord Pei.”
A royal prince’s heir, scion of the imperial clan—even as the court prime minister and head of the outer officials, Pei Du remained a subject.
Zheng Min had no need for honorifics with Pei Du, so this proactive greeting already counted as humble and affable.
Far from the pitiful figure Shen Jiujiu had imagined being bullied and exploited, Pei Du cut a figure of subtle arrogance in public. Facing Zheng Min’s overture of friendship, he merely returned the formal bow—perfunctory enough that even Shen Jiujiu could tell.
Zheng Min seemed utterly unbothered by Pei Du’s demeanor—or at least, he gave no sign of it—chatting amiably about capital gossip, steering clear of court politics with perfect tact.
Pei Du’s responses were cool but polite, volleying back just enough to keep the exchange going. To any onlooker, the pair appeared perfectly cordial.
Shen Jiujiu glanced at the aloof, arrogant great minister villain on his left, then at the upright, gentle Long Aotian Male Lead on his right. It felt absurd, like a corn kernel lodged in a bird’s throat.
Whoa.
Throw the emperor into the mix, and you’d have a full table of thrilling Fight the Landlord, auras clashing head-on.
Speak of the devil—the little eunuch’s drawn-out cry of “His Majesty arrives!” cut through just as Shen Jiujiu’s crest fluff stood on end mid-inner monologue.
“Cousin Fuguang, you’ve actually found some leisure today to wander the palace grounds.”
The emperor, over twenty yet uncapped, had only middling looks. His words started off sounding intimate, but a moment’s reflection revealed the pointed undertone.
Zheng Min’s expression flickered; he seemed at a loss for words, hesitant to respond. Pei Du met the emperor’s gaze, brimming with undisguised targeting.
Shen Jiujiu racked his memory through every original tale description of Pei Du, but gleaned no deeper meaning.
The original tale hadn’t mentioned Pei Du being poisoned with Qianji toxin as a child, either.
Shen Jiujiu shrank halfway into Pei Du’s palm and went still.
Just three men and one bird on the scene, chatting in their little group and leaving the bird out. How dull.
Shen Jiujiu stopped moving, but Zheng Min, who had noticed this tribute bird earlier, finally saw the Emperor arrive and spoke in a very natural tone: “Lord Pei’s bird looks so vibrant in plumage, clever and adorable—it truly shows how well its master cares for it.”
The words sounded like praise, as if lamenting the deep bond of friendship between His Majesty and Lord Pei, something enviable to behold. But both the Emperor and Pei Du’s expressions grew indifferent simultaneously.
When the Emperor had bestowed the bird initially, it was right at the palace gates—anyone with connections could find out easily, and plenty of court officials knew the inside story of this tribute bird.
Yet Pei Du not only accepted the bird but nursed it meticulously, turning it from a near-death state into the affectionate, clever creature it was now. This genuinely astonished and baffled many inside and outside the court, leaving them unable to gauge the true relationship between the Prime Minister and the Emperor, making them even more cautious in their actions and hesitant to take sides lightly.
It had caused the Emperor no small trouble in secretly pulling courtiers to his side and winning hearts.
Pei Du’s thoughts, however, were far simpler.
He was purely uncomfortable with Shen Jiujiu being saddled with the label of an imperial gift from the Emperor.
But there was no helping it—the fact remained that Shen Jiujiu had indeed come to his side as an Emperor-bestowed tribute bird.
Shen Jiujiu knew that his benefactor sometimes had this childish notion that those close to him should be entirely his own, standing firmly by his side.
His heart’s little bird should be pampered by him alone.
Shen Jiujiu didn’t even glance at the Emperor or Zheng Min, single-mindedly showering affection on Pei Du with rubs and cuddles. His black-bean-like bright, sparkling bird eyes were filled only with Pei Du. His delicate little beak opened and closed with crisp chirps until Pei Du reached out to stroke the little bird, at which point he contentedly pecked a gentle kiss on the tip of Pei Du’s finger.
This extremely cute and naive and attached demeanor would make anyone’s heart stir with envy.
Perhaps feeling he’d lost face, the Emperor summoned a little eunuch to bring a tall, majestic horse and beckoned the two toward the Martial Field.
…
The Martial Field’s bluestone ground rang with the clatter of hooves. The Emperor, now in a fitted outfit, mounted his horse at the center, a gold-inlaid bow at his waist and a quiver of feathered arrows at his side, exuding a heroic vigor.
The aristocratic young lords behind him were all splendidly attired on fine steeds—some in silver armor over scarlet brocade robes, others with jade belts cinching moon-white tunics. As they reined in their colorful mounts, their arm muscles tensed. No matter their inner thoughts, their faces all showed humble deference, awaiting the Emperor’s command.
Under the willow trees on the eastern side of the Martial Field, Pei Du stood quietly.
Arrows whistled through the air in the field, slicing the wind, but he merely lowered his gaze slightly, gently stroking the little bird dumpling in his palm, who was peering left and right, craning its neck curiously. His gaze remained calm.
Being Emperor is great.
Even playing an elaborate game of house comes with all these young lords to accompany you.
Shen Jiujiu had never seen such a spectacle before. Perched proudly on Pei Du’s hand, he watched the excitement intently, planning to go back and chirp about it to Sui Ziming.
As the Heir of Prince Wu, Zheng Min naturally didn’t need to fawn over the Emperor like this and wasn’t among them.
As he walked, he sidled up to Pei Du again.
“Speaking of which, when I was young, I often heard my mother consort mention Lord Pei,” Zheng Min said, pulling Shen Jiujiu’s attention back from the Martial Field.
“Oh?”
Pei Du was no fool; the moment Zheng Min opened his mouth, he knew what the man was up to. But seeing the curious look on the little bird on his wrist, Pei Du paused, then responded with a sound, giving Zheng Min a ladder to continue.
Zheng Min’s gaze swept over the clamor in the field, then he sighed, his voice tinged with regret: “My mother consort often lamented with sighs—during that year’s Spring Hunt Grand Competition, the Heir Pei of the National Duke Mansion was such a sight to behold?”
“Three arrows felling a fierce tiger, shocking the entire field—who didn’t praise him as a young hero? Yet who would have thought, after a severe illness…”
Halfway through, Zheng Min glanced at the silently standing Pei Du beside him and trailed off, leaving only a faint sigh.
This green tea act made the little bird’s eyes ache.
Having watched so many modern TV dramas and novels, Shen Jiujiu had picked up some ability to spot tea. Zheng Min’s level was just too obvious.
What kind of Long Aotian male lead is this from a male-oriented story!
So embarrassing!
But…
Three arrows shooting a fierce tiger?
Benefactor??
But didn’t benefactor say before that he wasn’t skilled in martial arts!
With Zheng Min right there, Shen Jiujiu didn’t dare act too un-birdlike. For now, he could only suppress his thoughts and play the role of a cute, brainless little bird dumpling, toddling back and forth on Pei Du’s hand.
Pei Du didn’t engage with Zheng Min’s words. After a while, as the little bird dumpling on his hand grew increasingly restless, he flatly said: “Old news from years ago.”
His voice was steady, revealing little emotion.
Hearing this made Shen Jiujiu’s heart ache even more!
Suddenly, the little bird lost all interest in the spectacle—not even the Long Aotian male lead mattered anymore. He just wanted to hurry back to the mansion and properly comfort his heartbroken childhood bitter-melon love.
Seeing his goal achieved, Pei Du ignored Zheng Min’s feigned hesitation to say more. With a slight bow, he cradled the little bird in his hand and turned to leave.
Zheng Min stood in place, grinding his molars, mentally shredding Pei Du’s name several more times.
And that bird… it was truly an eyesore!
Shen Jiujiu sensed a chill and shivered.
Peering from Pei Du’s forearm toward the back, the little bird saw the Long Aotian male lead smiling gently at him.
The smile made all of Shen Jiujiu’s feathers stand on end.
Pei Du soothingly smoothed the startled little bird’s feathers: “This man hides his thoughts deeply, but his temperament lacks poise—a minor thing can linger in his mind and fester.”
“When dealing with such a person, you must stay vigilant every step; a single misstep could touch his taboos and invite unfounded hatred.”
Lord Pei was seizing the moment to give his little bird a lesson.
“People like this—if you encounter them in the future, best keep your distance to avoid needless trouble.”
Shen Jiujiu nodded deeply in agreement.
The male-oriented story’s specialty male lead is exactly like this.
Thirty years east of the river, thirty years west—mentally flipping the table on everyone.
Better I betray the world than let the world betray me~
The vibe is spot on.
