Chapter 7: The Villainous Prime Minister

Little Bird had no need to study!

Little Bird absolutely refused to study!

Shen Jiujiu covered his eyes with his wings, determined to play dumb and ignore the command.

For some reason, the sight of Pei Du’s densely packed bookshelves filled him with an inexplicable sense of despair, as if he had been tormented by such things before. Just looking at them made his head spin, his vision blur, his wings ache, and his talons throb—every feather on his body screamed that he did not want to learn.

How strange.

Shen Jiujiu rubbed his little beak with his wing, lost in thought.

In his memories, Shen Xinian had been a genius Jieyuan who passed the imperial examinations at just fifteen. Why on earth would he hate studying?

Hiss… could it be that he really wasn’t Shen Xinian?

Shen Jiujiu couldn’t recall the details of studying for the imperial exams, but at least in his current bird form, he was definitely not the sort to bury himself in books. Pei Du’s study held priceless collections, yet he was only interested in Pei Du himself. He had no real attachment to becoming an official.

His one and only obsession was repaying Pei Du’s kindness.

Even if a person turned into a bird, their fundamental nature probably wouldn’t change… right?

Shen Jiujiu sprawled lazily in Pei Du’s palm, pretending not to hear the order to study, while silently pondering. He felt even more convinced that he might not actually be Shen Xinian.

Shen Jiujiu kicked out his legs in Pei Du’s palm and settled into a comfortable sprawl, his entire little body radiating pure aversion to learning.

Pei Du watched the bird with faint amusement.

In truth, any scholar who knew of Pei Du would never refuse his guidance.

Pei Du hailed from the Chen County Pei Clan, a century-old noble house that had produced generations of high officials.

His father, Duke Jingguo Pei Si, had been a trusted minister entrusted with the late emperor’s orphan by his deathbed, but he passed away on the eve of the new emperor’s ascension. Pei Du, as the heir, directly inherited the title.

To appease the aristocratic families, the new emperor exceptionally promoted Pei Du to enter court and participate in politics.

Though from a noble house, the Pei Clan upheld a strict and upright family tradition. Pei Du had been steeped in the classics and histories from childhood, earning a reputation as a prodigy. Though he had never sat for the imperial examinations, his erudition was renowned throughout scholarly circles, once hailed as a “statesman known without testing.”

At the time, the newly ascended emperor was locked in a power struggle with his uncle, Prince Wu, who controlled the imperial guards. Both sides needed a “neutral” prime minister to maintain balance in the court.

The Pei Clan’s direct line now rested solely on Pei Du, who held no military power, yet enjoyed immense prestige among literati. Both factions saw potential in him and sought to win him over.

But Pei Du truly made his mark—and entered the cabinet in glory—thanks to the Canal Embezzlement Case in Jiangnan three years prior.

Half the empire’s wealth came from Jiangnan, where Prince Wu’s faction colluded with local magnates, acting like tyrants in their own domain.

That year, Jiangnan suffered a severe drought, causing the Grand Canal’s water levels to plummet and stranding the grain barges.

The Jiangning Provincial Administration Commissioner, a Wu Party loyalist, seized the chance to falsely claim “insufficient transport capacity,” withholding millions of shi of grain for hoarding. This drove grain prices in the capital sky-high, nearly sparking a mutiny among the imperial guards.

Pei Du stepped up in the crisis and secretly headed south.

He concealed his identity, posing as a traveling scholar to gather ironclad evidence; then he ruthlessly purged the Canal Gang and publicly sentenced the Jiangning commissioner to execution.

Pei Du handled the Jiangnan case so brilliantly that he resolved the new emperor’s peril. Though he offended Prince Wu, he never once implicated him from start to finish, stopping short of total ruin.

Upon his return, within just two years—after the previous prime minister retired—he was elevated to the cabinet, ultimately becoming the youngest prime minister in Great Zhou history.

With credentials like Pei Du’s, even those he merely offered pointers to would be regarded with respect and courtesy wherever they went—not to mention his actual students.

Only this little bird, full of coquettish antics and feigned innocence, showed not a shred of appreciation.

Of course. Little Bird didn’t need to worry about scholarly cliques or power circles. His cleverness was refreshingly simple.

So simple that even Pei Du felt a touch of envy.

The more Pei Du watched Little Bird Dumpling play dead, the more entertaining he found it. A hint of his rarely revealed mischievous streak bubbled up. He curled his fingers, gently pinching the bird’s lazily splayed talons and giving them a shake, his voice laced with laughter. “Don’t want to learn?”

With his talons pinched together and his tail feathers caught between Pei Du’s fingers, Shen Jiujiu felt his belly tighten. Reluctantly, he peeked out from under his wing with his sharp little black-bean eyes, gazing pitifully at Pei Du.

“Chirp!”

Right! He didn’t want to learn!

The more Shen Jiujiu thought about it, the more justified he felt. He chirped in righteous protest. “Chirp chirp chirp chirp!”

What kind of bird needed to study?

Little Bird didn’t need to earn scholarly honors!

Pei Du, who had previously flawlessly translated Little Bird’s chirps: “Hm? What was that?”

Shen Jiujiu lay in Pei Du’s palm, clutching at his fingers with his wings and chirping loudly in defiance.

“Chirp! Chirp chirp chirp chirp chirp!”

Pei Du ignored the chorus of chirps filling the room. He cradled the bird in one hand and picked up the Eagle Treatise in the other, settling into the chair behind the desk. “Let’s first see what stage your literacy basics have reached.”

He looked ready to start the lesson right then and there.

Shen Jiujiu fell instantly silent.

What?

He was serious?

Little Bird stared at the sheet of fine xuan paper specially padded beneath him. His beak opened and closed, but no chirp came out for a long moment.

Why would anyone try to teach a bird?

Shen Jiujiu twisted his head to look at Pei Du seated behind him. The flush on Pei Du’s cheeks visibly faded, shrinking away from his baffled expression.

You’re the prime minister of the realm, busy every day with court affairs and the people’s livelihood. Why waste time teaching a little bird to read?

Pei Du flipped the Eagle Treatise to the chapter on training fledglings for their first flight. He pressed a finger gently against Little Bird’s turned head, twisting the fluffy little thing back to face the inkstone, brush, and paper.

Pei Du said, “Read the book first, then write a simple book review for me.”

A book review—impressions after reading, by definition.

Shen Jiujiu: “…”

Little Bird dumbly lowered his head to gaze at his slender, delicate talons, unable to believe what he’d just heard.

A moment later, realization dawned. Shen Jiujiu whipped his head around, tail feathers fluffed in fury as he bounced angrily across the pristine white paper. Then he slammed beak-first into Pei Du’s finger and chomped down on the tip.

You!

Have you!

Even listened!

To what you just said!

Who in their right mind would make an innocent, adorable little bird write a book review?!

Pei Du stroked the bird’s head in return, his tone mild, though the corner of his mouth curved upward at an angle Shen Jiujiu couldn’t see—clearly delighted. “Didn’t you want to stay by my side to repay me? Without reading, you can’t discern people or understand reason. How will you help?”

Shen Jiujiu, who couldn’t fly and wasn’t some demon, immediately felt a pang of guilt.

As a bird, he really didn’t seem to have much of a place by Pei Du’s side.

He had come to repay a debt of gratitude, after all. He couldn’t just be a freeloading little bird forever.

Shen Jiujiu looked up at the book looming enormously before him, far too massive for any bird. His little bird eyes strained in protest.

Pei Du noticed Shen Jiujiu’s dilemma and, with the savvy of a seasoned superior, dangled a tempting carrot. “If you finish this assignment, I’ll grant you one request.”

Shen Jiujiu’s eyes lit up.

“Chirp chirp chirp chirp?”

He flapped his wings toward the study door, then paced hurriedly back and forth across the desk. With frantic gestures from his wings, he finally fixed Pei Du with bright, hopeful eyes full of expectation.

Pei Du took in the little bird dumpling’s entire performance. He pictured the bird spreading his wings wide in a valiant effort to convey something huge—and suddenly, inspiration struck. “You want to go out on the streets and play?”

Shen Jiujiu nodded furiously, like a pestle pounding garlic.

A dark flicker flashed through Pei Du’s eyes, but he chuckled softly and gave his assent. “Very well.”

Shen Jiujiu, who hadn’t stepped foot outside since his rebirth, shed his coquettish laziness in an instant. He shook out his feathers, straightened up, and marched his claws toward the Eagle Treatise before him.

…Huh?

He started off reading intently, but the more he pored over the text, the more familiar it felt—like something he’d read and studied long ago.

He even knew exactly what came on the pages before and after.

Heh heh!

This reward was as good as his!

Shen Jiujiu spread his wings with supreme confidence, his steps resolute. Feigning a dignified air, he made his way to the inkstone and lifted his head proudly.

His bird eyes turned to Pei Du.

No big deal—just grind some ink for this bird!

Pei Du’s brow arched briefly before settling. The little bird had barely glanced at the Eagle Treatise before deciding to put claw to paper, yet Pei Du said nothing. Instead, he truly rolled up his sleeves and began grinding the ink for him.

He even adjusted the paperweight and thoughtfully slid the inkstone closer to the bird, preventing another ink-splattered disaster across the desk like last time.

That previous attempt had been rushed and inexperienced, earning mockery from that Sui Ziming for its ugliness. This time, Shen Jiujiu was determined to learn from his mistakes.

One small touch could hide a thousand flaws.

A bird ought to write in tiny script!

Aware of Pei Du watching from behind, Shen Jiujiu felt an inexplicable twinge of performance anxiety. He concentrated for a moment, then—with all the poise of a scholarly bird—elegantly raised a claw and dipped it in the ink.

He nearly toppled over from lifting his claw too high, losing his balance entirely.

Luckily, Pei Du’s finger caught him.

Standing on one foot proved tricky for a bird. Shen Jiujiu tested it out and found Pei Du’s finger to be the perfect support. Without hesitation, he leaned one wing against it and let out a chirp.

With good-natured patience, Pei Du steadied himself as the bird’s perch. He didn’t peek at what Shen Jiujiu was writing, merely lowering his gaze. Amid the room’s faint scent of ink, he let his mind relax for once.

A subtle drowsiness crept over him.

…

An hour later—half spent resting, half writing—Shen Jiujiu finally completed his masterpiece. His inky black claw left a trail of cramped prints in the bottom right corner of the rice paper.

Ahem.

A bit of mess on the page was unavoidable. Holding up one claw like that was exhausting for a bird.

Worried about smudging anything else, Shen Jiujiu turned to ask Pei Du to wipe his claw clean. That was when he spotted the man in the Grand Preceptor’s chair, hand pressed to his forehead, asleep.

Faint daylight drifted through the study.

Pei Du slept peacefully.

His long lashes cast a gentle arc of shadow across his pale cheek.

The brows that were usually faintly furrowed had smoothed out, revealing a warmth more suited to his years.

His jade hair crown had loosened slightly, a few stray locks falling along his neck, rising and falling with each breath.

His robes remained impeccably proper, his posture retaining its inherent dignity—even in sleep, his back hadn’t fully relaxed.

…Villain or not, Pei Du’s looks and bearing outshone the protagonist by a factor of ten thousand.

The thought slipped unbidden into Shen Jiujiu’s mind.

In the next instant, the little bird froze.

That nagging sensation returned—the feeling that he’d overlooked some crucially important memory.

Villain?

What did that even mean?