Chapter 78

Upon reflection, Shen Xinian realized that he truly had never been on a boat before.

Not even the little ones on the lake, much less these massive vessels pitching and rolling on the great rivers.

Little Bird lay listlessly on the chessboard, pressing his cheek against its cool surface in a vain attempt to clear his head.

Out on the road, the pieces in the cabin’s private compartment were naturally not the fine jade ones from home—the feel was much poorer—but Shen Jiujiu, who just wanted a distraction, didn’t mind.

He gathered the pieces with the tip of his wing into a little pile in front of himself, using it as a barrier to keep his beloved from seeing his wretched state.

The cabin was far more stable than the deck at the bow, but every so often a wave would slam into the hull, sending the ship rocking, and Shen Jiujiu’s head would spin. He’d lift a claw to grab the small wooden bowl nearby and dry-heave.

But Little Bird had nothing in his stomach to bring up, of course.

Pei Du patiently moved the little mountain of pieces Little Bird had piled up, one by one. On the board, he arranged them in a neat line—black on the left, white on the right—like a tiny path. Then, with two fingers, he slid a small dish to a stop in front of Little Bird.

Shen Jiujiu knew those were the pickled plums Zhong Bo had prepared before their departure, said to ease seasickness to some degree. But he really didn’t want to eat. His fluffy little head rested on the edge of the dish as he prodded it halfheartedly with his beak. After an age, the plum was only slightly marred on the surface.

Pei Du’s fingers stroked down Shen Jiujiu’s back from head to tail, helping the little bird catch his breath.

Shen Jiujiu shifted toward those fingers, then tilted his head and went still.

“Still dizzy?”

Pei Du gazed at Little Bird’s wilted form, his eyes darkening with concern and heartache.

This river journey wouldn’t end in just a few days. They’d make brief stops at docks to rest and change ships along the way, but if the seasickness didn’t ease or adapt, it would only worsen as they went on. Unable to eat or sleep properly, he’d fall ill before long.

And there were no good physicians on board—what illness might take root was anyone’s guess.

Pei Du frowned as these worries crossed his mind.

Shen Jiujiu scooted his head over to rest it on Pei Du’s finger. With his beak slightly agape, he replied weakly, “Chirp.”

Pei Du gently rubbed Shen Jiujiu’s head, pondering for a moment before saying, “I’ll go prepare some things.”

Stepping out of the cabin onto the deck, the undulating sway of the waves was even more pronounced.

So Shen Jiujiu just nodded, with no intention of following Pei Du out. He even nudged his head away and pushed at Pei Du’s finger with a wing.

“Chirp chirp chirp chirp.”

Be careful.

Pei Du poured half a cup of warm water for Shen Jiujiu and set it by the chessboard in case the little bird wanted a drink while he was gone. He also took two strips of jerky from his pouch, shredding them into neat little pieces and arranging them tidily in a dish.

Having prepared for every contingency he could imagine concerning Little Bird, Pei Du gave the bird’s wing feathers one last stroke. With a chirp of acknowledgment from Shen Jiujiu, he finally rose and headed out of the cabin.

The door closed from the outside. Shen Jiujiu shook his head and flopped back onto the chessboard.

The autumn wind was fierce. Little Bird lay there a while longer until another big wave struck the hull. With exquisite smoothness, he slid right off the chessboard and wedged himself into the gap between it and the edge of the couch.

Where he fell, there he tried to sleep.

Shen Jiujiu lay on his back with his claws in the air, utterly serene.

But he really couldn’t sleep.

A restless heart and anxious mind only worsened the seasickness, so the private cabin was scented with faint sandalwood incense to calm the spirit.

The aroma, which seemed fine on ordinary days, now only made Little Bird’s chest feel stuffier. The more the ship rocked, the more he wanted to gulp in air—and the stuffier and rockier it got.

Yet he couldn’t even vomit.

The little fluffy dumpling bristled his down feathers and wriggled out of the couch crevice like a molting chrysalis. Swaying left and right, he clambered along the edge with his claws.

The cabin lurched again. Shen Jiujiu peered down, his wings suddenly unresponsive after so long.

Back when it first started, Shen Jiujiu had thought that if he just took to the air, the seasickness would vanish. But he’d learned that seasickness was a truly wondrous affliction.

Flying did help a great deal, but Little Bird always had to land and rest eventually. And every time he did, the nausea came roaring back twice as strong.

After a few rounds, once the seasickness took hold, even his wings grew too limp to lift.

Little Bird hugged the cabin wall as he flew toward the bed.

Dizzy as he was, everything in Shen Jiujiu’s vision warped and twisted in bizarre fashion. He finally wobbled his way to the bed and, following Pei Du’s scent, locked onto his target. With perfect aim, he flung himself straight into the bedding.

The plain covers on the bed still held a trace of warmth—freshly changed that morning when Pei Du had risen. The fabric was infused with a subtle scent of ink and pear blossom.

The familiar aroma instantly loosened Shen Jiujiu’s taut nerves.

The puffed-up little bird dumpling burrowed into the soft bedding, leaving only a limp tuft of tail feathers dangling outside.

After a few breaths, a round lump rose under the covers, gradually elongating and smoothing out as the downy feathers melted away.

Shen Xinian sprawled on the pillow, his face still pale from the seasickness. His white hair fanned messily across it, giving him a slightly frizzed look.

Perhaps a human body could endure better than a bird’s; Shen Xinian closed his eyes, hugged the quilt like a pillow, and buried his face in it for several deep breaths. Only then did the stuffiness in his chest begin to ease.

~~~

Pei Du pushed the cabin door open gently, balancing a tray in his hands filled with various small dishes and bowls.

His first glance swept to the couch—no Little Bird on the chessboard, and nothing else disturbed. With a flicker of understanding, he turned on his heel toward the bed.

Sure enough, the youth was half-sprawled there clutching the quilt, his back slightly hunched and half-hidden by his tousled long hair.

Pei Du set the tray on the bedside table and reached out to gently tug the quilt up over Shen Xinian’s kicked-down waist.

“Xinian?”

Shen Xinian hadn’t really been asleep, just drifting in that hazy state where staying awake meant enduring the nausea.

At the sound of the voice, he stirred his limbs, pressed his cheek fiercely into the quilt for one last inhale, then lifted his face. There sat the source of the quilt’s scent, watching him with darkened eyes.

Shen Xinian snapped fully awake.

In a flurry, he shoved the quilt under himself, desperately trying to erase all evidence that his creeper moment had ever happened.

Pei Du pressed down the blanket that Shen Xinian had roughly rumpled and tugged it up once more.

Only then did Shen Xinian realize he was stark naked underneath, without so much as a pair of undergarments. He obediently gathered the blanket around himself and lay back down properly.

Pei Du’s fingers gently brushed aside the strands of hair falling across Shen Xinian’s cheek. “I asked Ziming. He said that if the seasickness is really bad, holding a slice of raw ginger in your mouth and pressing on certain acupoints will help a lot.”

It wasn’t Pei Du’s first time traveling south, nor his first time by water, but he’d never really suffered from seasickness himself.

Ziming, on the other hand—Sui Ziming—had apparently been hit hard on his first voyage. Dizzy and vomiting, with diarrhea to boot, for nearly half a month. It had taken all sorts of remedies before his body adjusted to life on board.

“No.” Shen Xinian buried his face in the pillow, his voice thick with disgust at the very thought of ginger. “I’d rather eat a plum.”

No sooner had the words left his mouth than a pickled plum appeared at his cheek, brushing lightly against his skin.

Shen Xinian turned his head and eyed Pei Du, opening his mouth reluctantly to take the plum. But he clenched his teeth, refusing to let it slide fully inside.

He’d eaten far too many of these candied plums as a child, always after taking medicine.

At first, he’d looked forward to that sour-sweet tang. But after one too many doses of medicine—and the plums that followed—Shen Xinian began to resent them. He came to dislike them intensely.

As a boy, he’d been the sort to obediently swallow his medicine and sweetly thank his mother for the plum afterward. Born wise beyond his years, sensible from the start, he knew how hard Xie Jingtang had worked to raise him. She’d scarcely ever seen him throw a tantrum.

But after becoming Pei Du’s Little Bird, Shen Xinian’s temperament had been thoroughly spoiled. He ignored what he didn’t want to hear, refused what he didn’t want to do, and if he didn’t fancy eating a plum, he’d simply sulk and refuse.

He just wouldn’t eat it.

Shen Xinian held the plum between his teeth in sullen defiance, planning to spit it out the moment Pei Du turned away.

It wasn’t as if his Benefactor would pry open his mouth to check!

Pei Du watched the little expressions flickering across Shen Xinian’s face, the way his eyes darted slyly about. How could he not know what the boy was scheming?

“Have you got it in your mouth properly?” Pei Du’s fingertip lingered at Shen Xinian’s lips as he asked softly.

Shen Xinian nodded vigorously, mumbling an affirmative through closed teeth. “Mm-hmm!”

He didn’t dare open his mouth, lest the plum tumble out.

Pei Du lowered his gaze to the boy, cheeks puffed out, eyes shifting evasively, stealing glances at him now and then. All his sly mischief was plain as day.

Pei Du didn’t call him on it. He simply raised his hand, his fingertip grazing Shen Xinian’s lips ever so lightly.

Shen Xinian thought he was pulling away and his mouth curved in a small, triumphant smile. But instead, the fingers that had only been resting gently at his lips suddenly pressed down. With a firm push, they parted his teeth and slipped inside, unyielding.

Pei Du’s fingertips were still cool from outdoors. That chill touched Shen Xinian’s warm tongue, making him shiver and try to pull back.

But behind him was only the headboard and pillow. There was nowhere to retreat.

Pei Du’s fingers now carried the sweet-sour scent of the pickled plum, along with the sugary coating on its surface. Bit by bit, he nudged the fruit deeper into Shen Xinian’s mouth.

His fingertips occasionally brushed Shen Xinian’s gums, quickening the boy’s breath until he couldn’t help tilting his head back.

The position was mortifyingly vulnerable. The sugar on the plum began to melt, releasing its sharp acidity. Shen Xinian squirmed, his tongue pushing desperately against the fruit to eject it.

Pei Du’s fingers stirred gently in Shen Xinian’s mouth, grazing his tongue, pressing the plum inward with relentless force, grinding it against the roof.

The deeper it went, the more uncontrollably Shen Xinian swallowed. The taut line of his neck gleamed white and slender, his Adam’s apple bobbing rapidly. His long white hair spilled across his shoulders and nape, trembling faintly, radiating a stunning, ethereal beauty.

Only when the plum was securely lodged at the back of his tongue—its nausea-quelling sourness flooding his mouth, spurring a rush of saliva—did Shen Xinian stop struggling. His cheeks burned crimson, his eyes watering from the onslaught of sensation, brimming with defiant frustration at his defeat.

Pei Du slowly withdrew his fingers, their tips glistening faintly with moisture.

He cupped Shen Xinian’s chin, his thumb caressing the boy’s smooth skin. His tone was firm, yet laced with undisguised tenderness. “Be good. Hold it there a while. Spit it out once the nausea passes.”

With the plum tucked in place, its rich sweet-sour flavor coated Shen Xinian’s tongue. The taste slid down his throat, truly easing some of the seasickness.

He let out a soft huff, offering no further protest. He simply sat there, cheeks bulging, muttering under his breath. “No sense of romance… Hmph.”

Normally, wouldn’t anyone lean in for a kiss tasting of sweet-sour plum?

Who used their fingers?

Utterly! No! Romance!

Shen Xinian grabbed Pei Du’s sleeve and wiped his mouth with it, inwardly grumbling all the while.

His Benefactor had clearly read all those romance novels in vain—he hadn’t absorbed a scrap of their amorous flair. Once they reached Jiangnan, where beauties were as soft and pliant as water around a finger, he would give the man a proper lesson. A thorough one!

Pei Du good-naturedly allowed Shen Xinian to use his sleeve as a napkin. Only when the boy was done did he draw a plain silk handkerchief from his own sleeve and meticulously wipe his fingers.

Starting at the base, he wrapped the cloth gently around the fingers that had just been inside Shen Xinian’s mouth, cleaning them inch by inch.

Pei Du’s eyes were downcast, his movements languid and unhurried. An utterly ordinary act, yet it carried an air of innate elegance and subtle allure.

Shen Xinian hadn’t thought twice about their earlier intimacy at the time. But now, watching Pei Du wipe his fingers, his mouth went dry. Recalling the intrusion, a wave of heat surged through him in hindsight.

The sweet-sour tang of the plum lingered on his tongue. As he watched, the memory of those fingers stirring inside him seemed to resurface with the acidity.

Noticing Shen Xinian’s stare, Pei Du’s gaze flickered. His wiping slowed to a deliberate crawl.

His motions were unhurried, not sparing even the crevices between his fingers. The faint rustle of silk against skin was enough—even through Shen Xinian’s rose-tinted Benefactor glasses—to reveal a wickedly teasing intent.

Shen Xinian snatched the handkerchief from Pei Du’s hand, scrubbing his fingers vigorously clean before tossing it into the nearby copper basin. “There! All done!” he snapped irritably.

Pei Du chuckled softly. “Mm, thank you, Xinian.”

Another wave of blushing and a racing heart washed over Shen Xinian: “……”

He shrank deeper into the quilt, rolling himself into a snug burrito and scooting to the inner edge of the bed. Turning his back to Pei Du, he pondered his mistakes in silence.

This was bad. The Benefactor seemed to be a natural prodigy in this department.

He couldn’t let the Benefactor pick up any more tricks.

He was the one who needed supplementary lessons!

~~~

After that day, perhaps because his attention had been successfully diverted, his body stopped rebelling, and Shen Xinian gradually grew accustomed to the boat’s rocking and swaying.

With the aid of preserved plums, the nausea and dry heaving faded. He progressed from managing sips of thin porridge to eating full meals.

In time, Shen Xinian could even transform into a little bird and dart outside for a wild loop around the ship, returning with his fluffy feathers disheveled and damp before burrowing straight into Pei Du’s sleeve.

Whenever that happened, Pei Du would gently wipe the little bird dry, then change into a fresh set of clothes right in front of him.

Shen Jiujiu would make a show of covering his eyes with his wings, but his little black bean eyes would sneak peeks through the feather edges, drinking in the sight of his beloved to his heart’s content.

……

After several changes of vessel, Pei Du and Shen Xinian finally docked and arrived in Gusu.

The river winds at the pier howled fiercely, but Shen Jiujiu stood tall and proud on Pei Du’s shoulder—a true veteran chirp, battle-hardened by storms.

This journey, the pair traveled without attendants, and Pei Du had taken pains to suppress his aura. To any onlooker, he appeared as nothing more than a refined scholar with a fluffy little bird for a companion.

Pei Du intended to find an inn, freshen up, change clothes, and rest before delivering a calling card to the Lin Family.

If… if the Lin Family declined to receive him, it would simply be them spurning an outsider eager to forge ties—nothing to fuel gossip for those with ill intentions.

Perched on Pei Du’s shoulder, Shen Jiujiu watched his companion head toward the dock exit. He quickly nipped Pei Du’s hair ribbon in his beak, tugging insistently to point the other way.

Pei Du yielded to the pull and soon beheld the scene ahead, halting in his tracks.

At the dock’s outlet stood a long convoy of carriages, every one a sleek blackwood frame with wheels swathed in thick brocade. Even the harnessed steeds bore silver fittings.

The lead carriage dwarfed the rest, half again as wide, its body draped in red silk woven with subtle gold filigree. Delicate pearl tassels dangled from the corners, swaying with a pearly gleam in the riverside breeze.

A half-drawn window curtain revealed fox-fur cushions within, while the copper rings flanking the carriage shaft bore intricate twining lotus engravings.

Unlike the capital nobility’s preference for subtle displays of rank, this entourage flaunted its wealth in every extravagant detail.

Pei Du regarded the sight thoughtfully, then glanced sidelong at the little bird dumpling on his shoulder—chest puffed high, white fluff billowing in the wind.

Little Bird, inflated with pride!

Just then, a steward in brocade robes hurried from the carriages. Spotting the little bird on Pei Du’s shoulder, he bowed deeply to Pei Du at once, his voice deferential yet warmly familiar. “Sir, you’ve finally arrived! The Master gave strict instructions: if you’re weary from the road, warm tea awaits on the carriage, along with fresh pastries. Rest a spell before we head back to the estate?”

Master.

Over this long road, give credit where it was due—the little bird, who usually couldn’t keep a secret to save his life, had held his tongue entirely.

Pei Du glanced knowingly at Shen Jiujiu. “Was this specially arranged by the Family Head Shen?”

It stroked the little bird’s vanity to perfection, granting him every bit of face.

Shen Jiujiu crowed in delight: “Chirp~”

Of course~

He’d promised to provide for his Benefactor, after all. Food, clothes, lodging—the very best of everything.

Gusu might not be Jinling, but amid Jiangnan’s merchant riches, the Xie Family—one of the great trading houses—commanded resounding respect.

Shen Jiujiu spread his wings and soared to the lead carriage, alighting proudly before fanning them out in a grand little bird gesture of invitation toward Pei Du.

Get in!

Time to go home~