During the few days he didn’t go to Luming Palace, Shu Changyu had not been idle either.
After leaving Luming Palace that day, it took him less than half a day to snap out of his pity for Jing Mu. He realized that in this life, Jing Mu had become far too dependent on him as well.
The Shu family already stood tall enough to invite trouble, and the current emperor was suspicious by nature. One wrong move could easily arouse imperial suspicion. What was more, in his previous life, Jing Mu’s excessive dependence on him had left him utterly lacking in independent judgment. For someone of the imperial family, whether they became emperor or not, that was the most taboo flaw of all.
The lesson from his previous life was right there before him. Shu Changyu asked himself how he could possibly repeat the same mistake.
That night, he slept poorly. Half-dreaming and half-awake, his mind was filled with scenes from his previous life. In the end, past and present blended together, all converging into the image of Jing Mu’s ice-cold hand tightly gripping his.
The next day, Shu Changyu made up his mind. No matter how pitiful the boy was, he had now escaped his suffering and no longer needed so much care from him. As for Shu Changyu himself, he began drafting the river-management strategy he had mentioned at the Qionglin Banquet—the one that could help him head south.
In his previous life, the Yellow River had flooded year after year. Countless officials had been sent to control it, yet none succeeded. In the end, he gathered the wisdom of earlier generations, repeatedly sent people to investigate conditions along the river, and finally compiled a complete strategy manual. In the ninth year of Jing Mu’s reign, that strategy succeeded in taming the Yellow River.
Since every line of that strategy had been painstakingly crafted by him in his previous life, writing it now came naturally. All he needed to do was piece together enough references from ancient texts and travel records so that the book would not look as if it had appeared out of thin air.
Thus, during these days, he ran back and forth between the Ministry of Works and the official road construction sites during the day, and spent his nights writing.
As for Qian Rubin, having handed Shu Changyu the lucrative road construction project, he had started trying every possible way to push his nephew—who had only recently bought his way into the military examinations—into General Shu’s camp.
Shu Changyu thought, If I really go ask my father to find your nephew a good position, my father will probably break both my legs and throw me out of the house.
That was what Shu Changyu thought, and he said exactly that to Qian Rubin.
But Qian Rubin simply assumed Shu Changyu was politely brushing him off. So he concluded that Shu Changyu had taken the benefits but refused to help, and spent every day pestering him with hints and pressure.
Eventually, Shu Changyu grew annoyed. He stopped speaking honestly altogether and began playing along, matching deceit with deceit.
By the time Jing Mu had fully recovered and someone from the palace came to summon him back to continue teaching, Shu Changyu was already overwhelmed with work.
So after morning court that day, his mind still occupied with trivial matters like road construction budgets and other tedious details, he absentmindedly followed the old path—and walked straight to the now-empty Luming Palace.
Through the mottled red walls, the tender green willow branches inside the palace looked lush and vibrant, beautiful beyond words.
Shu Changyu stared blankly for a while. When no one came to open the gates for him, he finally realized he had gone the wrong way.
Luming Palace was far from Zhongli Palace, and Shu Changyu did not have permission to ride in sedan chairs inside the palace. By the time he reached Zhongli Palace on foot, he was already fifteen minutes late.
As he stepped through the palace gates, he found the place lively and luxurious.
Palace servants bustled back and forth. The white jade floors were spotless. The courtyard was filled with rare flowers and trees, along with exquisite pavilions and rockeries. Compared to Luming Palace, it was like heaven and earth.
And Jing Mu, dressed in dark brocade robes, stood beside the flowerbeds in the courtyard, teasing a little bird inside a golden cage.
Well now.
Jing Mu had barely moved into a new palace and he was already learning the habits of spoiled young nobles—playing with birds and flowers.
At the sight, Shu Changyu’s already sour mood worsened.
Carrying his book box, he strode straight to Jing Mu’s side and said coldly, “Your Highness seems to be in excellent spirits.”
Jing Mu looked up.
Shu Changyu saw him smiling, bright eyes sparkling as they fixed on him.
For a moment, Shu Changyu found it difficult to endure.
As far as looks went, this youth truly was one in ten thousand.
Emperor Qianning had inherited his features from his mother, with little resemblance to the late emperor. But Jing Mu had inherited the late emperor’s striking, sharp, and resolute features completely.
Now this handsome youth stood among splendor and luxury, smiling with eyes that held only him.
The sight was… almost too beautiful.
Heat rose inexplicably to Shu Changyu’s ears, and his mood became even more irritable.
Then he saw Jing Mu lift the golden birdcage as if presenting a treasure.
“Shifu! Look—Jing Mu caught this especially for you.”
Shu Changyu thought, Giving gifts is one thing, but why give me this sort of frivolous toy? Do I look like some useless dandy who walks around the capital carrying a birdcage?
Thinking so, he frowned and glanced at the cage, preparing to refuse.
But with that single glance, his gaze was hooked by the little creature inside.
It wasn’t some rare exotic bird, but a common silver-throated long-tailed tit often seen in the capital.
The little bird was naturally fluffy and round, with tiny black eyes and a black beak nestled in its face, unbearably adorable. Its wings were so short and tiny they disappeared into its fluff, leaving only its delicate long tail feathers trailing behind.
Shu Changyu stared blankly, listening to the little bird chirp cheerfully at him.
He remembered seeing such a bird in the palace during his previous life.
Back then, Jing Mu had been confined by him to a palace garden, forbidden to leave except once a month for court assembly. One day when Shu Changyu visited him, he had spotted one of these fluffy little birds hopping among the willow branches before vanishing into the leaves.
“What is that?” he had asked, immediately captivated.
The eunuch beside him replied, “Your Excellency, it’s a wild mountain tit. They’re common in the capital. If Your Excellency likes them, this servant can have some caught for you to enjoy.”
He had shaken his head.
“No need. It looks carefree and happy among the branches. Better not imprison it in a cage.”
Then he had laughed.
“It’s so plump and fluffy, yet its wings are so tiny. Hard to believe it can actually fly.”
The eunuch had never seen the Prime Minister look so approachable. He smiled too.
“It’s all fluff, that’s just how the species looks. Flying must be hard work for it.”
Shu Changyu smiled and soon forgot all about it.
What Shu Changyu never knew was that Jing Mu had been inside the hall that day, watching him through the window.
By then, Jing Mu had spent years watching Shu Changyu wear expressions of cold cruelty, ruthless calculation, or false smiles.
But in that moment, as Shu Changyu looked at the little bird on the willow branch, the smile on his face seemed to tear through ten years of bitterness.
Jing Mu saw the old Shu family’s Third Young Master again.
Clouds parted, moonlight shone, and grace returned.
Prime Minister Shu had once more become the Shu Changyu who had never known hatred.
Shu Changyu also never knew that this casual smile had stayed with Jing Mu for years, sustaining him through another decade of loneliness and ultimately driving him to tear through time to bring Shu Changyu back.
Now, listening to the bird’s chirping, Shu Changyu’s heart melted.
He cautiously reached his hand toward the bars.
The little bird curiously tilted its head and lightly pecked his fingertip twice.
The cold-blooded, ruthless Prime Minister Shu’s pupils contracted.
His heart trembled.
Warmth flowed from his fingertips straight into his chest.
Standing to the side, Jing Mu watched the scene and felt warmth bloom in his own heart as well. Smiles spread through his brows and eyes, softening his entire being.
From past life to present, every moment of peace and quiet happiness in his life had been given to him by Shu Changyu.
After a moment, Jing Mu said with a smile, “When leaving Luming Palace that day, Jing Mu saw this little thing hopping among the willow branches and caught it. I thought Shifu’s heart is soft—you would surely like it. It seems this little bird truly has good fortune to win Shifu’s favor.”
Shu Changyu looked up.
He had never seen Jing Mu smile like this before, nor heard this once-wooden youth speak so cleverly.
Indeed.
Attachment from a fledgling bird had to be cut off.
Suppressing the joy in his heart, Shu Changyu straightened his expression and said sternly, “It belonged freely among the trees. Why confine it to this tiny cage?”
Jing Mu understood him too well. With one glance, he saw the joy and delight hidden in Shu Changyu’s eyes.
Jing Mu obediently smiled.
“So Jing Mu kept it for two days as an experiment. It seems this bird loves millet more than freedom. It appears quite content in the cage.”
Then he added meaningfully:
“Shifu only sees the joy of wilderness. But perhaps it prefers this little golden cage.”
Just like in his previous life.
If Jing Mu had truly wanted to, it would have taken little effort to break free from Shu Changyu’s control. But since Shu Changyu needed absolute power to feel secure, Jing Mu had gladly remained a puppet emperor.
To him, being a wise and glorious ruler was nowhere near as appealing as being Shu Changyu’s bird in a cage.
…And if Shu Changyu could not hold onto power and risked being consumed by it, Jing Mu did not mind seizing that power himself and placing it directly into Shu Changyu’s hands.
Jing Mu’s words carried deeper meaning, but Shu Changyu completely missed it.
Instead, he thought, This brat truly lacks ambition. He sounds almost like Emperor Hui of Jin asking, “Why not eat meat porridge?”
Shu Changyu’s face turned cold.
He picked up the cage.
“After lessons, I’ll release this bird for Your Highness. If it values neither freedom nor life, then should it one day die at another’s hands, it will have only itself to blame.”
With that, he entered the study first.
Jing Mu obediently nodded and followed behind.
Watching Shu Changyu’s back, Jing Mu thought with indulgent fondness:
If you like it, then you like it. Why hide it? Today it’s only a bird. If you want it, one day I’ll pluck down the stars and moon for you.
Why should anyone care what the bird itself thinks?
Jing Mu basked in his own sweet happiness, utterly ignoring Shu Changyu’s inner frustration.
The consequence was that after lessons that day, Shu Changyu assigned Jing Mu an unprecedented amount of copying and written explanation homework—all to be completed before the next lesson.
Jing Mu still had daily martial training every afternoon. With this added work, restful sleep would be impossible tonight.
After assigning the homework, Shu Changyu ignored Jing Mu’s reaction entirely and left with the birdcage in hand.
A young eunuch from Zhongli Palace followed behind carrying Shu Changyu’s book box. Once they reached the palace gates, the eunuch stepped closer and asked:
“Lord Shu, would you like this servant to release the bird for you?”
The little bird in the cage seemed to understand. It chirped twice.
Hearing the bird’s cry, Shu Changyu lowered his gaze and looked at it.
Then he smiled at the eunuch.
“This little thing probably doesn’t want to go out and starve. I suppose I’ll trouble myself with raising it.”
Author’s Note:
Shu Changyu: “I suppose I’ll trouble myself with raising this little thing.”
Jing Mu: “Please trouble yourself, Shifu. I need taming too. (:」∠)_”