I was a prince in the Middle East

Chapter 21 Safety is the greatest luxury!

Upon hearing this, Walid's face turned green instantly!

What does it mean to "not want to harm others"?
Countless terrifying thoughts flashed through his mind in an instant.

Venereal disease? Syphilis? AIDS?!
What the hell!

Did Turki really go this far in America?!

I've been infected?!

This is just too much...

Almost reflexively, he shuffled away, his bottom brushing against the sand, instinctively trying to create some distance, his eyes filled with undisguised terror.

Turki, who was immersed in some kind of grief and indignation and was about to continue to express his feelings, was stunned by Walid's sudden, avoidance actions and eyes.

He paused, frowned, and asked in confusion, "Hey! You kid... what do you mean by this?"

Walid felt uneasy under his gaze and quickly waved his hand, speaking rapidly to explain, trying to express his understanding and support.
"No...it's okay! Brother, I understand! I completely understand! Really!"
With modern medicine being so advanced, there is hope for controlling any disease!

We're not short of money! Right?
Even if... well, there's no cure, you can still live with the illness and manage it as a chronic disease!

With active treatment and a calm mindset, everything will be alright!

The Chinese doctors who helped me wake up with acupuncture last time were really good..."

He racked his brains for words of comfort.

Turki was completely bewildered for several seconds before he finally realized what Walid was rambling on about.

A surge of anger, feeling deeply insulted, rushed straight to my head!
His face flushed red, and he jumped up, nearly smashing the bottle in his hand, roaring:
"Bullshit! You're the one with an STD!"

I'm perfectly healthy! I don't even have a single bout of athlete's foot!

Lao Tzu was saying he didn't want his marriage partner to be a widow!

This time, Walid was completely dumbfounded.

He stared, mouth agape, at the furious Turki, his mind blank for a moment.

"Shou...shou widowed? What's going on? What does that mean?"

He couldn't connect the "widowhood" with Turki's previous speculations about "not wanting to harm others" and "sexually transmitted diseases."

Turki glared at Walid, then opened two more bottles of "Lucky Saints," shoving one into Walid's hand and taking a big gulp of the other himself.

He remained silent for a while, as if organizing his thoughts or gathering his courage.

Then, he turned his head, looking at Walid with a half-smile, a hint of amusement and scrutiny, and posed an even more weighty question.
"Do you think... your car accident back then was an accident... or was it intentional?"

The sudden shift in the topic sent a chill down Walid's spine.

He composed himself, his emotions having been swayed by the earlier misunderstanding, and his eyes sharpened.

He slowly shook his head. "I don't know."

He paused for a moment, seemingly recalling the disaster that changed his fate.
"All official investigations and all the evidence points to an accident."

The other party was driving under the influence of alcohol and is fully responsible. But…

He raised his head to meet Turki's gaze. "I personally believe it was...man-made."

Turki nodded, seemingly unsurprised by the answer.

He said: "What are your reasons? Tell me how you feel, or... what you suspect?"

Walid frowned, somewhat hesitant.

Seeing that he hesitated to speak, Turki sneered.
"What's so hard to say? Afraid of offending people? Then let me help you clarify the timeline!"

He counted on his fingers, his voice as cold as ice, "In March 2005, His Majesty King Fahd fell seriously ill and was on the verge of death."

In July, you were involved in that 'accidental' heavy truck collision in Riyadh, and almost met your maker on the spot.

August……"

He paused, then emphasized, "Abdullah has ascended the throne!"

Walid shrugged, his face expressionless. "Personally, I don't think... it was His Majesty King Abdullah who did it."

Turki scoffed, his tone clearly mocking.
"Nonsense! I never said it was him who did it!"
He had already been the powerful crown prince for a full ten years!

With deep roots and extremely high prestige!
Does he need to mess with you, you little bastard?
What were you back then?
A young, blond-haired kid who just turned 18, relying on his family's money and connections, and who spends all his time racing cars and chasing girls!
What good would it do to mess with you, besides angering your father and getting himself into trouble?
He doesn't need it at all!

Walid remained silent.

Turki's analysis is ruthless, but also realistic.

Back then, in my youth, I was probably not even an important piece on the chessboard of the struggle for the crown prince position.

Was it really an accident?

Even if he were a time traveler, he wouldn't be able to judge this matter.

but……

There aren't that many accidents in this world!

Turki looked at him in silence, then let out a low, strange "heh-heh" laugh, which sounded somewhat eerie in the quiet desert.

"So, the one who truly has the motive to kill you..."

He leaned closer to Walid, lowering his voice as if afraid the wind would hear.
"Only people from our 'Sudri faction'!"
Because Abdullah never intended to appoint someone from the Sudri faction as crown prince!

Turki's eyes sharpened like an eagle's. "My father and his brothers were all born in the 30s."

Abdullah had already proposed several middle-aged candidates born in the 50s, citing the reason that "the successor should not be too old."

Your father, Prince Khalid bin Talal, is on that list! And he's ranked very high up!
What’s more…”

Turki paused, then gave Walid a mocking look. "You should also know that your grandfather, Prince Talal, was once... also a crown prince."

Walid could only sigh upon hearing this.

What else can we do but sigh?

As the old saying goes, if you don't court death, you won't die.

His grandfather, Prince Talal, was indeed the most radical liberal elder in the royal family and a leading figure in royal reform.

Or rather, the highest banner in decades.

His proposals in 1960 included drafting a constitution, establishing a parliament, limiting royal power, promoting constitutional monarchy, women's education, and social welfare...

The “Free Prince” movement, which embodies these ideals, is a key historical marker for understanding the reform genes within the Saudi royal family.

But the question is, whose revolution was he trying to overthrow at that time?

He himself was the crown prince from 60 to 62!
The king at the time, his brother, Saud bin Abdul, was deposed in 1964 by the Royal Council, which could no longer tolerate him.

What kind of earth-shattering reform can't wait two years until you're actually in that position and have real power before you implement it?
Why did he have to be so eager to attack the entire traditional system while still a crown prince?
The results of it?
After all the reforms, he ended up in exile, forced to flee to Syria to establish some kind of anti-Israel resistance front.

The peaches were taken away.

Although he was later pardoned and returned to China, he was stripped of all his powerful positions.

For the rest of his life, he could only appear in public on important holidays, playing the role of a symbolic mascot until his death in 2018.

Turki's eyes were fixed on Walid's reaction.

"As you saw, in July 2005, you had an 'accident' and became a vegetable!"
Your father was heartbroken and devastated by the loss of his beloved son. From that time on, he basically withdrew from the core of power and lost interest in politics!
The Talal faction, the most promising force that Abdullah could support to counterbalance the Sudri faction, has been rendered useless!

Walid's face turned completely cold, and his eyes became icy and piercing.

He stared at Turki: "So, you know who did it?"

Turki shrugged, as if he'd heard the funniest joke, and exclaimed, "I know nothing!"

He reverted to his usual nonchalant demeanor. "Everyone is a suspect! But one thing is certain..."

He stopped joking and said firmly, "It definitely wasn't my dad or my Uncle Ahmed who did it!"

Walid looked at him coldly, "You said something perfectly correct but utterly useless."

In 2005, the second son of the Sudri Seven, Sultan (then Crown Prince and Minister of Defense), the third son, Nayef (then Minister of the Interior), the fourth son, Ratan (Deputy Minister of Defense), and the fifth son, Turki (Deputy Minister of the Interior), were all still alive.

Each of them held high positions of power and their influence was deeply entrenched.

In comparison, the sixth son, Salman (then a high-ranking official in Riyadh), and the seventh son, Ahmed (then Deputy Minister of the Interior), were truly insignificant figures in the power structure within the Sudri faction at the time.

The two exchanged a glance, both seeing a hint of absurdity and helplessness in each other's eyes, and couldn't help but let out a few carefree, dry laughs at the same time.

The laughter echoed through the empty desert, sounding particularly jarring and desolate.

Walid's smile vanished, and he rolled his eyes at Turki, annoyed. "So, brother, what does this have to do with your marriage 'harming' people and leaving them 'widowed'?!"

He simply couldn't understand the logical connection between the two events.

Turki slowly shook his head, his expression turning unusually serious: "No, you're wrong, Walid. Utterly wrong."

He leaned forward slightly, his gaze becoming deep and heavy.
"Do you know that from 2003 to 2005..."

"In those three years when the struggle for the crown prince was at its most intense, how many young princes between the ages of 15 and 30 died within the royal family?" Walid was stunned.

This question is too abrupt, too specific, and too...

It's eerie.

With tens of thousands of members in the Saudi royal family, it's perfectly normal for dozens or even hundreds to die each year.

In this group that lives a life of extravagance and indulgence, it doesn't seem too surprising that two or three hundred people die every year.

but!

Turki specifically emphasized "15-30 years old" and "young prince"!
This age group is the future hope of the royal family and the core of the next generation that various factions are striving to cultivate!
This restriction itself exudes a strong sense of foreboding!

Without waiting for Walid's reply, Turki continued in an almost cold, accounting-like tone, each number like a block of ice striking Walid's heart:

"Leaving aside those who died from late-stage cancer, drug overdoses... well, about nine people, these are considered 'normal' deaths."

"Thirty-one people died in various bizarre 'air crashes.' Private planes crashed, helicopters crashed..."

"Seventeen people died from sudden heart attacks. They were usually full of energy, but suddenly they collapsed."

"Five people died in skiing accidents at different ski resorts in different countries. Some fell to their deaths, some crashed into trees, and some fell into ice crevasses..."

"There are still 26 people..."

Turki's voice trailed off, "They died in all sorts of 'car accidents.' Rear-end collisions, tire blowouts, head-on collisions... all sorts of things."

His gaze lingered on Walid's face for a few seconds, a half-smile on his face. "The death toll in this car accident should have been 27."

The implication is self-evident.

Walid felt a chill run from the soles of his feet straight to the top of his head!
He gave a bitter laugh, his voice hoarse, "So... I'm just lucky?"

Turki nodded. "A dump truck and a car collided at full speed, and you still survived. You can only say you're lucky."

Walid slowly shook his head. "It also proves that Volvo's quality is truly excellent! Safety is the greatest luxury!"

Turki was amused by his dry humor.

Walid, however, could no longer laugh.

The long string of cold numbers that Turki had just recited lingered in his mind like a venomous snake.

31+17+5+26=79人！
In just three years, 79 young members of the royal family, in the prime of their lives and full of potential, died tragically!
This is no coincidence!

Turki's voice rang out again, its calm surface concealing immense grief and anger.
"This includes my eldest brother Fahd bin Salman, and my second brother Ahmed bin Salman."

Walid's heart sank.

He knew that Turki had two older brothers who died young, but he never went into the details.

A deep pain flashed in Turki's eyes.

“In July 2001, my elder brother Fahd, who was always in excellent health, as strong as a camel, and rarely even caught a cold, suddenly suffered a heart attack and died in his room.”

The subsequent autopsy...detected a lethal dose of digoxin!

(A type of cardiac glycoside drug; overdose can be fatal)
His voice trembled with suppressed emotion, “In July 2002, my second brother, Ahmed, was piloting a small private plane when it crashed.”

The subsequent investigation revealed that...the aircraft's hydraulic system piping ruptured, causing the loss of control!

He took a deep breath, as if to suppress his surging emotions, and his voice became even colder.

"And coincidentally, the other princes who died of 'heart disease' and 'plane crash' in those years also had highly 'consistent' causes of death when investigated afterward."

Either a lethal dose of digoxin was detected, or there was a rupture in a critical hydraulic system line on the aircraft!

Walid gasped.

That's way too brutal! They didn't even bother to change their methods!
Turki shrugged, his face filled with a weariness and desolation that suggested he had seen through the ways of the world.
"Those years were the time when the infighting among the various factions over the position of crown prince was the most intense and they used every means possible."

Everyone's resorting to underhanded tactics, and their target... is the future of the family!

They are the most promising and outstanding young generation in each branch!
Everyone knows that the tradition of 'brother succeeding brother' cannot continue indefinitely.

Ultimately, it comes down to who has the most outstanding children.

Therefore, eliminating them beforehand will sever the foundation of their faction!

He looked at Walid with a complicated expression, "Oh, by the way, even though you're young, you probably know this too."

Actually... you have two older brothers, right?

Walid's body stiffened almost imperceptibly, and he slowly nodded.

That was the deepest scar in his parents' hearts.

"They...didn't even reach adulthood."

Turki's voice carried a hint of sympathy, but more so a sorrowful lament of shared misfortune.

“You’re lucky, Walid, you survived. The price is seven years in a vegetative state, but at least… you’re still alive.”

Walid fell completely silent.

The moonlight shone on him, but it brought him no warmth whatsoever.

His older brother, Rashid, was not yet three years old when he was bitten to death by a highly venomous desert viper in the heavily guarded royal gardens...

The second brother, Mutala, 15 years old, died of food poisoning at a banquet after attending a religious event...

Subsequent testing revealed the presence of ricin.

At the time, everyone believed that this was a targeted killing of a pro-American secular Sunni prince by Shia extremists.

But now, considering the darkness revealed by Turki, and recalling the timeline before my own time travel, when the two sides went through the accounts during the reconciliation to the point of questioning their existence, only to discover in the end that it was all the work of the CIA…

Walid felt a chill penetrate to his very bones.

This pool of water was deeper, more murky, and more bloody than he had imagined!
He now fully understands Turki's ideas.

I don't want to get married, not because of my sexual orientation.

It's not because I'm sick.

It's because Turki knew all too well what kind of vortex he was in!
He knew all too well how fragile life was for a core prince in the enormous storm of a change of royal power!
Today you may be full of vigor and high spirits, but tomorrow you may die in a carefully planned "accident".

This constant fear of uncertainty is ever-present.

Faced with such enormous uncertainty, Turki chose a passive form of "protection".

If you don't get married, you won't have a wife;
Without a wife, there would be no widow;

Without children, there would be no orphans who lose their fathers.

He didn't want to implicate innocent people, nor did he want another woman to repeat the tragic fate of the widows in the royal palace.

Compared to those princes who indulged in pleasure, lived a life of debauchery, and used instant gratification to numb themselves, Turki's almost "Puritanical" choice made him the biggest outlier in this distorted environment.

It is also... a heavy responsibility.

A complex mix of emotions welled up within Walid.

There is admiration, there is sympathy, but more than anything, there is a cold understanding of this cruel world.

He silently picked up the bottle and clashed it heavily with the one in Turki's hand again.

"when!"

The crisp sound was exceptionally clear in the silent desert.

The two men remained silent, tilted their heads back, and drank the remaining non-alcoholic beer in the bottle in one gulp.

The icy liquid slid down my throat, but it couldn't wash away the thick, overwhelming taste of blood and the heavy feeling.

Turki put down the empty wine bottle, looked up again at the cold, round moon in the sky, and his eyes became somewhat vacant.

After a long pause, he said calmly, "Walid, if... I mean if."

He paused, then said, "If my father can sit in that position, then I don't want the crown prince position."

The position of Crown Prince belongs to my brother, Muhammad.

All I want are the wealth, property, and lands that belonged to my father before he ascended the throne.

That's my share as the youngest son, the share of the hearth guardian that I'm entitled to according to the tribe's thousand-year-old tradition.

He turned his head slightly, refocusing his gaze on Walid's face.
"And if... if my father hadn't taken that position... he would have been summoned by Allah."

He uttered the word with difficulty, "Then all his wealth, titles, influence..."

It should all be inherited by me, the only legitimate son. This is the law of the tribe. You…”

His gaze, tinged with a tension and anticipation he himself was unaware of, was fixed on Walid's face, as if seeking an ally, an endorsement of this ancient law...

Or it could be agreement.

"You...you don't have any objections, do you?"

(End of this chapter)