On the wedding day, my wife was abnormal

As they were talking, Murong Yan suddenly coughed a few times. Lin Zhen immediately patted her back nervously and brought her some warm water to drink.

Murong Yan took a few sips from his hand, caught her breath, and smiled somewhat embarrassedly: "It's nothing, I just talked too much."

Seeing her pale face, Lin Zhen's eyes were filled with heartache, and she said softly, "Alright, let's put these things aside for now. You should rest. I'll stay with you for a while."

Murong Yan nodded obediently and lay back down. Lin Zhen carefully tucked her in and then pulled the black and gold mink shawl over her shoulders.

The room was quiet for a moment, with only the occasional crackling of the charcoal fire and the soft patter of snow falling outside the window.

Meanwhile, thousands of miles away in the northern desert city of Longcheng, a completely different world exists.

A bitter cold enveloped the grassland, and the north wind howled.

Inside a tent belonging to the prince consort, which was much more spacious and warmer than an ordinary felt tent, eleven-year-old Kong Zhiqian was kneeling on a felt mat, reading a tattered copy of "The Art of War" that had flowed from the Central Plains, by the dim light of a butter lamp.

His northern-style fur robe could not completely conceal his Central Plains features, but his originally youthful face was now etched with a gloom and coldness that did not match his age.

In just a few months, he was like a piece of iron thrown into the freezer, quickly becoming cold and hard.

He desperately learned everything that could make him stronger: the language of the northern deserts, horsemanship and archery, swordsmanship, and even began to delve into military strategy. The Left Wise King, Uwei, seemed quite pleased with his "ambition" and sent special warriors and scholars to teach him.

His nominal wife, eight-year-old Princess Saren, was mostly accompanied by her nanny. Occasionally, she would curiously glance at her taciturn "little husband," but the two hardly ever interacted.

The tent flap was lifted, and a blast of cold air rushed in. The merchant Ashina Luo walked in, wearing his usual seemingly hearty smile: "Your Highness, still studying hard?"

Kong Zhiqian raised his eyes, his gaze calm and unwavering, and simply nodded slightly: "Uncle Ashina Luo."

Ashina Luo leaned closer and lowered his voice: "There's news coming from the south, about that empress."

Kong Zhiqian's fingers, which were turning the pages of the book, suddenly stopped, and his knuckles turned slightly white.

He raised his head, his dark eyes flashing with a wolf-like light, but his voice was unusually calm and restrained: "She's dead?"

Ashina Luo shook his head and chuckled, "No, not at all. I heard he was ill for a while, but he seems to have recovered. Moreover, he and Lin Zhen, the regent of the Great Qian Dynasty, are very much in love and inseparable."

With a soft "crack," the bamboo scroll in Kong Zhiqian's hand was actually cracked by his grip! The muscles on his face twitched slightly, and his eyes surged with overwhelming hatred and a twisted jealousy that even he himself did not realize.

Why?

Why is it that he, Murong Yan, has his family destroyed and is left to eke out a living in this desolate land, while the woman who ordered the massacre of his entire city can enjoy honor and a loving marriage?!

He took a deep breath, forcibly suppressing his churning blood, and gently set down the cracked bamboo slip. His voice was as cold as the ice outside the tent: "The better she lives, the more interesting it will be when I take her life with my own hands in the future."

Ashina Luo, seeing the chilling hatred in his eyes, nodded with satisfaction: "It's good that you have such ambition, Prince Consort! The Left Wise King said there will be a major operation after spring. Prepare yourself well; the day of revenge is not far off!"

After Ashina Luo left, the tent returned to silence.

Kong Zhiqian walked to the edge of the tent, lifted a corner of the curtain, and looked out at the boundless grassland covered in ice and snow, and the blurry outline of the royal court's golden-roofed tent in the distance. The cold wind blew against his youthful yet icy face.

"Murong Yan, Lin Zhen." He faced south, using all his strength to swear in a low voice, each word carrying the stench of blood and tears, "You wait, it won't be long before I lead the iron cavalry of the Northern Desert back and crush everything you cherish into dust!"

The snow fell heavier and heavier, covering the grassland and seemingly trying to erase all traces and sounds.

......

The Great Qian Empire, Chang'an City, Zichen Palace.

It was deep winter, and the chill of the year-end enveloped the capital. However, deep within the palace, there was a sense of busyness and celebration due to the upcoming New Year's Day ceremony.

Inside the warm room, the underfloor heating made it as cozy as spring, a world apart from the biting cold outside.

Murong Yan sat upright on the phoenix chair, with a long table in front of her piled high with memorials awaiting approval.

She had been attending to state affairs for several days, and her complexion was much better than before. Although there was still a trace of post-illness weariness between her brows, her eyes had regained their former sharpness and majesty.

That black and gold Suzhou brocade cotton nightgown—the Phoenix Descends to Earth Dress—was still her nightgown that she never parted with.

Under the warm light of the palace lanterns, the dark Suzhou brocade fabric flowed with a serene, abyss-like luster. The woven gold cotton and the dark phoenix pattern embroidered with gold thread reflected a restrained and dignified golden radiance with her subtle movements as she intently reviewed the documents.

The black and gold sable shawl was not worn because of the warmth inside the hall, but was neatly draped on a beautiful sandalwood clothes rack with a peacock holding a lingzhi mushroom next to the phoenix chair.

A five-zhang-long Suzhou brocade train cascaded down from the high base of the phoenix chair, spreading out a beautiful expanse of dark gold brocade on the smooth gold brick floor.

Because she had been sitting upright for a long time, the hem of her skirt naturally piled up, forming several gentle folds. Some of these folds even meandered down to the throne, and a few even slipped to the edge of the thick plush carpet, intertwining with the intricate lotus pattern on the carpet. This created a natural and casual messiness, a result of her being so focused on state affairs that she had no time to think about anything else.

The wide, flared sleeves, one hanging softly at her side with gold tassels brushing the ground at the edge, and the other she used to slightly support her arm leaning against the table.

The black jade thumb ring on her left hand, when she held the vermilion brush to write red annotations, reflected the warm, smooth brush handle, gleaming with a deep, mysterious luster.

Lin Zhen sat on a rosewood armchair not far below her, holding a document in her hand, but her gaze often fell on Murong Yan, paying attention to her complexion and condition.

The room was quiet, with only the soft crackling of the charcoal fire and the scratching of the red brush across the paper.

After a long while, Murong Yan put down her vermilion brush, gently rubbed her temples, and let out a barely audible sigh.

Lin Zhen immediately noticed, put down the document in his hand, got up and walked to her side, and asked softly, "Yan'er, are you tired? Take a rest for a while."

As he spoke, he naturally handed her a cup of warm ginseng tea.

Murong Yan raised her head and looked at him, a hint of dependence in her eyes. She took the teacup, took a small sip, and said in a slightly coquettish tone, "I am a little tired of these censors. Their memorials are full of the same old clichés. It's a headache to read them."

She gently leaned her head against Lin Zhen's arm.

"My husband has a much easier time; he only needs to look at important military reports for me."

Lin Zhen chuckled and gently tidied a stray hair at her temple, saying softly, "The capable are always given more work. My Empress is wise and powerful, so naturally she has to work harder."

He continued in a doting tone.

"If you are really tired, go and rest on the couch for a while, and I will take care of the rest for you."

“That won’t do,” Murong Yan straightened up, shook her head, her phoenix eyes filled with determination. “There are many complicated matters at the end of the year, especially the border deployment and the arrangement of provisions and pay, which are related to the stability of the coming year. I need to personally review them to feel at ease.”

She paused, her tone turning concerned, "As for you, have there been any new developments in the Northern Frontier lately? And that Kong family member in the Desert North, have he caused any more trouble?"

Mentioning this matter, Lin Zhen's expression hardened slightly. He sat down on the footstool next to Murong Yan so that he could look her in the eye and said in a low voice:

"I was just about to tell you. 'Night Owl' has just sent back a secret report: the Northern Desert Royal Court is unusually quiet this winter. All the tribal leaders are staying around Dragon City, with few large-scale hunts or troop movements. As for that Kong Zhiqian..."

Murong Yan put down her teacup, her gaze becoming focused: "How is he?"