On the wedding day, my wife was abnormal

Lin Zhen picked up the teacup and took a sip. The tea was fragrant and refreshing, with a sweet aftertaste. He smiled slightly, looking at her softly, "The tea brewed by Yan'er herself is naturally excellent. I only feel the fragrance lingering on my teeth and cheeks, and my mind is at peace."

He put down the teacup, stretched out his hand naturally, and covered her hand on the low table, his fingertips gently stroking the knuckles of her finger wearing the black jade ring.

Murong Yan let him hold her hand, the corners of her mouth slightly raised, revealing a very faint but real smile.

She held his hand with her backhand, and gently stroked his palm with her fingertips, but her eyes gradually drifted away and fell on the setting sun outside the window.

The warmth inside the hall forms a subtle contrast with the approaching darkness outside the window.

"The wind from the north seems to be getting stronger," she said softly, her tone expressing neither joy nor anger, as if she were talking about the weather.

Lin Zhen held her hand tightly and spoke in a steady voice, "Well, the scouts reported that the Tatar tribes were frequently mobilized, and the Bater Royal Court has been holding meetings frequently recently. It seems that they are determined to move south."

He paused, looked at her,

"Yan'er, everything is ready according to your plan. The front line of Zhenbei Pass has well-trained soldiers and sufficient food, and we are just waiting for the king's order."

Murong Yan withdrew her gaze and returned it to his face, her eyes deep: "Are you afraid, my husband?"

Lin Zhen met her gaze without the slightest evasion, his tone firm: "With Yan'er here, what does your husband have to fear? Even if there are thousands of troops, your husband is willing to be Yan'er's vanguard, to kill the generals and seize the flag."

His words were full of trust in her and the pride of a military commander, but there was also a subtle worry for her safety.

Murong Yan looked at him quietly for a moment, then suddenly, she leaned forward, put her arms around his neck, and rested her head on his shoulder.

The wide bell sleeves fell and brushed against his back. This hug was filled with dependence and an unquestionable possession.

"I know you're not afraid." She whispered in his ear, her breath warm, "but I don't want you to get hurt."

Her voice was soft, yet it carried a heavy weight. "Even if it's just a minor injury, I'll be very unhappy."

This is more of a paranoid declaration than a love statement.

Her possession of him extended to her absolute demand for his physical integrity.

Lin Zhen's heart was throbbing. He put his arm around her waist and held her tightly. "I will be careful. For Yan'er, I will also protect myself."

Murong Yan rubbed his shoulder gently, like a cat confirming its ownership.

After a while, she stood up and her eyes fell on a place not far from the couch where stood a rosewood sword stand, on which lay a long sword with an ancient shape and a chilling aura - that was Lin Zhen's sword "Pojun".

She stood up and walked to the sword rack with her five-meter-long tail.

She stretched out her right hand wearing the black jade ring and gently stroked the cold scabbard, her fingertips moving slowly along the ancient patterns on it.

"This sword has been with my husband for many years, right?" she asked softly, her eyes focused.

"Yes," Lin Zhen also stood up and walked to her side, "I have been with my husband through life and death, and drank countless blood."

Murong Yan turned around and faced him, her eyes extremely serious: "Before we go to war, I want to personally wipe my husband's sword."

Lin Zhen was stunned. For an emperor to wipe a general's sword was a great honor, but it also carried a heavy burden.

He looked at the unyielding persistence in her eyes, and a complex warmth and sense of responsibility welled up in his heart.

"Okay." He responded in a deep voice.

Murong Yan ordered someone to bring the tools needed to wipe the sword: white silk, deerskin, and special sword maintenance oil.

She dismissed all the palace servants and personally took the sword from its holder. The sword was quite heavy, but she held it steady.

She walked back to the couch, holding the sword, and motioned for Lin Zhen to sit down. Then, she herself knelt on the soft Persian carpet in front of the couch!

The five-meter-long dark golden tail behind her was like a blooming dark golden lotus, covering the ground around her.

She placed the sword horizontally on the white silk and began to wipe and oil the blade with extreme concentration and meticulousness.

Her movements were still unfamiliar, even a little clumsy, far inferior to those of the skilled swordsman.

But her expression was solemn as if she was performing the most sacred ceremony.

The black jade ring on the fingertip occasionally collided with the scabbard, making a crisp sound.

She carefully rolled up her wide bell sleeves to avoid getting them stained by oil.

The afterglow of the setting sun shone on her lowered face, and her long eyelashes cast a faint shadow. Her focused look was completely different from her usual decisiveness, but it had a unique kind of captivating charm.

Lin Zhen sat on the couch, his eyes lowered as he gazed at her. He saw her hands, those hands that held the power of life and death, stained with countless blood, now carefully, even with a hint of piety, serving his weapon.

This strong contrast filled his chest with an indescribable, full emotion.

This was more than compensation; it was a branding, a symbolic act that bound her will to his power.

It took a long time for Murong Yan to finish polishing her sword. The blade was polished to a cold gleam, reflecting her calm expression. She lifted the sword with both hands and handed it to Lin Zhen.

"My husband," she looked up at him, her eyes clear and firm, "this sword will accompany you north. I will await your triumphant return here."

Her voice was not loud, but it was full of power.

Lin Zhen solemnly took the sword with both hands. The moment his fingertips touched the hilt, he seemed to be able to feel the warmth and strength transmitted from her hands.

He knelt on one knee, looking her in the eye, holding the sword in one hand and her slightly cold hand in the other, and swore a solemn oath: "Don't worry, Yan'er, the sword is with me. I will live up to your trust and quell the flames of war in Mobei beyond the Great Wall!"

Murong Yan looked at him, a faint glimmer of light flashed in her eyes, but it quickly disappeared.

She reached out, lightly brushing her fingertips along the cold lines on the hilt, and whispered, "I don't want you to be so stubborn. If things are impossible, come back. I can give up Mobei, but I can't live without you."

These words, spoken from the mouth of an ambitious emperor, are powerful enough to shake the mountains and rivers.

Lin Zhen's heart was shaken. He pulled her into his arms and hugged her tightly. "I know. I will come back alive and well, back to Yan'er."

The two hugged each other for a moment, and the setting sun finally sank completely into the horizon, and the light in the hall dimmed.

Murong Yan gently pushed him away and stood up.

She walked to the window and looked at the rising stars outside. Her back seemed a little thin in the twilight, but the dark gold color of her phoenix dress exuded a restrained and powerful aura in the dark night.

Suddenly, she turned around!

The action carries a sense of determination!

The light and elegant five-meter-long Su Jin train was suddenly lifted up by the swift turn, and the huge dark golden skirt unfolded like a battle flag blown by the night wind, sweeping across the smooth ground with a swish!

As the hem of the skirt suddenly floated up, the "gold woven all over the ground" lining was revealed, which became more and more dazzling in the twilight!

The pattern of a hundred phoenixes and rising sun on the inner lining seemed to glow by itself in the darkness, with golden light flowing, noble and dazzling, as if foreshadowing the upcoming journey set against a backdrop of blood and fire after the quiet dusk!

The skirt fell, and the brilliance was concealed in the deep darkness.

Murong Yan walked back to Lin Zhen step by step, looking up at him from a very close distance, her eyes bright and shocking in the darkness: "My husband, please stay with me tonight."

Her tone was not an invitation, but a command, with an eagerness to confirm each other's existence before separation.

Lin Zhen did not answer, but responded with action.

He leaned over, picked her up and carried her sideways, walking towards the large phoenix couch in the depths of the bedroom.

Murong Yan snuggled obediently in his arms, her arms wrapped around his neck, and the long tail behind her slid silently across the ground like inky golden water.

That night, the warmth in Fenghuan Palace was tinged with the color of farewell before the Northern Expedition, but it was also more passionate and deeper into the bone marrow.

Murong Yan's "service" is no longer a clumsy massage or serving tea, but a more intimate and unreserved way, dedicating all of her, her warmth, her breath, and everything she has to her only "husband".