Unfortunately, Lin Jiayan wasn’t exactly fast.
Even fueled by indignation, she had merely transformed from a slow-moving snail into a hurried snail.
Chahar strolled leisurely behind her, completely unhurried. He even had time to stop and chat with passing herders.
By the time she reached her tent, Lin Jiayan was already out of breath. But she refused to show weakness. Gritting her teeth, she turned her head and shot Chahar a sidelong glare.
“I’m home now, Taiji. Thank you for escorting me back. There’s no need to see yourself out.”
Before he could reply, she lifted the curtain, stepped inside, and slammed the door shut behind her.
Quite a temper.
Chahar stroked his chin, the corners of his lips curling into an unreadable smile before he turned and walked away.
Only the father and his two sons remained in the tent.
“You’re back. Did you take her home safely?” Bulehumu asked in a deep voice as Chahar lifted his robe and sat down.
“Yes.”
“Chahar, what do you think of this Southern princess?” Bulehumu stroked his beard thoughtfully, his gaze unreadable. “The Southern emperor sent her here—but what is his true intention? Is this a sincere gesture of peace, or is there some hidden scheme behind it?”
Chahar recalled the frightened look in her eyes from the previous night.
They reminded him of a fawn trembling beneath his hunting knife.
“I don’t know,” he replied, “but I don’t think she’s a spy planted by the Southern emperor.”
“Mmm… You’ve handled things well. Keep your distance from her for now and let her cool her heels.”
As if recalling something, Bulehumu’s lips curved into a teasing smile.
“What do you think of Princess Qingyang’s appearance?”
Chahar looked at his father in surprise but answered honestly.
“She’s very beautiful.”
“Hahaha! You’re an honest boy.”
Bulehumu burst into hearty laughter.
“If the princess proves innocent, then you’ve truly stumbled into good fortune and gained yourself a beautiful wife for free.”
The two brothers exchanged helpless glances at their father’s shameless teasing.
Back in her tent, Lin Jiayan lay face-down on the bed, pounding her fists against the wooden frame until it echoed with loud thuds.
That prince of the grasslands was infuriating.
Driving her out on their wedding night was one thing. But then he had deliberately watched her get lost and embarrass herself, leaving her to become the subject of everyone’s amusement.
Ever since arriving in this completely unfamiliar world, she had been walking on eggshells.
Every step she took, every word she spoke, filled her with anxiety.
She was terrified of offending these fearsome warriors—people who seemed capable of ending her life with the flick of a finger.
Thinking back on how she had impulsively barged into their family gathering and made the atmosphere unbearably awkward, only to be mocked by Chahar afterward…
Everyone laughed at her.
And she was the biggest joke of all.
At last, she could hold back her tears no longer.
They spilled down her cheeks as she buried her face in the bedding, her shoulders trembling silently.
By the time the sun dipped below the horizon and dusk settled over the grasslands, Lianxin entered carrying a lamp.
Seeing Lin Jiayan lying motionless on the bed, she stepped forward and gently woke her.
“Hmm?”
Lin Jiayan looked up blankly.
Her eyes were so swollen from crying that they resembled peaches, barely able to open more than a slit.
“Princess!”
Lianxin gasped when she saw her.
“What happened to you?”
Lin Jiayan covered her eyes with the back of her hand. After crying all afternoon, her voice was hoarse and muffled.
“It’s nothing. I got bitten by mosquitoes. They swelled up a bit.”
Lianxin tactfully chose not to expose her lie.
She assumed the princess had been hurt by Chahar’s cold treatment and had hidden herself away to grieve.
“Princess, it’s time to eat.”
Knowing Lin Jiayan wasn’t accustomed to the local hand-grabbed mutton dishes, Lianxin had specially prepared a bowl of millet and lotus seed porridge for her.
“Thank you.”
Lin Jiayan took the spoon and stirred the porridge listlessly.
Just then, someone knocked at the door.
Lianxin went to open it.
“Have you eaten yet? I brought some food.”
It was Chahar.
Lin Jiayan immediately turned her back to him, afraid he would see her swollen eyes.
“The princess is eating already.”
Lianxin accepted the food box from his hands, secretly thinking that the prince consort still had some conscience after all.
Chahar stepped inside and noticed that Lin Jiayan kept turning away from him.
Still angry? It’s already been an entire afternoon. How can someone stay angry for so long?
“Taiji, the food has been delivered. It’s getting late—you should return and rest.”
Her voice sounded muffled and hoarse.
“Why is your voice hoarse? Did you catch a cold?”
As he spoke, Chahar leaned closer, trying to see her face.
Startled, Lin Jiayan sprang from her stool, covered her face with both hands, scrambled onto the bed, and hid beneath the blankets.
“That’s right. I’m not feeling well and can’t properly entertain you, Taiji. Please go back.”
Scratching his head, Chahar glanced at the silent Lianxin, who stood with her eyes lowered.
“Then get some rest. I’ll leave now.”
Only after hearing his footsteps fade away did Lin Jiayan cautiously peek out from beneath the covers.
Sigh… when will this kind of life ever end?
After that, Chahar didn’t appear again for more than ten days.
Lin Jiayan enjoyed an unexpected period of peace and quiet.
Every day, she either slept or sat outside the tent in a daze.
She felt like a lonely old woman living by herself, only a few steps away from senility.
“Eji!”
A Ming came running over.
These days, he was the only one who visited her regularly.
Lin Jiayan often found little trinkets among her belongings to entertain him with. His cheerful chatter helped pass the time.
“Have you finished all your candy already?”
she asked with a smile.
A Ming shook his head seriously.
“My mother asked me to bring you over.”
Lin Jiayan sat up straighter.
Ever since the family banquet, she had stayed hidden away and hadn’t seen them again.
Now they were suddenly asking for her—she couldn’t help wondering why.
“What’s the matter? Did something happen?”
“Mother is making milk tea. She wants you to join her.”
A Ming led her to the golden tent.
Several women surrounded Dulan, chatting and laughing as they brewed milk tea.
“Yanyan, you’re here! Come sit with us.”
Dulan patted the spot beside her.
Lin Jiayan sat down obediently, folding her hands neatly in her lap.
“The Central Plains must have wonderful water and soil,” one woman remarked. “Are all the women there as beautiful as our princess consort?”
“What nonsense!” another laughed. “A beauty like our princess consort would be hard to find even in the entire Central Plains.”
“My son caught one glimpse of her at the wedding and went home insisting a fairy from Mount Tian had descended to earth!”
“Taiji is truly fortunate. A fairy fell right into his lap!”
Amid the women’s teasing, Lin Jiayan’s face reddened all the way to her ears.
People of the grasslands paid little attention to social hierarchy.
Even ordinary herders freely joked about princes and princess consorts.
It was nothing like the Southern Kingdom, where imperial dignity was inviolable. Such casual remarks about royalty would have been punishable by death.
“All right, enough. Yanyan is embarrassed. Don’t tease her anymore.”
Seeing her blushing furiously, Dulan kindly came to her rescue.
“Yanyan, come visit me more often when you’re free. We can chat and keep each other company. It’s better than staying alone and feeling bored.”
Dulan’s warmth and easygoing nature put Lin Jiayan at ease.
Concerned that she might feel lonely, she had deliberately sent A Ming to invite her over.
“Zhana and the others often lead troops to the front lines. We women who stay behind have to learn how to occupy ourselves.”
The front lines?
Lin Jiayan had nearly forgotten that this was not a time of peace.
Even her hasty marriage had been born out of war.
“Chahar and the others have gone to battle?”
No wonder she hadn’t seen him lately.
“There’s no need to worry, Princess Consort. Our Khan has already united the five great tribes of the grasslands. Our tribe is very safe now.”
“There are only three tribes remaining—the Qiyan, the Barlin, and the Daye—but none can compare to us.”
“That’s right. Orihe is strong and prosperous, and Chahar is the greatest warrior of the grasslands. Unifying all the tribes is only a matter of time.”
“Even so,” Dulan said, concern written across her face, “when your husband is fighting on the battlefield, how can we not worry?”
As Dulan spoke of her longing and concern for her husband, Lin Jiayan coughed awkwardly.
“By my calculations, they should return in a few days,” Dulan continued. “If you’re feeling bored, go out more often. Get used to this place sooner. It’ll be good for your health as well.”
Lin Jiayan nodded in agreement.