After the Alluring Beauty Was Forced into a Political Marriage - Chapter 7

The moment those two crocodile tears fell, Shen Lianzhi felt absolutely brilliant. He believed there was no one more clever than himself, for he had suddenly remembered that Siqin Bari detested his crying above all else.

By crying, he could kill time and make Siqin Bari loathe him simultaneously; it was a perfect win-win situation. With this thought in mind, Shen Lianzhi worked even harder to squeeze out more tears.

As Shen Lianzhi sobbed and sniffled, the youth indeed shot him an unpleasant glance and snapped fiercely, “Stop crying! You are making too much noise!”

Lianzhi, having hit his stride, actually began to feel a touch of genuine sorrow. However, it was not for the dead barbarian old man; it was for himself.

He resented that the old man was so restless at his age, wanting to marry a princess of Zhou, which had scared off his sister and brought this misfortune upon him. Naturally, Shen Lianzhi would not say this to Siqin Bari’s face. Instead, he sobbed, “I am just sad in my heart.”

“Over the past few days, I have come to realize many things. To tell you the truth, I had already accepted my fate and regarded the Great Chanyu Suhe as my husband. Now that he is gone, how could I not be grieving?” He squeezed out two more tears, feigning deep affection.

Shen Lianzhi figured that since Siqin Bari loved to contradict him, he would deliberately act as if he were deeply devoted to the dead old man, hoping to provoke the youth into sending him back. He put his heart and soul into the performance.

To his surprise, Siqin Bari did not strike back with harsh words this time. The young ruler simply watched him silently for a moment, his brow furrowing slightly, before pulling out a handkerchief and tossing it to him.

“Stop it,” Siqin Bari said. “You look hideous when you cry.”

Clutching the handkerchief, Shen Lianzhi’s mind went blank. He never expected this kind of reaction from the little barbarian. A single tear hung suspended from the tip of his nose before dropping like a raindrop. In a daze, Lianzhi instinctively flicked out his tongue to catch the tear.

Siqin Bari abruptly turned his head away.

Perhaps Shen Lianzhi himself did not realize what he looked like when he cried. His mother, Consort Li, had been a beauty of the highest order, and Lianzhi was even more stunning than she had been. He was refined and elegant, possessing the air of a noble gentleman; yet, he had been born with willow-leaf eyes that always seemed to carry a hint of allure when he looked around.

His thick lashes were heavy with tears, trembling like the wings of a dark butterfly about to take flight. The two tear tracks on his fair face were enough to make anyone’s heart itch.

Siqin Bari’s brows knitted even tighter.

Shen Lianzhi peeked at him secretly, assuming the youth’s disgust had only grown. His heart pounded like a rabbit, and he inwardly praised his own brilliance, thinking it would not be long before Siqin Bari kicked him out.

With this encouraging thought, Shen Lianzhi’s mood improved significantly. He endured the remainder of the funeral rites and returned to his felt tent with fewer complaints than usual. Seeing the smile on his face, Xiao Anzi asked, “Why is Your Highness so happy?”

Lianzhi giggled, draping an arm over the eunuch’s shoulder and shaking him playfully. “Xiao Anzi, we will be going home in a few days.”

Xiao Anzi was shocked. “Why does Your Highness say that?”

Shen Lianzhi only gave a mysterious shake of his head and smiled without a word. He dipped his feet into a copper basin, and as the hot water rose above his ankles, he squinted his eyes in comfort. Water was scarce on the steppes, so there was no chance for a proper bath. Lianzhi could only ask Xiao Anzi for two basins of water; one for soaking his feet and another clean one for sponging down his body.

Shen Lianzhi sighed inwardly. Fortunately, I will not have to stay here any longer. If I really became a barbarian’s Khatun and had to stay here for a lifetime, I probably would have slit my own throat.

Recalling Siqin Bari’s face, which had been as dark as the bottom of a pot during his dead father’s funeral, Lianzhi felt much more at ease. He thought smugly that as long as he shed a few tears, Siqin Bari’s brow would furrow so deeply it could crush an ant. With things like this, how could that rude brat possibly wrong himself by keeping him around?

With these thoughts, Shen Lianzhi fell into a blissful sleep. But while he slept soundly, the person in another felt tent was enduring a night of torment.

Siqin Bari was seventeen, with a temperament as fierce as fire. He channeled the boundless energy unique to his age into riding and hunting. He had always believed that the only things capable of making his blood boil were the fangs of a wild beast or the spray of an enemy’s blood on his face.

But now, Siqin Bari was not on a battlefield, nor was there a green-eyed beast before him. He lay on soft snow-fox fur on the night his beloved father had been buried. Siqin Bari thought he would be grieving or exhausted, but in reality, his heart was racing with an agitated restlessness. The reason for this was painfully obvious.

When Siqin Bari found himself recalling those shimmering, tearful eyes for the umpteenth time, he finally could not take it anymore. He let out a soft “tsk,” and with a dark expression, he sat up from his bed.

Why am I thinking about that coward? Siqin Bari did not understand. He felt he should utterly loathe that Han person. As a man, the other’s tears were always hanging on his face like strings of pearls, flowing endlessly like a river.

When Siqin Bari was a child, Suhe had taught him that the men of Great Xia must never shed tears or show weakness. The people of Great Xia believed they were the descendants of wolves, so they should be as bloody and fierce as wild wolves, fighting until death.

Siqin Bari had not shed a tear since he was eight. When he was twelve, he had killed a wolf single-handedly; a full-grown wolf whose jaws were wide enough to swallow his entire head. The wolf’s fangs had grazed the back of his head, nearly catching his neck. The twelve-year-old Siqin Bari had used every ounce of his strength to find an opening and slice open the wolf’s belly. The wolf’s steaming entrails and blood had poured out, mixing with the blood flowing from Siqin Bari’s own head.

Siqin Bari had looked coldly at the alpha wolf, which had been so majestic moments before, and used his dagger to pry out the fangs that had scratched his skull. The twelve-year-old boy had dragged the wolf’s carcass back to the Chanyu’s court. Great Chanyu Suhe had lifted Siqin Bari’s wrist and declared that his son was a natural-born warrior. Covered in wounds, Siqin Bari had raised his head with pride, feeling no pain at all. Even in that life-or-death moment, Siqin Bari had not shed a single tear.

Tears signaled fragility, and a warrior should be invincible.

That was why he looked down on people like Shen Lianzhi. During the days Lianzhi was unconscious, Siqin Bari had verified his identity. Seeing that he was indeed the Fourth Prince of Great Zhou, the “Fourth Princess” the Minister of Rites insisted upon, he had spared his life. He had seen the Han man’s name in the Imperial Genealogy, but he did not know what it meant.

Xuri Gan said the name sounded beautiful, but Siqin Bari felt it was not a name a brave person should have. Shen Lianzhi was a coward, a weakling with an endless supply of tears. Suddenly, Siqin Bari’s pupils contracted. He abruptly recalled that tear hanging from the tip of the nose, falling like a raindrop.

That little tip of the tongue was so red; was it the fire making it look red, or was it truly that crimson? Pointed and moist, it had hooked slightly to catch the drop before vanishing back inside.

“Ugh!” Realizing what he was thinking, Siqin Bari’s face suddenly turned a deep shade of red.

He took several deep breaths, trying his best to calm down before lying back on the sable fur. Siqin Bari raised a hand to cover his eyes. The king’s tent was extremely quiet; the thick felt blocked out the wind and snow, with only the occasional crackle from the central fire pit.

In that moment, Siqin Bari suddenly heard a soft, breeze-like call: “Great King.”

“Great King.”

Siqin Bari recognized the voice. He snapped his head toward the source of the sound, and with just one look, his heart could not help but pound wildly. “What are you doing!”

“Put your clothes back on!”

Shen Lianzhi was half-kneeling on the floor. His wedding dress was in tatters, the extreme red contrasting sharply with the white of his skin. He leaned against the side of Siqin Bari’s bed, one arm resting lazily on the mattress. “Does the Great King not want to see me?”

Siqin Bari’s expression darkened. “What do you think you are doing!”

Shen Lianzhi’s hair was not tied up; the ink-black locks fell loosely down his back. He crawled onto the bed, a length of red gauze trailing behind him. It swayed gently from side to side with his movements like a fox’s tail.

“Does the Great King truly not understand what I am doing?” Lianzhi smiled, suddenly stopping and looking directly at Siqin Bari.

At this moment, there was only the distance of a fist between them. Siqin Bari could have easily shoved Shen Lianzhi off the bed, but he did not.

“You should be my father’s Khatun!” Siqin Bari heard his own voice. “My father’s bones are not yet cold, and you are doing such a thing! You are absolutely shameless.”

Lianzhi did not care about being scolded. “What does it matter?”

“He is dead, so do I not belong to you now, Siqin Bari? I am your Khatun.”

“I no longer belong to your father.”

“You!” Siqin Bari’s voice rose slightly. “Were you not trying to flee the marriage?”

“Mmh, yes.”

“Then why are you climbing into my bed?”

“Because,” Lianzhi gave a beautiful smile, his eyes curving into crescents. He raised a finger and tapped Siqin Bari on the tip of his nose. “Because this is your dream!”

Everything before him vanished instantly! What had just happened turned into a fleeting memory. Siqin Bari snapped his eyes open, and all he could see were the silk bed curtains.

“Hah, hah.” Siqin Bari gasped for breath. He threw back the blankets, and for a fleeting second, a look of confusion and embarrassment crossed the handsome young man’s face.

He got out of bed quietly, without calling for servants. He dug out a basin of snow to wipe down his body, finally suppressing the heat within him and deep in his soul.

After dawn, Siqin Bari summoned his confidant, Xuri Gan, to the royal tent. “Xuri Gan.”

They discussed several important matters of the steppes as usual, but when they were finished, Siqin Bari still did not dismiss him. This struck Xuri Gan as very strange. He raised his head, and after their eyes met for a brief second, Siqin Bari finally spoke: “That prince sent by the Great Zhou for the peace marriage.”

“Does the Great King want to send him back? Or, tear up the truce with the Zhou Kingdom and kill him?” Xuri Gan asked.

Silence filled the tent for a long time; so long that Xuri Gan thought Siqin Bari would not answer. Then, the young Chanyu spoke again.

“No,” Siqin Bari said. “Let him stay.”

“I want him to be my Khatun.”

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