Inside the dimly lit military camp, Adam Spencer respectfully saluted the General before him, earnestly explaining, “It’s just that there’s still some time before the academy’s registration day, so I thought there’s no need to leave so early. Although I can’t say I’ve made great strides under your command these past years, you’ve always taught me to be a decent person. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have been lucky enough to get into the academy. I truly want to stay in Weicheng a few more days, to be by your side and hear more of your guidance… Even if it’s just sitting here a bit longer, chatting idly, that would be good too.”

David Carter looked at the young man before him, the beard on his chin trembling slightly—whether from the night wind or from anger was unclear—and said irritably, “Adam Spencer, oh Adam Spencer, when did you become such a shameless fellow?”

Adam Spencer replied seriously, “As long as you need me, General, I can give up my face at any time.”

“Tell the truth.” David Carter’s expression turned cold, his face stern as he asked, “Why are you refusing to be the guide?”

Adam Spencer was silent for a long time, then said softly, “General, that noble person probably doesn’t like me very much.”

“The noble doesn’t like you?” David Carter scolded sharply, “You seem to have forgotten your place. Remember, you’re not yet a student of the academy. As a soldier of the empire, you must obey orders from your superiors—obey my orders! Whether the noble likes you or not is none of your concern! And whether you like that noble, no one cares! All you need to do is accept the order, then carry it out!”

Adam Spencer didn’t answer. He lowered his head, staring at a stubborn blade of grass growing from the mud between his military boots, silently expressing his resistance.

David Carter was helpless with this youth and sighed, “What exactly are you up to? Why won’t you go back to the capital with them?”

Adam Spencer looked up, his expression extremely earnest as he said, “I saw their convoy outside. They were attacked on the grasslands, and there’s a spring drought over there right now. Last year, the Chanyu of the Left Golden Tent died, and that noble’s maid has rather dark skin, so… I don’t dare go with them.”

The convoy was attacked, there’s a spring drought on the grasslands, the Chanyu died, the maid’s face is dark—these seemingly unrelated words were pieced together by him into the reason for his silent, stubborn refusal to leave Weicheng.

David Carter looked at him and sighed, “You figured it out long ago?”

“Is there anyone left in Weicheng who hasn’t guessed who they are?”

Adam Spencer spread his hands helplessly, gazing toward the other side of the camp in the night, and said, “Only that princess, who grew up in the imperial palace in Chang’an and married off to the grasslands, lording it over others without even realizing her own husband had died, could be foolish enough to think this was still some great secret.”

Chapter Three: The Tang People’s Simple Sense of Right and Wrong

The empire’s customs were open, and though it was a private conversation in the military tent late at night, when he heard the words “idiot princess,” David Carter’s expression couldn’t help but turn tense and unpleasant.

After that noble lady entered Weicheng, he had been extremely cautious and nervous. He never expected Adam Spencer to make such a blunt and biting remark, and since he felt Adam Spencer’s judgment was unfair, his face grew even darker.

Everyone knew the Fourth Princess of the Tang was no fool, but rather an extremely virtuous lady.

With the Tang Empire’s strength and military might, whether facing the barbarian tribes of the grasslands or other states of the Central Plains, they had never considered marriage alliances—a humiliating political tactic. Except for a few loyal barbarian generals marrying imperial women in the early days of the founding emperor, there had never been a similar case.

However, three years ago, when instability first appeared on the grasslands and the largest Golden Tent tribe, under secret instigation and support from Tang’s enemies, began to show signs of rebellion, the Fourth Princess—then just thirteen or fourteen, deeply loved by His Majesty—knelt before the Daming Palace, weeping and bleeding as she pleaded, disregarding the nation’s opposition, willing to give up the splendor of Chang’an, insisting on marrying far away to the grasslands as a second wife to the Golden Tent Chanyu.

When this news broke, the world was shocked, the streets abuzz with gossip. White-haired ministers grieved and submitted memorials, the emperor flew into a rage and smashed countless jade cups, and the empress, with complex emotions, said nothing. Yet none of this could shake the young princess’s resolve. The Golden Tent Chanyu, upon hearing the news, felt greatly honored and delighted by the princess’s character, sending envoys with five thousand cattle, sheep, and horses to the court, humbly and earnestly seeking her hand. In the end, the Tang emperor had no choice but to agree to let his daughter marry into the grasslands in the eleventh year of Tianqi.

The princess had been married to the grasslands for less than half a year when, as husband and wife, she and the Chanyu lived in harmony. The once ambitious and heroic barbarian leader became a calm lion of the grasslands, guarding his land, gazing toward distant lands, but no longer eager to start wars.

Unfortunately, no one expected that just a few months ago, the Chanyu, still in his prime, would suddenly die. His brother forcibly seized the throne, and the border situation once again grew complicated and tense.

But ever since that slender young girl knelt before the Daming Palace and made her own marriage decision, for four or five years, the Tang Empire’s northwestern border had enjoyed a precious peace—largely thanks to that princess.