But he had never been jealous because of these things.
Until there was an extra person in this tent.
At this moment, that person is sitting behind the low table at the center of the tent, already different from when they first met. She had long since grown accustomed to the leather coats worn by Western Turkic women, concealing her once vibrant and stunning figure. However, Ashina Zhuxie always remembered, remembered the day she first married into the grassland, wearing a red attire, with a piece of red cloth draped over her head.
A gust of wind, just like he wished, lifted that red cloth as she walked past him.
He saw an incredibly beautiful face, even when he stared at her in a daze, causing her cheeks to blush and giving him an annoyed glare; even then, her vexed appearance was so captivating.
Since then, he had always thought of seeing that scene again.
And to see that scene again, he had only one way.
