Zheng Xiu contemplated Uncle Huo's words.
As the saying goes, attending to a monarch is like accompanying a tiger. As someone by the Great Emperor's side, even if Huo Huo couldn't fully grasp the Emperor's thoughts, he still had some insight. The single phrase, "It's going to snow," seemed to be telling Zheng Xiu that a storm was brewing.
In truth, what the so-called Princess of Beiman looked like, who she was, or what her Age was—none of it mattered to Zheng Xiu, or for that matter, to Venerable Wei Yang. What mattered was her status as the Princess of Beiman. The fact that she had personally traveled thousands of miles across the barren wilderness as an "Envoy" to reach the Daqian Capital and seek a political marriage—that was what held true significance.
The game between the two nations was far from simple. Zheng Xiu didn't understand why Venerable Wei Yang was so insistent on dragging him, someone who had always stayed out of politics, into this strange vortex.
