I was a prince in the Middle East

Chapter 22 Desert Night Talk: I Saved Brotherhood by Making Things Up
"No objection, it's yours."

The voice that answered was deep and steady, carrying an unquestionable certainty.

However, it did not originate from Walid.

Turki and Walid both stiffened at the same time and turned around abruptly in response to the sound!

Under the moonlight, a tall figure had appeared on the sand dune, casting a long shadow against the clear light.

Mohammed bin Salman stood there, his face showing no emotion, only calm.

Walid and Turki rolled their eyes almost simultaneously, their movements remarkably synchronized.

This guy, he was eavesdropping!

And they always seem to choose these crucial moments to make their appearance!

Ignoring the obvious complaints in their eyes, Muhammad strode down the sand dune and calmly sat down between Turki and Walid.

The sand was slightly cool, but he didn't care.

His gaze swept over the box of "Lucky Saints" at Turki's feet. He reached out and naturally picked up a bottle, gently flicking the edge of the cap with his finger.

The metal lid popped open with a smooth and elegant motion...

You can tell at a glance that he's an old drunkard!
He raised his bottle and clinked it against the bottles in Turki's and Walid's hands.

"Clang. Clang."

Two crisp, clear sounds echoed in the silent desert, like the prelude to some kind of ritual.

Muhammad tilted his head back, his Adam's apple bobbing, and downed the almost non-alcoholic beverage in one gulp.

He put down the empty bottle, exhaled a long breath, as if he had also unloaded the heaviness that had accumulated during the day.

Turki looked at his older brother sitting to his left with a complicated expression.

The moonlight outlined the resolute profile of Muhammad, revealing a less sharp edge than during the day, and a hint of barely perceptible weariness.

But deep in his eyes, the calmness and strength were even more evident.

This gave him a feeling of...

A sense of alienation that is both familiar and strange.

After a long pause, Turki spoke softly, "Brother, do you know..."

He paused, seemingly organizing his thoughts, or perhaps trying to bolster his courage.

"Actually, that's what Father King arranged too."

He glanced furtively at Muhammad, and seeing that he didn't react, continued in a low voice,

"And her mother...in her heart..."

He took a deep breath, as if to expel years of pent-up frustration.
"Actually, she's always thought you're better than me. The reason she dotes on me more is because..."

A bitter smile appeared on Turki's lips. "It's because she thinks I'm too weak."

And you should…you should be like the true Bedouin warriors of the older generation, go out, explore, and conquer your own glorious pastures.”

However, as he spoke, Muhammad's expression did not soften; instead, it darkened slightly.

Seeing his brother's increasingly dark face, Turki's courage to try to ease tensions and explain his mother's favoritism vanished almost entirely.

He felt that Muhammad was too stubborn and inflexible!

If you've already shown weakness and yielded so much, what more do you want?

Do I have to kneel down and cry, saying "I don't want anything, I'll give you everything" for it to work?

A strange sense of irritation welled up inside me.

Just as the atmosphere was about to reach a freezing point, Walid, who had been silently observing, suddenly spoke up.

“Brother Muhammad,”

Walid turned to the side. “My mother once told me that when she was chatting privately with your mother, Princess Fahda, the princess said something similar.”

These words seemed to possess a magical power, instantly capturing Muhammad's full attention.

His cold, hard black face visibly froze for a moment, and his sharp gaze turned to Walid with a hint of inquiry and... barely perceptible expectation.

Walid met his gaze and continued unhurriedly, "The Queen said she only has two sons, both of whom are her precious darlings, and she loves them both deeply. But..."

He paused slightly, as if recalling the wording he had used when relaying the information.
"In the Queen's understanding, Brother Muhammad is exceptionally capable, and from a young age he has shown courage and pioneering spirit far beyond his peers."

In her wish...

She hopes you will go out, go to war, win greater glory than your fathers, and become a true tribal hero and pillar of the kingdom.

So, from a very young age, she was deliberately training you—

We'll train you to fight for everything, to compete, and to shine. We'll get you used to standing out in competition, used to being the most dazzling one.

Walid shrugged at this point, "Uh... to be honest, when my mother told me about this in private, she actually completely disagreed with the princess's parenting style..."

Okay, as you all know, my two older brothers didn't grow up, and my mom didn't have that experience either.

So I think she's being a bit out of touch with reality.

He jokingly complained about his mother at the right moment, which made his words seem more genuine and believable.

Muhammad was completely stunned.

Shock, astonishment, disbelief, followed by a belated, profound realization and...

An indescribable bitterness.

Deliberate training?

You want me to fight, compete, and perform?
Is it because... she thinks I should explore new avenues instead of staying at the stove?

This thought was like a lightning bolt, shattering the gloom that had accumulated in his heart for many years!
He always thought his mother was biased because she preferred Turki's gentleness, intelligence, or something else.

He never imagined that behind his mother's seemingly "cold" and "coercive" demeanor lay such profound expectations and hopes, rooted in tribal tradition...

A unique love!

The lines on that face, which had grown even darker because of Turki's words, softened at a speed visible to the naked eye.

An unprecedentedly complex emotion made him appear somewhat... absent-minded.

Turki watched his brother's incredible, almost "face-changing" reaction, his eyes nearly popping out of their sockets.

His mouth was slightly open as he looked at Walid, then at Muhammad, his mind filled with question marks and exclamation points!
Damn it? !
This preferential treatment is just too obvious!

Is there any essential difference between what Walid said and what I just said?

No!
Isn't the core message always "Mom thinks you're strong and wants you to go out and make your own way in the world, so she's strict with you"?
Why is it that when Walid says it, this idiot guy acts like a lion whose mane has been stroked, and when I say it, it's like adding fuel to the fire?
Turki was internally ranting, a huge sense of grievance and absurdity welling up inside him, almost causing him internal injury.

Haha! Family of origin!
Walid rolled his eyes inwardly at Turki's bewildered expression, as if asking, "Who am I? Where am I?"

Turki's advice just now was practically a cautionary tale, a perfect example of how to be a divine assist!
What does it mean that "my mother spoils me more because I'm too weak"?
That's an unpleasant statement to hear!
Furthermore, the order is reversed. Couldn't the mother have emphasized her "deep expectations" and "unique upbringing" of Muhammad first, and then casually mentioned "so she relaxed her discipline on me" at the end?

Communication is truly an art!
As for the "private words of Princess Fahda" that he just relayed...

That's all made up. How could his highly educated, illustrious mother and Princess Fahda, who only had an elementary school education and came from a tribal background, possibly have a truly heart-to-heart talk about such profound parenting philosophies?
The two are simply not on the same wavelength.

However, Walid wasn't worried about being exposed at all.

He studied it carefully back then.

Unfortunately, to produce papers on the economic history of desert tribes, one must understand the rational logic behind some traditions.

The misalignment of lifespans and the urgent need for old-age care (the eldest son is old when the father is old), risk hedging and family continuity (younger sons do not need to participate in high-risk activities such as raiding and herding, resulting in a low mortality rate).

The system of succession by the youngest legitimate son was an inevitable choice for the ancient desert economy.

As the Bedouin proverb goes: "The eldest son takes the camel to find new pastures, while the youngest son stays at the well to quench the thirst of the ancestors' souls."

As a traditional tribal woman, Princess Fahda's mindset must conform to this.

His "retelling" was simply a modern repackaging of this ancient wisdom, precisely hitting Muhammad's core need to be "understood" and "recognized."

Muhammad's long-held resentment vanished, and his expression was one of unprecedented relaxation and peace.

He suddenly opened his strong arms and put his arms around Turki and Walid, who were sitting on either side of him, tightly on their shoulders!

Three young men, on the boundless desert, under the cold moonlight, were tightly connected by these arms.

The outlines of the sand dunes stretched out behind them, like an unknown future.

Muhammad's voice was deep, yet it carried the weight of a vow, echoing in Turki's ears:

“Turki, I know.”

He paused, then tightened his grip on Turki's shoulder slightly.

"I've always known that your dream has always been in the sky. From now on..."

He turned his head and looked intently at his younger brother. "You help me to take control of the kingdom's skies!"

These words were like a key, instantly unlocking the heavy shackles in Turki's heart.

He straightened his back, and the light in his eyes, which had been dimmed by disappointment and grievance, suddenly shone brightly!

An uncontrollable smile crept onto his lips, revealing the first genuine, radiant smile of the evening.

"Yes, Sir! Ace pilot, requesting combat readiness!"

Seeing how quickly he regained his energy, Muhammad's lips curved into a clear smile.

But he then glanced at Turki, his eyes carrying a brotherly mischief and an undeniable "concern":
"So, my ace pilot, before going into battle..."

He drew out his words, his gaze sweeping across Turki's face.
"Can we get your marriage settled first? Settle down and start a family first."

Turki's smile froze instantly, as if a pause button had been pressed.

He stared blankly at Muhammad, the flame that had just ignited in his eyes now veiled by a shadow.
"elder brother……"

He licked his slightly dry lips, his voice lowering.

"Do you...do you think your position as father is...secure now?"

He asked the most crucial, and also the most brutal, question.

Without a stable monarchy, how can there be a stable marriage?
The smile on Muhammad's face faded.

He remained silent for a few seconds, his gaze fixed on the dark outline of the undulating sand dunes in the distance, as if staring at a future full of uncertainties.

The night breeze ruffled his hair.

Then, he abruptly withdrew his gaze and looked back at Turki, a resolute light, almost as firm as a rock, emanating from his deep eyes, as he spoke, word by word:

"It all depends on man!"

Decisive and resolute!
It is filled with a do-or-die determination and an overbearing spirit to control one's destiny!

Walid stated that power is indeed the greatest aphrodisiac for men.

He could clearly sense that in just one day, no, just a few hours, his initial experience of power had already transformed Muhammad's temperament.

That hidden ambition was completely ignited, and his posture became more upright than ever before!

Seeing the unwavering determination in his brother's eyes, Turki knew that this topic could no longer be avoided.

He gave a wry smile, a hint of resignation in his expression, and shrugged. "Now? Bro, tell me, are there any suitable ones around?"

His gaze swept across the desolate desert around him, as if searching for a "bride" that never existed.

Suddenly, as if struck by a sudden inspiration, or perhaps as if trying to shift blame, he abruptly pointed a finger directly at Walid beside him.

"Look! The most suitable one, right on the spot! Isn't it his sister Luna?"

"Beast!"

Walid reacted like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, instantly bristling with anger!

He slapped Turki's fingers away abruptly, roaring, "Turki! Have you no shame?! My sister is only twelve! She just turned twelve! She's still a child!"

Although he knew perfectly well that Turki was trying to divert attention, he had to appear indignant and firmly opposed!
Otherwise, if Muhammad were to suddenly decide to go along with the flow and suggest, "Why not wait a few more years?", then there would be a huge problem!

Given the close alliance that has already formed between the Talal family and the Salman family, it would be difficult for either Prince Khalid or Salman himself to find a particularly strong reason to refuse the marriage proposal from the Salman family.

After all, marriage alliances within the core royal circle are the most direct and traditional means of consolidating alliances.

Turki found it amusing to see Walid's exasperated state.

He shrugged, giving him an innocent look that said, "See?"

"That's why I said there aren't any suitable ones right now!"
Princess Luna is so cute, but her age is a real problem. I can't be a pervert, can I?

Muhammad's gaze swept between Walid's angry face and Turki's innocent expression.

He had to admit that he was indeed tempted when Turki first mentioned it.

Luna Bint Talal, the apple of Prince Khalid's eye, the core princess of the Talal lineage...

If a marriage alliance can be formed, it will undoubtedly be a powerful adhesive to strengthen the alliance with the Talal faction.

But reason quickly prevailed.

Luna is indeed too young.

It will be at least six more years before she reaches the traditional royal marriage age of 18!

If one wishes to marry a core princess of the Talal faction, she must be the principal wife.

This means that if Luna is indeed chosen, Turki will not be able to formally marry or take concubines for the next six years, and will have to remain celibate while waiting...

This is neither realistic nor likely to cause internal conflicts.

He smiled, suppressed the thought, and followed Turki's words: "Luna is indeed too young, not suitable. There's no rush, I'll help you find someone else."

He patted Turki on the shoulder reassuringly.

Then, his gaze turned meaningfully to Walid, as if he were examining some rare treasure, and he remained silent for a long time.

……

(End of this chapter)