The Princess and Her Rough-Rider Khan

The inn on the border was plain, not even a bed curtain in sight, no barrier at all during the fleeting moments of their union.

Li Xianyun would have found this unthinkable in the past.

But now, drifting along in exile, everything had to be simple.

And with both having been neglected for so long, they desperately needed to become one.

So it had to be this way.

Li Xianyun turned her head and looked at Yelu Yan, who was busy cleaning a stain.

He was bare, with a tall, lean figure, broad shoulders, and a narrow waist, his body covered in muscles as hard as iron—a sight to salivate over.

For a moment, Li Xianyun nearly blurted out, asking him not to go out.

To stay inside.

But the words caught in her throat.