I was a prince in the Middle East

Chapter 37 He's Different

Talal Palace, study.

Walid had just finished his final two hours of intensive geography review and was rubbing his slightly sore neck.

Little Angari slipped in silently like a shadow.

With a strange excitement on his face, he quickly recounted everything that had happened in the council chamber, including Prince Khalid's "brilliant performance" and the final resolution.

Walid listened, and was slightly taken aback at first.

Immediately, the corners of his mouth couldn't help but turn upwards. "Live broadcast throughout? Public examination venue? Special supervision team?"

Walid repeated these keywords, and if he weren't worried about the tragedy of popping champagne at halftime, he would have burst out laughing right now.

"Abdul Sheikh... he has really helped us a lot!"
This saves me the trouble of trying to guide public opinion to focus on the exam itself.

He stood up and walked to the huge floor-to-ceiling window.

Outside the window, Riyadh's lights shone brightly, like a dazzling galaxy embedded in the desert.

"Old Deng is truly Old Deng!"

Walid chuckled, with approval for his cunning father, "I wonder how he'll get past Mom tonight."

Little Angari bowed: "Your Highness, tomorrow..."

"tomorrow?"

Walid turned around, his face filled with absolute confidence and an air of complete control.

"Tomorrow will be the most shining moment of 'God's miracle'."

Those who were waiting to see me fail will witness firsthand what it means to lift a rock only to drop it on your own foot.

When it comes to showing off, no one can do it better than those academic geniuses in China.

Unfortunately, in his previous life, Huang Mao had seen two or three such academic geniuses.

Outside the window, the night sky over Riyadh was deep and dark.

A "test-taking frenzy" ignited by conservatives, perfectly fueled by Prince Khalid, and ultimately brought to a splendid conclusion by Prince Walid has begun.

Countless eyes are focused on that ordinary public high school exam hall tomorrow, through various channels.

……

In the garden of Prince Ahmed's private club, the night was partially pierced by dazzling lights.

Cigar smoke lazily swirled around the amber liquid in the crystal glass.

In Saudi Arabia, men, especially royal men, are usually not home between 8 pm and midnight.

They all frequent various private clubs.

Of course, not all private clubs are decadent and dissolute; they are more a reflection of social culture.

Just like in Chengdu, China, where people like to discuss business in teahouses, in Saudi Arabia, private clubs take the place.

More than anything, it was a gathering.

Especially for royalty, who have no shortage of money, attending parties every day is a common occurrence.

They get together to drink coffee, eat roast lamb and pilaf, chat, and dance.

Dozens of princes dressed in custom-made robes casually leaned on white rattan lounge chairs inlaid with gold thread, the silk fabric shimmering with a dim luster under the lights.

Their gazes, however, were all focused on the young prince in the middle, who was holding a tablet computer and laughing so hard his shoulders were shaking—Turki.

"Look! Look at this!"

Turki finally managed to stop laughing, then projected the tablet screen onto the big screen, his voice filled with undisguised schadenfreude.
"The latest poll launched by 'The Little Prince Observer' asks, #How many points do you think the prince would get in his six science subjects?# The options are truly ingenious!"

The Twitter interface on the screen was extremely prominent.

#How many points do you think Wang Zili will get in his six science subjects?#
Option 1: Perfect Genius (3%) – A few blue bars, pitifully huddled at the very bottom.

Option 2: Passable Misfit (68%) – A thick, almost screen-filling green bar with a suffocatingly overwhelming advantage.

Option 3: Zero-point joke (29%) – The red bar that follows closely behind carries a strong sense of sarcasm and is relentlessly closing in on the green.

"Look at this proportion!"

Another prince leaned over, scoffed, and almost poked the glaring green strip with his fingertip.

"68%! This is a barometer of public opinion! Public sentiment is surging!"

"public opinion?"

Prince A, holding a cigar, let out a disdainful snort from his nose, his eyes sharp through the swirling smoke.

"That old fox Khalid is throwing money at teachers to create a 'genius' persona. Does he really think everyone is blind?"

Finish high school in a month? Even if God descended to earth, he couldn't do that!

"Uncle's words are too arbitrary,"

A slightly younger voice rang out from the corner; it belonged to a distant nephew of Prince Khalid, and carried a hint of protecting the family.
"His Highness Walid's behavior after waking up is indeed extraordinary. Those European scholars aren't entirely people who can be bought off with money..."

"Different from ordinary people? Hehehehe!"

Prince B immediately scoffed and retorted in a loud voice.
"I think that's wishful thinking! Don't forget, before the car accident, he was just an average junior high school student!"
After lying down for seven years, will he wake up as the reincarnation of Gauss?

joke!

This is clearly a bubble built up with Rials by the Talar faction to glorify him and advance his position!
Tomorrow's live stream will be the moment the bubble bursts!

"Exactly! A month? When my son was in high school, it took him three months to memorize geography alone!"

Another prince, who was on good terms with the Sheikh faction, chimed in.
"If that were true, I'd swallow all the date pits on this plate!"

As the argument escalated, Turki blinked his eyes, which always held a hint of cynicism, then suddenly slapped his thigh and jumped up.
"Hey! What's all the noise about! Can saliva drown a camel?"

He grinned, revealing his signature white teeth, with a hint of excited anticipation, as if he wanted to stir up trouble.
"Talking is no fun! We'll find out tomorrow whether it's a mule or a horse, won't we? Let's do something real!"

Once everyone was at the gambling table, he scanned the entire room with his gaze, deliberately drawing out his words.
"Bet is open! Bet on Walid's science exam results! A little gambling is fine! Limit of 100... uh, 1000 million US dollars!"

He held up four fingers and announced the odds, his voice so clear that everyone could hear him:
"Perfect score genius - 1 to 10!"

Passing grade is acceptable, below full marks but above passing grade is acceptable – 1 to 1.08!

A failing student – ​​1 for 2!

Zero-point joke—5 to 1!

"1.08?"

Prince Nayef chuckled, as if he had heard the funniest joke in the world.

"Turki, are you rich and have too much money to burn, or has your brain been scorched by the desert sun?"

Isn't this just blatantly giving money away to everyone?
A passable slacker? I think that's a sure thing!

"Drive! Stop talking nonsense!" Hail, a senior official from the Shamar Group, sneered.

He was the quickest, slamming a black gold card onto the table.
"Ten million! Bet on that slacker who barely passed! I'll be counting your money in five days!"

An 8% return in five days is not bad!

In their view, passing the exam but not getting a perfect score is still the most likely outcome.

After all, one wouldn't dare to make such a claim without real skills.

All eyes instantly swept past the noisy gambling table and turned to Muhammad, who remained silent in the shadows.

After all, the last bet...

Emmm...

It still leaves a lingering shadow in their hearts.

Prince Fisher, the grandson of Prince Ahmed, deliberately raised his voice, as if testing the waters.

"Muhammad, what about you? You are the 'brother' who awakened Walid, you know him best, how much are you betting?"

Bet on a genius who scores a perfect score, or... join us and make some pocket money?

Muhammad sat upright in a wicker chair, his well-defined fingers holding a crystal glass, the amber liquid remaining perfectly still.

He paused for a few seconds, then shook his head. "Walid..."

He looked up, his gaze sweeping over the glaring bar chart on the screen with a complex expression, before finally slamming his glass down on the low table beside him, his face ashen.
"Sorry, that's my brother. I won't gamble with his future!"

An eerie silence instantly fell over the hall.

The princes quickly exchanged knowing glances.

Even his "savior" and "brother" wouldn't dare guarantee a single word about "genius," and even avoided gambling altogether...

Isn't this attitude obvious enough?
Steady!

It's absolutely certain! Walid is definitely a fraud!

Muhammad was feeling guilty; he didn't think it would work and was afraid of losing face if he lost the bet.

“Call!”

"I'm betting on passing too!"

"A sure-win deal, only a fool wouldn't follow!"

Gold cards, checks, and chips flooded the "passable slacker" option like an avalanche, instantly engulfing the area around the gambling table.

The conservatives wore confident smiles, as if they could already hear the satisfying sound of gold coins falling into their pockets.

Tuerji stood behind the gambling table, looking at the mountain of chips and the frantic crowd betting in front of him, and lowered his head.

He bit his lower lip hard, trying to suppress the wild laughter that was about to burst out of his throat, feeling his cheeks ache from holding it in.

These idiots! They actually believed it?!
Haha, want to reliably earn an 8% return?

Go dream!

Five days later, I'll be counting money until my hands cramp up!

Walid, you better get a perfect score on my test!
……

"elder sister!"

The carved wooden door was suddenly pushed open.

Dubai's seventh princess, 11-year-old Samantha, rushed into the room.

The light gold sari billowed as she ran, revealing the tips of her pearl-studded shoes.

She rushed to the embroidery frame, her light brown eyes gleaming with a mixture of excitement and schadenfreude.

"That pervert's exam is going live tomorrow! Everyone on Twitter is saying he's definitely going to be exposed!"

Sanama's fingers never stopped moving in front of the embroidery frame.

The 14-year-old sixth princess lowered her eyes and focused intently on drawing the silver threads to perform Talli embroidery.

Talli embroidery is a traditional handicraft that has been passed down for hundreds of years in Gulf Arab countries such as the UAE and Oman.

Known for its fine gold and silver thread weaving, it was mainly used to decorate the cuffs, collars, and hems of women's black robes (Abaya).

However, after entering the new century, this craft has been reduced from an "essential skill for women waiting to be married" to an "endangered intangible cultural heritage item".

In Sanama's hands, intricate and exquisite Talli embroidery patterns slowly spread along the cuffs of an unfolded black Abaya robe.

The warm yellow light fell on her thick eyelashes, casting small, fan-like shadows, and also reflected the understated yet elegant luster of the silver thread in her hand.

It's not that they can't afford gold thread; if the Dubai princess couldn't afford gold thread, that would be a joke.

Moreover, this is the most favored princess whose personal expenses account for 30% of the entire Dubai royal family's expenses.

Because this is an ancient tradition.

The ostentatious display of wealth in gold is not permitted; only the understated luster of silver is befitting one's status and manners.

Her embroidery was extremely steady and quiet, as if the surrounding noise had nothing to do with her.

"Oh."

There was not a trace of emotion in his voice.

She didn't even look up.

Samantha suddenly remembered something, her eyes lit up, and she spoke even faster.

"Oh, right, sister! Brother Hamdan just called and said that the Saudi royal family has started a big gambling operation at Prince Ahmed's clubhouse."

They bet on Walid's exam results tomorrow—the odds of a perfect score for a genius are 10 to 1, while the odds of a passable slacker are only 1.08 to 1!

Hamdan's brother bet on "passing the slacker" to earn some pocket money.

卜！
A slight tearing sound.

The silver needle in Sanama's hand suddenly pierced the taut black silk, leaving a small, abrupt hole.

She finally looked up.

His amber pupils, like a still lake on a moonlit desert night, clearly reflected his sister's flushed face, etched with excitement.

“You should pray that he succeeds tomorrow, Samantha.”

After saying that, she shook the bell beside her.

A housekeeper emerged silently from the shadows by the door and bowed.

"Contact Brother Hamdan immediately,"

Sanama's silver needles flashed with a cold light under the lamp. "Tell him that Shaman and I have placed the maximum bet on 'Perfect Genius,' and he will pay for it."

Samantha's eyes widened instantly, her light brown pupils filled with disbelief. "Sister, are you crazy?"

Sanama's voice remained calm.

"If he is disgraced, we will also become accomplices to be ridiculed."

Because...we are his fiancées.

She smiled as she said this, but the smile was somewhat cold.
"And why do you think Hamdan would call you?"

Samantha didn't want to think about it.

She suddenly grabbed her sister's wrist, her nails almost digging into the delicate skin.
"But... Sister, what if that pervert fails the exam and it proves he's a good-for-nothing... then we don't have to marry him, right?"

Royal princesses marry young, which is a custom in the Middle East.

But Samantha never expected that she would be engaged before she was even 12 years old.

How dare that pervert agree?!
Having said that, she put down her needlework, gently stroked her younger sister's head with her fingertips, and sighed.

"Sham, marrying him is better than marrying one of Father's old men who are decades older than us, isn't it?"
Look at all our older sisters, which one of them has an age difference of less than thirty years with her husband?

That was a real golden cage; even the view outside the window was fixed.

"But...sister!"

Samantha's eyes instantly reddened, her voice trembling with fear, as if the black robe and the restraints were already within reach.

"I heard from Luna that in Saudi Arabia... women are whipped by religious police if they go out alone!"
I don't want to be locked up in the deep palace in Riyadh, unable to take a single step out!

I don't want to spend the rest of my life only seeing the sky behind high walls!
I'm only eleven years old. I want to go to school, I want to be with my friends, and I want to see the world!

For a royal princess, engagement means losing her freedom and being confined to her chambers until she marries.

For a vibrant girl whose dreams have yet to unfold, this is tantamount to prematurely announcing the end of her teenage years.

For 11-year-old Shaman, it was even more cruel.

Although even religious marriages require the woman to be at least 14 years old, the dignity of the royal family remains paramount.

So her teenage years ended before they even began.

Sanama gently pulled her sister, who was on the verge of emotional collapse, into her arms, her chin softly rubbing against the top of her head.

“Don’t be afraid, Shaman. His family… is the liberals within the Saudi royal family.”

You've met Princess Mona, and her demeanor and knowledge don't seem like those of someone who's been confined.
As you know, his aunt, Princess Lamia, is active in the charity sector and has considerable influence.

His family isn't that old-fashioned.

She paused, then looked out the window at the starry sky.
“He is different. And perhaps... in a few years, the whole of Saudi Arabia will be different.”

If he comes to power... given his style of doing things, everything could change.

Even the walls that imprison you can be torn down.

She loosened her embrace, looked into her sister's eyes, and smiled.
"He should be coming to Dubai soon, then you can see him in person."

If you still refuse then, I'll talk to him, and he'll agree.

Samantha abruptly broke free from her embrace, staring blankly at her sister, her eyes filled with disbelief.
"Sis? How...how can you be so sure he'll agree? You know him so well?"

She keenly sensed the unusual confidence in her sister's words.

However, Samantha felt that her sister had gone into a trance-like state ever since she learned about the engagement.

Still saying 'he's different'?!

Hmm... just like her cat in springtime...

Unreasonable!

……

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(End of this chapter)