MY PRINCE HUSBAND HAS SEVEN WIVES AND I AM HIS FAVOURITE!
Chapter 101: His world stopped

Chapter 101: His world stopped

The physician jolted back but nodded furiously.

"Move aside, Your Highness, I need space!"

Zhao Yan didn’t let go.

His arms tightened around her, refusing to relinquish her cold body.

"Your Highness—!" the physician pleaded.

Zhao Yan’s jaw clenched so tightly he thought his teeth might break—

But he forced himself to pull back.

Only slightly.

Only enough to allow the physician to work.

The moment he did, the physician immediately began.

He pressed down on her chest, his aged hands moving with urgency.

One, two, three, four—

Zhao Yan’s fists dug into his thighs.

"Breathe," he whispered. His voice was shaking. "Hua Jing. Breathe."

She didn’t.

The physician kept going.

Zhao Yan counted every compression.

Fifteen.

Twenty.

Thirty.

"Come on, girl," the physician muttered under his breath. His forehead was slick with sweat.

"Come back," Zhao Yan whispered. His voice was hoarse. "Come back to me."

Nothing.

The First Consort, watching the scene unfold, crossed her arms smugly.

"Perhaps she finally got what she deserved," she muttered under her breath.

Zhao Yan’s head snapped up.

His eyes—

His black, burning eyes—

Locked onto hers.

The First Consort stiffened, her mouth parting slightly.

The way he was looking at her—

It was as if he was going to kill her.

"Say that again," Zhao Yan said, his voice lethal, deadly quiet.

The First Consort stepped back instinctively, a sudden chill running down her spine.

The air grew heavier.

No one spoke.

No one dared.

The only sound was the physician pressing down, down, down on Hua Jing’s chest.

Breathe, dammit!" the old man gritted out.

Then—

Hua Jing’s body convulsed.

She let out a violent gasp, her chest arching off the ground as her lungs suddenly sucked in air.

A harsh, choking cough racked her frame.

Zhao Yan lunged forward, grabbing her face with both hands.

"Hua Jing," he breathed. His hands cradled her cheeks. "You’re back. You’re back."

Her eyes fluttered open, glazed and disoriented.

For a moment, she seemed lost, her body trembling violently.

Then, her gaze found him.

And—

She smiled.

Not a big one.

Just the tiniest, softest twitch of her lips.

But it shattered something inside Zhao Yan.

His shoulders dropped.

The breath he had been holding for eternity finally escaped.

"You’re a real bastard," she whispered weakly, voice hoarse. "Scaring me like that."

Zhao Yan let out a choked laugh.

She was scolding him.

After almost dying, she was scolding him.

Of course she was.

Of course his Hua Jing was like this.

"You should rest," he whispered, his forehead pressing gently against hers.

"You should stop looking at me like you’re about to cry," she muttered. "It’s weird."

Zhao Yan let out a shaky breath.

"I am not crying," he said.

"Your eyes are wet," she accused.

"You’re seeing things," he countered.

Hua Jing’s lips quirked up.

"...Idiot," she murmured.

Then, she went limp again—

But this time, she was only unconscious.

Zhao Yan exhaled sharply, relief making his arms weak.

The physician sighed in exhaustion. "She’s alive," he confirmed. "But she needs proper care."

The prince nodded.

The air was thick with silence as Zhao Yan slowly lifted Hua Jing into his arms.

His movements were gentle, precise—as if he was holding something more precious than his own life.

Not a single sound echoed through the chamber.

No whispers.

No gasps.

Nothing.

Just the quiet, stunned disbelief of everyone in the room.

Zhao Yan did not care.

With deliberate, steady steps, he walked away, Hua Jing’s limp body cradled securely against his chest.

His grip was tight, possessive—a silent promise that he would never let her go.

He looked directly at the first consort before saying in a cold voice, "What happened today, and explanation should be ready!"

With that, he was gone.

The air froze.

The second consort, standing among the shocked crowd, hesitated for a moment before bowing deeply to the emperor.

Then, without a second thought, she turned and followed Zhao Yan.

---

The emperor watched.

He watched as his son carried Hua Jing out of the chamber without a single glance back.

He watched the stunned expressions on his ministers’ faces, the way their eyes darted between him and the consorts.

He watched the consorts—

The way their faces had turned pale, their lips trembling in sheer disbelief.

But most of all—

He watched the First Consort.

The way her eyes were still filled with hatred, even as her husband walked away with another woman.

It was in that moment that everything clicked.

The Emperor’s fists clenched.

He had fallen into a trap.

A trap of harem politics, of jealousy, of scheming consorts who would do anything to eliminate their competition.

And he had almost killed an innocent woman because of it.

A bitter taste filled his mouth.

Had Hua Jing truly poisoned the prince?

The moment the thought crossed his mind, he already knew the answer.

No.

Zhao Yan would never look at her like that if she had.

The realization made his blood run cold.

If Hua Jing had died...

If he had truly killed his son’s most treasured person...

A chill ran down his spine.

His voice dropped to an icy whisper.

"Did the Seventh Consort truly poison the prince?"

The words hung in the air like a blade, sharp and unforgiving.

The First Consort froze.

---

Outside the chamber...

The cold night air bit at Zhao Yan’s skin as he stepped into the courtyard.

Hua Jing’s body was cold—too cold.

Zhao Yan instinctively tightened his embrace, shielding her as much as he could from the chilling breeze.

His heart twisted painfully at the sight of her pale, bruised face.

Her long lashes trembled slightly, but her eyes remained shut.

She looked so fragile, so small, so—

No.

She was Hua Jing.

She was not fragile.

She was not weak.

She was the fiercest, most frustratingly stubborn woman he had ever met.

She would not lose to this.

Zhao Yan’s jaw tightened.

His arms wrapped around her even tighter.

Even if she could not feel it—

Even if she was unconscious—

He would keep her warm.

He would not let go.

Behind him, the second consort hesitated, watching the prince’s tense posture.

She took a shaky breath before finally speaking—

"Is she okay?"