MY PRINCE HUSBAND HAS SEVEN WIVES AND I AM HIS FAVOURITE!
Chapter 103: The first time she had met him

Chapter 103: The first time she had met him

The First Consort sat in silence.

Her back was straight, her hands folded neatly in her lap, but her entire body was stiff—as if she were a soldier awaiting execution.

The morning air was cool, yet inside her chambers, it felt suffocating. A single candle flickered beside her, its glow casting shadows across her beautiful yet exhausted face.

She had barely slept the night before. The weight of yesterday’s events sat heavy on her shoulders. She had miscalculated.

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.

Hua Jing was supposed to be gone—removed from the equation, erased from existence.

And yet, not only was she still alive, but the Prince himself had carried her out of the lower prison as if she were the most precious thing in the world.

Her fingers curled into the fabric of her robes, nails pressing deep into her skin.

That moment.

That moment when Zhao Yan had stepped into the prison, his eyes burning with fury, his entire body radiating an overwhelming rage...

She shivered.

For the first time since marrying into this palace, she had been truly afraid.

And then, there was last night.

The unexpected visitor. The hushed conversation. The bold proposition that had shaken her already unsteady resolve.

A chance to gain everything... or lose everything.

Her mind was in chaos.

Her emotions, however, were locked away.

Across from her, her most trusted maid, Lianhua, fidgeted nervously.

"My lady," she pleaded, "you must go and apologize to the Emperor. If you show remorse, perhaps—"

The First Consort inhaled sharply, cutting her off.

"Apologize?" Her voice was cool, controlled. She turned her sharp gaze to Lianhua. "You want me to beg?"

"My lady, if you—"

"I cannot do that."

She stood abruptly, causing Lianhua to flinch.

"Everything I did," the First Consort continued, her voice low and firm, "was justified. I did not act out of selfishness. I acted for the good of this harem—for the good of this nation."

"But the Prince—"

"The Prince," she bit out, "does not see things as I do. He is blinded by that woman."

Her hands tightened into fists.

"Hua Jing has ruined everything."

There was no hesitation in her heart anymore.

She had already made her decision last night.

She would not apologize.

She would not yield.

If the Prince had come to punish her, then so be it. Let him come.

As if on cue, a sudden, firm knock on the doors shattered the tense silence.

The flickering candle trembled slightly.

Lianhua paled.

"My lady... it’s him."

The First Consort exhaled slowly.

"Let him in."

Lianhua hesitated. "My lady—"

"Let. Him. In."

With great reluctance, the maid hurried to the doors and pulled them open.

And there he stood.

Crown Prince Zhao Yan.

His presence was like a cold blade slicing through the air.

Dressed in his formal robes, his golden mask gleamed under the morning light, but his eyes—his piercing, furious eyes—were locked onto her.

The First Consort rose to her feet, smoothing her robes, her expression unreadable.

She bowed, her voice steady.

"Your Highness."

Zhao Yan did not return the greeting. He stepped forward slowly, his movements controlled, calculated.

"You seem calm," he said, his voice dangerously quiet.

The First Consort lifted her gaze to meet his, but for the first time in a long while, she did not see the man standing before her now.

Instead, she saw the boy from years ago.

The first time she had ever laid eyes on Zhao Yan.

Her name was Qin Yulan, the eldest daughter of the prestigious Qin family, a noble household that had served the imperial court for generations.

Raised with grace, discipline, and the understanding that her future would always be dictated by politics, she had never once thought that she would fall in love.

And yet, it had happened in an instant.

It had been a festival night in the capital, the streets lit with lanterns of red and gold, floating gracefully in the sky like tiny celestial bodies. She had snuck out of the Qin Manor that night, dressed in a simple yet elegant robe, her hair adorned with delicate jade pins.

She had wanted a taste of freedom—to see the world beyond the confines of her noble upbringing.

She had not expected to see him.

He stood at the edge of a quiet pavilion, watching the city with an air of detachment. The first thing she noticed was the golden mask—a mark of the Crown Prince, a symbol of his distance from the world.

But it was not the mask that had captivated her.

It was his eyes.

Even then, they had held a quiet intensity, like a storm brewing in the distance.

She had been young—just barely stepping into womanhood—but the moment their gazes met across the festival lights, her heart had skipped a beat.

For reasons she could not yet explain, she knew.

He was the one.

She had walked closer, her fingers clutching at the fabric of her sleeves, a mixture of nerves and excitement making her stomach flutter.

And then, he had spoken.

His voice had been softer then, smooth and composed, yet tinged with an underlying depth that made her feel as though he could see straight through her.

"You shouldn’t be wandering the streets alone, my lady."

The warmth in his tone, the faintest hint of amusement in his expression, had ensnared her completely.

She remembered blushing, a rare thing for her, and looking down at her hands, struggling to find words.

He had been so composed, so controlled, even at that age.

And yet, for the briefest moment, she thought she had seen a flicker of curiosity in his eyes when he looked at her.

It was then that she had decided.

The moment she returned home, she had run straight to her father.

"Father," she had pleaded, her voice filled with a rare urgency. "Introduce me to the Emperor. Propose a marriage between me and the Crown Prince."

Her father, Qin Haoran, had been a man of power and influence, and though he had been surprised by her request, he had seen the ambition in her eyes.

"Why do you wish to marry him?" he had asked, folding his hands behind his back.

"Because he is the one," she had said simply. "He is the future Emperor, and I will stand by his side."

It had taken time, but the proposal had been made. The Qin family was powerful, and though the Emperor had already been arranging marriages for his son, the political strength of the Qin household had tipped the scales in her favor.

When her engagement was finally confirmed, she had been overjoyed.

But the boy she had fallen for at the festival had never looked at her the same way again.

From the moment their engagement was announced, Zhao Yan became distant.

Even on their wedding day, when she had been dressed in the finest silks, adorned with the most precious jewels, he had barely glanced at her.

She had thought that perhaps, after the wedding, he would soften.

That he would come to love her in time.

But he never did.

Years passed, and though she remained his First Consort, his highest-ranked wife, he never once came to her chambers.

He never once looked at her the way he looked at the seventh consort.

At Hua Jing.

And now, as she sat in her chambers, watching him—watching his cold, unforgiving eyes bore into her, filled with nothing but anger—she realized just how far she had fallen from his favor.

And all because of her.

The woman who should have never been a threat.

The woman who should have never been his to care for.

But she was.

And this, Qin Yulan would never accept!

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