MY PRINCE HUSBAND HAS SEVEN WIVES AND I AM HIS FAVOURITE!
Chapter 122: She has unleashed chaos!

Chapter 122: She has unleashed chaos!

The murmur of conversation inside the banquet hall dwindled into an eerie silence. The moment the announcement echoed through the air—

"The Seventh Consort has arrived!"

Every noble, every guest, and every dignitary instinctively stood, their movements almost synchronized, as if they were puppets pulled by an invisible string.

It was ingrained within them—an unspoken rule that whenever royalty entered, respect must be shown.

But this was different.

It wasn’t merely out of duty that they stood.

It was anticipation.

Curiosity.

Excitement.

Because no one had seen her before. The infamous Seventh Consort—the one who had seemingly come from nowhere and married the masked prince. They had all heard whispers, rumors, but never once had they laid eyes on her.

All eyes turned toward the grand entrance, where the doors remained wide open, waiting.

Chen Li’s lips pressed into a thin line. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. That incompetent fool of a servant had announced Hua Jing’s arrival far too loudly. Now, instead of a quiet, discreet entrance, the entire banquet hall’s attention was on her.

Hua Ling stiffened beside her mother, fingers clenching into fists. "She’s doing this on purpose," she hissed. "She wants to steal my spotlight!"

Chen Li schooled her features into a composed smile, though her nails dug into her palm beneath her sleeve. "Calm yourself," she murmured. "She may have their attention now, but this night belongs to you."

But did it?

Hua Ling stole a glance at Jiang Lei, her heart plummeting. He wasn’t looking at her.

His gaze was locked onto the entrance, anticipation flickering in his eyes. Not for her, his bride-to-be, but for another woman.

For Hua Jing.

Hua Ling’s entire body tensed with rage.

And then—

She appeared.

Hua Jing stepped forward, her movements slow, deliberate, elegant.

She was dressed in a simple, flowing green gown. No excessive embroidery, no dazzling jewels, no heavy adornments. Just soft silk that draped over her frame like water, accentuating every graceful step she took.

But it was not the dress that left the crowd breathless.

It was her.

Her beauty was devastating.

Hair as dark as ink cascaded down her back in delicate waves, held together by a single, jade hairpin. Her skin was flawless, almost translucent under the glow of the lanterns. Lips naturally pink, slightly curled in what could only be described as a knowing smile.

But it was her eyes that stunned them all.

Cold. Sharp. Piercing.

Deadly.

They held an unspoken challenge, as if daring anyone to meet her gaze and not crumble under its intensity.

A few women gasped softly. Others lowered their eyes, suddenly feeling inferior without knowing why.

One of Hua Ling’s friends swallowed hard, her voice barely above a whisper. "She’s... nothing like what we were told."

Another hesitated before muttering, "They said she was plain... unremarkable. But..."

They had been lied to.

Hua Ling’s face turned ghostly pale.

Jiang Lei’s breath hitched. His grip on his ceremonial robes tightened.

Regret.

That was what he felt.

He had expected to see a meek girl, someone who would cower, who would be embarrassed to step into the banquet hall where her past lover was marrying another woman.

But Hua Jing was neither meek nor embarrassed.

She was radiant. Confident. Ethereal.

And as she took another step forward, the world seemed to tilt in her favor.

A slow smirk curled on her lips as she surveyed the room, her voice ringing out, clear and steady—

"I hope I’m not too late for the celebration."

Silence.

And then—

The tension cracked like lightning in the air.

Hua Ling’s nails dug into her palm, her entire body shaking with suppressed fury.

Jiang Lei could not tear his eyes away from the woman he had betrayed.

This woman looked so different. She seemed to have become even more beautiful after their breakup!

There was something like regret flashing before his eyes but he quickly masked it but it seemed as if he had not done quite a good job with hiding how he was feeling.

Chen Li’s composure finally faltered, her expression unreadable but her thoughts screaming in turmoil.

And amidst it all, Hua Jing stood at the center of their attention, fully aware of the chaos she had just unleashed!

She let the silence stretch, savoring the way Hua Ling’s expression twisted, the way Jiang Lei’s gaze flickered between disbelief and something else—something almost regretful.

How poetic.

She had chosen this dress for a reason.

Green.

The color of humiliation. The color of betrayal. The color that, in this world, branded a man as a cuckold.

A slow smile curved her lips as she reached out, running her fingers lightly down the silk of her sleeve.

Oh, how unfortunate it must be for Jiang Lei—on his wedding day, no less—to see his once-beloved standing before him, dressed in the very omen of disgrace.

Did he feel it yet? That ominous weight settling over him?

Did Hua Ling?

Hua Jing’s smile deepened.

"Ah," she sighed, just loud enough for those closest to hear, "such a grand occasion. I almost feel sorry for ruining it."

The people were too mesmerized by her beauty to even register what she was saying!

As she stood there, momentarily uncertain of where to sit, a familiar, unwelcome voice rang out.

"Jing’er! Jing’er! You are here."

Hua Jing felt her teeth ache.

That fat man.

Her so-called father, Hua Ming Rong, was making his way toward her, dressed in an elaborate robe that screamed wealth and prestige. Of course, he had to look the part today—his beloved daughter was getting married, after all.

His smile was all warmth and hospitality, but Hua Jing saw through it instantly. It was a facade. Beneath it, she knew he was seething, likely cursing her for nearly upstaging his precious Hua Ling.

But appearances had to be maintained.

"Come, let me escort you to your seat." His voice was saccharine, too sweet to be genuine.

Hua Jing nodded, stepping forward—but when Hua Ming Rong reached out to touch her hand, she sidestepped, gliding just out of reach.

She did it effortlessly, elegantly, so no one noticed it was out of sheer disgust.

They had barely taken two steps when a nobleman stepped forward, his voice curious.

"What about the prince? Is he not coming?"