MY PRINCE HUSBAND HAS SEVEN WIVES AND I AM HIS FAVOURITE!
Chapter 136: Sir, you are off-script!

Chapter 136: Sir, you are off-script!

Hua Jing blinked.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

She stared at Zhao Yan, completely thrown off.

He was still looking at her.

Not blinking.

Not moving.

Not even acknowledging the nobleman’s accusation anymore.

It was as if—the entire world had disappeared, leaving only the two of them standing in the middle of it.

And then, before she could fully process the shift in his aura, he moved.

Swift. Unyielding. Decisive.

His arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her flush against his chest.

A collective gasp rippled through the gathered crowd.

Some women covered their mouths, while the men frowned, whispering among themselves.

The nobleman who had been yelling the loudest turned an alarming shade of red, looking moments away from fainting from sheer outrage.

But none of that mattered.

Not to Zhao Yan.

Not right now.

Because ever since she had uttered those words—

"My husband."

Nothing else had entered his ears.

Not the murmurs.

Not the accusations.

Not even Hua Jing’s dramatic sighs of what now?

Just those two words.

"My husband."

He had waited—no, ached—to hear them.

In this world.

In the previous world.

In any world.

He didn’t care where they were.

As long as she called him that.

Even if it was a lie.

Even if it was a game to her.

Even if it meant nothing to her, but everything to him.

Still—he was going to savor it.

"Y-You!" Hua Jing stammered, eyes wide.

She wiggled in his hold, her hands pushing against his chest, but Zhao Yan didn’t budge.

Instead, he leaned closer, his lips barely brushing against her ear as he whispered,

"You said it."

Hua Jing froze.

Zhao Yan’s voice was low, deep, intoxicating.

Dangerously satisfied.

"You called me your husband," he murmured again, as if testing the weight of the words.

Like he was tasting something sweet for the first time.

Something he had waited a lifetime to hear.

Hua Jing narrowed her eyes, her head tilting back to glare up at him.

Sir, you are completely off-script.

This was not the way this scene was supposed to go!

She wanted to scream at him.

"Let go of me!" she hissed under her breath, trying to pry his arm away from her waist.

But he held firm.

His grip was gentle, but unyielding.

Like he had no plans of letting go.

And judging by the possessiveness flickering in his gaze, she had a sinking feeling that even if the sky collapsed right now, Zhao Yan would still be standing right there, holding onto her.

Hua Jing felt a bead of sweat roll down her back.

What had she created?

She had used him for her act.

Again.

But this time—this time, the main actor had gone rogue.

And by the way his obsessive eyes refused to leave her face, she knew.

She had created a monster!

Hua Jing struggled.

Zhao Yan held firm.

To an outsider, they might as well have been two lovers locked in an intimate moment, bodies pressed close, the tension between them crackling like a barely restrained wildfire.

And everyone saw it.

For the first time, the guests who had spent the last hour hurling accusations at Hua Jing, whispering slander behind cupped hands, now found themselves speechless.

Not because of the scandal.

Not because of the sheer absurdity of what was happening.

But because—it looked right.

It was a bizarre realization that none of them wanted to acknowledge.

No matter how improper the scene was—no matter how inappropriate—something about the way the Seventh Consort and this mysterious man fit together seemed almost... natural.

Like they were always meant to stand beside each other.

A perfect match.

But the shock didn’t sit well with everyone.

Especially not with Chen Li.

Chen Li had always prided herself on being one step ahead of Hua Jing.

She had ensured that Jiang Lei and Hua Ling ended up together, shattering any chance of Hua Jing having something good in her life.

She had arranged for Hua Jing’s marriage to the prince, believing him to be a hideous, monstrous man no woman would ever dare to love.

She had planned everything.

So then, why—why did it feel like she had made the wrong move?

Her hands clenched tightly, the rings on her fingers digging into her palm.

No.

It was impossible.

There was no way this man could be the Seventh Prince.

And yet...

She lifted a trembling hand, blocking out the upper half of his face with her fingers.

And what was left—the familiar lips, the sharp jawline, the commanding presence—

Her stomach twisted.

This was the Seventh Prince.

And Hua Jing had won.

The realization settled in like a cold, crushing weight.

But Hua Ling’s fury burned hotter than ever.

Hua Jing was supposed to suffer.

She was supposed to be miserable over losing Jiang Lei.

She was supposed to live in eternal regret, watching from the shadows as Hua Ling took everything from her.

But instead—instead, she stood here, clinging to a man more powerful, more handsome, more untouchable than Jiang Lei could ever hope to be.

How?

How was this fair?

She wanted to scream.

To rip Hua Jing away from him.

To erase the smug, knowing look in her eyes.

Jiang Lei, sensing her growing anger, reached out and grabbed her wrist gently.

"Ling’er—"

"Don’t touch me!" she snapped, shaking him off.

Her voice cut through the air like a blade.

Jiang Lei stiffened.

The man who had cheated his way into her arms, who had abandoned Hua Jing for the promise of a wealthier life—

He wasn’t enough anymore.

Not when she realized what Hua Jing had gotten instead!

Before the tide died, someone yelled, "You need to give us an explanation now!"

The nobleman’s voice rang through the courtyard, loud and demanding.

But no one answered.

Because the two people at the center of this storm weren’t even paying attention.

Hua Jing stood frozen.

Zhao Yan was still staring at her.

And for some reason—she couldn’t look away.

Their gazes clashed like two swords locked in battle.

Sharp. Intense. Unyielding.

Zhao Yan’s grip on her waist remained firm, like he was daring her to challenge him further.

Hua Jing, refusing to be the first to break, simply raised a brow.

Her heart thundered in her chest, but she masked it with a smirk.

If he thought she would be flustered, he had another thing coming.

She opened her mouth, ready to say something—

"Your Highness!"

The voice cut through the air like a blade.

The entire courtyard stilled.

Heavy footsteps.

Rushing. Urgent. Unstoppable.

People turned, eyes wide in shock.

A group of imperial guards moved swiftly through the crowd, clearing a path for the man leading them—

Wei Ling.

His face was unreadable. His posture was rigid with discipline.

And his voice—when he called out again—left no room for doubt.

"Your Highness!"

A collective gasp.

Then—silence.

Slowly, all eyes turned.

And what they saw—

Was shocking...

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