MY PRINCE HUSBAND HAS SEVEN WIVES AND I AM HIS FAVOURITE!
Chapter 155: Am I really not welcome here?

Chapter 155: Am I really not welcome here?

By the time they arrived at Hua Jing’s courtyard, the rain had long since passed, leaving the night air crisp and fragrant with the scent of damp earth and blossoms.

The sky stretched wide above them, endless and deep, scattered with stars that flickered like tiny lanterns in the heavens.

Everything felt strangely quiet.

But not the kind of silence that was empty or cold.

This was a different kind of silence—the kind that settled between two people standing at the edge of something unknown.

Hua Jing’s heart thudded against her ribs.

She hadn’t thought about it before—not until now, not until they were standing here, hand in hand.

This was her courtyard.

The one Zhao Yan had prepared for her.

The one he had chosen.

And somehow, that realization made it feel different tonight.

She had always found peace here—among the soft lantern light, the trailing vines that crept along the walls, the gentle rustling of leaves in the wind.

It was simple. Unlike the lavish residences of the other consorts, this courtyard was tucked away in a quieter part of the palace, surrounded by nothing but nature.

And that was exactly why Zhao Yan had chosen it for her.

Because he knew.

He had always known.

That she didn’t care for extravagant halls or golden pillars. That she was someone who had spent most of her life in a cage, and when given the chance, would choose the open sky over a gilded roof.

That was why, after their wedding—after their so-called honeymoon, where they had been nothing more than strangers tied together by fate—Zhao Yan had given her this place.

A home.

Her own home.

Now, standing beside him, that fact hit her differently.

She turned to look at him, feeling something unfamiliar stir in her chest.

"You were the one who made this courtyard for me," she murmured.

Zhao Yan didn’t look at her. Instead, his gaze swept over the courtyard, as if inspecting his own work.

"Hm." A simple sound. A confirmation.

Hua Jing exhaled, shaking her head. "And now, suddenly, you’re saying it’s not good enough?"

Finally, he turned to her.

His golden eyes flickered, something unreadable in them. "It’s good," he admitted. "But it’s too quiet."

She frowned. "You were the one who said I would like it that way."

Zhao Yan tilted his head slightly, his lips curving into the barest hint of a smirk.

"I did," he agreed. Then, after a pause, "But back then, I thought you would be alone here."

Her breath caught.

Because what was he saying?

What did he mean—back then?

Before she could respond, Zhao Yan took a step forward.

Slow. Measured.

And suddenly—

The air between them felt too small.

Too thick.

Hua Jing’s pulse raced.

Her mind fumbled for a distraction—something, anything, to keep herself from thinking about how close he was now.

So she cleared her throat.

"Well," she muttered, looking away, "since we’re here now, you should probably—"

Go.

That was what she was about to say.

But before she could, Zhao Yan arched an eyebrow.

And then—

"You want me to leave?"

Hua Jing froze.

It wasn’t just the words themselves.

It was the way he said them.

Smooth. Even.

But laced with something else entirely.

Something that made her stomach twist.

She swallowed. "I—"

"You don’t want me here?" he asked, tilting his head slightly, as if genuinely curious.

"I—" Hua Jing exhaled sharply, crossing her arms. "It’s not that."

He was making this difficult on purpose.

She could see it—the amusement flickering in his eyes, the deliberate slowness of his movements, the way he was watching her so intently, as if waiting for something.

Her reaction, probably.

Damn him.

Hua Jing glared at him.

And that was a mistake.

Because his eyes were too warm.

Too golden in the soft lantern light, reflecting the night like molten fire.

And his face—

Why had she never really noticed how stupidly handsome he was?

Her thoughts derailed so fast that she forgot what she had been trying to say in the first place.

Zhao Yan, still watching her, smirked.

"So?"

Hua Jing blinked.

What were they even talking about?

His smirk deepened. "Where will I be sleeping?"

The words hit her like an arrow to the chest.

"Wh—" She choked. "What?"

Zhao Yan shrugged, far too casual for someone who had just said something so outrageous.

"It’s late," he said simply.

Hua Jing stared at him.

"So?"

"So," Zhao Yan repeated, tilting his head, "where will I be sleeping?"

Her entire face went red.

Because what was this question?

What was this situation?

This—this had never happened before.

She had never expected it to happen.

And now it was happening.

She took a sharp step back, flustered beyond reason.

"You—You should go back to your palace!" she blurted.

Zhao Yan raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"Because!" Hua Jing waved a hand vaguely. "That’s where you live!"

"And?"

She gawked at him. "And—what do you mean, ’and’? That’s where you always sleep!"

Zhao Yan hummed, completely unaffected by her panic.

"Do I?"

Hua Jing’s brain stopped functioning.

She was panicking for no reason, she told herself.

Absolutely no reason.

It wasn’t as if—

It wasn’t as if—

...What was it, exactly?

Zhao Yan, clearly enjoying her internal crisis, took a slow step forward.

Hua Jing immediately stepped back.

He took another step.

She moved again.

And then—

Her back hit the door.

She froze.

Zhao Yan, now close enough that she could see the faint amusement in his gaze, stopped just inches away.

He didn’t touch her.

Didn’t move any closer.

He just looked at her.

And that was worse.

Because why did it feel like her heart was about to explode?

She swallowed.

Hard.

And then—

"I—" she started, only to have her words fail her entirely.

Because Zhao Yan leaned in.

Just a little.

Just enough to trap her in this moment completely.

"Am I really not welcome here, Hua Jing?"