MY PRINCE HUSBAND HAS SEVEN WIVES AND I AM HIS FAVOURITE!
Chapter 157: Tek souls finally become one

Chapter 157: Tek souls finally become one

Zhao Yan—"

Her voice quivered, barely a breath, but it was all he needed to hear.

Zhao Yan stilled, his body tense, his golden eyes fixed on hers, searching—not for hesitation, not for doubt, but for permission.

And he found it.

Because Hua Jing wasn’t pushing him away.

She wasn’t pulling back.

She was pulling him closer.

Her fingers curled into the fabric of his robes, her chest rising and falling fast, her lips parted slightly, as if waiting.

Waiting for him.

Waiting for this.

A shudder ran through Zhao Yan.

The last of his restraint snapped.

His lips crashed against hers, claiming her, devouring her, erasing every last inch of distance that had ever existed between them.

Hua Jing gasped, her hands tightening around his shoulders as heat surged between them, an undeniable force neither of them could hold back any longer.

She felt the strength in his hold, the way he wrapped around her, keeping her close, making sure she wouldn’t escape.

But she wasn’t running this time.

She wasn’t hiding.

She wanted this.

She wanted him.

Zhao Yan groaned, the sound deep in his chest as his fingers traced the delicate lines of her back, pulling at the ties of her outer robe.

Hua Jing’s breath hitched as the fabric loosened, slipping from her shoulders, pooling silently around her feet.

The air between them thickened, charged with something undeniable.

Zhao Yan pulled back just enough to look at her—really look at her.

His gaze swept over her, slowly, as if committing her to memory.

His golden eyes darkened, his fingers trailing against her bare skin, gentle and reverent.

"You’re trembling," he whispered.

Hua Jing was trembling.

Not from fear.

Not from hesitation.

But from the weight of this moment, from the way he was looking at her now—like she was something he had been waiting for all his life.

Her lips parted, but before she could speak, Zhao Yan’s hands slid down her waist, steadying her, grounding her.

"Tell me to stop," he murmured against her ear.

A challenge. A plea. A test of her resolve.

Hua Jing knew that if she told him to stop, he would.

Even now, even with his body pressed against hers, even with his breath hot against her skin, even with his hands trailing the length of her spine—

He would stop.

If she asked.

If she changed her mind.

But she wouldn’t.

Because this was inevitable.

Because he was inevitable.

Because she had never wanted anything as much as she wanted this.

She lifted her chin, her fingers sliding into his hair, her nails scraping lightly against his scalp.

"Don’t stop," she whispered.

Zhao Yan’s breath caught.

And then he was moving.

His hands pushed aside the remaining barriers between them, his lips trailing along her collarbone, lower, tracing fire along her skin.

Hua Jing exhaled sharply, her entire body melting into him, dizzy from the feel of him, from the way he touched her as if she was the most precious thing in the world.

He lifted her effortlessly, carrying her to the bed, lowering her slowly, as if he had all the time in the world.

But his hands betrayed him—his fingers shaking slightly as they explored her, as if he, too, was overwhelmed by the gravity of this moment.

As if he had wanted this for far too long.

Hua Jing let out a soft, breathless laugh, eyes fluttering open just enough to look at him.

"You’re shaking too," she murmured.

Zhao Yan stilled above her, his golden eyes dangerous and tender all at once.

Then—he kissed her again, slower this time, his hands sliding down her sides, learning her, worshipping her.

And Hua Jing surrendered completely.

She let the past fade away.

She let the night swallow them whole.

She let herself belong to him.

And for the first time—

For the first time since the day she had woken in this world—

She felt truly alive.

The lanterns flickered outside, their golden glow casting shadows across the room, painting the walls in shifting light.

And as the night stretched on, as the wind whispered through the trees, as the moon bathed the world in silver—

Two souls finally became one.

Zhao Yan had waited.

For years, through lifetimes, through worlds, he had only ever loved her.

In this world, in the one before—it had always been her.

Even before he had known her name, before he had learned the sharp edge of her wit and the fire in her spirit, before she had become his—she had already belonged to him.

He had met her once, when they were young, when she was nothing more than a lost girl in the snow.

A golden-masked boy and a child whose world had just been shattered.

She had been trembling, barely able to walk, her clothes thin and soaked, her body weak from the cold.

But even then, she had been strong.

Even then, she had refused to break.

And he had carried her on his back, taken her away from the darkness that had tried to swallow her whole.

At that time, he had not known what she would mean to him.

He had not known that this girl—this girl who had clung to him in the snow, who had whispered her mother’s name like a prayer—would one day be the only person who had ever truly belonged to him.

But he had waited.

And then, years later—he had found her again.

She had changed.

She had become stronger, sharper, more guarded.

She had looked at him not with recognition, not with gratitude, but with resentment.

And it had shattered him.

Because he remembered.

Because he had never forgotten.

And yet—

She had hated him.

Hated that she had been forced to become his consort.

Hated that he had taken her hand without giving her a choice.

Hated that he had claimed her when she had not been ready to be claimed.

But he had never regretted it.

Not once.

Not even when she had looked at him with cold eyes, with fury, with hatred so thick it had made his chest ache.

Because even when she fought him, she had still been his.

Even when she denied him, his heart had belonged to her alone.

Even when she swore she would never love him, he had already loved her enough for the both of them.

And he had waited.

Waited for her to see him.

Waited for her to realize.

Waited for this moment.

And Hua Jing—