MY PRINCE HUSBAND HAS SEVEN WIVES AND I AM HIS FAVOURITE!
Chapter 159: The morning after

Chapter 159: The morning after

Reality crashed into her all at once.

The night before.

The way he had touched her, held her, worshiped her.

The way she had whispered his name like a prayer, over and over again.

The way there had been nothing between them, no distance, no walls, no lies.

She was in his arms.

She had slept in his arms.

And even now, he wouldn’t let go.

Her cheeks flushed, her heart pounding far too fast.

"You’re awake," Zhao Yan murmured, his voice deep and laced with amusement.

Hua Jing opened her mouth—

And promptly buried her face back into his chest.

Zhao Yan chuckled.

He then wrapped his arms around her one more time and surprisingly, they fell asleep once more

...

The morning air was crisp and fresh, the scent of last night’s rain lingering in the breeze. The soft glow of sunlight filtered through the windows, casting delicate golden patterns on the wooden floor.

Hua Jing shifted slightly, stretching beneath the silk covers, but the soreness in her body made her pause.

Her breath hitched.

A slow warmth spread through her as the memories of the night before rushed back all at once—the way Zhao Yan had held her, the way he had worshipped her, the way he had whispered her name like she was the only thing in his world.

And now—

Now, she was wrapped in his arms, tangled with him, her cheek pressed against his bare chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

It felt too surreal.

Too perfect.

Zhao Yan’s arm was still curled around her waist, his hold firm, as if he wasn’t ready to let her go.

But he was awake.

She could feel it in the way his fingers moved, slowly tracing circles against her skin, in the way his breath fanned against her hair.

She sighed softly, nuzzling closer to him.

"If you keep touching me like that," he murmured, his voice thick with sleep, "I might cancel my morning duties."

Hua Jing flushed, her fingers tightening slightly against his skin before she realized what she was doing.

"You wouldn’t dare," she muttered.

Zhao Yan chuckled. "Wouldn’t I?"

His hand slid lower, his fingers grazing her waist in a way that sent a shiver through her.

"Zhao Yan!" she smacked his arm lightly, glaring up at him, but he only smirked.

"Shameless," she muttered.

"You weren’t saying that last night," he teased.

Her face burned.

Before she could retaliate, Zhao Yan shifted, pulling her beneath him, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to her lips.

Hua Jing melted into him instantly, her hands slipping into his hair, her body curving against his before she realized what she was doing.

She pulled away with a gasp. "We have things to do!"

Zhao Yan sighed dramatically but didn’t argue. Instead, he smirked and scooped her up effortlessly, making her yelp as he carried her toward the bathing chamber.

"The water’s still warm," he murmured. "We can get ready together."

Hua Jing’s cheeks turned crimson, but she didn’t refuse.

The bath was soothing, the warm water easing the soreness in her muscles as Zhao Yan pulled her into his arms, pressing lazy kisses along her shoulder, the steam curling around them.

They took their time.

He washed her hair carefully, his fingers gentle, his touch lingering.

She relaxed against him, letting herself enjoy the quiet intimacy between them.

It was new, this kind of closeness.

But it wasn’t unwelcome.

By the time they stepped out, steam still clinging to their skin, Hua Jing was glowing.

She dressed simply—soft, flowing robes in light lavender, her hair tied up in an elegant yet effortless style.

Zhao Yan finished fastening his belt, watching her from the side, his gaze warm and unreadable.

"You’ll see Wei Ling later," he said suddenly.

She turned to him, tilting her head slightly. "Why?"

"For the Back Garden," he said smoothly.

She blinked. "I don’t think I’ve ever been there before."

Zhao Yan’s lips twitched. "You will."

He leaned in, pressing another slow, lingering kiss to her lips, as if it still wasn’t enough.

Then, with one last glance, he turned to leave.

And Hua Jing—

She stood there, watching him go, her heart beating far too fast for her own liking.

The moment he was gone, she flopped onto the bed, groaning and laughing at the same time.

This—

This was ridiculous.

It still didn’t feel real.

Everything that had happened in the past few days—it felt like she was trapped in some elaborate dream, a grand story unfolding around her.

But it was real.

It had happened.

And now—

She was happier than she had ever been.

Hua Jing squealed softly, spinning in place, barely able to contain herself.

Her body was still aching, but she didn’t care.

She danced around the room like a fool, giddy and weightless, humming to herself, until—

"Ahem."

She froze mid-spin.

Slowly, she turned to see Xia Lin standing at the doorway, arms crossed, eyebrows raised.

The betrayal in her eyes was palpable.

Hua Jing straightened, clearing her throat.

"Xia Lin, good morning!" she greeted, far too cheerfully.

Xia Lin’s eyes narrowed.

"You’ve changed," she said, watching her mistress far too closely.

Hua Jing blinked innocently. "I saw you just yesterday."

Xia Lin shook her head, adamant.

"No, no," she said, waving her hand. "Yesterday was different. Today... you... you’re glowing."

Hua Jing paused.

Then—her lips stretched into the widest grin.

"Really?" she asked, hands flying up to her face, as if Xia Lin had just given her the best compliment of her life.

Xia Lin eyed her suspiciously.

There was something different.

Something off.

And yet—there was no evidence.

The bed had been made.

The room was neat.

There was no proof of anything—and yet the truth felt glaringly obvious.

Xia Lin’s eyes narrowed further.

Hua Jing ignored it.

Instead, she twirled again, humming to herself, positively floating.

And just as Xia Lin opened her mouth to press further—

A sharp knock echoed from the courtyard gate.

Both women froze.

Xia Lin quickly turned toward the entrance, stepping forward to answer.

But the moment she opened the gate—

Her expression darkened.

Standing at the entrance, clad in the finest silks, their faces carefully composed but filled with barely concealed jealousy—

The First Consort.

And with her—

The Fourth, Fifth, and Sixth Consorts.

All of them, standing together, their eyes sharp, assessing, full of silent challenge.

Hua Jing’s good mood instantly vanished.

Xia Lin steeled herself, straightening her posture.

The First Consort, her gaze cool and unreadable, arched an eyebrow.

"Where is your mistress?" she asked.

"We have a word to share with her."