MY PRINCE HUSBAND HAS SEVEN WIVES AND I AM HIS FAVOURITE!
Chapter 164: Clearly looking for trouble

Chapter 164: Clearly looking for trouble

The morning stretched on, dragging in an endless cycle of instructions, corrections, and repeated demonstrations.

But Hua Jing knew what she was doing.

Sometimes, she performed the etiquette exercises too perfectly, leaving the instructors silent and seething because there was nothing to correct.

Other times, she deliberately exaggerated, executing the movements with a ridiculous amount of grace, turning a simple bow into something so theatrical that even Xia Lin had to turn away to hide her laughter.

The instructors’ faces slowly drained of patience.

Their once-proud postures began to slouch, their carefully crafted smiles cracked under the weight of frustration.

Hua Jing was clearly wasting their time.

And she was enjoying every moment of it.

The tea-serving lesson had already ended in a disaster for them, and now they had moved on to posture training.

Madam Lu, her patience hanging by a single thread, stepped forward.

"Now," she said stiffly, straightening herself as if she were preparing for battle. "We shall focus on posture."

Hua Jing lifted a delicate brow, her expression politely unimpressed.

"Posture?" she echoed, her tone lightly teasing.

"Yes," Madam Lu confirmed. "The way you sit, stand, and walk all reflect your status. A noble consort must carry herself with dignity and grace at all times."

Hua Jing sighed dramatically, shaking her head.

"I do hope this will be more challenging than serving tea," she murmured.

Madam Qiao’s lips thinned, but she swallowed whatever remark she was about to make.

Instead, she motioned to one of the maids, who quickly brought out a wooden rod.

Xia Lin’s eyes widened slightly.

Hua Jing, however, remained unbothered.

"The goal is to maintain perfect balance while walking," Madam Qiao explained, placing the rod on her own shoulders as a demonstration. "This ensures that your back remains straight and your head remains high."

She then placed the rod on Hua Jing’s shoulders, stepping back to observe.

"Now, walk," she instructed.

Hua Jing didn’t even hesitate.

She moved gracefully, effortlessly, her every step exuding refined elegance.

It was perfect—too perfect.

The instructors exchanged glances, their frustration mounting.

There was nothing to criticize.

"Try again," Madam Lu ordered.

Hua Jing sighed softly, turned, and walked once more.

Still perfect.

Still flawless.

Madam Qiao’s fingers twitched.

She hadn’t expected this.

Everything else, they could manipulate—her tea-serving, her manner of speech, her gestures.

But posture was something that could not be easily altered.

It was instinctual. It was engrained through habit.

And Hua Jing had already mastered it.

If they couldn’t break her through training—

Then they would have to find another way.

Madam Lu stepped forward, her eyes gleaming with new determination.

"That was... acceptable," she said begrudgingly.

Hua Jing tilted her head slightly, feigning innocence.

"Acceptable?" she echoed.

Madam Qiao nodded stiffly, as if forcing the word out of her mouth pained her.

"However," she added quickly, "you are still lacking in discipline. A proper consort must be able to hold her posture under pressure."

Hua Jing’s eyes flickered with amusement.

Pressure?

She had spent her previous life facing flashing cameras, standing on award stages, handling interviews with ruthless reporters.

Did these women really think they could intimidate her with a wooden stick?

"Understood," Hua Jing said easily.

Madam Lu’s smile tightened.

"Good," she said. "Then let us continue."

She stepped aside, gesturing to one of the younger maids, who quickly handed her a long wooden cane.

Xia Lin’s entire body tensed.

"My lady..." she whispered in warning.

Hua Jing remained calm, though she felt a flicker of amusement at Xia Lin’s concern.

This was what they had been waiting for.

They had found a loophole.

If they couldn’t find fault in her form—

They would simply create one.

Madam Qiao took a slow step forward, raising her chin.

"You will walk," she said smoothly, tapping the cane against the ground.

"And if your posture falters, we will correct it immediately."

Hua Jing’s eyes flickered toward the cane, then back at the instructor’s face.

Her smile did not waver.

"If that is how you wish to teach," she murmured, "then by all means."

Madam Lu’s grip on the cane tightened.

Hua Jing turned, walking once more.

Her back was straight, her head held high, her steps measured and elegant.

It was flawless.

And that only made the instructors angrier.

"Too stiff," Madam Lu snapped.

A blatant lie.

"Less rigidity," Madam Qiao added. "A consort must look effortless."

Hua Jing let out a small sigh, adjusting her posture just slightly.

Still, it was perfect.

And the instructors knew it.

Their frustration boiled over.

Madam Lu suddenly lifted the cane higher, her grip white-knuckled.

"Again," she ordered.

Hua Jing complied.

Still flawless.

Still untouchable.

Madam Qiao exchanged a look with Madam Lu.

This wasn’t working.

They needed to break her composure.

And then—

Madam Lu moved.

The cane rose into the air, poised to strike.

Xia Lin gasped.

The wooden rod hung there, frozen in time—

Poised to come crashing down.

The cane came crashing down.

Madam Lu and Madam Qiao’s eyes gleamed with malicious satisfaction, their grips tightening as the wooden rod cut through the air, aimed directly at Hua Jing’s back.

They had been waiting for this.

Hua Jing had been too perfect, too flawless, too untouchable.

They had tried to find faults, tried to corner her, but she had effortlessly slipped through their grasp every time.

Now, finally—finally, they had an excuse.

This was how noble ladies were trained. Discipline through pain.

And since no one was here to question them, since no one was watching, they had declared her posture wrong on purpose—so they could strike her freely.

A lesson in control.

A lesson in obedience.

The cane descended swiftly, mercilessly—

But—

It never landed.

In the blink of an eye, Hua Jing was gone.

The next moment—

She was right in front of Madam Lu.

Madam Lu staggered back, her breath hitching, her heart pounding violently against her ribs as her eyes met Hua Jing’s cold, murderous gaze.

The air in the courtyard shifted instantly.

A suffocating pressure filled the space.

And then—

Hua Jing spoke.

Her voice was lethal, dangerously soft—

"What do you think you are doing?"