MY PRINCE HUSBAND HAS SEVEN WIVES AND I AM HIS FAVOURITE!
Chapter 165: The emperor is ill

Chapter 165: The emperor is ill

The words were soft, yet they carried the weight of a thousand blades.

The air shifted, turning cold despite the warmth of the late morning sun.

Madam Lu felt her breath hitch, her hands instinctively clenching as she took a step back.

Hua Jing stood motionless, her form deceptively relaxed, but her gaze burned with quiet, deadly fury.

Madam Qiao swallowed thickly, sensing the shift in power.

This was not the meek consort they had expected to torment.

This was not the young woman they had been told was unrefined and in need of discipline.

The intensity in Hua Jing’s gaze was something they had never encountered before—

It was the look of a predator.

And they—

They were the prey.

The cane in Madam Lu’s grip felt heavier than before, as if the weight of her intentions had suddenly become unbearable.

"Y-Your Highness..." she stammered, trying to compose herself, but her voice wavered.

She was used to dealing with noblewomen—with daughters of high-ranking officials who flinched at every raised voice and lowered their heads at the first sign of authority.

But Hua Jing...

Hua Jing did not lower her head.

She did not shrink away.

She stood there, calm, unwavering, as if she had already calculated every possible move before they had even made their first mistake.

And they had made a mistake.

A terrible one.

Madam Qiao forced herself to straighten, trying to reclaim the authority they had lost.

"This is part of your training," she said, but even she could hear the strain in her own voice. "You must learn proper discipline—"

Hua Jing’s head tilted slightly, and a slow, sharp smile curved on her lips.

"Discipline?" she repeated.

Madam Lu’s fingers tightened around the cane, but she did not dare lift it again.

Not anymore.

Because now—

They understood.

This woman was not a lamb to be led to slaughter.

She was a wolf in silk.

And they had just made the grave mistake—

Of thinking they could put a collar on her.

The air in the courtyard grew heavier, thick with tension that pressed against the two instructors like an invisible force.

Hua Jing stood there, a vision of calm destruction, her presence suffocating.

Her eyes were unreadable, but the deadly gleam within them sent a violent shiver down Madam Lu’s spine.

Then, in a voice laced with quiet menace, Hua Jing spoke:

"I can overlook many things."

Her tone was smooth, each word measured, deliberate—dangerous.

"But your stupidity is not one of them."

Madam Qiao flinched, the sheer weight of her presence pressing down on them like a storm ready to break.

"Trying to strike me under the pretense of discipline?"

Hua Jing let out a soft, amused chuckle, but there was nothing warm about it.

Her smile widened, a sharp, cutting thing.

"How about I teach you some discipline instead?"

Before either of them could react, Hua Jing moved.

Fast.

With a sharp flick of her wrist, she yanked the cane straight out of Madam Lu’s grip with terrifying ease.

A sharp gasp tore from the woman’s lips as her fingers snapped open involuntarily, the force of Hua Jing’s pull nearly sending her stumbling.

Madam Qiao’s breath hitched, her entire body stiffening at the sight of the consort effortlessly wielding the cane, as if it had always belonged in her hands.

Hua Jing tilted her head slightly, inspecting the wooden rod with an expression of mock curiosity.

She ran her fingers along the smooth wood, tapping it lightly against her palm, as if contemplating something.

Then—she looked up.

And the cold amusement in her eyes made both instructors freeze.

"Since you’re so eager to demonstrate proper posture," Hua Jing mused, her voice mockingly sweet, "why don’t you show me what a perfect stance looks like?"

Madam Lu’s face twisted.

"Your Highness, this is inappropriate—"

"Inappropriate?" Hua Jing cut in smoothly, arching a delicate brow.

She twirled the cane once, letting it slice through the air with a sharp, ominous whistle.

The sound alone made Madam Qiao’s entire body lock up in fear.

Hua Jing took a slow, purposeful step forward, her smile deepening.

"If you don’t get it right," she murmured, tapping the cane lightly against her palm, "there will be discipline."

A shudder ran down the instructors’ spines.

Madam Lu, trying to regain control, took a step back, her face twisting in poorly concealed outrage.

"You cannot treat us like this!" she snapped. "We are from the Empress’s Manor!"

Hua Jing’s smile vanished instantly.

And in its place—

A look of absolute, merciless cold.

She took another step forward, the tip of the cane pointed toward Madam Lu like a weapon.

"And I am from the Crown Prince’s Manor," she said, her voice dropping into something chillingly soft.

Madam Qiao inhaled sharply, her eyes darting to Madam Lu.

Hua Jing’s tone was not a threat.

It was a fact.

One that rendered their so-called status meaningless.

"You may have come from the Empress," Hua Jing continued, taking another step forward. "But while you stand here, in my courtyard, you stand beneath me."

A heavy silence settled between them, filled only by the sound of the cane tapping gently against her palm.

"You should start," she said, tilting her head slightly, mockingly.

Madam Qiao pressed her lips together tightly, as if weighing her options.

She knew—they both knew—that Hua Jing was not bluffing.

And that was the most terrifying part.

Still, they tried.

"T-This is highly inappropriate," Madam Qiao stammered.

Hua Jing let out a soft hum, as if she hadn’t heard a single word.

Then, without warning—

She whipped the cane through the air twice, the sharp CRACK slicing through the silence like a dagger.

The sound echoed through the courtyard, sharp and precise.

Madam Lu and Madam Qiao visibly flinched, their faces going pale as death.

Xia Lin, watching from behind Hua Jing, felt a thrill of satisfaction at the way the two women suddenly looked far less confident than before.

Hua Jing’s fingers curled around the cane, her grip firm.

Her smile returned—this time, it was razor-sharp, gleaming with the promise of something dangerous.

"Try again," she murmured, her voice dripping with mock patience.

Madam Lu’s entire body stiffened.

She opened her mouth, perhaps to protest, but—

A sharp knock echoed from the courtyard gate.

The tension fractured instantly, the interruption breaking the suffocating atmosphere.

Xia Lin quickly turned toward the gate, stepping forward to open it—

And there, standing at the entrance, was Wei Ling.

Hua Jing’s eyes narrowed slightly.

She had almost forgotten—

Before Zhao Yan left, he had told her that Wei Ling would come to escort her to the Back Garden.

But Wei Ling’s expression...

It was not the face of a man delivering simple news.

His usual composed demeanor was absent, replaced instead by a grim, unreadable tension.

Something was wrong.

Hua Jing slowly lowered the cane.

The instructors, sensing the shift in attention, stayed silent, though their expressions were still uneasy.

Hua Jing turned away from them without a second glance, stepping toward Wei Ling.

Her voice, though calm, held a quiet edge of suspicion.

"What is it?"