MY PRINCE HUSBAND HAS SEVEN WIVES AND I AM HIS FAVOURITE!
Chapter 170: Summon the others

Chapter 170: Summon the others

Long after the First Consort had stormed out of Yongle Palace, leaving behind an air of dissatisfaction and simmering rage, the Empress finally allowed a slow, knowing smile to cross her lips. She leaned back against her jade-inlaid seat, her manicured fingers idly tapping against the surface of the lacquered table beside her. The tension in her expression melted away, replaced with an amusement only she could understand.

With a flick of her fingers, a nearby maid bowed and swiftly cleared away the remnants of the First Consort’s tea, ensuring that no trace of her presence lingered longer than necessary. The Empress rose with measured grace, the silk of her gown cascading around her feet like rippling water. She took a slow, deliberate step forward, her embroidered shoes barely making a sound against the polished floors of Yongle Palace.

As she moved deeper into the inner chambers, the warm glow of candlelight barely illuminated the space, casting long shadows against the intricately carved walls. The scent of incense lingered in the air, thick and intoxicating, a sharp contrast to the chilling atmosphere that had now settled within the room.

She had only taken a few more steps when a low chuckle echoed from within. A figure was already seated at the central table, his posture relaxed, his fingers idly tracing the rim of a delicate porcelain teacup. He exuded an air of casual confidence, completely at ease in a place where most would not dare linger uninvited.

"She came to whine again, didn’t she?" the man mused as he lifted the cup to his lips, taking a slow sip. The rich aroma of the imported tea filled the air between them.

The Empress exhaled lightly, settling herself onto the cushioned seat across from him. "Her visits are becoming increasingly annoying. I grow tired of her constant grievances, her endless complaints. She is a woman who does not know when to keep her mouth shut."

The man chuckled, setting his cup down with an audible clink. "Then why not get rid of her?"

The Empress tilted her head slightly, her gaze sharp and calculating. "That would be a waste. She is still useful to us."

"True," the man conceded, leaning back into his seat with an amused smirk. "A pawn should not be discarded before it has served its purpose."

The Empress’s lips curled ever so slightly as she folded her hands in her lap. "We will guide her emotions, stoke her hatred, and push her towards action. She is desperate for power, desperate to rid herself of that nuisance Hua Jing. If she acts in our favor, we won’t even need to dirty our own hands."

"A clever strategy," the man murmured, clearly impressed. "Though, I must say, your work with the Emperor was quite masterful. You handled it so delicately that even those closest to him didn’t notice a thing until it was too late."

A pleased glint flickered in the Empress’s eyes. "If only the Crown Prince had not intervened and taken him away."

The man frowned slightly, his fingers tapping against the wooden surface of the table. "Zhao Yan is sharp. He is not a fool like the rest. The fact that he removed the Emperor from our reach means he suspects something."

The Empress’s expression darkened, her fingers tightening slightly. "He is a growing threat. One that we cannot afford to ignore."

"Then perhaps it is time we stop playing games and start moving pieces," the man suggested, his voice carrying an edge of menace. "We have waited long enough. If Zhao Yan is to be dealt with, it must be done soon."

A silence stretched between them as the weight of their plans settled into place. The Empress finally nodded, a slow, decisive movement that sealed their unspoken agreement.

"Summon the others," she commanded. "It is time to begin."

...

The morning light filtered through the delicate silk curtains of Hua Jing’s chamber, but its warmth did little to soothe the unease that had settled within her since receiving Zhao Yan’s earlier letter. The news of the Emperor’s sudden illness had left a bitter taste in her mouth, and the restless silence of the palace corridors only fueled her anxiety. She longed to see Zhao Yan, to hear his voice and confirm that everything was truly under control, but she knew such a wish was impossible at this moment.

A sharp knock on the chamber door interrupted her brooding. Hua Jing’s gaze flicked toward the entrance as Xia Lin, her ever-dutiful maid, went to open it. Standing in the doorway was a man dressed in the formal attire of the Crown Prince’s palace. His posture was rigid, his demeanor respectful, yet there was an air of urgency in his presence.

"The prince has sent me," the man announced, his voice carefully measured. He stepped forward, producing a sealed letter from the sleeve of his robe, and extended it toward Hua Jing. She took it instinctively, but before she could ask any questions, the man bowed swiftly and exited as quietly as he had arrived.

Hua Jing’s fingers tightened around the letter, her heartbeat quickening as she examined the familiar wax seal. Yet, something about the moment gnawed at her. The messenger had not lingered, had not waited for a response or further instructions—an unusual departure from the careful methods Zhao Yan always employed when sending messages.

Slowly, she broke the seal and unfolded the parchment. Her eyes traced the elegant strokes of the characters written upon it, unmistakably resembling Zhao Yan’s handwriting. However, the moment she read its contents, a flicker of unease sparked in her chest.

"My dear Hua Jing,

I regret that our meeting in the back garden this morning could not take place. Matters have become complicated, but I must see you. Meet me at the secluded pavilion by the eastern pond before the sun reaches its peak. Do not bring anyone with you.

Zhao Yan"

Hua Jing’s grip on the parchment tightened.

Zhao Yan had been exceedingly cautious ever since the Emperor’s condition had worsened. For him to request a meeting in such a secluded place, alone, was highly uncharacteristic. He had always insisted on moving with absolute discretion, ensuring his every action was backed by layers of security. The fact that he had written this letter himself should have eased her concerns, yet something about the wording unsettled her. It was too direct, too unlike him.

Her eyes darted back to the paper, scrutinizing every curve and stroke of the characters. The handwriting was almost identical to Zhao Yan’s, but there was something subtly off. She could not quite place what it was—perhaps the spacing between words, or the way certain characters leaned a fraction too much to the right.

Xia Lin, who had been silently watching from the side, cautiously stepped forward. "Your Highness, is something the matter?"