MY PRINCE HUSBAND HAS SEVEN WIVES AND I AM HIS FAVOURITE!
Chapter 171: There are already rumours spreading

Chapter 171: There are already rumours spreading

Hua Jing lowered the letter slightly and shook her head. "It’s from His Highness," she murmured, though her voice lacked conviction.

Xia Lin hesitated before speaking again. "But... do you trust it?"

Hua Jing exhaled slowly, her mind racing. She missed Zhao Yan dearly, but she was not foolish enough to act on emotion alone. There was something wrong here, and if she ignored her instincts, she might very well be walking into a carefully laid trap.

Her gaze shifted toward the doorway, where the messenger had stood just moments ago. Had that truly been one of Zhao Yan’s men? Or was it someone else entirely?

Xia Lin’s face paled, her brows knitting in deep worry as she watched Hua Jing pace across the room. The golden letter, now folded and clutched in Hua Jing’s grip, seemed to weigh more than it should. The air in the chamber was heavy with tension, thick with unspoken fears and uncertainties.

"Prepare my robes," Hua Jing finally commanded, her voice calm but firm. "I will go out, but we will do this my way."

Xia Lin’s eyes widened, her hands instinctively tightening around the silk sash she was folding. Something cold slithered down her spine—a premonition, a warning she couldn’t quite put into words.

She stepped forward quickly, placing herself in front of Hua Jing. "Please don’t go, my lady," she urged, her voice barely above a whisper but trembling with urgency.

"It could be even worse for you as it is. There are already rumors going around."

Hua Jing stilled. Her grip on the letter tightened as she turned toward Xia Lin, her expression unreadable. "Rumors?"

Xia Lin swallowed, looking around as if to ensure no one else was listening. "Yes. They say the emperor is sick."

Hua Jing’s heart skipped a beat. She had told no one—not even Xia Lin—about the content of Zhaoyan’s earlier letter.

Only a select few should have known about the emperor’s condition, and yet, the whispers had already begun to spread through the palace like wildfire.

This was not just idle gossip. It was orchestrated. Someone wanted unrest.

A flicker of unease crossed Hua Jing’s face, but she quickly masked it. She could not let fear dictate her actions.

"I must go," she said, adjusting her sleeves. "If there are rumors, then there is something larger at play."

Xia Lin reached out, grasping Hua Jing’s hand tightly. "But why now? Who would send you such a letter at this moment?" She looked desperately into Hua Jing’s eyes. "What if it’s a trap?"

Hua Jing met Xia Lin’s gaze steadily. "That is why we must be careful. But I cannot sit idly while everything around me shifts."

Xia Lin bit her lip, hesitation evident in her expression. "Then let me come with you."

Hua Jing shook her head. "No. If this is truly dangerous, I cannot put you at risk. I will go alone."

She could not afford to put anyone in danger in case this was all a ploy to attack her.

She already guessed why these things were already happening but she was not very sure about it and this was a must see kind of a thing.

Xia Lin’s frustration was evident, but she knew better than to argue further. Instead, she exhaled sharply, then stepped aside, fists clenched. "At least let me disguise you. If someone wishes to do you harm, they should not know it is you."

Hua Jing allowed a small smile. "That, I will agree to."

Moments later, Hua Jing stood before a bronze mirror, her figure transformed. The opulent silks she usually adorned were gone, replaced by a simple but elegant deep-blue robe, her face partially obscured by a gauzy veil. Her golden hairpins had been removed, her hair styled in a far more modest arrangement. To anyone else, she would appear as just another noblewoman taking an evening stroll.

As she stepped toward the doors, Xia Lin suddenly grasped her wrist again. "Promise me," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "Promise me you will come back."

Hua Jing hesitated for only a moment before nodding. "I promise."

With that, she turned and slipped out of the room, her steps measured yet swift. The air outside was crisp, the palace eerily quiet as she moved through the shaded corridors.

The location mentioned in the letter was not far—a small pavilion near the eastern gardens. It was a place she had been shown by Xia Lin once but she did not think much of it then.

But the fact that this letter had arrived so soon after their failed morning rendezvous still gnawed at her. Zhao Yan was careful, meticulous. Would he truly summon her so soon, knowing the risks?

Her steps slowed as she neared the pavilion. A lone lantern flickered in the night, casting long shadows across the wooden floor. The wind rustled the nearby cherry blossoms, scattering a few petals in her path.

Then she saw him—or at least, she thought she did.

A figure stood at the edge of the pavilion, partially hidden by the shadows. Her breath hitched. "Zhao Yan?" she called softly.

The figure did not immediately respond. Instead, he shifted slightly, the dim light finally illuminating his face.

Her heart plummeted.

This was not Zhao Yan.

Huajing’s breath hitched slightly as she took in the sight of the man standing before her.

The glow of the lanterns cast long shadows on the intricately carved wooden walls of the pavilion, but it did nothing to obscure the unmistakable presence of the man.

His robes were woven from the finest silk, adorned with golden embroidery that shimmered under the soft light.

The delicate patterns of dragons and clouds signified his high status, his every movement exuding an air of authority and grace.

For a moment, Huajing hesitated, her mind flashing back to that fateful day when she and Zhaoyan had been ambushed by bandits.

The night had been chaotic, filled with fire and blood, yet the following morning had brought a different kind of disturbance—the arrival of the imperial investigators.

She had not paid much attention at the time, too caught up in her own fears and the prince’s safety, but now, standing before her, was the very man who had come to oversee the aftermath. The Prime Minister.

The realization sent a ripple of unease through her, but she schooled her features into calm neutrality, stepping forward with a measured pace.

"My Lord Prime Minister," she greeted, her voice smooth yet laced with cautious curiosity. "This is quite an unexpected meeting."

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