MY PRINCE HUSBAND HAS SEVEN WIVES AND I AM HIS FAVOURITE!
Chapter 184: I am done with all of these

Chapter 184: I am done with all of these

Zhao Ling Xu whispered. "With all of this."

He stepped back, turned, and without a second glance, walked out of the courtyard.

Neither the Empress nor the Prime Minister moved to stop him. The silence left in his wake was unbearable.

The Empress slowly sank onto the stone bench by the koi pond, her strength seeming to leave her all at once. Her trembling hands fell into her lap, and her shoulders slumped forward, the weight of everything crashing down.

The Prime Minister walked slowly to stand beside her, but did not speak. He only looked at her with something unreadable in his gaze.

The wind stirred the trees. The koi swam peacefully in their pond. And the sky overhead remained indifferent to the collapse unfolding below.

...

Zhao Ling Xu walked slowly down a narrow corridor flanked by high stone walls, the silence of the night wrapping tightly around his slender figure. His hands were buried in the folds of his dark robes, and his head was bowed, his brows furrowed as if weighed by thoughts far heavier than the footsteps he dragged across the cobbled path. The echo of his movement sounded hollow, mirroring the emptiness beginning to gnaw at his chest.

Just as he was about to turn a corner, a shadow moved ahead of him. Zhao Ling Xu looked up, and his eyes instantly narrowed when he saw who stood in his way.

The Prime Minister.

The man was standing perfectly still, his hands clasped behind his back, his expression unreadable as moonlight painted silver edges across his shoulders.

Zhao Ling Xu scoffed, his lips curling into a humorless smirk. "Have you come to berate me for speaking the truth?" he asked, voice sharp and unfiltered. "Well, don’t bother. I said what needed to be said. The truth always sounds like treason when it’s inconvenient, doesn’t it?"

The Prime Minister exhaled deeply but didn’t bite back. Instead, he stepped forward, eyes softening just slightly. "What you did back there was reckless," he said, tone even but tinged with something heavier. "You spoke out of turn, and without knowing all the facts."

Zhao Ling Xu let out a low laugh, short and bitter. "Here we go again. Everyone keeps telling me that I don’t know the truth. That there’s more I don’t understand. Yet no one—no one—ever tells me what it is. You all expect me to blindly follow, to kill, to deceive, to betray for a crown built on smoke and shadows. For what?"

The Prime Minister didn’t answer immediately. His gaze fell to the ground for a brief second before returning to Zhao Ling Xu’s defiant glare. "Because it is not yet time," he finally said. "Because the truth, once spoken, cannot be taken back. And because some truths are more dangerous than lies if revealed too early."

Zhao Ling Xu shook his head in disbelief, a breath of frustration escaping him. "That’s convenient," he spat. "Just keep me in the dark until you’ve pulled enough strings to get what you want. I’m just your puppet, right?"

"That is not true," the Prime Minister said firmly, stepping closer. "You are the First Prince. You were born to sit on the throne. Everything we’ve done—all the pieces we’ve moved—have been for your benefit. To secure your future."

Zhao Ling Xu turned his back on the older man and began walking away.

The Prime Minister followed, his voice steady. "All I ask is that you trust us a little longer. Once Zhao Yan is dealt with, the emperor’s seat will be empty, and all eyes will turn to you. That is your destiny. It always has been."

Zhao Ling Xu stopped mid-step, tilting his head back to glance at the sky. The stars blinked silently down on them, cold and distant.

"Destiny," he murmured, then turned his face just enough for the Prime Minister to see the half-smile forming on his lips. "What a load of nonsense."

Zhao Ling Xu didn’t look back as he walked away, his boots striking the ground in steady, angry rhythm. The prime minister stood rooted in place, watching his retreating figure with a gaze far more hollow than usual. He didn’t call out. There was no use. The words he might have said tangled in his throat, useless now.

When Zhao Ling Xu’s silhouette disappeared into the dark corridor, the prime minister finally exhaled. It was a sound too weary for a man who had built his name on ambition and quiet ruthlessness. He turned his eyes upwards.

Above, the sky stretched like a vast canvas, littered with stars that gleamed with eerie stillness. The wind was silent now, but the quiet made everything louder. In the silence, the night didn’t bring calm. It brought memory.

The stars blurred, replaced by something crimson.

Blood.

Too much of it.

It flooded his vision—an ocean of red pooling across smooth palace floors. He had been small then. Young. So young his mind barely understood what was happening. But he could never forget the chaos.

Legs. So many legs. Robes sweeping past him in a frenzy. Some were running. Others dragging bodies. Shouts echoed from every direction. Screams.

He remembered a warm hand clutching his. Rough but secure. A voice had whispered in his ear, "Don’t let go. Whatever happens, don’t let go."

But how could he not? How could he not let go when the world was breaking around him?

The metallic scent of blood was overpowering. It clung to the air, saturated his lungs. He was pulled behind a broken screen, barely shielded from the horror unraveling beyond. Through the narrow slats, he saw shadows moving swiftly. A blade slashing. Another body falling.

And the shouting. Gods, the shouting.

"Protect the prince! Protect the prince!"

The voice was desperate. Familiar. And it was cut off by a gurgling noise.

The hand that held his trembled, and he felt warm droplets splash onto his skin. A final push sent him stumbling through a half-broken corridor door, and then—

Silence.

It had all happened so fast. And he had survived. But survival came with a curse: memory. That night had never left him. It played on repeat behind his eyes, reminding him always of what he had lost and why he must never lose again.

The prime minister blinked and the sky returned. The stars twinkled as if mocking his torment!

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