MY PRINCE HUSBAND HAS SEVEN WIVES AND I AM HIS FAVOURITE!
Chapter 186: He is gone

Chapter 186: He is gone

"Has His Majesty really..."

The guards nodded, their expressions grim, and stepped aside to allow entry. Inside the palace grounds, eunuchs scurried like mice, delivering orders and fetching incense and white mourning robes. The empress dowager’s court was cloaked in whispers and stifled sobs, but even more than sorrow, there was dread. The Emperor had no officially named successor. Though all eyes naturally turned to Crown Prince Zhao Yan, the matter of succession was still to be finalized through rites and proclamations. And everyone knew—such transitions never went smoothly.

In the Hall of Tranquil Radiance, the Emperor’s body lay on a grand bed draped in white silk, surrounded by high-ranking officials, physicians, and those of the inner court. His face was pale and drawn, lips slightly parted as if still attempting to breathe. A golden thread had been tied loosely around his wrist—a ceremonial mark to signify the final moment of passing.

The heavy toll of the ceremonial bell echoed through the night, its mournful cadence spreading like wildfire through the empire. With each clang, a new ripple of dread tore through the city. People stirred from their sleep, candlelights flaring across courtyards and through manor windows. In the vast stretch of the capital, the palace stood as the trembling heart of it all.

Inside, the Imperial Hall had transformed in mere moments. Palace maids and eunuchs were on their knees, silent with grief. Court officials—called by urgent summons—rushed back to the palace, their faces pale with confusion and fear. Despite the hour, they came in full ceremonial mourning robes, hurriedly donned as the urgency of the moment outshone protocol.

The grand hall was now shrouded in shadows and flickering lanterns, with white silk banners hanging from every rafter. At the center, where once the throne symbolized majesty and absolute power, a gilded platform now bore the frail and lifeless body of the Son of Heaven.

Zhao Yan had not moved from his seat beside the Emperor’s bed since the last breath had left the old man’s lips. He sat still, a statue carved of grief and disbelief. The candlelight caught in his eyes, casting reflections of emotion he refused to let fall. Those eyes that had once shone so fiercely were now dull with a pain too deep for words. His shoulders were tense, yet trembling ever so slightly, his hand still clutching the Emperor’s lifeless fingers.

The Emperor’s passing had been quiet, too quiet for a man who had commanded armies and bent the fates of nations. But Zhao Yan had been there for every heartbeat that faded into stillness, every strained breath, every whispered goodbye.

The officials entered and fell to their knees. The sound of their collective weeping rose steadily, echoing against the tall marble walls. It was a sound meant to honor the passing of a ruler, but there was uncertainty laced within it. Because now, the throne stood empty, and the empire trembled with questions.

Next to him, Hua Jing sat quietly, her long hair still damp from the frantic ride and heavy in loose waves over her shoulders. Her face bore no tears, only a stillness that seemed to speak of storms roiling beneath the surface. She hadn’t uttered a word since they had entered, only placed herself beside him and folded her hands in her lap, her fingers now gripping the edge of her robes tightly.

Her gaze rested on the Emperor’s face, and it struck her how young he looked. Despite the faint lines of age that had begun to settle around his eyes and the pale hue of his skin, there was a nobility to his features that was unmistakably shared by Zhao Yan. Father and son—the resemblance was almost haunting. He had died young, too young for someone of such power and presence.

Hua Jing thought of the poison. It had done its work too swiftly. She could still feel the traces of it clinging to the air, imagined its slow, cruel path through the Emperor’s veins. Her nails dug into her palms as fury surged quietly through her. Whoever had done this would not escape. She would ensure it.

All at once, the heavy doors burst open.

The wail that followed pierced through the mourning hush of the chamber.

The Empress.

She swept in like a gale, her outer robe fluttering behind her as palace attendants hurried to keep up, some crying, others visibly shaken. She was still adorned in her imperial finery, the golden phoenixes embroidered on her sleeves glinting in the flickering candlelight, her elaborate headdress slightly askew from haste.

"Your Majesty! My Emperor!" she cried, her voice shrill with grief as she stumbled forward. Her legs nearly gave out as she approached the dais where the body lay in silent repose.

Zhao Yan’s head lifted slightly, eyes narrowing as he watched her, unreadable. Hua Jing remained still but her own gaze followed the woman with quiet alertness.

The Empress dropped to her knees beside the bier and clutched at the Emperor’s robe, wailing uncontrollably.

"How could this be? Why would the heavens take you from me?"

Her sobs echoed in the chamber, drawing glances from the surrounding ministers and guards, but no one moved to interrupt her. The Empress had arrived too late to see her husband off. And now her mourning began with screams and shattered composure.

As her cries filled the hall, Hua Jing shifted slightly, her thoughts darkening.

She watched the Empress with the eyes of someone no longer blinded by surface appearances.

And when her gaze drifted back to Zhao Yan, she saw that he, too, was watching—but his stare was cold.

The Empress’s cry pierced through the thick silence of the mourning hall, her body collapsing dramatically onto the polished marble floor. Her arms outstretched, she wailed uncontrollably, dragging the hem of her robes as she crawled toward the dais where the Emperor lay in deathly stillness.

"Your Majesty! Your Majesty!" she cried, voice raw, echoing through the vast hall. Her hands clawed toward the Emperor’s cold body, fingers trembling as they hovered just short of touching his face. Tears streamed freely down her cheeks, smudging the delicate powder on her face. "Why did you leave me behind? Why now?"

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