MY PRINCE HUSBAND HAS SEVEN WIVES AND I AM HIS FAVOURITE!
Chapter 190: Either I die or you die!

Chapter 190: Either I die or you die!

The cold palace was nothing like the splendor the Empress had once known. The grand chambers of the Phoenix Pavilion, with their gilded walls and jeweled ceilings, were a faraway memory now. Her robes were no longer woven with gold thread or embroidered with phoenixes. The only fabric that now touched her skin was a coarse, dull-gray garment that scratched with every movement. Her hair, once adorned with jade pins and shimmering pearls, hung loosely around her face, tangled and greasy.

Only one maid had been assigned to her—a surly, disinterested girl who barely hid the disdain in her gaze. She swept the dusty corners of the room with languid strokes, making no effort to engage with the woman she once would have bowed to.

The Empress paced in the dim light of the cold palace, gnawing on her fingernails like a madwoman. Her mutterings grew louder and more frenzied with every step. "This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening," she repeated, each time more shrill. "I still need to put Ling Xu on the throne. I still need to..."

She stopped in the center of the room, her eyes wide with desperation. Her once-regal face was pale and sunken, twisted into a grimace of fury. "Zhao Yan," she hissed, clenching her fists so tightly her knuckles turned white. "I curse the day you were born. You worthless child! How dare you do this to me? After everything, after how I raised you, how dare you throw me away like this!"

Her voice rose to a scream, echoing off the cold stone walls. "You cannot treat me this way! You—worthless child—I will make sure you’re dead!"

A voice, calm but dripping with menace, cut through the air like a blade. "You want to ensure that I am dead?"

The Empress spun around, her eyes darting to the shadowed corner of the room. Zhao Yan stepped forward, the torchlight casting a fierce glow over his face. Gone was the golden mask he often wore in court, the stoic symbol of imperial restraint. What stood before her now was a man unmasked, both literally and figuratively, his face carved in stone, his eyes lit with cold fire.

She gasped, stepping back involuntarily. Her knees buckled, but pride held her upright. She straightened, narrowing her eyes at him with all the defiance she could muster. "What are you doing here? Come to mock me, have you? Release me from this prison this instant. That throne doesn’t belong to you. It never did. It belongs to my son."

Zhao Yan took slow, measured steps toward her, and with each step, the Empress felt a prickle of something she hadn’t felt in decades: fear. "Your son," he repeated quietly. "The same son whose very existence you tried to hide. The same son who doesn’t even want the throne."

"Lies!" she spat. "All lies. You were never fit to be emperor. I did what I had to do for the good of the empire."

"You poisoned my father," Zhao Yan said evenly, his voice void of emotion, which made it all the more terrifying. "You plotted against my mother. You manipulated the court, silenced dissenters, and corrupted the very soul of this palace. And still, you claim righteousness?"

"Your mother was weak!" the Empress shrieked. "She had no spine, no fire. She was never meant to sit on the throne beside the Emperor."

Zhao Yan was only a step away now. His presence loomed large in the tight space. "And yet she did," he said. "She bore the Emperor a legitimate heir and upheld her duty with dignity. Something you never understood."

The Empress shook with fury. Her voice cracked. "You little bastard! You think because you’ve tasted a bit of power, you can speak to me this way? I built this empire from behind the veil. I raised you, taught you court manners, guided you until you were strong enough to stand. And this is how you repay me?"

Zhao Yan leaned in, his breath brushing her ear as he whispered, "You raised me with chains. You taught me obedience, not wisdom. And now I see you for who you truly are. Not a mother. Not an empress. Just a frightened, bitter woman clinging to a throne that never belonged to her."

He straightened, his gaze like a storm. "You will stay here, in this cold palace, until the end of your days. There will be no more golden robes. No servants to flatter your pride. No schemes to cling to. Just silence. Just the weight of everything you’ve done."

The Empress stood frozen, unable to speak. Zhao Yan turned without another word but the Empress’ voice stops him.

Zhao Yan had just turned his back when the Empress’s voice, chilling and strange, echoed from behind him.

"Do you truly believe that you will ascend that throne?"

Her tone was devoid of rage this time, hollow like the ringing of a bell in an abandoned temple. Zhao Yan paused mid-step. The cold of her voice struck deeper than any scream could. He slowly turned to face her again, his gaze hard.

"You want to bet on it?" he asked, voice like flint.

But instead of fury, the Empress gave a dry, humorless laugh. She strolled back to the cracked chair in the corner of the cold palace and sat languidly, draping her thin robe around her like some grotesque parody of nobility. Her eyes gleamed strangely.

"Do you want to hear a story, Crown Prince?" she asked, folding her hands over her lap, her nails bitten raw. "Do you want to know how your great-grandfather became Emperor?"

Zhao Yan narrowed his eyes, but said nothing. Silence was permission enough.

The Empress began, her voice soft but cutting, like the edge of a knife swaddled in silk.

"A long time ago, before the empire became what it is today, there were two branches of the imperial bloodline. One was noble by name. The other... noble by destiny. A family living in the southern province, quiet, studious, with ancient manuscripts and jade seals bearing the true imperial line. They never claimed the throne. They never needed to. Their blood was proof enough."

She leaned forward, her eyes fixed on Zhao Yan.

"But then your great-grandfather, then just General Zhao Yumin, heard the rumors. That there was a child born in the south with a birthmark shaped like the imperial seal. A boy descended from the true line. And so, he marched south."

Her voice dropped.

"He didn’t go as a soldier. He went as a guest. He dined with the boy’s father. He praised their wisdom, their loyalty. He gave gifts. And then, one night, he slit the father’s throat in his sleep, burned the entire estate to the ground."

Zhao Yan’s brows furrowed, but he remained still. The air felt heavier, as if every word she spoke bent gravity itself.

"But the boy survived," the Empress said, her lips curling slightly. "He hid. In the forests, in the caves, until someone found him. An old eunuch who had served the imperial court for decades, one who knew the truth. He raised the boy. Trained him. Taught him everything your great-grandfather had destroyed."

She smiled now, a smile that looked almost fond.

"That boy is now the man you call the Prime Minister."

Zhao Yan stiffened.

"He should have been Emperor," she said, her voice now almost wistful. "By blood. By birthright. But history is written by the victors, not the rightful heirs."

Zhao Yan’s jaw tightened. "Why are you telling me this?"

The Empress laughed again. "Because you think you’re fighting for justice, when you don’t even know the foundations of your house are built on a grave. Because you think you can rule an empire whose ghosts you have never met."

She leaned back, resting her head against the cold wall. Her voice dropped into a whisper, almost lost in the wind.

"Because the dead do not stay buried forever, Your Highness. Not when they were once destined to wear a crown."

Zhao Yan didn’t speak. His fingers curled tightly around the hilt of his sword. The air around him thrummed with tension. The Empress smiled.

And in that stillness, the weight of a buried truth began to rise from the dust.

The empress looked at Zhao Yan and gave a hearty laughter as if mocking his countenance, "You thought it belonged to you? The throne? How naïve!"

She had planned everything from the ground till now.

She had not been selected as the empress back then even though she was the first choice, the emperor had apparently gone for love and when the child standing right before her was born, she had lost all rights!

The emperor treated Zhao Yan like a precious treasure and even made him the crown prince despite Zhao Ling Xu being born first so how could she let everything go?

She looked at Zhao Yan and smiled eerily, "It’s either I die or you die but I will never let you sit on that throne! Over my dead body!"

Search the lightnovelworld.cc website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.