MY PRINCE HUSBAND HAS SEVEN WIVES AND I AM HIS FAVOURITE!
Chapter 199: If he wanted to kill her, she would...

Chapter 199: If he wanted to kill her, she would...

The Prime Minister’s voice cracked through the corridor like a whip.

"FIND HER!!" he thundered.

His eyes were bloodshot. His breath short and violent. The rage spilling from him was like molten lava, scalding every man around him into motion.

"I want her on her knees before me before the sun even dares to rise! Scour every room! Search every garden! Tear open the floor if you must!" he bellowed again, the spit flying from his lips.

The guards around him stiffened and immediately turned, bolting out in every direction. Their armor clanked and echoed against the marbled halls, their swords gleaming beneath the low light of palace torches.

Pei Rong didn’t watch them go.

He had no time.

The First Consort was bleeding out—fast.

With a swirl of his long robes, he turned and lifted her limp body once more, storming into the royal physician’s chamber.

Inside, the old physician, Master An, nearly leapt out of his skin.

He saw who it was and immediately dropped to one knee, his head bowed so low it nearly grazed the tiled floor.

"My lord Pr—"

"SHUT UP!" Pei Rong snapped.

He laid the First Consort down on the thick cushioned platform used for emergency treatments.

Her face was deathly pale.

Her lips already turning blue.

He drew his sword.

In one swift motion, the cold metal kissed the wrinkled throat of the trembling physician.

"If she dies," Pei Rong said slowly, "you will follow her within the hour."

Master An swallowed hard, a cold sweat breaking on his brow. "Y-yes... Yes, my lord!"

Pei Rong dropped the sword with a clatter and stormed out, two of his meanest-looking guards staying behind, looming over the old man like death itself.

The physician didn’t dare speak again.

Instead, his wrinkled fingers flew into action.

He tore away the First Consort’s blood-soaked sleeve and grimaced at the wound. The veins had already turned a putrid shade of deep navy blue, spidering up her arm.

The poison was spreading—too fast.

He grabbed his needles, trembling, and started inserting them with practiced precision.

One. Two. Five. Nine.

He aimed to halt the flow of blood before it reached her heart.

The two guards said nothing.

But he could feel their cold eyes watching him.

Judging him.

Waiting for him to fail.

His fingers shook even harder.

---

Outside, chaos returned to the palace.

Again.

But this time, no one was surprised.

No one gasped.

No one asked, "What’s happening now?"

The answer was simple:

War.

Palace workers walked like shadows, heads low, eyes down. Whispers filled every hallway. Hushed voices said one thing and one thing only:

"The Prime Minister is looking for the Seventh Consort."

"Hua Jing has angered him."

"She hurt the First Consort."

"She might be next."

"The Prime Minister is furious..."

---

In Hua Jing’s small, tucked-away courtyard, the air was cold.

Still.

Tense.

Xia Lin was pacing back and forth, her hands twisted together so tightly her knuckles had turned white. Her face was pale from stress, and her bottom lip had been bitten until it bled.

Where was she?

Where was her lady?

She hadn’t slept a wink.

Every creak. Every whisper of wind. Every flicker of torchlight outside had her jumping.

And then—

Footsteps.

Heavy ones.

Fast.

Her heart leapt into her throat.

She rushed to the door, breath catching. "My lady—?"

But as the door flung open, her heart plummeted.

It wasn’t Hua Jing.

Not even close.

Six men. Tall. Brutish. Scarred.

Wearing no insignia of the palace guard.

And their eyes... Those were not the eyes of men sent to protect.

They were vultures. Predators.

Monsters.

Xia Lin took several shaky steps back. "W-Who are you?! What do you want?! This is the Seventh Consort’s private chambers!"

The men didn’t answer.

They fanned out across the room, tearing into everything.

Vases shattered.

Scrolls ripped.

Clothing chests upturned and flung aside.

"STOP IT!!" Xia Lin screamed. "What are you doing?!"

Still no answer.

One man—larger than the rest—marched up to her.

CRACK!

His palm landed across her cheek like a thunderclap.

Xia Lin crashed to the ground, her head spinning.

Tears burst from her eyes as pain radiated from her jaw.

The man sneered, looking down at her.

"You’re too noisy," he muttered coldly. "Shut your trap."

Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth.

Another guard crouched beside her, his face so close she could see the flecks of dried blood on his armor.

"Where is your mistress?" he whispered.

His tone was soft.

Too soft.

The kind of soft that screamed danger.

Xia Lin couldn’t speak. Her lips trembled, but her voice was gone.

Her silence didn’t please him.

His hand grabbed her by the collar, yanking her up roughly.

"WHERE—IS—SHE?!"

Xia Lin couldn’t breathe.

Not from the pain.

Not from the fear.

But from the sheer horror burning inside her chest like wild fire.

A man—tall, broad, and reeking of sweat and steel—was shouting directly into her face. His breath hit her like acid.

She trembled violently, lips quivering. "I-I don’t know!" she cried, eyes wide and soaked with tears. "I don’t know where she is! Where is she?! What did you do to my lady?!"

Her voice broke—splintered.

She wasn’t acting anymore. This wasn’t panic.

It was desperation.

A bone-deep dread twisting her insides, painting the worst pictures in her head.

Had they caught Hua Jing?

Had they killed her?

What if—what if they—

The man before her smirked darkly, the scar by his chin twitching with amusement.

"Oh, you don’t know?" he purred, kneeling to her level, his eyes glittering like poison. "Well... how about I take you with me, little mouse?"

He grinned wider. "Maybe your memory will open up... after a little coaxing."

"No... no please!" Xia Lin whispered.

She tried to scramble backward on her hands, shoes scraping the stone tiles, her body screaming in resistance.

But she didn’t get far.

The man caught her ankle easily with one hand and yanked her back.

Then—

CRACK!!

Another slap.

Worse than the first.

Her head snapped sideways. Her lip split open.

Her body slumped.

And the world around her dissolved into darkness.

The man lifted her effortlessly, tossing her small frame over his shoulder like a sack of grain.

The others laughed.

"Still think she doesn’t know anything?" one of them joked.

"She’s loyal. Useless, but loyal," another added with a grunt.

And with that, the group exited the courtyard, disappearing into the shadows with their unconscious captive.

---

Outside the palace gates...

A lone figure stood, hidden beneath a deep black cloak.

The wind tugged at her sleeves, pulling at the hood that shadowed her face. But she didn’t move. She stood perfectly still, her eyes locked on her own courtyard.

Her home.

Her refuge.

Where she had spent countless nights with Zhao Yan... where Xia Lin always waited for her with tea and a bright smile.

But tonight...

Tonight, it was a war zone.

She saw them.

The burly figures.

The iron gleam of swords.

And then—

Her eyes widened.

Xia Lin.

Unconscious.

Dangling from one of their shoulders like she weighed nothing.

Hua Jing’s breath caught in her throat.

Her fingers clenched.

She took one sharp step forward, instinct taking over.

She had to go back.

She had to save her.

Xia Lin was her person. Her only person.

But—

Before she could take another step—

A hand grabbed her from behind.

"Mm—!"

She let out a muffled yelp, but before a full sound could escape, a strong palm clamped over her mouth.

What?!

Her heart slammed against her ribs.

She thrashed wildly, twisting in the stranger’s grip. Her limbs fought to break free, her instincts screaming to fight.

But the hand was unmovable.

Iron-hard.

The grip around her waist locked her in place.

Her mind spiraled.

Did they find me?!

Was this the Prime Minister’s trap?

Another of his assassins?

Her thoughts ran like fire—

Was she about to disappear too?

Would she ever see the light again?

But then—

No sword.

No attack.

No threat.

Only motion.

Fast, fluid motion.

The man wasn’t stopping her for a fight.

He was running.

And he was taking her with him.

Still holding her.

Still silent.

She could feel the wind rushing past her, see the blur of trees and rooftops as the palace slipped further and further behind them.

And yet—he said nothing.

He didn’t loosen his grip.

He didn’t let her speak.

He didn’t even let her look back.

And in her heart, the only question remained:

Who was this?

And why did it feel like this person wasn’t here to hurt her...

But to protect her?

She did not know where this thought stemmed from but she did not feel the fear she should have been feeling.

She still tried to pull her body away but it was futile. She had no choice but to slump and see what this person was going to do next.

If he was planning to kill her then she would...

Before the thought crossed her mind, she felt her body stop and the person holding her gently let go of her mouth...

Hua Jing blinked...

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