MY PRINCE HUSBAND HAS SEVEN WIVES AND I AM HIS FAVOURITE!
Chapter 200: Can you bring him back?

Chapter 200: Can you bring him back?

The man let go of her mouth.

Hua Jing blinked.

The cold night air swept back into her lungs like a slap, and her body tensed immediately. She stumbled back a step, her eyes scanning his figure. Her arms rose into a guarded stance. If it came to a fight—then so be it.

She was ready.

Her body might be tired, her heart barely holding on, but she was still Hua Jing.

But...

He didn’t move.

He simply stood there. Silent. Still. Calm.

Watching.

After a few moments, his hand rose—slowly.

She flinched.

But again, there was no threat.

He reached for the mask that covered the lower half of his face.

With a swift tug, he pulled it down.

The moonlight caught the sharp line of his jaw, the familiar curve of his lips, and finally—those eyes.

Her breath caught.

That face—!

Her heart stilled for a beat before slamming wildly inside her chest.

Zhao Ling Xu.

She took a step back.

Her eyes widened in shock.

She stared at him like he was a ghost.

"What..." she whispered, the words almost sticking to her throat. "You..."

The realization hit her like cold water.

This wasn’t just anyone.

This was the Empress’s son. The one who was supposed to take the throne in two days. The one whose bloodline had been questioned. The one who—if rumors were true—was the child of Pei Rong, the man who orchestrated everything.

Her body turned cold all over.

Zhao Ling Xu saw the shift in her face. He sighed. Not sharply. Not dismissively. But with something that sounded a lot like... resignation.

"I’m not going to hurt you," he said softly.

But Hua Jing let out a bitter laugh—one that cracked at the end like glass.

"You’re not going to hurt me?" she said, her voice suddenly loud. Accusatory. "Your family has already done more than hurt me. They destroyed everything I had!!"

She spat the words like daggers.

Zhao Ling Xu didn’t flinch.

Instead, a flicker of pain passed through his eyes. So faint, but so very real.

"They’re not my family," he murmured, and there was something hollow in the way he said it.

Hua Jing scoffed.

Of course he’d say that. He was the illegitimate child. The Prime Minister’s hidden heir. He was the very reason Zhao Yan had been dethroned, hunted, and now declared dead.

He was the one the throne was being prepared for.

And yet... here he was, staring at her with none of the madness of Pei Rong. None of the cruelty of the Empress. Just a strange calm. An eerie... sadness.

Before she could ask what twisted game this was, he took a step forward.

"I can help your maid," he said. "If you can find him."

Her brows furrowed.

"...Him?"

Zhao Ling Xu nodded.

"You know who I mean."

She blinked again, processing his words.

The prince.

Zhao Yan.

"They say he’s dead," Ling Xu said. "But I don’t believe it. You don’t believe it either, do you?"

Hua Jing’s lips parted slightly. The wind carried the strands of her hair across her face, but she didn’t move. Her brain was too stunned to keep up.

Zhao Ling Xu wasn’t done.

"You left the palace because you don’t believe it. Because deep down, you know he’s still alive."

Every word he said dug deep.

She hadn’t expected this.

Not from him.

Not from someone who had every reason to let Zhao Yan vanish into myth.

Not from someone who stood on the edge of becoming emperor himself.

"If you find him," he continued, "and bring him back before the coronation—your maid will be safe. I’ll make sure of it."

The desperation in his voice was subtle... but it was there.

It cracked through the calm he wore like armor.

She stared at him.

Who was this man?

Why was he doing this?

He had the throne within reach.

Why hand it back?

He could rule. He could erase Zhao Yan’s legacy. He could silence the world and write his own story.

And yet...

He stood before her like a broken boy.

"I don’t know what you and Zhao Yan were," he added, "but I know what he meant to people."

He paused.

"To me."

Hua Jing’s heart paused.

What?

They were half-brothers. Stepbrothers. Raised under one roof, and yet always separated by walls—blood, lies, loyalty.

She remembered the mourning hall.

Zhao Ling Xu on his knees.

Weeping like a child.

Crying not for power.

But for a father.

"Find him," Ling Xu said, his voice tightening. "Bring him back. I’ll owe you everything. My life. My name. Whatever you want."

She swallowed hard.

The moonlight bathed them in silver.

The wind roared again.

Still, she said nothing.

"Please," he said.

Her mind flashed again—Zhao Yan’s face, his smile, his touch.

And now, the face of this broken prince standing before her.

Could she do it?

Was there still time?

Zhao Ling Xu took one final step forward.

"So?" he asked. "Can you save him? Can you bring him back?"

Hua Jing blinked.

Zhao Lingxu’s question still hovered in the air, but her mind had already begun racing—flashing back through everything that had unraveled in the palace these past days.

The Emperor’s death.

The whispers of treason.

Zhao Yan’s sudden disappearance.

The blood. The lies. The coronation being rushed.

And then—Xia Lin.

That image came back like lightning—Xia Lin, unconscious, her small frame slumped over that hulking brute’s shoulder. Another young maid collapsed beside her, crumpled like a discarded doll.

The rage rose again.

Hot and fast.

Hua Jing’s fists clenched.

Her eyes, wide with memory and fury, now narrowed as she locked them onto Zhao Lingxu.

"I can bring him back," she said, her voice taut with conviction.

Her next words were almost a growl. "But what about you?"

She took a step forward, her eyes searing. "Will you save her?"

Her voice cracked.

"Will you save Xia Lin?"

Zhao Lingxu didn’t flinch. He looked at her, eyes solemn. The weight of her desperation sank into him like a stone. There was no mocking smile on his lips. No coolness in his voice.

"I will," he said simply.

Another step forward.

"Whatever happens," he continued, "I’ll make sure she’s safe. You have my word."

Then, from within the folds of his dark robes, he pulled something out.

It was a small vial—no bigger than her thumb.

But even without the cork being removed, Hua Jing reeled.

She instinctively turned her face away from the putrid stench that leaked from it, despite it being sealed.

"What... is this?" she asked, eyes wide.

"The poison," Zhao Lingxu said quietly. "The one used on the prince."

Her breath hitched. "Poison?"

Her whole body went still.

Zhao Lingxu nodded gravely.

"They used it during the ambush. The arrow was only the delivery. This..." he raised the vial slightly, "...is Widow’s Poison."

A chill ran through her spine.

"I’ve read about it," he continued. "It seeps quickly through the blood. It slows the heart, confuses the mind. If untreated by midday tomorrow..."

He didn’t finish.

He didn’t need to.

Her hands trembled slightly as she took the vial from him. It was warm to the touch, as though the evil within pulsed with life.

"Where is he?" she demanded.

"I don’t know exactly," Zhao Lingxu replied. "But I’m betting he was taken to the village east of the palace. It’s where all the royal physicians come from. There’s a healer there—old man Gu Wei."

The name felt ancient. Weighted. Important.

"He’s the only one who knows how to prepare the antidote," Lingxu added. "You’ll find his home at the top of the hill. You’ll have to ask around—but be discreet."

Hua Jing stared at the vial, her grip tightening.

Midday tomorrow.

She had less than a day.

"Go to Gu Wei. Get the antidote. Then find the prince—before it’s too late."

She looked up.

There were so many questions still clawing at her throat.

So many things left unsaid.

"Did you—" she started, voice hoarse. "Were you the one who... who shot him?"

The arrow.

That cursed arrow.

Zhao Lingxu’s eyes darkened, his jaw tensing.

"No," he said, shaking his head. "It wasn’t me."

He looked away, almost shamefully. "It was one of my father’s men. I never ordered it. I swear."

She didn’t know if she could believe him.

But she wanted to.

Some part of her, broken and battered, still believed in slivers of hope.

Zhao Lingxu took a step back, pulling his mask back over his face.

"That’s all the information I have," he said.

She opened her mouth to speak—to ask something, anything.

But he was already gone.

As if he had never been there.

Just like smoke.

Just like a whisper.

Hua Jing stood alone now, holding the vial with trembling fingers. Her heart thumped madly in her chest.

Zhao Yan...

He wasn’t dead.

He couldn’t be.

She would find him.

She would.

Whatever it took.

She took one last glance toward the palace.

The courtyard. The rooms. Her home.

And Xia Lin...

She would come back for her.

She had to.

Pulling the hood low over her face, she turned and stepped into the shadows.

Silent.

Swift.

Certain.

And as she disappeared into the night, one thing became clear—

The wind suddenly howled again.

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