MY PRINCE HUSBAND HAS SEVEN WIVES AND I AM HIS FAVOURITE!
Chapter 242: he is alive

Chapter 242: he is alive

For a long moment, neither of them moved. They just held on.

Then, his voice broke through the silence.

"I told you—your body belongs to me, and my body belongs to you," she said, voice cracking. "If it’s death, we should face it together. So why did you run off all by yourself?!"

Zhao Yan blinked.

Then a pained smile tugged at his lips.

He looked like he didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

"I’m sorry," he said, voice raw. "I’m so sorry, Jing’er..."

She shook her head, fresh tears falling.

"I looked everywhere for you," she whispered. "I asked everyone—but you weren’t there. No one knew. They all thought you were... gone."

His hand reached up, gently wiping the tears from her cheek with his thumb.

"I’m here now," he said.

And she collapsed into him again, burying herself in the truth of those words.

...

Night had settled over the hills.

The stars blinked faintly overhead, scattered across the sky like hesitant blessings. A full moon, round and pale, hung low above the tree line, casting a silver glow across the forest clearing.

The fire crackled softly, throwing warm light over the faces gathered around it.

Hua Jing sat close beside Zhao Yan, her shoulder brushing his, her hand resting near his knee. She hadn’t moved far from him since they reunited, and he hadn’t asked her to. Neither seemed capable of letting go just yet—not after coming so close to never touching again.

Across from them sat Wei Ling and Deng Mi, both quiet, their postures guarded but no longer tense. They were loyal men—Zhao Yan’s shadows in battle—but even they had the look of soldiers who had narrowly escaped death.

And Gu Wei... the strange old man sat cross-legged by the fire, a long wooden skewer in his hand. A thick chunk of meat sizzled over the flames, the juices dripping onto the coals and hissing into steam. The scent filled the air—a heady mixture of smoke and wild herbs, and something sweet that clung to the nose.

Gu Wei watched the meat with the careful gaze of a hunter and cook, but every so often, his eyes drifted toward the couple beside him—Hua Jing pressed into Zhao Yan’s side like she might dissolve without him, and Zhao Yan watching the flames as if trying to read the future in their dance.

There was something unreadable in the old man’s eyes. Curiosity, maybe. Or something deeper. Something almost... warm.

When the meat finally started to brown and curl at the edges, he gave it a final turn, then handed it over to Deng Mi with a grunt. "Eat. You all look like half-dead ghosts."

Deng Mi accepted it silently. Wei Ling gave a small nod of thanks.

Zhao Yan, his voice low, finally spoke.

"How did you know I was here?"

Hua Jing blinked. Then let out a quiet breath.

"It’s... a long story," she murmured.

"I have time," he said.

She looked at him. The light from the fire danced across his cheekbones, catching in the lines of weariness etched there. Even exhausted, even wounded, he was still Zhao Yan—steady, serious, stubbornly composed. But tonight, there was something softer in him. More human.

So she told him everything.

How the empire had descended into chaos after the emperor’s death.

How rumors of his demise had spread like fire through dry grass.

"There were reports," she said, her fingers curling into the fabric of her robe, "that you’d been killed by bandits. That your body was never found. One of the surviving guards said there was blood... so much blood."

Zhao Yan’s brow furrowed.

"I was dead?" he echoed.

Hua Jing nodded, swallowing hard. "To everyone, yes."

She told him how Pei Rong had seized the palace within days. How the First Consort had been promised the Empress title. How the capital had gone silent in mourning—and fear.

"They’re terrified," she said, her voice trembling with quiet rage. "The people loved your father. They loved you. Now all they have is a butcher with a crown."

Zhao Yan glanced at Wei Ling and Deng Mi. The two exchanged a wordless look.

"And Pei Rong?" he asked.

"He’s declared a coronation," she said. "It’s set for tomorrow."

His brows lifted. "That madman wants the throne for himself?"

"Not exactly," Hua Jing said. "He’s claiming it’s for Zhao Ling Xu."

Zhao Yan’s jaw tightened. "My brother?"

"Yes," Hua Jing said. "But..."

She hesitated.

"I don’t think that’s really his plan."

Zhao Yan turned to her fully now, studying her face. "Why?"

"Because Pei Rong doesn’t share power," she said. "He might say it’s for Ling Xu. But even if it starts that way, it won’t end there. The man sees everyone as a pawn. Even his own son."

Zhao Yan’s gaze darkened. "How do you know this?"

Hua Jing looked into the fire. Her voice was low, but clear. "Because Zhao Ling Xu saved me."

The silence that followed was thunderous.

Zhao Yan blinked, confusion flickering across his face. "What?"

She told him about the confrontation with the First Consort. About the poison. About how Pei Rong’s men had stormed her quarters and taken Xia Lin.

"And then," she said, her throat tightening, "your brother found me. He told me how to find Gu Wei. He gave me the vial of poison so the antidote could be made. He said... he said if I brought you back, he would protect Xia Lin."

Wei Ling exhaled quietly. Deng Mi stared into the fire, face unreadable.

Zhao Yan looked down for a long moment. "He risked everything..."

"I don’t think he agrees with his father," Hua Jing said. "I think he’s trying to do what little he can. But even so—if Pei Rong believes he’s a threat, he won’t hesitate."

Gu Wei finally spoke, his voice dry as smoke. "That’s what happens when ambition outgrows loyalty."

Everyone turned toward him.

He stared into the flames.

"Pei Rong doesn’t want a throne for his son. He wants it for himself. He just doesn’t want the blood on his own hands... yet."

Silence again.

The fire cracked, sending a spiral of sparks into the air.

Hua Jing leaned into Zhao Yan’s shoulder.

"We don’t have time," she said.

"No," Zhao Yan agreed. "We don’t."

The fire crackled gently as the night deepened around them.

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