MY PRINCE HUSBAND HAS SEVEN WIVES AND I AM HIS FAVOURITE!
Chapter 41: You are something else

Chapter 41: You are something else

The first thing Zhao Yan noticed as his consciousness returned was the cold.

It wasn’t the biting chill of the snowstorm outside but the damp coolness of the stones he was lying on.

The second thing was the throbbing pain in his left arm, sharp and insistent.

He winced as he tried to push himself up, only to falter when the pain flared brighter.

Blinking against the dim light, he glanced down at his arm.

A crude bandage was wrapped tightly around it, and a faint green paste seeped through the fabric.

It wasn’t expertly done, but it was enough to slow the bleeding and stave off infection.

The scent of crushed herbs lingered faintly in the air.

His brows furrowed.

His eyes swept over the cave.

It was small, barely more than a hollowed-out alcove, but it was shelter.

The remnants of a fire burned low in the center, the embers glowing faintly and casting a faint orange hue over the dark walls.

Opposite him, curled up near the dying fire, was Hua Jing.

Zhao Yan’s breath caught for a moment as his gaze settled on her.

She was fast asleep, her mouth slightly open, her head resting on her arm.

There was a faint line of drool glistening at the corner of her lips.

Her hair was a mess, strands sticking out in every direction.

For the first time in what felt like days, Zhao Yan’s lips curved into a small smile.

"So this is how you look when you sleep," he muttered softly to himself.

She looked so different from her usual self—no sharp remarks, no mischievous smirks.

Just... peace.

He watched her for a while, the way her chest rose and fell steadily.

It was calming, in a way, to see her like this.

Her face, though pale and marked with smudges of dirt, held an ethereal beauty that he hadn’t noticed before.

The flickering embers reflected softly in her skin, making her seem almost unreal.

But then his gaze drifted lower, and his smile faded.

Her clothes were torn and stained with blood, some of it hers and some of it his.

Her hands were raw, and there were small cuts and bruises scattered across her arms and legs.

Yet, she had managed to carry him here, tend to his wounds, and even make a fire.

A pang of guilt settled in his chest.

He didn’t know how badly she was hurt, but it was clear she hadn’t cared for herself at all.

She had focused solely on him.

Carefully, Zhao Yan pushed himself up, leaning heavily against the cave wall for support.

The movement sent a fresh wave of pain through his arm, but he gritted his teeth and ignored it.

He spotted the remains of the winter mint she had used earlier, tucked neatly beside the fire.

Moving as quietly as he could, he crouched down and picked up the herbs.

The paste she had made was still damp, enough to be used again.

He glanced at her sleeping form and hesitated.

He’d never done anything like this before—caring for someone, let alone someone like Hua Jing.

But the sight of her injuries made his hesitation vanish.

Sitting beside her, he dipped his fingers into the paste and gently began applying it to the cuts on her arms.

Her skin was cold to the touch, and he frowned as he worked, trying to be as gentle as possible.

Hua Jing stirred slightly, her nose scrunching up as if she felt the coolness of the paste.

Zhao Yan froze, watching her intently, but she didn’t wake.

Instead, she muttered something unintelligible under her breath and shifted closer to the fire.

A soft chuckle escaped him.

"You really are something else," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

He continued tending to her wounds, dabbing the paste on each cut and scrape he could see.

When he finished, he sat back and stared at his handiwork.

It wasn’t perfect, but it was better than nothing.

The herbs would help with the pain and speed up the healing process.

His gaze returned to her face, and his expression softened.

"You saved me," he said quietly, almost as if speaking to himself.

"I don’t know how you did it, but you saved me."

The words felt strange coming from him, but they were true.

He owed her his life.

As the fire flickered and the cave grew quieter, Zhao Yan leaned back against the wall.

His arm throbbed, his body ached, and exhaustion tugged at him, but he couldn’t bring himself to close his eyes.

Zhao Yan sat back against the cave wall, his arms folded across his chest as he stared into the crackling fire.

The warmth did little to ease the chill in his bones, not from the cold outside but from the persistent unease that gnawed at him.

They were still in danger, and he knew it.

His gaze flickered to Hua Jing, her figure faintly illuminated by the firelight.

She was still fast asleep, her chest rising and falling steadily, oblivious to the world around her.

Her exhaustion was evident in the way her body had gone limp, surrendering to the rest she so desperately needed.

He sighed softly, his eyes narrowing.

He couldn’t afford to let his guard down.

Not yet.

The thought was still fresh in his mind when Hua Jing’s body slumped to the side.

She slid off the makeshift stone bed she had created for herself and crumpled onto the cold, hard ground.

Zhao Yan’s brows furrowed, and he pushed himself up, ignoring the sharp protest from his injured arm.

"Hua Jing..."

She didn’t stir.

Her head lolled to one side, her breathing undisturbed as if nothing had happened.

He knelt down and gently lifted her into his arms.

She was lighter than he expected, her frame delicate despite the fire and strength she had shown earlier.

Carefully, he placed her back onto the stones, adjusting her position so she would be more comfortable.

He called her out softly again, "Hua Jing?"