MY PRINCE HUSBAND HAS SEVEN WIVES AND I AM HIS FAVOURITE!
Chapter 45: Faints from blood loss

Chapter 45: Faints from blood loss

Wei Ling stood frozen, his eyes darting between Zhao Yan and Hua Jing.

He felt a shiver run down his spine as he took in the scene before him.

The prince’s eyes were unmistakably soft, a look he had never seen before.

Goosebumps formed on Wei Ling’s arms as his mind raced.

What exactly had transpired between these two in the past few hours?

Wei Ling had known Zhao Yan for years.

He had stood by his side through six marriages.

Yet, not once had any of the prince’s wives ever elicited such a gaze from him.

This was different.

The prince had always been composed, reserved, and detached.

Now, there was a warmth in his eyes that was utterly foreign to Wei Ling.

The realization unsettled him.

What was it about Hua Jing?

He turned his gaze to her, studying her intently.

She was loud, opinionated, and didn’t seem to care about etiquette or the rules that bound noble ladies.

In truth, she was everything a consort wasn’t supposed to be.

Yet, here she was, somehow holding the prince’s attention in a way no one else ever had.

Wei Ling’s thoughts spiraled.

He couldn’t help but wonder what Zhao Yan saw in her.

What had changed?

Before he could dwell on it any longer, Deng Mi’s voice cut through his thoughts.

"We should head out," Deng Mi said firmly, glancing at Zhao Yan’s injured arm.

"The shelter is quite far, and His Highness needs his wounds treated as soon as possible."

Wei Ling snapped out of his thoughts and nodded briskly.

"You’re right," he said, clearing his throat.

He turned toward Deng Mi.

"Gather everyone. Tell them the prince has been found, and we’re preparing to leave."

Deng Mi bowed immediately.

"Yes, sir," he said before darting out of the cave.

The sound of his retreating footsteps echoed faintly in the cold.

Wei Ling turned back to Zhao Yan and Hua Jing.

"Your Highness," he began carefully, "you should let Deng Mi tend to your wounds when we get to the shelter."

Zhao Yan waved a hand dismissively.

"It’s not as bad as it looks."

Wei Ling’s eyes flicked to the blood-soaked bandages and frowned.

Hua Jing scoffed.

"Not as bad? You nearly bled out, Zhao Yan. Stop acting like you’re invincible," she said, crossing her arms.

Zhao Yan raised an eyebrow at her.

"And you should stop acting like you’re invincible, Hua Jing. You are also injured yet you are behaving like some strong bull!."

Hua Jing rolled her eyes.

"Hey! I am not a bull! Take that back!"

Wei Ling’s lips twitched at their bickering.

Despite the tension in the air, he found himself oddly entertained.

"You two," he interrupted, his tone exasperated.

"We need to leave now. This isn’t the time to argue."

Hua Jing smirked.

"You’re right, Wei Ling. Let’s go before the prince faints from blood loss."

Zhao Yan glared at her.

Hua Jing pretended she had not seen anything and looked away while Wei Ling stared at these two in exasperation. Before he got a word in, someone else came.

Deng Mi returned, leading the rest of the search party.

When the group saw Zhao Yan and Hua Jing emerge from the cave, a wave of relief washed over them.

"Your Highness!" one of the guards exclaimed, his face lighting up with joy.

Another guard bowed deeply, his voice trembling with emotion.

"We’re so glad to see you safe, Your Highness."

The others nodded, their expressions a mixture of relief and excitement.

Even in their weariness, their respect and adoration for the prince were evident.

Hua Jing observed their reactions with mild amusement.

It was clear these men idolized Zhao Yan.

"Calm down," Zhao Yan said, his tone firm yet gentle.

"I’m fine. Let’s focus on getting back to the shelter."

The men nodded obediently, their relief still evident on their faces.

But before they could disperse, one of the guards hesitated and then spoke up, his voice loud and clear.

"We are so glad to see you safe as well, Seventh Consort!"

Hua Jing blinked in surprise.

She hadn’t expected to be addressed, much less with such earnestness.

"Me?" she asked, pointing to herself, her brows raised in genuine confusion.

The guard nodded vigorously.

"Yes, My Lady! We were worried about you too!"

A faint smile tugged at her lips.

"Well, thank you. I’m glad you made it out safely as well."

The men all nodded in unison, their collective relief palpable.

Another guard chimed in, his voice tinged with emotion.

"The servant you saved, My Lady, has been crying non-stop. She thought you were gone!"

Hua Jing’s lips twitched.

"Crying non-stop?" she echoed, her tone light with amusement.

"Yes!" the guard insisted.

"She said if you didn’t make it, she wouldn’t want to live either."

There was a moment of silence as Hua Jing processed this.

Her lips quirked into a sly smile as she clapped her hands together.

"Well, if you all want me to comfort her, we’d better get moving!"

The guards exchanged eager glances and nodded in unison.

"Yes, My Lady!"

They began marching forward, their spirits oddly lifted despite the circumstances.

As the group moved, Wei Ling and Deng Mi exchanged incredulous looks.

They weren’t sure what they found more surprising: the guards’ devotion to Hua Jing or her quick acceptance of it.

Strangely, Zhao Yan had been quiet through all of this.

He walked beside Hua Jing, his expression unreadable.

But Wei Ling, ever observant, caught the faintest flicker of something in Zhao Yan’s eyes.

Jealousy?

Wei Ling blinked.

No, surely not.

Yet, Zhao Yan’s jaw was clenched tightly, and his pace seemed deliberate, as though he were holding something back.

Before Wei Ling could analyze further, Zhao Yan abruptly reached out and grabbed Hua Jing’s arm, pulling her to the side.

"Hey!" Hua Jing yelped, stumbling slightly as she was dragged away from the group.

The guards glanced back in confusion, but Zhao Yan shot them a sharp look that sent them scurrying ahead.

Wei Ling hesitated, but when Zhao Yan raised a hand in a silent command, he reluctantly followed the others.

Now alone, Zhao Yan turned to Hua Jing, his grip on her arm firm but not painful.

"What is it?" Hua Jing asked, her brows furrowing.

Zhao Yan didn’t answer immediately.

His lips pressed into a thin line as he stared at her, his emotions swirling just beneath the surface.

"What?" Hua Jing pressed, her tone sharper.

"You’re acting weird."

Zhao Yan’s gaze softened, but he still didn’t speak.

Hua Jing tilted her head, studying him.

"Seriously, what is it? Are you upset that they’re more excited to see me than you?"