MY PRINCE HUSBAND HAS SEVEN WIVES AND I AM HIS FAVOURITE!
Chapter 52: Indecent thoughts

Chapter 52: Indecent thoughts

He opened his eyes, gazing at his reflection in the rippling surface of the water.

Slowly, deliberately, Zhao Yan reached up and removed his mask.

As the mask was lifted away, a strikingly handsome face came into view. His high cheekbones and sharp jawline were illuminated by the soft flicker of the lantern light.

His lips, though pressed into a faint line of contemplation, were full and naturally curved, as if they held the potential to smile more often than they did.

His eyes, now fully visible without the obstruction of the mask, were a piercing shade of dark brown, holding a depth that hinted at both wisdom and pain.

His thick lashes cast faint shadows over his cheeks as he blinked, the intensity of his gaze softening in the warm, humid air of the bathroom.

Zhao Yan tilted his head back slightly, letting the water cascade over his face, rinsing away the remnants of the day’s grime and blood.

His wet hair clung to his forehead and neck, the dark strands glistening as droplets slid down his skin.

The sharp planes of his collarbone and shoulders were accentuated by the light, the water highlighting every contour.

He ran a hand through his hair, pushing the damp strands away from his face.

The action was unhurried, almost meditative. Zhao Yan stared at the ceiling, his thoughts drifting as the steam swirled around him.

Hua Jing’s face flitted into his mind, unbidden. Her mischievous grin, the way her eyes sparkled with defiance, and even the way she had muttered to herself earlier while pacing in frustration—it all played in his mind like a vivid painting.

A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips. She was unlike anyone he had ever met, and the realization both intrigued and unsettled him.

The mere thought of her seemed to be doing things to him. His body heat rose sharply and very soon his breathing was ragged.

He did not understand himself.

He has six consorts already yet none of them could match up to the emotion of being close to Hua Jing.

He was confused.

He then realized a very big problem; a certain part of him was rising steadily with every thought.

His hands itched to touch it and get the pleasure he wanted yet he refused to do so as ensured for a while longer with his eyes shut.

After a few more moments of quiet reflection, Zhao Yan finally stood, the water cascading down his body as he stepped out of the tub.

He reached for a towel, wiping away the droplets clinging to his skin.

As he dried himself off, his thoughts lingered on the woman sleeping just beyond the bathroom door.

He found himself wondering what expression she wore now, whether her dreams were peaceful or chaotic.

Once dressed, Zhao Yan ran a hand through his hair once more, letting it fall naturally over his forehead.

He glanced at his mask resting on the counter, hesitating before picking it up.

For a fleeting moment, he considered putting it on but he decided against it and left it on the counter before walking away.

Stepping back into the room, his gaze immediately sought out Hua Jing. She hadn’t stirred, still fast asleep, her face half-hidden by the covers.

Zhao Yan’s lips twitched into a faint smile as he returned to his side of the bed, sitting down with deliberate care.

He made it a point to keep his distance from Hua Jing, scooting as far away as the limited space would allow. The events of the day weighed heavily on his mind, but the proximity to her made his thoughts even more chaotic.

He cast a glance at Hua Jing, who was still sound asleep, her back turned to him. One of her hands clutched the lapels of her dress tightly, as if in a subconscious attempt to shield herself. Zhao Yan huffed quietly, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

"What does she think I’m going to do?" he muttered under his breath.

Shaking his head, he closed his eyes, willing sleep to come. But just as the tension in his body began to fade, a sudden shift in the bed made his eyes snap open.

At first, he thought Hua Jing might be waking up, but before he could react, he felt a warmth press against his side. His body stiffened as soft arms wrapped firmly around his waist, and a small head nestled against his chest.

His gaze darted downward, and his breath hitched. Hua Jing was still fast asleep, her expression completely serene. Her mouth was slightly open, and a faint trail of drool glistened at the corner of her lips. Zhao Yan’s mind went blank for a moment, unsure of how to process what was happening.

"What...?" he whispered to himself, his voice barely audible.

The softness of her embrace was unlike anything he had ever experienced. It was gentle, yet the strength of her grip suggested she had no intention of letting go. Her fingers clung to his shirt like a lifeline, and he could feel her warm breath against his chest.

Zhao Yan’s face burned, and he instinctively tried to move away, but Hua Jing’s hold tightened.

"Is this woman made of steel?" he muttered incredulously.

He shifted awkwardly, careful not to jostle her too much. "Hua Jing," he called softly, trying to wake her, but she remained oblivious.

Her peaceful expression only made his predicament more frustrating. She looked so carefree, as if the day’s chaos had never touched her. Meanwhile, he was stuck, paralyzed by her unexpected closeness.

Zhao Yan sighed, running a hand down his face. "What am I supposed to do now?" he muttered.

Every time he tried to pry her hands off, her grip seemed to tighten even more. He wasn’t used to this level of physical closeness, and it left him completely out of his depth.

As he tried to think of a solution, Hua Jing shifted again, snuggling closer to him. Her head tilted, her hair brushing against his neck, and Zhao Yan froze.

"This is ridiculous," he muttered, though his voice lacked the usual sharpness it carried.

For a fleeting moment, he considered just letting her be. She seemed comfortable, and waking her might only lead to more chaos. He glanced at her face again, noticing the faint rise and fall of her chest as she breathed.

"Hua Jing,"

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