MY PRINCE HUSBAND HAS SEVEN WIVES AND I AM HIS FAVOURITE!
Chapter 74: The Emperor’s Banquet Part 3: Jealousy

Chapter 74: The Emperor’s Banquet Part 3: Jealousy

Everyone’s gaze was fixed on the First Consort.

Her dress shimmered under the golden light, the deep purple fabric standing out boldly as she moved with effortless grace. Each step was perfectly timed to the music, each flick of her wrist radiating poise.

Her beauty was undeniable—delicate features, long, dark lashes, and an expression that exuded confidence.

Hua Jing sat quietly, observing.

From the way people looked at the First Consort, it was clear she held a certain influence over the nobility. Many of the upper-class ladies—wives of noblemen and esteemed officials—watched her with admiration, their gazes practically glowing with reverence.

This struck Hua Jing as odd.

These same women had been shooting her not-so-subtle looks of disdain the moment she had stepped into the banquet.

The contrast was almost laughable.

While the First Consort was practically worshiped, Hua Jing was met with scrutiny.

She could feel it in the way they whispered behind their fans, their perfectly trained smiles not quite reaching their eyes when they glanced at her.

It wasn’t hard to guess why.

Hua Jing was the illegitimate daughter of Lord Hua and one of his maids—a status considered disgraceful among the nobility. She had no royal blood, no prestigious maternal lineage to boast of.

Yet here she was.

Married to the Crown Prince and seated right next to him.

The irony wasn’t lost on her.

She turned her attention back to the First Consort, watching her movements with renewed focus.

There was no denying it—this woman moved like someone who had been trained since birth. Her dance was mesmerizing, as if each step had been rehearsed a thousand times over.

Her limbs were fluid, her body light as air, yet controlled with a precision that spoke of noble upbringing.

What kind of background does she have? Hua Jing wondered.

She knew very little about the First Consort, aside from her rank as the prince’s first wife. But there had to be more to it.

For someone to command such admiration from the nobility, she wasn’t just another consort.

The music swelled, and the First Consort twirled, her sleeves billowing like clouds. The audience sighed in appreciation, fully engrossed in her performance.

Behind Hua Jing, Xia Lin was seated quietly, watching as well.

Hua Jing almost turned to ask her about the First Consort’s origins but stopped herself.

She couldn’t.

Not here.

Not when every movement, every word, was being watched.

Now that she was one of the prince’s wives, she had to maintain her composure—etiquette had to be followed, no matter how frustrating it was.

So she simply sat still, silent, eyes locked on the woman dancing before her.

Her gossipy self could not keep calm yet...

Zhao Yan’s voice pulled Hua Jing from her thoughts.

"What are you thinking about?"

Hua Jing blinked and turned to him, her brows furrowing. "What? Why are you asking me that? You should mind your own business."

Zhao Yan chuckled, his golden mask glinting under the bright candlelight. "Your business is my business. I am your husband, remember?"

Hua Jing scoffed. "Husband?" She gestured towards the First Consort, who was still twirling gracefully in the center of the hall. "Right now, you could be the husband of that woman dancing in front of everyone."

Zhao Yan leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. "Are you jealous?"

Hua Jing stiffened.

His sudden closeness made her heart stutter. His voice was smooth, teasing, and far too confident for her liking.

She forced herself to glare at him. "Be careful, there are people around," she whispered sharply.

Zhao Yan smirked. "So we can continue this when there are no people around?"

Hua Jing’s face scrunched in disgust. "What exactly goes on in that head of yours every day?"

Zhao Yan didn’t hesitate. "Thoughts of you."

Her entire body tensed.

She almost forgot they were in public. Almost.

The urge to smack him was unbearable, but instead, she curled her fingers into a tight fist and dropped her hand discreetly onto his thigh.

And pinched.

Hard.

Zhao Yan inhaled sharply and grabbed her hand, stopping her from inflicting more damage.

Only, he didn’t let go.

Hua Jing yanked once. He held firm. She yanked again. Still no movement.

She shot him a warning glare. He responded with a slow, satisfied smirk.

While the two were locked in their little battle of wills, neither of them noticed the reactions around them.

The emperor, seated at the head of the grand hall, observed the exchange with mild surprise, his brows raising ever so slightly.

The empress’s eyes had widened just a fraction, but it was enough to show her intrigue.

Around the banquet, members of nobility and high-ranking officials had momentarily forgotten the First Consort’s mesmerizing dance, their attention now shifting towards the Crown Prince and his seventh consort.

And then, there was the First Consort herself.

She had paused mid-step, her movements faltering as her gaze locked onto the pair.

Her grip on the flowing fabric of her sleeve tightened, the graceful smile on her face faltering for a split second before she quickly recovered.

But the burning jealousy in her eyes was unmistakable!

She forced herself to return to her dance, moving back into step with the music.

But the beauty and grace that had captivated the audience moments ago had completely faded.

Her mind was no longer on the rhythm, no longer on the performance she had so carefully prepared.

Her eyes flickered once more to the royal table.

Zhao Yan and Hua Jing still sat there, utterly absorbed in each other. Their hushed voices, their teasing smiles—it was as if the rest of the world no longer existed to them.

The First Consort’s fingers curled into fists beneath the long sleeves of her flowing robes.

There was contempt in her gaze.

A swirling storm of emotions clashed inside her.

She had watched Zhao Yan for years—observed him, studied him, waited for him.

Yet, in all that time, she had never once seen that expression on his face.

That softness. That ease. That effortless smile.

Not even on their wedding day.

Not once had he ever looked at her that way.

But now, here, in front of the entire court, in front of the nobility, the ministers, the emperor and empress—he smiled.

And it was because of her.

That wench...

That lowly wench!

The rage that burned inside her was so hot, so violent, it almost stole her breath.

Her eyes darkened, her nails digging into her palms as she thought, Hua Jing...

She imagined it then.

A world where Hua Jing no longer existed.

A world where she was gone.

Dead!

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