MY PRINCE HUSBAND HAS SEVEN WIVES AND I AM HIS FAVOURITE!
Chapter 81: Get out of this place...Now!

Chapter 81: Get out of this place...Now!

Hua Jing dropped to her knees, scooting closer to where Zhao Yan lay motionless on the cold floor.

Her breath hitched as she took in the sight before her—his usually strong and composed figure now looked lifeless, his body unnaturally still.

The lower half of his face, the only part visible beneath his golden mask, was deathly pale.

A sharp, suffocating panic gripped her chest.

"Zhao Yan!" She shook him with trembling hands, her voice breaking. "Hey! Wake up!"

He did not stir.

Hua Jing’s heart pounded, her pulse a deafening roar in her ears.

She had never known fear like this—never known how terrifying it could be to see someone like him, someone so full of life and strength, suddenly so still.

This couldn’t be happening.

No.

No.

No.

Her mind rejected the reality before her.

She pulled him closer in desperation, her arms tightening around him as if by sheer force alone, she could bring him back.

The emperor had reached them now, his ceremonial headpiece slipping off as he crouched beside his fallen son.

His regal composure cracked, raw emotions flickering across his face as he stared down at Zhao Yan.

Hua Jing barely noticed him.

But then—

A force yanked her backward.

She gasped as she was roughly thrown to the side, her body hitting the hard floor. Dazed, she blinked up, her vision swimming.

Through the blur, figures loomed over her.

The first consort.

The fourth consort.

The sixth consort.

All three stood before her, their gazes burning with accusation, with fury, with barely contained hatred.

The first consort was the first to speak, her voice sharp and commanding.

"Do not touch him!"

Hua Jing’s lips parted in shock.

She stared up at them, frozen in place.

The consorts rushed forward, practically shoving her aside as they knelt beside Zhao Yan, their cries loud and theatrical.

"Royal husband!"

"Royal husband, wake up!"

Their wails filled the hall, an eerie, almost practiced melody of grief.

It made Hua Jing’s skin crawl.

She clenched her fists, struggling to push herself up, but a gentle but firm grip stopped her.

"Young Lady, you need to get up," Xia Lin whispered urgently.

But Hua Jing remained where she was, confusion, anger, and disbelief warring inside her.

Why was this happening?

Why were they treating her as if she were the cause of this?

Just then, the emperor’s voice boomed across the hall.

"Summon the physician immediately!"

In the sea of chaos, a familiar figure emerged.

The grandpa physician—the same one who had treated Hua Jing and Zhao Yan back at the shelter.

The sight of him made Hua Jing push herself up with newfound determination. She shoved Xia Lin’s hands aside and stumbled forward, desperate for answers.

She grabbed onto the physician’s sleeve, her eyes wild with urgency.

"He is going to be okay, isn’t he?" she demanded, her voice a breathless whisper.

The physician stiffened.

Then, lowering his voice so only she could hear, he murmured, "You need to get out of here."

Hua Jing froze.

What?

The physician’s eyes flickered toward the other consorts—toward the way they clung to Zhao Yan, toward the calculating gazes of the nobles who were already whispering amongst themselves.

The vultures were circling.

"They will blame you for this," the physician continued, voice low but firm. "I will find out what happened. When I have answers, I will send for you."

Hua Jing’s breath caught in her throat.

She wanted to stay.

She wanted to fight.

But the look in the physician’s eyes told her that staying would do more harm than good.

The emperor’s voice rang out once more.

"No one is to touch the prince."

The hall fell silent.

The consorts immediately backed away, their sobs now quiet whimpers.

The physician stepped forward, bowing deeply. "Your Majesty, please allow me to examine him."

The emperor nodded.

Hua Jing watched, helpless, as the physician knelt beside Zhao Yan, his hands hovering over the prince’s wrist before pressing down gently. Seconds stretched into eternity as he worked, checking for signs of life, of breath, of anything.

Finally, he lifted his head.

"This place is not ideal," the physician said. "The prince must be moved to seclusion immediately."

Everything happened too fast.

One moment, Zhao Yan was being lifted onto a stretcher.

The next—

Hua Jing was being ushered away.

The hall blurred around her.

She didn’t even know how she got back to her compound.

But when she finally regained full consciousness, she was sitting inside her room, in the house Zhao Yan had prepared for her.

Tears streamed down her face.

She hadn’t even realized she was crying.

The emotions inside her twisted and turned, a storm with no end.

Why?

Why was she feeling like this?

Why did it hurt so much?

Zhao Yan’s pale face haunted her, refusing to leave her mind.

No matter how much she willed herself to think rationally, her chest felt unbearably tight.

Beside her, Xia Lin sat quietly, offering no words.

Maybe because there were no words that could fix this.

The night dragged on, and Hua Jing barely moved.

Her hands trembled against her lap.

Zhao Yan had looked fine just moments before he collapsed.

So why?

Why did it happen so suddenly?

Her thoughts swirled into a tangled mess.

Then—

A noise.

Footsteps.

Coming from outside the compound.

Hua Jing stiffened, snapping out of her haze.

Xia Lin heard them, too.

She quickly got up, stepping toward the door. "Who goes there—?"

Before she could finish, the doors slammed open.

Xia Lin was shoved aside with force, stumbling backward.

She helped loudly as she fell on her side immediately injuring her leg again, "Aah!"

Hua Jing called out for her, "Are you okay?"

Xia Lin cried, "My lady!"

She wanted to get up and stop these people from getting in but her leg refused to let her!

The figures stormed in.

The rush of colour almost made Hua Jing blind.

She already knew who these people were!

They had probably come to look for trouble!

Hua Jing barely had time to react before—

A harsh slap struck her across the face.

Pa!

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