MY PRINCE HUSBAND HAS SEVEN WIVES AND I AM HIS FAVOURITE!

The door to the bridal chamber closed softly behind Zhao Yan as he stepped out into the cold night air. His expression, which had softened during his time with Hua Jing, hardened immediately. The warmth he had briefly allowed himself to feel was gone, replaced by the sharp detachment that had always defined him.

Wei Ling was waiting for him, standing a short distance away with his hands clasped behind his back. The faint glow of the lantern cast shadows across his face, highlighting his composed demeanor.

"I've dismissed the maids for the night, Your Highness," Wei Ling reported as Zhao Yan approached.

"Good," Zhao Yan replied curtly.

There were imposters among the maids who had been sent to watch his every move. If they saw him get out of the bridal chamber before morning, they would report back to their masters and all hell would break lose!

A third figure emerged from the shadows. Deng Mi, Zhao Yan's trusted guard, bowed deeply before falling into step beside them.

The three men moved silently through the estate, their breaths visible in the frigid air. The snow crunched softly beneath their boots as they made their way to a small, inconspicuous hut on the far edge of the property.

Once inside, the atmosphere shifted. The small space was sparsely furnished, with only a table and a few chairs. A single lantern hung from the ceiling, casting a dim light over the room. The air was heavy with unspoken tension as the three men took their seats.

Deng Mi was the first to speak. "Your Highness, we've confirmed the rumors."

Zhao Yan leaned back in his chair, his mask still firmly in place, though his sharp gaze bore into Deng Mi. "Speak."

"Prime Minister Gu has been training a secret army," Deng Mi began. "Our informants report that he's been recruiting men from the border regions—those loyal only to him. They've been training in secluded areas, away from prying eyes."

Zhao Yan's lips curved into a humorless smile. "A secret army," he murmured. "How bold of him."

Deng Mi hesitated before continuing. "This isn't a recent development, Your Highness. He's been plotting this for years, building his forces in secret. We don't know when he plans to strike, but—"

"He will strike," Zhao Yan interrupted, his tone cold and certain.

Wei Ling's brow furrowed. "An act of treason on this scale… does he truly believe he can succeed?"

Zhao Yan let out a low chuckle, though there was no humor in it. "Gu Zhiyuan has always overestimated himself. He thinks he's clever, but his ambition blinds him."

"Still," Deng Mi interjected, "his forces are growing. If we don't act soon—"

"We don't act until he moves first," Zhao Yan said firmly. "Let him make the first mistake. Then, we strike."

The room fell silent for a moment as the weight of the conversation settled over them.

Zhao Yan's fingers tapped rhythmically on the table as he stared at the flickering lantern. "What's his next move?"

"Our sources say he's been consolidating his allies," Deng Mi replied. "Several smaller noble families are quietly aligning themselves with him. It's only a matter of time before he takes bolder steps."

Zhao Yan nodded slowly, his mind already working through potential strategies.

After a moment, he turned his attention back to Deng Mi. "And the other matter?"

Deng Mi straightened, his expression becoming more serious. "I've investigated the events surrounding Lady Hua's accident, as you requested."

Zhao Yan's gaze sharpened. "What did you find?"

"There were deliberate attempts to harm her," Deng Mi said gravely. "The horse was spiked—something was used to agitate it, making it uncontrollable. The wheels of the carriage were tampered with as well. It was no accident, Your Highness. Someone wanted her dead."

Wei Ling's eyes widened slightly, though he said nothing, his attention focused entirely on Zhao Yan.

Zhao Yan's jaw tightened, his hands clenching into fists. "Who?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous.

"We don't know yet," Deng Mi admitted. "But we're following the leads. We'll find out who orchestrated this."

Zhao Yan's fingers tapped against the table again, the rhythmic sound betraying his simmering anger. "What else?"

Deng Mi hesitated for a moment before continuing. "The doctor who treated Lady Hua mentioned something unusual. He said that when she hit her head, it could have caused a significant change in her personality. That might explain why she seems so different now."

Zhao Yan didn't respond immediately, his mind replaying every interaction he'd had with Hua Jing since the wedding. She was different—there was no doubt about that. But this explanation didn't sit right with him.

"There's more to this," he said finally, his voice cold. "Find out who ordered the attack. Leave no stone unturned."

"Yes, Your Highness," Deng Mi said, bowing his head.

The conversation shifted back to logistics and strategy, the three men discussing plans in hushed tones. When the meeting finally came to an end, Wei Ling rose from his chair and gave a slight bow.

"I'll distract the guards," he said, his tone matter-of-fact. "You should return to the bridal chamber before anyone notices your absence."

Zhao Yan nodded, standing and adjusting his robes. 

The three men exited the hut silently, slipping into the shadows. Wei Ling disappeared in the opposite direction, his footsteps light and purposeful, while Zhao Yan and Deng Mi returned to the main estate.

Zhao Yan pushed the door to the bridal chamber open quietly, stepping inside. The warmth of the room enveloped him, but his sharp eyes immediately caught sight of Hua Jing lying on the bed.

Her body was drenched in sweat, her brows scrunched in pain as she tossed and turned. Her breathing was uneven, and soft murmurs escaped her lips, though the words were unintelligible.

Zhao Yan's chest tightened as he approached her. She was clearly in the grip of a nightmare, her distress evident.

"Hua Jing," he said softly, his voice low as he reached out to touch her shoulder.

She flinched at the contact, a small whimper escaping her. Zhao Yan pulled his hand back, unsure how to proceed.

Her face, usually so animated and full of mischief, was pale and strained. The sight of her like this stirred something unexpected in him—a pang of protectiveness he hadn't felt in years.

"Hua Jing!"