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

Hua Jing said gently.

"I’ll go back eventually... but not now. We still have too many things to deal with, too many truths that need to be uncovered. You have your own matters to resolve too—your family, your company. Once everything is settled, then I’ll return. I still have to deal with my contract with Blue Entertainment first. It’s almost over, and once it’s done, I’ll finally be free to choose my own path."

Her voice was steady, but her words carried a quiet determination.

Fu Jing Rong lowered his head slightly, his chin still resting atop her head as he listened.

At the mention of his family, something sharp and dark flickered in his eyes—an emotion he didn’t voice. The air around him shifted almost imperceptibly, his grip on her waist tightening, as though he were silently vowing to protect her from all the storms yet to come.

He pulled her closer, his breath warm against her hair, his fingers locked with hers as if he never intended to let go.

The sun slipped lower, painting the world in deeper gold and crimson.

Neither of them spoke again.

They simply stood there together, sharing the silence, watching the day fade into evening.

...

The Fu family mansion had stood for generations, an estate so vast that even the side chambers looked like palaces in their own right. The family’s fortune had been built over centuries, with businesses in nearly every industry imaginable. Some even whispered that the Fu family’s lineage could be traced back to the royal bloodlines of ancient dynasties, blessed with the kind of fortune that never truly waned.

In one of the side chambers, a round table sat at the center of the elegantly decorated room. Across from each other sat two figures—one a woman whose appearance defied her age, the other a man whose sharp suit could not quite mask the edge of displeasure in his eyes.

The woman’s makeup was flawless, her face smooth and luminous despite the years. Her red lips curved in a smile that never quite reached her eyes, and though it looked pleasant at a glance, there was always a faint, cunning sharpness beneath it. This was Madam Fu—Fu Lianhua.

The man sitting opposite her was Gu Heng, a man slightly older, his features stern and his presence heavy with authority. At the moment, however, his gaze held a cold calculation as he looked at her.

"Now that Fu Jingrong is back," Gu Heng said, his voice low and hard, "all our plans have been shattered. We need to think of a different strategy altogether."

Fu Lianhua’s red lips curved a little more, but the smile did not soften her expression. Her eyes gleamed like polished glass as she leaned forward slightly. "Gu Heng, Gu Heng... you must find a way to deal with him very quickly. If we don’t, once he uncovers what we’ve been doing, we won’t have a single chance left in this family. You know how ruthless that man can be. He might even kill us."

At the mention of Fu Jingrong, Gu Heng’s brows furrowed, and a faint glint of unease flashed in his eyes. He had seen what the young man was capable of, even back then, and the thought of facing him now, stronger and more resolute than before, made his jaw tighten.

Gu Heng changed the subject slightly, his tone more guarded as he asked, "What about the old man? How is his illness progressing?"

A soft, almost mocking chuckle escaped Fu Lianhua’s lips. "He is ready to go to the afterlife. Just a few more steps, and everything will be prepared."

Her words carried a coldness that belied the fact she was speaking of her own husband. There was no grief in her voice, no hesitation—only a chilling practicality, as if she were discussing the removal of an obstacle rather than the imminent death of a spouse.

The man they spoke of was none other than the patriarch of the Fu family, Fu Jingrong’s father and Fu Lianhua’s husband. Once a towering figure in both business and reputation, the years and his illness had worn him down. Now, in the twilight of his life, he was bedridden, unaware of the quiet plotting happening within his own home.

Gu Heng watched Fu Lianhua carefully. The faint smile at her lips and the sharp, confident light in her eyes unsettled him slightly. "You speak as if you’ve already written his obituary," he muttered.

Fu Lianhua’s expression did not falter. She merely tapped her manicured nails lightly against the table, each tap sounding crisp in the stillness of the room. "You have known me for years, Gu Heng. You should know by now—I don’t speak idly. If we want to secure everything we’ve worked for, there’s no room for hesitation."

Gu Heng was silent for a moment, his fingers drumming slowly against the polished surface of the table as he weighed her words. The power struggle within the Fu family was nothing new, but the stakes had risen ever since Fu Jingrong’s return. The man had not only survived the accident that had put him in a coma for a year but had also come back with an aura even more formidable than before.

"You underestimate him at your own peril," Gu Heng finally said, his voice quieter but edged with warning. "He’s not the kind to be caught off guard a second time."

Fu Lianhua’s lips curved again, this time into a faintly mocking smile. "And that is exactly why we cannot wait too long. We need to strike before he solidifies his position. If we hesitate... all of this will be meaningless."

The two of them stared at each other across the table, the cold light in their gazes clashing with the faint warmth that came from shared ambition. Outside, the evening breeze rustled through the leaves of the old estate’s garden, carrying with it the scent of early spring—soft and fresh, yet unable to reach the icy air that lingered in the side chamber.

As soon as the quiet conversation in the side chamber came to an end, Fu Lianhua leaned back slightly, her eyes half-lidded and watchful. Gu Heng’s gaze lingered on her, the tension in his face softening as the edge of a smile touched his lips. For a brief moment, the cold air between them warmed into something more private. His hand reached across the table to rest over hers.

"You never change," he said, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "Even in the midst of a storm, you still look so calm."

Fu Lianhua’s lips curved, her red lipstick gleaming in the soft light of the lamps. "Calm is the only way to survive in this family. And don’t forget," she added, her voice turning softer yet sharper, "we still have Fu Ling waiting. That child deserves more than to live in his brother’s shadow. I want him to sit at the pinnacle of power, to hold the entire Fu Group in his hands. We can’t let Jingrong take everything."

Gu Heng’s eyes darkened at her words, but he nodded. "We’ll push forward. If we delay any longer, the opportunity will slip away."

A faint, pleased smile played on her lips. "That’s what I like to hear."

Leaning slightly toward her, Gu Heng brushed a soft kiss against her cheek. It was brief but carried a hint of possessiveness. Then, as if remembering where they were, he straightened, glanced at the door, and quietly left through the side corridor.

Fu Lianhua watched him go, her expression unreadable in the dim lamplight. When the door shut behind him, she let out a soft exhale, then reached for the small bottle of perfume on a nearby shelf. She gave herself two quick sprays, the floral scent sharp enough to mask any lingering trace of another’s presence.

Her steps were light and unhurried as she made her way across the corridors toward the main chambers. She knew better than to appear rushed. To everyone in the mansion, she was still the dutiful wife caring for her ailing husband.

The staircase creaked faintly under her heels as she ascended to the second floor, where the master bedroom lay. The heavy doors opened with a soft push, revealing the vast room dimly lit by a single bedside lamp.

On the large bed lay a man whose once vigorous and commanding presence had been diminished by illness. His face, though gaunt and pale, still carried the handsome features that Fu Jingrong had inherited—the strong brow, the chiseled jawline, the quiet but commanding air.

Fu Lianhua’s eyes lingered on him for a heartbeat, and there was no trace of pity in them. If anything, the sight of his frailty stirred a flicker of triumph deep within her—quickly buried beneath a mask of sorrow as she lowered her gaze. She let her shoulders droop ever so slightly, the perfect image of a wife burdened by grief.

She walked softly to his bedside just as the man stirred, his eyes opening weakly. The dim light caught the clarity that still lingered in his gaze despite his weakened state.

"...Lianhua?"