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

The sedan continued toward the outskirts until the last clear urban camera captured it approaching a highway leading to City M.

The head of the traffic department exhaled slowly. "City M..." he said under his breath. "That region is known for its dense forest areas."

Fu Jing Rong’s gaze sharpened. "Continue."

The officer made a call immediately, contacting his counterpart in City M’s traffic division. The room waited in tense silence while he relayed details and requested assistance. Several minutes later, he ended the call and turned back toward Fu Jing Rong.

"They spotted the vehicle entering Silian Forest," he said carefully. "But there is no record of it exiting."

The words landed heavily.

"Silian Forest has limited surveillance coverage," the officer continued. "The terrain is dense, and the infrastructure there isn’t as advanced as ours. Cameras are sparse once you go deeper in. That is all we can confirm."

It was enough.

Fu Jing Rong gave a single, controlled nod. "Thank you."

There was no time for anything else. Within minutes, he was back inside his car with Deng Mi and several trusted men. Engines roared to life in unison. Headlights cut through the night as the convoy sped toward City M, toward the dark expanse of Silian Forest where the sedan had last been seen.

Inside the vehicle, Fu Jing Rong stared straight ahead, his expression carved from ice. Every instinct within him screamed urgency, but his movements remained calculated. Whoever had taken Hua Jing had planned carefully. They had disabled cameras, chosen remote terrain, and covered their tracks as best as possible.

Silian Forest in City M was infamous for more than its beauty. It was vast, thick, and old—an expanse of towering trees and tangled undergrowth that seemed to swallow light whole. Locals often warned tourists not to wander too far from the designated trails. Wild animals roamed freely in the deeper regions, and once the sun dipped below the canopy, visibility dropped to near nothing. There were stories—of hikers losing their way, of search teams combing through acres for days, sometimes returning empty-handed.

Whoever had taken Hua Jing had not chosen this place by accident.

Inside the speeding car, Fu Jing Rong stared ahead as the dark highway blurred past. His thoughts churned relentlessly. There were many enemies—business rivals, resentful former partners, people whose interests he had crushed without hesitation. Yet none of them felt right. None of them carried the kind of personal venom required for something like this.

And still—

One name refused to leave his mind.

It surfaced again and again, unwelcome but persistent.

Fu Jing Rong’s fingers tightened around his phone. He reopened the surveillance clip his contact had managed to retrieve from the hotel. He watched carefully this time, not for the obvious, but for what had been overlooked in the chaos.

Hua Jing walked down the corridor.

She paused.

She spoke to someone.

The footage was grainy, but unmistakable.

Mao Li.

The president of Blue Entertainment.

They had exchanged a few words before she entered the restroom.

Fu Jing Rong’s eyes darkened.

He made a call immediately.

"Find Mao Li’s whereabouts," he said without preamble.

On the other end, keys clacked rapidly. "Give me a minute."

The silence that followed was thick. Deng Li, seated beside him, did not speak. He had already sensed the shift in Fu Jing Rong’s expression.

A few moments later, the man on the line spoke again. "I’ve tracked his activities for the past two days. He met with several individuals in City M. Private meetings. Off the books."

Fu Jing Rong’s jaw tightened.

"And," the man continued, "he has a flight scheduled for tomorrow morning. International."

"Where?" Fu Jing Rong’s voice was dangerously calm.

"Norway. Long-term stay. It appears he has begun liquidating several domestic assets. From the pattern, it looks permanent. As if he doesn’t plan to return."

A cold, humorless smile touched Fu Jing Rong’s lips.

"Never coming back again, huh?"

He stared out at the darkness beyond the windshield.

"Send me his current location."

Within seconds, a set of coordinates appeared on his screen.

Fu Jing Rong forwarded it immediately to Ling Wei, his most trusted subordinate.

Send men to this place. I want him alive.

The reply came almost instantly.

Understood.

Behind them, nearly ten black vehicles followed in formation, engines roaring through the night. This was not an ordinary search party. Fu Jing Rong’s private security force was highly trained—former military, former special operations, handpicked for loyalty and efficiency. Above them, a helicopter waited on standby, ready to deploy at his command. But for now, it remained grounded. The kidnappers could not be alerted prematurely.

The convoy reached the outskirts of City M and turned toward Silian Forest.

The deeper they drove, the narrower the road became. Trees loomed closer, their branches arching overhead like skeletal fingers. The headlights cut through mist that clung low to the ground.

They stopped at the main entry point.

Men dispersed quickly, scanning tire impressions, checking side paths. Because Silian Forest was a popular hiking location, there were countless tracks—old tire marks hardened into the earth, fresh footprints from earlier visitors. It was chaotic.

Then one of the security men crouched low near a fork in the path.

"Sir," he called urgently. "I’ve found something."

Fu Jing Rong stepped out.

The ground was wet from dew, the soil dark and soft. Clear tire marks pressed into the mud—deeper, sharper than the older ones surrounding them.

"This is recent," the guard said. "The edges haven’t collapsed yet. The moisture hasn’t filled them in."

Fu Jing Rong didn’t hesitate. "Follow it."

The vehicles advanced slowly, lights dimmed. The forest swallowed sound except for the crunch of tires over gravel and damp earth. The trail veered off the main path, climbing slightly uphill into denser trees.

None of them knew what waited ahead.

...

In a clearing deeper within the forest, Hua Jing stared at the woman before her.

Hua Ling looked nothing like the polished, composed figure she had once been. Gone were the elegant dresses, the carefully styled hair, the gentle smile she wore in public. Tonight she was dressed in black—tight trousers, boots stained with mud, and a leather jacket zipped halfway up. Her hair was pulled back severely, exposing a face twisted with hatred.

Her eyes were bloodshot.

In her hand, she held a dagger.

She turned it idly between her fingers, the blade catching the faint light filtering through the trees.

Hua Jing’s breath hitched. "You..."