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

They held each other tightly, breathing unevenly, the terror of the past hours dissolving slowly into relief.

Around them, the guards who had been standing rigidly at attention finally released the breaths they had been holding. Shoulders that had been tense dropped visibly. One of them let out an audible sigh, while another muttered a quiet, "Thank God." 𝐟𝕣𝕖𝐞𝐰𝕖𝚋𝐧𝗼𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝗰𝐨𝐦

Their madam was alive.

The catastrophe they had feared had been averted.

A couple of the men exchanged glances before coughing awkwardly and turning their backs to give the couple a semblance of privacy. Even in a forest torn open by frantic digging, even with mud and sweat and the raw scent of earth in the air, some moments were too intimate to witness.

Fu Jing Rong shifted carefully and lifted Hua Jing fully out of the coffin. He stepped out of the shallow pit, cradling her against his chest as though she weighed nothing at all. In truth, she felt lighter than usual—too light—and it frightened him all over again.

She tilted her head slightly, glancing down at the open coffin and the disturbed earth around them. A faint, tired smile tugged at her lips.

"Seeing that I was in a coffin just now," she said weakly, attempting humor despite the rasp in her voice, "does that mean I already died and got buried? If I’ve come back to life now... then I’ll stay with you forever and ever."

The word died made something in his jaw tighten immediately. His expression darkened for a split second, the shadow of what he had almost lost flashing across his face.

"I don’t like that word," he said quietly, a faint edge in his tone.

But when she finished the sentence—when she promised to stay with him forever—the tension in his features softened. A fragile, radiant smile broke through despite himself.

"Then I’ll stay with you forever and ever too," he replied, his voice steadier now, though still thick with emotion.

He adjusted his hold and began walking toward the clearing where the helicopter hovered. Hua Jing’s strength was nearly gone; her head rested weakly against his shoulder. Even so, she turned slightly and pressed a gentle kiss against his cheek.

The gesture was soft, almost shy, but it carried more weight than any dramatic declaration.

He felt it like warmth spreading through his entire body.

"I saw my mom," she murmured quietly, her voice thoughtful now, as though she were recounting something sacred. "Do you want to hear about her?"

Fu Jing Rong glanced down at her immediately. There was no skepticism in his eyes, no dismissal. Only attentive concern and tenderness.

He leaned his forehead lightly against hers as he continued walking.

"Tell me," he said softly.

The guards moved quickly once Hua Jing was secured in Fu Jing Rong’s arms. What had been a frantic excavation site moments ago transformed into a tightly coordinated extraction. One of the men climbed first, steadying the rope ladder as the helicopter dipped lower between the towering trees of Silian Forest. The downdraft from the spinning blades sent leaves and loose soil spiraling violently into the air, whipping against coats and faces, but no one flinched.

"Careful," one of the guards called out over the roar of the engine as Fu Jing Rong stepped toward the ladder.

He did not hand her over.

Not even to trained medical personnel.

Instead, he adjusted his hold, cradling Hua Jing securely against his chest with one arm while gripping the ladder with the other. Every movement was deliberate, protective. The thought of anyone else bearing her weight—even for a second—felt impossible to him.

The ascent was slow but steady. Wind tore through his hair and clothing as he climbed, the forest shrinking beneath them. Hua Jing’s fingers remained curled tightly into his jacket, as though even unconscious fear lingered in her muscles. He could feel her shallow breaths against his collarbone, and he counted each one silently, as if keeping tally could ensure they continued.

Once inside, the medical staff immediately moved to assess her, but Fu Jing Rong did not retreat far. He knelt beside her on the narrow bench, one hand still wrapped around hers as oxygen was fitted gently over her nose and mouth. Her eyelids fluttered faintly, exhaustion pulling her back under despite her effort to stay awake.

"I’m right here," he murmured again, brushing his thumb over her knuckles.

The helicopter surged forward, slicing through the dark canopy and into open sky. Silian Forest stretched beneath them, vast and indifferent, hiding the violence that had nearly stolen her away.

None of them realized that far beyond the treeline, news had already begun to spread.

It started with a single leak—an overheard radio transmission, a blurred image captured from a distance, a whisper passed from one contact to another. In a city where power, wealth, and rivalry intertwined like roots beneath the pavement, the name Hua Jing was not insignificant. And the name Fu Jing Rong carried even more weight.

By the time the helicopter touched down at the private landing zone near the hospital, camera vans had already begun to gather.

As the aircraft descended, Fu Jing Rong could see flashes in the distance—like scattered lightning at ground level.

He frowned.

"What is that?" one of the guards muttered.

When the helicopter doors slid open, the noise hit them instantly.

Shouting.

Cameras clicking in relentless bursts.

Reporters pushing forward against a hastily formed security barrier.

"Mr. Fu! Is it true Miss Hua was kidnapped?"

"Was she buried alive as rumors suggest?"

"Who is responsible?"

"Is this connected to last year’s incident?"

The questions came rapid-fire, overlapping, aggressive.

Security moved quickly, forming a tight perimeter as Fu Jing Rong stepped down with Hua Jing still in his arms. She stirred faintly at the noise, her brow creasing.

"It’s loud..." she murmured weakly.

He tightened his hold slightly. "Don’t look," he said softly. "Just rest."

But the reporters surged forward anyway, emboldened by the sight of her pale figure wrapped in his coat.

"Miss Hua! How do you feel right now?"

"Did you see your attackers?"

"Is this an internal family dispute?"

One microphone nearly brushed against Fu Jing Rong’s shoulder before a guard forcefully pushed it back.

His expression changed.

The vulnerability that had been etched into his features minutes earlier vanished completely. In its place returned the cold, controlled authority that had built empires and crushed opposition.

"Move,"