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

Hua Jing blinked, her head still heavy from the events of the previous night.

"How did I get here?" she asked, her voice hoarse from exhaustion.

Xia Lin, who had been adjusting the blankets around her, froze mid-motion. She turned slowly, eyes widening in disbelief.

"You... don’t remember?"

Hua Jing frowned.

"Remember what?"

Xia Lin scoffed, shaking her head as if she couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

"Are you joking, My Lady? How could you not remember?"

Hua Jing sat up slightly, only to wince as a dull pain shot through her arms and legs. Her entire body ached, her muscles sore from the torment she had endured in the lower prison.

She sighed, pressing her fingers to her temples, trying to piece together the last thing she could recall.

"I remember... the lower prison," she murmured, voice distant. "I remember the darkness, the suffocating air, the pain."

Her fingers twitched against the fabric of the blanket.

"I remember the accusations, the voices shouting at me. I remember... seeing someone."

Xia Lin leaned in, eyes sharp.

"Who?"

Hua Jing paused.

The memory was fragmented, unclear—like trying to grasp water slipping through her fingers.

"I... I don’t know," she admitted reluctantly. "I think someone came for me, but I can’t recall who. It felt... familiar."

Her brows furrowed.

"Someone I hate."

Xia Lin’s mouth parted slightly in surprise.

"Someone you hate?"

Hua Jing hesitated.

"Yes. But at the same time... someone warm."

For a moment, she sat there, lost in thought, trying to unravel the tangled threads of her memory.

Then, she looked at Xia Lin.

"Who was it that saved me?"

Xia Lin’s expression darkened.

"You really don’t remember?"

Hua Jing shook her head.

Xia Lin studied her, searching for any hint of deception, but Hua Jing’s confused, earnest eyes told her everything she needed to know.

This wasn’t a joke.

Hua Jing truly didn’t remember.

Letting out a deep breath, Xia Lin finally said,

"It was the prince."

Hua Jing’s head snapped up.

"Zhao Yan?"

Xia Lin nodded.

"Yes. He was the one who saved you."

Hua Jing’s mouth fell open slightly.

"But... but he collapsed. I saw him fall during the banquet. How could he—?"

"He woke up."

Xia Lin’s voice was firm.

"And as soon as he did, he came straight for you."

Hua Jing felt a strange tightness in her chest.

"You mean... he was there? At the lower prison?"

Xia Lin nodded again.

"Not just that, My Lady. He carried you out himself."

Hua Jing’s breath hitched.

Xia Lin continued, her tone sharp.

"You don’t remember how he looked at you? How he held you?"

Hua Jing felt uneasy.

She tried to remember.

She tried to picture Zhao Yan’s face, his expression, his voice.

But all she could recall was that familiar warmth, the sensation of strong arms lifting her from the darkness.

Her fingers curled into the blanket.

"I don’t remember."

Xia Lin sighed.

"Then let me tell you exactly what happened."

She sat down beside Hua Jing, her voice lowering.

"After you were taken to the lower prison, the second consort ran to Zhao Yan’s seclusion chamber to beg for his help. The imperial physician was there too. And then... Zhao Yan came."

Hua Jing listened in stunned silence as Xia Lin explained everything.

The moment Zhao Yan arrived. The way the entire room fell silent when they saw him standing there. The way the first consort’s face drained of color when he walked in.

And then...

The way Zhao Yan lifted her into his arms.

Hua Jing’s breathing slowed.

Xia Lin’s words became quieter, more pointed.

"He didn’t hesitate, My Lady. He carried you as if you weighed nothing. And for the first time... he removed his mask."

Hua Jing thought Xia Lin was exaggerating a little but with all the gestures and the dramatic way her face was changing.

But...

From her explanation, something of that sort seemed to be forming itself inside Hua Jing’s head.

Hua Jing stiffened.

"He... what?"

Xia Lin met her gaze.

"He took off his mask, Hua Jing."

Hua Jing’s chest tightened painfully.

"You’re lying."

Xia Lin’s lips curled.

"Am I? Then tell me, what do you remember?"

Hua Jing’s fingers trembled slightly.

She searched her mind, desperately trying to recall.

The memory was still blurred at the edges, but now that Xia Lin had said it...

Something shifted.

A flash of gold.

A pair of deep, piercing eyes.

A hand reaching out.

A voice—low, filled with urgency—calling her name.

Hua Jing.

Her breath shuddered.

Xia Lin watched her closely.

"You really don’t remember how he looked?"

Hua Jing blinked rapidly, shaking her head.

"How could I? He always wears a mask."

Xia Lin’s smile widened slightly.

"Not anymore."

Hua Jing’s heart pounded.

"He removed it... because of you."

Hua Jing stiffened, her entire body freezing as Xia Lin’s words settled deep into her mind. Zhao Yan had removed his mask.

For her.

She had dreamed of seeing his face for so long, wondered what lay beneath that cold golden mask he always wore. Yet now—now that it had finally happened—she had no memory of it. Nothing.

Her fingers curled tightly into the blankets, her heart pounding furiously in her chest.

"He really took it off?" she whispered, barely able to believe it.

Xia Lin nodded firmly. "He did. And you—"

"And I don’t remember!" Hua Jing wailed, the frustration bubbling inside her like an uncontrollable storm.

Her emotions spiraled out of control as she kicked her legs, thrashing against the bed in pure distress. Her hands balled into fists, slamming against the mattress as she let out a long, frustrated groan.

"How could I not remember?!" she cried, her voice rising as she gritted her teeth in sheer exasperation.

Xia Lin stiffened, her mouth slightly open in shock. She had never—never seen her lady act like this. Hua Jing, who was always so sharp-tongued, so composed, was now acting like a child throwing a tantrum.

But Hua Jing didn’t care.

She grabbed the pillow beside her and hugged it tightly, rolling onto her side as she kicked the blankets away in frustration. Her body trembled as she let out a pitiful cry.

"I wanted to see it!" she whined, burying her face into the pillow, her voice muffled. "I wanted to see his face!"

Her muffled voice sounded aggrieved, full of bitterness and regret.

Xia Lin’s eyebrows twitched. For a moment, she didn’t know whether to laugh or pat her lady’s head in comfort.

"My lady..." she began hesitantly.

But Hua Jing kicked the pillow away, sitting up as her eyes burned with unshed tears.

"Why now?! Of all the times, why when I was unconscious?!" she huffed, crossing her arms tightly over her chest, pouting so deeply that it was almost comical.

Xia Lin couldn’t hold it in anymore.

A small giggle escaped her lips.

Hua Jing’s head snapped toward her, her expression darkening.

"Are you laughing at me?!" she accused.

Xia Lin quickly covered her mouth, her shoulders shaking slightly. "N-No, my lady, of course not!"

But her trembling voice betrayed her, and Hua Jing narrowed her eyes dangerously.

She grabbed the pillow beside her and hurled it straight at Xia Lin’s face.

"You traitor!" she shouted.