Zhao Yan walked with slow, measured steps, his arms carefully cradling Hua Jing's limp body.
His heart was pounding, though his face remained calm.
Behind him, the second consort followed closely, her expression twisted with worry.
She wasn't like the others—
She wasn't standing at a distance, watching with silent judgment.
She wasn't looking at Hua Jing with barely concealed satisfaction, secretly hoping she wouldn't wake up.
No.
She cared.
Zhao Yan exhaled a quiet sigh before finally speaking.
"She has only fainted," he reassured, his voice steady. "She will recover after proper treatment."
The second consort stiffened before finally letting out a shaky breath of relief.
Her hands trembled as she clutched the fabric of her robes.
"I... I was so worried," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.
She had been so afraid—
