Bow? Hua Jing stared at the maid like she'd grown two heads. "Bow?" she whispered under her breath, her voice dripping with disbelief. She was from a world where she bowed to no one—except maybe to accept an award, and even then, it was more of a graceful incline of her head.
Now this girl was telling her to bow to a man. A man who, by so twisted logic, was supposedly her husband?
Absolutely not.
Her thoughts were interrupted as the man in question entered the room. Hua Jing's eyes widened the mont she saw him.
He was tall. Much taller than she had expected. His presence filled the small room, the faint scent of sandalwood and sothing crisp trailing after him. He moved with the kind of regal authority that made the air feel heavier, and his dark robes only added to the effect.
But it wasn't his height or his deanor that drew her attention. It was the mask.
A finely crafted mask covered the upper half of his face, its intricate designs glinting faintly in the candlelight. Hua Jing's thoughts swirled. Why a mask? Was he hiding a disfigurent? A scar? Or... was he just one of those people who liked theatrics?
Still, she couldn't deny the rest of him looked annoyingly perfect. His jawline was sharp, his lips well-ford, and his posture scread elegance. Her annoyance flared. Why would soone so tall and... irritatingly well-put-together hide behind a mask?
"Hua Jing!" her maid hissed in a low whisper, snapping her out of her thoughts. The girl's subtle signs weren't so subtle anymore—she was practically throwing herself into bowing gestures, urging Hua Jing to follow suit.
But Hua Jing didn't move. She folded her arms, her expression cool. Bow? To this masked man? Dream on.
The prince paused a few steps from her, his gaze sweeping over her figure. Hua Jing felt a flicker of unease under his scrutiny. His eyes—piercing even through the mask—lingered a second too long.
"You..." he said, his voice low and rich, carrying an edge of disbelief.
Hua Jing froze. Her thoughts stuttered. That voice.
It wasn't the first ti she'd heard it. It stirred sothing in her mind, sothing distant yet sharp. Her breath hitched as a mory crashed into her consciousness—the accident. The pounding on her car. Her na being shouted in desperation.
No. It couldn't be.
She shook her head slightly, pushing the thought away. It was impossible. There was no way this man was connected to that mont. She had to focus.
"How are you feeling?" the prince asked, breaking the silence.
His tone was polite, but there was a sharpness beneath it, as though he couldn't quite mask his irritation. Hua Jing narrowed her eyes.
"How am I feeling?" she repeated, her voice heavy with sarcasm. "Let's see... Confused. Baffled. And a little insulted, honestly. Why are you wearing a mask? Are you hiding sothing? Or is this just so kind of weird royal fashion statent?"
The maid gasped audibly. "Young Madam!"
The prince's eyes flashed with sothing unreadable, but he didn't respond imdiately. Instead, he crossed his arms, tilting his head slightly as if studying her. "Shouldn't you be bowing first before asking such insolent questions?"
Hua Jing let out a laugh—short, sharp, and utterly unimpressed. "Bow? I don't think so. I woke up in this strange place, and now so masked man is standing in front of , claiming to be my husband. You want to bow? Dream on, Your Highness."
The prince's lips twitched, as if suppressing a smile or maybe a sneer. "I see. So not only do you have no manners, but you also lack self-awareness."
Hua Jing raised an eyebrow. "Self-awareness? Oh, I'm fully aware of myself, thank you very much. What I'm not aware of is why soone like you feels the need to cover their face. Should I be worried? Are you hiding sothing terrifying under there?"
"Enough," he said, his voice firm. The authority in his tone made the maid flinch, but Hua Jing stood her ground.
"You're dressed... inappropriately," the prince continued, gesturing vaguely at her. "For soone who's supposed to be my wife, you look more like a disheveled servant."
Hua Jing glanced down at herself. Her oversized robe was hanging awkwardly off one shoulder, her hair was a ss, and she definitely didn't look like a royal anything. But she wasn't about to let him have the last word.
"Well, forgive for not being runway-ready after waking up from a near-death experience," she snapped. "So of us have priorities other than looking pretty for masked strangers."
The prince stared at her, his jaw tightening. For a mont, Hua Jing thought he might actually explode from sheer frustration. But instead, he did sothing unexpected.
He smirked.
The expression was subtle, barely noticeable, but it was there. And it infuriated her.
"What's so funny?" she demanded.
"Nothing," he said smoothly, though his tone suggested otherwise. "I just find it... amusing. You, standing there with no sense of propriety, no idea of the world you're in, yet still trying to act as if you hold any power in this situation."
Hua Jing bristled. "Listen here, Prince Charming, or whatever you call yourself—"
"Prince Zhao Yan," he interrupted, his voice cold.
"Fine, Prince Zhao Yan." She threw up her hands. "I don't care if you're a prince, a king, or a masked superhero. I'm not bowing, and I'm not apologizing for anything."
Zhao Yan stepped closer, his height casting a shadow over her. "You will learn your place, Hua Jing."
There was sothing in his gaze and voice that did not sit too well with Hua Jing.
His voice did not sound too pleased that she was alive and his gaze held a hostility Hua Jing could not quite put in place
Hua Jing tilted her head, her gaze steady despite the tension crackling in the air. "We'll see about that!"
She then picked her nose before lifting the hem of her dress leaving her smooth legs showing before sauntering away!
The prince was left speechless!
What in the world was this?
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