The Witch in the Woods: The Transmigration of Hazel-Anne Davis

The term 'no rest for the weary' took on a whole new meaning in my life.

The day after the war room meeting with the ministers taking credit for my work, I was back to going over reports and trying to figure out what our next move should be.

This wasn't my type of warfare, and if I was going to be honest with myself, I was struggling with it. I was always taught more to defend then to go out looking for fights. But at the same time, I just wanted the war to be over with, Mingyu on the throne so that I could finally relax just a bit.

Papa had two rules that covered what I was feeling right now. The first, rule number 19 was 'the only thing worse than being hunted is being helpless. Fix both' and 'every deal costs something. Learn the currency.'

The only currency that was currently my own was fear. And I refused to just sit back and let others handle things while we were all being hunted.

Which led me to this sleepless night.

A knock on the door took me out of my thoughts and brought me screaming back to reality.

Three taps. Silence. Then one. Like there was a spy playing games on the other side of the door.

I didn't need to ask who it was. Only one man pretended to be less than what he was. Only one man played at what he truly was.

I rose from the floor where I'd been sketching out supply chains on a scroll, smudged ink still drying across my fingers. The candles had long since burned down to nubs, and Shadow was snoring under the table like an old man who'd given up on keeping watch.

I opened the door.

Sun Yizhen stood there, dressed in deep navy robes embroidered with foxes chasing each other's tails. A fan dangled loosely from his fingers, half-opened as if he hadn't decided whether to flirt or cut.

"I was told you were resting," he said, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. "Apparently that was a lie."

"I do rest," I sighed, latching the door behind him. "Just not when there are rats in my pantry." Not like there were ever very many rats in my pantry. Those creatures knew better.

He smiled.

It was the kind of smile that promised nothing and revealed even less. "Ah. You must mean the latest whispers from Baiguang. I assume you've heard?"

I gestured to the scrolls on the table. "Not enough to draw blood. Not yet."

He circled the table, glancing down at my ink notes. His eyes lingered on a sketch of the Yelan grain routes. "You're drawing in the dark."

"It's still more accurate than half the reports your spies bring back."

His grin widened.

"Touché," he murmured. Then, without asking, he lowered himself onto the cushion across from me. "But tonight, you'll want to listen. Even my shadows are nervous."

That caught my attention.

I set my brush aside and let out a long breath.

"Talk," I grunted, wishing that Yaozu was beside me right now.

I could really use a back rub… and something more.

Yan Luo, Shi Yizhen, whatever name he wanted to go by at the moment, leaned forward and dropped a folded piece of black parchment on the table. "Three nights ago, an arms shipment meant for Baiguang disappeared just outside Jiangzhou. No bodies. No fire. Just missing. Then two nights ago, another caravan—this one grain—went up in flames before it even left the merchant compound. And tonight? Thirty crates of opium vanished from a red-light vault known to belong to Lady Song's people."

"Coincidence?"

"Funding," he corrected. "Someone is buying up everything—steel, silk, salt, dried meat, even medicinals. But not under Baiguang's name."

I narrowed my eyes.

"Who?"

He tapped the fan against his knee. "That's the interesting part. They're all merchants. All unrelated. Different dialects. Different home provinces. But the coin—" he leaned forward again, voice low, "—the coin is identical. Minted privately. A phoenix seal overlaid on a crescent blade."

I went still.

Not because I recognized it.

But because I didn't.

"Someone's building something," I snorted. I had no proof, but no man would identify himself as a phoenix. And there was only one woman with the world in her crosshairs.

Yizhen nodded. "Quietly. Deliberately. And through channels even I didn't know existed until now."

A pause passed.

I let it stretch, trying to feel the edges of the trap.

"And what do you think they're building?"

"A second war," he said. "Or worse—a shadow court."

My lips curled faintly. "Baiguang doesn't have the stomach for either."

"No," he agreed. "But someone behind them might. Someone who knows the empire is still reeling. Who knows Mingyu hasn't been crowned, and the court is still licking its wounds from winter."

I looked at him then—not as a friend, not even as a man—but as what he truly was: a fox dressed in silk, smelling of ink and blood and expensive wine.

And for once, I let him see that I wasn't impressed.

"Are you behind it?" I asked quietly, cocking my head to the side as I studied him. Just because I thought I knew who it was didn't mean that I couldn't be wrong.

He blinked.

Then laughed.

"Gods, no. If I were, I wouldn't be here telling you. I'd be sitting in some bathhouse drinking plum wine while your empire ate itself alive."

"That's what I thought."

We fell into silence again, the only sound the soft hiss of wax dripping onto parchment.

Then he asked, "Why did you let that minister speak to you like that earlier?"

I arched a brow. "Did you hear about that already?"

"Everyone did. It's already being told as a cautionary tale to junior scribes. But I'm curious—you could have flayed him the moment he opened his mouth. Why wait?"

I turned my teacup in slow circles.

"Because he needed the room to understand who he was. And who he wasn't."

Yizhen studied me for a long moment.

Then leaned back, setting his fan across his lap.

"You've changed," he said.

"No," I corrected. "You just didn't see me clearly before."

His lips twitched. "I see you now."

"Do you?"

He tilted his head, the candlelight catching on the sharp edge of his jaw.

"You're more dangerous than Mingyu thinks."

"He knows."

"But not enough."

I stood then, smoothing the front of my robes. "Are you warning me?"

"No," he said, rising too. "I'm complimenting you."

We were close now.

Too close.

He was taller than I remembered. Or maybe I was just more tired than I let on. The circles under his eyes matched mine—two creatures playing gods for kingdoms they didn't own.

His gaze flicked to my mouth.

I didn't move.

"Careful," I said.

"Always."

He didn't kiss me, he didn't try. He just smiled that same fox-smile from before.

Then, when he turned to leave, he paused with one hand on the door.

"I let you win tonight," he said casually. He looked back, his eyes gleaming. "Don't expect that to happen again. I know what I want, and nothing will ever stand in my way of getting it."

"Best of luck to you," I purred, unable to hold back the smile on my face. "I don't see that being an easy win for you."

"Unfortunately, neither do I," he grumbled before disappearing.