The Witch in the Woods: The Transmigration of Hazel-Anne Davis
Chapter 102: The Crown And The Knife

Chapter 102: The Crown And The Knife

The door to the Crown Prince’s study clicked shut behind Shi Yaozu, sealing the heavy stillness inside like a vault.

Books lined the far wall, scrolls half-tucked and war maps scattered across the table. Zhu Mingyu stood near the window, a silhouette cast in golden morning light, spine straight as a blade.

"Close the door," he said without turning.

"It’s already closed," Shi Yaozu replied evenly, his voice just as devoid of emotions as Zhu Mingyu’s was.

"Good," grunted the other man, his hands clenching into fists where they were behind his back.

The silence stretched between them—tense, quiet, dangerous. Yaozu didn’t move. He could feel it in the air: this wasn’t just a meeting. It was a reckoning.

"You slept with her."

The words weren’t a question. They dropped like a stone into the water. Shi Yaozu’s jaw twitched for just a moment as his eyes flashed red. "Yes," he replied. He didn’t regret his actions at all last night, even if it meant his death this morning.

The Crown Prince turned slowly, face carved in restraint, though his eyes burned. "You really don’t fear me at all, do you?" he asked, each one of his movements in perfect control as if he, too, was fighting an inner demon that wanted to be let out.

That demanded to be let out.

"I fear what’s worth fearing," Yaozu replied.

"And I’m not?"

"You’re angry," Yaozu said calmly. "That’s not the same as being dangerous."

Zhu Mingyu’s smile was sharp, humorless. "You think I won’t kill you?"

"You might. But if you were going to, you would have done it this morning when you first saw me. You would have called everyone to come and see what was going on. You wouldn’t have turned around silently and just left."

A flicker of something passed through Zhu Mingyu’s expression—regret? Restraint?—but it vanished behind the cold mask of royalty. He stepped closer, the silence of his movements more threatening than steel.

"You forget who gave you your life."

"No," shrugged Yaozu. "I remember too well. That’s the only reason why you are living when killing you means that I could have her."

Zhu Mingyu’s voice lowered. "You were a filthy street rat when I found you. Half-dead, bleeding in the snow, and barely old enough to hold a knife."

"And I’ve spent every breath since repaying that debt."

"With your loyalty, yes," the Crown Prince snapped. "But you are not entitled to what is mine. Zhao Xinying is mine, and I will not let anyone put a hand on her like that. I will not wear a green hat."

Yaozu face twisted into a scoff as he looked him in the eye. "She isn’t yours," he smirked, letting the leashed wrath slip just a bit. "You have no control over her, and you hate that as well."

Zhu Mingyu’s hand slammed against the edge of the table, rattling an inkwell. "She is mine. Politically, strategically, physically. She is my wife in every sense of the word. And still you went out and slept with her. You knew what it would look like. What it would cost me."

"I did," Yaozu admitted. "And I would do it again if she asked me too. Besides, we all know that she isn’t yours physically. You have yet to be able to touch her." There was no apology in his voice. Only truth.

"You bastard," snarled Zhu Mingyu, his face going from pale to red to back to pale.

"I’ve been called worse. By better men," replied Yaozu.

Zhu Mingyu exhaled harshly and turned away, running a hand through his hair. The fury had cooled into something harder now—cold calculation.

"We don’t have time for this."

"I assumed as much. You still need me. Otherwise, I would be dead."

The Crown Prince stepped behind his desk and gestured to the maps spread before him. "Yelan is basically done for. They have no army and no way of getting over the western mountains to get to us. The southern fronts are unstable and we don’t know if Chixia needs time to lick their wounds or if they will be hitting us again soon, and harder than before. The east is now poking it nose into Daiyu, looking for the Witch, and now... now the north has gone silent."

Yaozu’s eyes narrowed. "Silent?"

"Too silent. The kind that comes before something breaks." Zhu Mingyu sat down, fingers steepled beneath his chin. "My informants have either vanished or turned. The few who remain are feeding me nonsense. Flattery. Lies."

Yaozu stepped forward slowly. "You think they’ve been bought."

"I know they’ve been bought. Or worse—replaced."

"By who?"

"I don’t know yet. But if the north is planning something, I need eyes. I need the truth. And the only person who might have it is—"

"Yan Luo," Yaozu finished for him.

The name alone felt like a blade on the tongue and left a bad taste in his mouth.

Zhu Mingyu gave a tight nod. "He controls more than half of the black markets from here to the ocean. Smugglers, spies, mercenaries, death peddlers—he owns them. If something is moving, he already knows."

"And you want me to speak with him."

Zhu Mingyu looked up. "No one from court can get close. If he knows it’s me asking, he’ll vanish. But you..."

Yaozu’s mouth twisted faintly. "He still won’t trust me."

"Then make him trust you."

Yaozu didn’t speak right away. He stared at the map laid across the table. So many borders. So many dead men waiting to be named.

"He hates nobles," Yaozu said.

"He hates everyone," Zhu Mingyu corrected. "But he especially hates us. Which means he hasn’t been bought by anyone else. At least not yet."

Yaozu frowned. "If he hates the court so much, how do you expect him to cooperate?"

Zhu Mingyu leaned forward, expression hardening. "I don’t. I expect you to convince him."

Yaozu gave a dry smile. "What if I’m not enough?"

"Then die trying."

Yaozu’s gaze sharpened.

The words weren’t cruel. They were honest. And it would give the perfect excuse not to have Yaozu’s blood on his hands when Xinying demanded an explanation.

That was what frightened him most. Zhu Mingyu was done playing the careful prince. He was a man with his back to a cliff and fire crawling up behind him.

"There’s something else," Yaozu said quietly. "I assume you’ve considered the risk of me switching sides."

Zhu Mingyu didn’t blink. "If you were going to betray me, you’d have done it years ago. Maybe the moment you realized you were only ever a shadow in my wake."

The words landed heavy. But Yaozu didn’t look away.

"I thought I was more than that," he said. "For a while."

"You were."

Yaozu’s voice dropped to a murmur. "And now?"

Zhu Mingyu looked up. "Now you’re the only one I still trust to get this done."

It wasn’t praise. It was desperation.

Yaozu gave a short nod. "Then I’ll go."

Zhu Mingyu stood slowly, voice quiet but firm. "I want something by tonight. News. Names. Anything."

Yaozu turned toward the door.

"Shi Yaozu," the Crown Prince called, just as he reached the handle.

He stopped.

"If he kills you... I won’t send anyone to retrieve your body."

Yaozu glanced back, a faint smile on his lips. "Then I’ll make sure it’s somewhere scenic."

The door clicked open. But before stepping through, he paused again.

"I’m not doing this for you."

Zhu Mingyu didn’t respond.

"I’m doing this because if there’s a war coming, and she deserves to know first."

Then he was gone.

And Zhu Mingyu was alone again—just a prince in a palace of traitors, with the world fraying at the seams around him.