The Witch in the Woods: The Transmigration of Hazel-Anne Davis
Chapter 35: I’m Sorry… Do I Know You?

Chapter 35: I’m Sorry... Do I Know You?

The silence following Zhao Xinying’s emergence from the trunk was deafening.

The Emperor stepped forward, her hand still held tight in his while his gaze was still locked on the woman who had just climbed out like a legend born of smoke and shadow.

"And what," he asked, his voice low and dangerous, as if trying to weave a spell of his own, "is your name?"

The weapon didn’t curtsy, she didn’t kneel, she didn’t so much as flinch beneath the weight of his throne or his gaze. Normally, he hated people who acted like this... like, by not submitting to him, it was a direct disregard of his power and majesty.

But he couldn’t bring himself to berate her. Instead, he gazed deep into her impossibly blue eyes, smitten when she met his without hesitation.

"Zhao Xinying," she announced, slowly removing her hand and perching on the edge of the open trunk. "My name is Zhao Xinying."

The silence following Zhao Xinying’s name was unlike any that had come before it. It wasn’t so much as silence as stillness, like the very air was holding its breath, waiting for the hammer to drop.

Zhao Xinying continued to watch the Emperor as the Ministers around them looked sideways. The guards blinked, shifting uncomfortably, and even Zhu Deming’s posture tensed, his hands folded too tightly behind his back.

But the only sound came from the Emperor himself, a soft, interested hum.

"Zhao," he repeated, the syllable tasting curious in his mouth. "A rare name to speak in this court."

"Is it?" Zhao Xinying shrugged, offering no other reaction beyond an incline of her head. "I wouldn’t know." Still seated on the trunk’s edge, she looked as though she belonged on a throne of her own—a creature entirely unconcerned about being alone in a room full of wolves.

"Who gave it to you?" the Emperor asked. "Surely not yourself."

"Last I checked, people normally don’t give themselves a name..." she said calmly. " But no, to answer your questions, I was born with it."

A ripple passed through the room, and from the left side of the court, a man stepped forward.

He did not move quickly, nor did he raise his voice. However, every minister and guard in the hall shifted to accommodate his presence.

The man was the Left Prime Minister, Zhao Hengyuan.

Tall, severe, and dressed in silk robes of deep indigo, he moved like a man who had never once been questioned. While his hair was turning grey at his temples, his gaze was sharp as he came to a stop beside the imperial dais.

First, he faced the Emperor and bowed... not too low, but low enough to be respectful. "Your Majesty. If I may?" he murmured, his voice soft but still commanding.

The Emperor raised a brow. "Speak, Left Prime Minister."

Zhao Hengyuan turned, slowly, to look over the girl for a brief second before turning his attention back to the Emperor. "That name does not belong to her."

Another wave of murmurs echoed around the columns in the hall as the Ministers shifted, trying to get a read on what was going on. But Zhao Hengyuan was not done.

"My eldest daughter perished eleven years ago," he said evenly, every syllable deliberate. "Her and my second wife were on a pilgrimage to the Temple of Falling Petals to pray for Daiyu. However, on their way back, bandits attacked the carriage, killing all the guards. My second wife managed to hold on long enough for me to come get her, but my daughter did not survive the attack."

He paused, comfortable being the center of attention as he continued to tell his story.

"Her remains were identified by hair and cloth. There was no doubt that the remains were hers. As far as we are concerned, she is dead."

"And yet, here I am," Xinying said dryly, holding out her arms to the sides, her palms up as she softly chuckled. "I guess you can be wrong every so often. Hopefully, you are better at whatever it is that you do than you are at protecting your family."

The Left Prime Minister’s jaw tightened as he glanced at the Emperor.

"If this creature is who she claims to be... then she has been living among the bandits for the last 11 years, raised by them. Perhaps even defiled by them. Whatever blood she once carried has long since been stained."

Zhao Xinying tilted her head. "Apparently, you haven’t heard... There hasn’t been a bandit in the west for the last eleven years. Maybe you should update your information."

"Either way," grunted Zhao Hengyuan, his composure finally cracking. "You don’t deserve to have the name ’Zhao’."

"I’m sorry," she said, cool as lake water. "Do I know you?"

The court gasped, and even the Emperor stood straighter as his eyes bounced between the father and daughter.

Zhao Zhengyuan’s face remained neutral, but something behind his eyes sharpened, even as his eyebrow twitched.

"How convenient," he murmured. "To claim blood without proof. To stand before the throne with a name you could not have remembered."

Zhao Xinying shrugged. "You’re welcome to take it back, if it matters to you. I couldn’t care less."

Zhao Hengyuan didn’t say anything. Not because he wanted to be silent, but because there was nothing he could say. Not here. Not now. Not when half the room had already started whispering about those eyes—those cursed, unforgettable eyes.

So, instead of damaging his reputation more than the woman in front of him already had, Zhao Hengyuan simply bowed again.

"Your Majesty," he sighed, closing his eyes. "I beg you. Do not allow this charade to threaten the court. I still have daughters raised in the ways of our ancestors. Ones who are trained, modest, loyal."

The Emperor hummed as he turned away from the drama in front of him and slowly walked back to his throne. Once he got there, he sat down and was quiet for a long time.

Then he looked toward his eldest son, the Crown Prince, Zhu Mingyu.

"You have remained silent," he said. "What is your opinion on the matter?"

Zhu Mingyu stepped forward and bowed low. "I have no opinion on the matter," he assured the Emperor. "However, you would see fit to deal with it is the best way. Either way, at least the Left Prime Minister can sleep easier knowing that he didn’t cause the death of his daughter at the hands of bandits."

"If that is the way you feel," purred the Emperor, a bright smile on his face.

"I assure you, it is," replied Zhu Mingyu, his eyes still staring down at the ground beneath his feet. He clenched his jaw as he forced his tight muscles to relax.

"Then, congratulations. We’ll hold your wedding tomorrow."

"If Your Majesty so commands, then I shall wed her without protest," assured the Crown Prince, smoothly rising from the bow. He didn’t so much as glance at the woman he was to marry as he stared at a spot on the throne just beside his father’s shoulder.

There was a beat of silence as Zhao Hengyuan’s eyes widened slightly.

That hadn’t been part of the plan.

Please, the Emperor smiled and clapped his hands together in delight. "Then so be it. This girl shall become the Crown Princess of Daiyu. I shall personally attend your wedding tomorrow. I’m sure that you can keep her alive for a single night, right?"

The Emperor chuckled at his own joke even as gasps erupted from the ministers around him.

Zhao Hengyuan stepped forward involuntarily. "Your Majesty—"

But the Emperor lifted a finger.

Silence.

"You said she was not fit for me," the Emperor pointed out, his voice mild, almost kind. "So I gift her to your future son-in-law instead. A shame, truly, that your second daughter will not get the title after all."

Zhao Hengyuan said nothing.

He could say nothing.

He bowed again. Stiff. Cold.

Zhao Xinying smiled as Zhu Mingyu stepped forward once more and bowed again, voice smooth. "Thank you for this honor, Your Majesty."

Majestically, the Emperor rose to his feet before exiting the throne room, his maids and eunuchs racing after him.

When the dust had settled, Zhao Xinying turned to look at her soon-to-be husband. With a soft chuckle, she reached up and brushed her fingers against the green ribbon at her throat.

"I don’t think you want to do that," she said, voice soft, almost amused. "But far be it from me to disrupt a royal love story."