The Witch in the Woods: The Transmigration of Hazel-Anne Davis
Chapter 52: Mother Knows Best

Chapter 52: Mother Knows Best

"You listen to me, Ling’er," Lady Zhao whispered, cupping her daughter’s chin with fingers tipped in pearl-pink lacquer. "There is no world in which that cursed girl walks away with your future. Do you understand me? I will not accept it."

Zhao Meiling didn’t blink as her mother bore down on her. She didn’t nod, she didn’t so much as twitch. She simply made sure that her shoulders were back, her posture perfect, and said, "Of course. I’ve always known the title was mine."

Lady Zhao smiled, something maternal and monstrous blooming behind her eyes. "Good girl. That’s the way that you make your mother proud."

The night air carried the scent of peonies and slow-burning incense. Inside the private chamber, Lady Zhao adjusted her daughter’s robes, brushing imagined dust from the silk. "You were born for this. I raised you to wear a crown. That other girl—she’s nothing. A bruise we all tried to forget. Don’t let her confuse you with her silence. She’s a snake, but you are silk."

Meiling said nothing, confident in her reflection. Her skin was pale and glowing under the candlelight, her brows perfectly shaped, her lips tinted crimson like her mother’s had always been. This was what years of preparation looked like. She’d practiced every smile, every step, every tilt of her head. Her father had praised her poise since she was old enough to hold a fan.

But it wasn’t only her looks; she refused to be an empty vase that couldn’t excel in other ways. She was proficient in all the womanly arts: poetry, music, painting, embroidery, calligraphy, dancing, and even tea ceremonies. If it was to be seen in court, then she had worked tirelessly to perfect it.

"You’ll be in the Crown Prince’s estate tonight. And despite his title, he’s a man like any other. They respond to softness, obedience, and comfort. Make yourself useful. Be gentle. And if you have to, be helpless. Men respond better to a soft approach."

"Yes, Mother," nodded Meiling dutifully. This wasn’t the first time she had heard this, but it was the first time she would be this close to the Crown Prince for any length of time.

Lady Zhao leaned closer. "The sachet in your sleeve—steep it in his tea. It’ll quicken his blood and soften his resistance. And when he finally touches you, make sure he doesn’t stop." She paused for a moment before her voice became softer: "If you get pregnant before she does..."

"I win," Meiling finished. "Don’t worry, mother, I always win."

Lady Zhao beamed with pride as she gently adjusted one of the hairpins in Meiling’s hair. "That’s my girl."

-------

They made her wait.

The Crown Prince and Zhao Xinying sat in the front carriage as Meiling stood in the courtyard in full formal robes, waiting to be summoned like a distant cousin.

It annoyed her, it grated on her nerves, but she refused to let it show. She simply adjusted her outer cloak, her eyes raised slightly to look out from under her lashed. She was confident that her entrance would soon be the one everyone talked about.

When the maid finally ushered her forward, she took each step like it was a procession to the throne.

However, her plans didn’t quite go the way she wanted them to. Zhao Xinying didn’t so much as look at her, while Zhu Mingyu barely spared a glance.

No matter.

That would all change... and fast.

------

The Crown Prince’s estate was larger and quieter than she expected. Lanterns glowed like soft stars along the walkways, and servants stepped lightly under polished stone archways. Zhao Meiling followed at a measured pace, her gaze flicking around to memorize every detail. This would be her new home. And she intended to rule it.

Soon enough, they reached the receiving hall.

Zhao Xinying turned slowly, finally acknowledging her with an unreadable expression. "You’ll be staying in the outer wing," she said, her face completely devoid of emotion. "Try not to get in my way."

Meiling blinked, not understanding what was going on. "Excuse me?" she demanded, not willing to sit back. It was already an honor for her to be willing to share her courtyard with her, but she refused to be subjugated to the outer wing where the servants slept.

"There is a room empty there," shrugged Zhao Xinying like it wasn’t that big of a deal. But the problem was that if she agreed to sleep there, there was no way to accidentally put herself in the path of the Crown Prince. "The maids can prepare it. Stay out of the kitchen. Stay away from my courtyard. Do not contact me unless someone is dying."

Meiling smiled as she took a step forward. "I think you misunderstood. My father has been raising me to be the Crown Princess since I could walk. My position in this household is not temporary—you are. Everyone knows it. Even the ministers are betting on when he’ll grow tired of you."

Zhao Xinying tilted her head slightly. "I didn’t ask for your résumé."

"I didn’t offer it. I’m stating facts."

"I see." Zhao Xinying’s voice remained quiet as she slowly nodded her head. "And what exactly are you planning to do with those facts?"

Meiling stepped closer, close enough for the perfume from her sleeve to drift into the air. "I’m not going to be shoved into some cold guest room like an afterthought. That title, that man, this house—they were always supposed to be mine. I’m just taking back what’s owed."

Zhao Xinying didn’t flinch; she simply stepped forward, bent down, and whispered, "Touch something that is mine, and I will make sure you bleed for it. No one will recognize what’s left of your pretty little fingers once I’m done."

Meiling smirked. "You wouldn’t dare," she said, assured of her place in this world. Her father was too important for anything to happen to her, not to mention her soon to be husband.

"I dare to do new and amazing things all the time," Zhao Xinying assured her sister. "But in this case, it’ll come down to a matter of who dies first. And I promise you, it won’t be me."

Meiling turned toward the Crown Prince, who was silently walking behind them, and lifted her voice. "Did you hear that? Are you going to let her threaten me?"

Zhu Mingyu, who had already turned his back, paused only briefly before continuing up the steps without a word.

The silence was thunderous.

Meiling’s smile faltered for half a second before she squared her shoulders and walked after him. "You’ll see," she muttered, more to herself than anyone else. "He’s just waiting. Waiting for me to prove I’m better. And I will."

------

The servants prepared the west wing, but Meiling refused to enter. She stood at the threshold of Zhao Xinying’s courtyard, her arms folded across her chest, demanding to speak with the steward.

"I want to see the Crown Prince."

"He’s unavailable," the steward replied with a soft sigh. Steward Shen Huaiming was supposed to be teaching Qian’er the ropes, but instead, he was stuck trying to deal with an uncooperative guest.

"I’ll wait."

And she did. Steward Shen went back and forth, running his errands, and still, Zhao Meiling waited. One hour, two hours, and still, no one came. Finally, after three hours, a maid approached and offered her tea.

Zhao Meiling knocked it out of her hands. "I’m not a guest," she snapped. "I am the future Crown Princess. You will do best to remember that."

The maid bowed low, retrieving the cup without a word.

Later, Zhao Meiling sat in the garden gazebo near her wing, watching the sky darken over the tiled rooftops. She thought of her mother’s voice, firm and proud. Of her father’s praise. In the way every girl in the capital had envied her perfect posture and perfect pedigree.

Then she thought of Zhao Xinying.

And for the first time in her life, Meiling realized she might have to fight for what should have been hers all along.

But that was fine.

She knew how to fight.

With silk. With tears. With poison, if necessary.

After all, her mother had taught her well, and Mother knows best.