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

The hall fell into a hush as Zhu Mingyu crossed the threshold.

He moved like silk—unrushed, unconcerned, each step deliberate. His expression remained unreadable, his hands clasped behind his back, his ceremonial court robes falling in deep, regal folds. There was no dramatic entrance. No storm of fury. Just silence, calm, and a strange kind of heaviness that settled into the floor with him.

He bowed deeply.

"Your Majesty," he said.

The Emperor's knuckles were white around the armrest of his throne.

"Did you think you could walk in here," he growled, "after being accused of treason, and carry on as if nothing has happened?"

Zhu Mingyu didn't straighten right away. He remained bowed for three long seconds before rising, eyes downcast in perfect deference.

"I never thought I could stop accusations, Your Majesty. But I had hoped the truth might still matter."

Minister Bai stepped forward with a scroll raised high.

"The truth?" he scoffed. "We've presented documents, witnesses, financial records, testimony from your own household. The only thing missing is your confession."

Zhu Mingyu turned to him, and for a brief second, something flickered behind his eyes—cold and ancient, like frost on steel.

"Forgive me, Minister Bai. But I wasn't aware that your daughters were so fragile, a raised voice was akin to abuse. Nor that your trade routes had been so poorly managed that salt prices could be blamed on a single man."

"You dare—!"

"I dare nothing," the Crown Prince said calmly. "I kneel before the throne. As I always have."

He turned again and dropped to one knee before the Emperor, both hands folded over the sealed scroll case he had brought with him.

"But Your Majesty, what these men have brought you is a dangerous mix of truth and fabrication. They offer it as proof of disloyalty—but I ask that you examine both sides before reaching for your sword."

The Emperor leaned forward. "You deny raising private armies?"

Zhu Mingyu didn't flinch.

"I deny that they are mine."

He opened the scroll case and removed a tightly rolled parchment, bound with red thread. A servant stepped forward, accepted it, and brought it to the throne.

The Emperor broke the seal with a sharp tug.

Inside was a list. No—several lists. Names. Holdings. Bribes. Timelines. Under each section, a heading in neat script.

'Salt Merchant Bribery: Bai.'

'Private Militia Recruitment: Hui.'

'Foreign Trade Routes Redirected to Personal Storage: Zhao.'

The list went on.

"My people traced every fluctuation in the market," Zhu Mingyu said, still kneeling. "They followed the salt caravans. They recorded which merchants sold to whom. And they gathered statements from the warehouse managers—some of whom were paid off to keep silent. But I brought them here. Today. So you could see them with your own eyes."

The court was silent.

Minister Bai's face drained of color.

Minister Zhao opened his mouth, then shut it again.

"The concubines," Minister Hui said, too quickly. "You accepted thirty of them—thirty—each tied to political families. That's not tradition. That's ambition."

Zhu Mingyu's voice remained even.

"The concubines were forced on me, Minister Hui. Some of them were as terrified as your daughter when they arrived. They brought with them coded messages and instructions. I've collected every letter they tried to smuggle out of the palace, every scroll they hid under bedding, and every servant they bribed."

He looked up then—just briefly—and his eyes locked on Meiling, who stood trembling near the wall.

"Lady Zhao Meiling," he said, "was caught poisoning a servant two weeks ago. The witness has since vanished, but not before writing a confession and smuggling it to my guards."

Gasps erupted.

"She was never harmed by my wife. Not once. The bruises she wears today are self-inflicted. Or, more accurately—inflicted by her mother."

The Emperor's head turned sharply.

Zhu Mingyu bowed again, more deeply this time. "I am not here to disgrace these women. They were used as pawns. Just as I was meant to be. But I cannot allow my silence to be mistaken for guilt."

The Emperor's breath was ragged now, shallow with mounting rage. He turned toward his ministers, who had grown pale and quiet. "You came here," he said, voice shaking with fury, "to tell me my heir was building a rebellion under my nose."

"We were only trying to protect the throne—" Minister Bai began.

"Protect it?" the Emperor bellowed, rising to his feet. "From who? From the man who has served this country without scandal, without failure, without question?"

He lifted the scroll in his hand. "And yet he is the one who brings proof. You bring gossip and theatrics."

There was silence. Then Zhu Mingyu's voice, soft and clear.

"I am the Crown Prince, Your Majesty. That title is yours to take. But I will not surrender it to Ministers who think that they know more than you. That think they have more power than you."

The Emperor's gaze whipped back to him.

"Then why haven't you raised your hand against me?" he demanded. "You have the knowledge. The power. The evidence. And yet you bow."

Zhu Mingyu met his eyes at last.

And in that moment, it was clear.

He was dangerous.

He was brilliant.

And he was still pretending.

"Because I am your son," Zhu Mingyu said softly. "And I know what happens to sons who rise too early."

The Emperor stared at him for a long time.

Then he sat.

"Leave me," he said to the court. "Everyone. Now."

There was a pause.

Then a flurry of motion—robes sweeping, scrolls snatched, footsteps receding.

Zhu Mingyu remained kneeling.

Only when the throne room had emptied entirely did the Emperor speak again.

"You think you can survive this court?"

"No," Zhu Mingyu said quietly. "But I at least hope that I might be able to relieve some of the burden on your shoulders. I am your son, I am nothing without you."

A beat passed. Then the Emperor chuckled—once, dry and bitter.

"You're no wolf, Mingyu. You're something worse."

"If you say so."

The Emperor looked down at the scroll again. "These ministers… they'll never stop."

"I don't need them to stop," Zhu Mingyu replied. "I just need them to remember that you sit on the throne, not them. The empire is how it is because of you, not them. I need them to know that you will never bend a knee to them and their blatant lies. You are on top of thousands, you know all, see all, and they need to know that, too."

Another silence.

Then, finally, the Emperor leaned back on his throne, exhaling slowly.

"You will walk a very thin line, my son, but I agree. These Ministers are trying to manipulate me into doing their bidding, and that is something I will never tolerate."

Zhu Mingyu smiled faintly. "Of course, Your Majesty," he purred, bowing his head low. "It is something that you should never tolerate."