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

I didn't know that we were expecting visitors.

Which, in my case, meant that someone had decided to be bold, was looking for death, or all of the above.

The Crown Prince's estate was quiet that morning—servants moving like shadows, guards stationed like stone. I had just finished my tea when footsteps echoed from the outer courtyard. Not the sharp march of eunuchs. Not the lazy drift of court women. This was military.

I glanced down at my sleeves, brushed off a stray thread, and stepped into the entry hall just as the steward bowed low.

"General Sun Longzi and Prince Zhu Deming request an audience with you and the Crown Prince," he said carefully. "They are… not alone."

That piqued my interest.

I nodded once, then walked to the front hall, where the soft scent of sandalwood and polish lingered. The doors opened smoothly, revealing the two men I had expected—and one I most certainly had not.

Zhu Deming stood to the right, as always—still half-shadowed behind his metal mask, still steady in the way only a man carved from battlefield stone could be. His gaze found mine at once, sharp and unreadable.

To the left stood Sun Longzi, hair tied high and robes barely tamed. His armor had been removed, but he wore the shape of it in his stance—back straight, jaw set, sword at his hip like an afterthought.

And then, trailing behind them like an afterthought someone had regrettably packed for the journey, came the youngest of the Sun brothers.

He didn't bow. He didn't even glance at the guards flanking the entry.

Instead, he looked at the courtyard pond and sighed dramatically.

"So this is where the Crown Prince lives," he said, voice thick with disinterest. "I was expecting more drama. Maybe some roaring beasts. At least a woman screaming somewhere."

"No one screams here," I replied coolly, stepping down toward them. "They've usually lost the right before they find the breath."

Zhu Deming's lips twitched faintly. Sun Longzi didn't even blink.

The youngest brother turned toward me then.

He was striking, but not in the way his brother was. Where Longzi's sharpness had been honed by war, and Zhu Deming's quiet by loss, this man wore chaos like perfume. His robes were creased, though expensive. His hair was tousled, though clean. His eyes? Too sharp. Too dark. Too fast.

His mouth curved slowly as he took me in. "Ah," he said, tapping his fan against his palm, "I see."

I raised a brow. "Do you?"

He flicked open the fan, a lazy movement that somehow didn't fit the speed of his gaze. "A woman who listens first, speaks second, and judges third. Rare breed in this place. Most prefer to do all three at once."

Sun Longzi exhaled through his nose. "This is my brother. Sun Yishen. You'll have to forgive him, Princess. He is a little too good at speaking to women. Especially those who are unavailable."

"Ah-ah," the youngest said, lifting a finger. "Just Yishen is fine. Titles get in the way of conversation. Besides, I've never met a woman who is truly unavailable. Just those who happen to be married at the time of our meeting. But don't worry, Princess. I can show you all the attention you could ever want while I am mucking out horse stalls."

I tilted my head. "Horse stalls?" I chuckled, almost amused at his flirting. I could see where he was an annoyance to his family, but to me, he honestly was a breath of fun in a manor where the air was just a bit too… formal… most of the time.

Zhu Deming spoke this time. "Their father insisted he come. Said if the Crown Prince didn't need another soldier, perhaps he'd take a stable hand."

"How thoughtful," I murmured.

Yishen gave a flamboyant bow. "I clean well. I gamble better. I drink best. And I am unparalleled when it comes to pleasing women. Unfortunately, though, I don't take orders." He winked. "Except from beautiful women. Sometimes… when it suits me."

There was laughter in his tone, but not in his eyes.

And that was when I knew.

He wasn't what he pretended to be.

He moved too fluidly. Stood too precisely. The slight bend in his knee, the looseness in his shoulder—it was the posture of someone who knew how to fall in four different directions, and how to kill from all of them. The fan was just a prop. A distraction.

A lie.

My eyes narrowed.

"I know your face," I said quietly.

"Oh?" he said, smile softening.

"Not from a palace scroll. And not from a parade."

The air between us sharpened.

"Interesting," he said at last, tapping his fan shut with a flick. "Now this," he added, voice lower, "is a woman who knows not to be fooled by masks."

He said it without looking at Zhu Deming. Without so much as turning toward his own brother. But I felt the weight of the words settle across the room like a blade just shy of slicing.

Sun Longzi stepped forward. "We came to discuss the hunt," he said just as Zhu Mingyu walked into the room.

"I assumed," he grunted, taking his seat. I sat down beside him as he gestured to the three men to find a seat. "So, what is my Third brother up to now?"

Yishen sat down last as he looked between me and Zhu Mingyu. It was honestly driving me crazy trying to remember where I had seen him before.

Once everyone was seated, the discussion turned formal—routes, terrain, the assignments given to the princes, the traps already prepped under the Third Prince's oversight. I listened, asked questions, and offered my own suggestions.

But every so often, I would look across the table and catch Yishen watching me.

Not staring.

Not leering.

Watching.

The way predators watched movement in the dark.

He said very little, and when he did, it was always nonsense. Complaints about the palace tea. A story about a bet involving three concubines, a goat, and a poisoned dice cup. But it was all too smooth. Too careful.

Which meant it was camouflage.

After an hour, the conversation wound down.

"We'll be leaving in two days," Sun Longzi said. "If you have additional instructions for the Red Demons, I'll relay them tonight."

"I already sent a letter," Mingyu replied, coming to his feet. "But I'll have Yaozu deliver the addendum."

Longzi stood. So did Deming. So did I.

But Yishen… Yishen remained seated.

"I like this manor," he said suddenly. "It's… unafraid."

"That's because it doesn't belong to the palace," I replied.

He smiled again—slowly this time.

"Neither do I."

Zhu Deming glanced at me. So did Sun Longzi.

But I didn't look away.

I held his gaze and let the silence answer for me.

Because I knew who he was now.

Not just Sun Yishen, the disappointment of the Sun line.

But Yan Luo.

The Fox Behind the Fan.

King of the capital's underworld.

And the only man in the empire besides Shi Yaozu who never flinched when I looked him in the eye.

He rose then, brushing his sleeves.

"Until next time, Crown Princess," he said lightly.

And as he passed me, I caught a faint trace of something unexpected—anise and blood blossom.

The scent of a battlefield dressed in silk.

He didn't look back.

But I was already certain.

This hunt was about to get far more interesting than anyone expected.