The Witch in the Woods: The Transmigration of Hazel-Anne Davis Chapter 122: Not Quite Strangers

The pavilion was tucked between two garden walls, shaded by a crab-apple tree just beginning to blush into bloom. It slled faintly of rain and moss, like the courtyard had been waiting too long for sothing—maybe soone—to happen.

Maybe we both had.

Twelfth Princess Liang Yiran sat across from , her hands folded neatly in her lap, the curve of her back too perfect for soone raised outside this world. But her eyes—those hadn’t changed. She still looked at people like they might say sothing wonderful.

Her robes shimred faintly with embroidered clouds. Her hair was pinned with soft white jade. Everything about her said gentleness, grace, poetry. But I rembered the girl who once tripped over her own laptop cord and spilled bubble tea all over my final presentation slides. The one who offered to take the bla because, in her words, "your GPA has further to fall."

That girl wasn’t gone. She just sat behind more layers now.

"When I sent you the invite, I wasn’t sure if you’d co," she said, her voice soft enough that even the birds didn’t interrupt. "I an, I was hoping, but I wasn’t sure."

"I almost didn’t," I admitted. "You were hard to recognize. Honestly, it was only your taste in music that made realize who you were."

She smiled at that. "You weren’t, but I was surprised that you chose that song to sing. I really thought you would have picked sothing more... appropriate... like ’Make a Man Out Of You’."

I let out a quiet breath. "Was I really that bad?"

"No," she said gently. "Just... unmistakable."

The corner of my mouth lifted. "You always did like to start conversations like a poem."

"And you always rolled your eyes when I did."

"I still do."

She laughed, and it wasn’t the polite tinkle I’d heard at the banquet. It was the real one—slightly wheezy, unfiltered, like we were back in our shared dorm, sitting cross-legged on the floor with too much ran and not enough heat.

Shi Yaozu stood behind like a shadow, quiet and unreadable. Across from him, Yiran’s guard leaned against a carved pillar, arms loosely crossed. The two hadn’t spoken, but they were aware of each other—two sentinels asuring weight and silence.

Yiran reached into her sleeve and set down a small round tin. I knew the shape before she even lifted the lid.

Cookies. The kind with lemon cream and stale preservatives.

My throat tightened before I could stop it.

"Still can’t finish a whole pack," she said. "Even here."

I took one slowly, brushing a thumb over the smooth aluminum. "You used to sneak these into the lab."

"And you used to eat half before the professor even finished roll call."

"Only fair. You borrowed my notes for three sesters."

"And you kept correcting my grammar."

"You needed it."

We both smiled.

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable. It was the kind that ca when two people finally sat still after surviving very different storms.

"I didn’t think I’d see anyone I knew again," she said after a while. "I hoped. But I didn’t think..."

"I didn’t either."

"I was never the one who adapted well," she admitted, brushing her fingers lightly along the tea tray. "I cried the first ti soone called ’Your Highness.’ Thought they were talking to soone behind ."

I studied her a little longer. "Did you cry when they gave you a palace?"

"No," she said with a small laugh. "But I cried when I burned the rice."

That made laugh too—an actual laugh—and she looked up, like she was proud of herself.

"I’m getting better," she said. "They don’t know I boil the eggs myself when no one’s looking."

I looked at her more closely. The silk, the jade, the way she held herself like soone used to being observed. She wore the skin of a princess now. But she still talked like the girl who once bought matching mugs for us and broke both in the sa week.

"And the Emperor?" I asked carefully.

Her brow creased, but not with worry.

"For soone not of his blood," she said thoughtfully, "he’s been kind. He listens when I speak. He even... laughs sotis."

"That’s rare."

"I know." She glanced down. "I don’t think he sees as a threat. I think that helps."

"And the harem?"

She sighed. "You an the world’s most delicate cage?"

I raised a brow. "So you’re learning."

She snorted. "I miss people saying what they an. Here, everything’s a mirror trick. I just want to be able to tell soone their outfit looks like a curtain without being declared an enemy of the state."

"You didn’t."

"I did. I told Lady Wei her sleeves looked like stage drapes. I thought she was going to faint."

"You always had a talent for subtlety."

"It’s not a talent," she muttered, "it’s a coping chanism."

I bit into the cookie. Too sweet. Too dry. Exactly how I rembered them.

"How did you know it was ?" I asked quietly.

"The song," she said. "I recognized it. And the way you held yourself. I don’t think you’ve ever once looked lost in your life."

"I’ve been lost," I said. "I just never let anyone see it."

She nodded. "That tracks."

Another silence, this one softer.

"I missed you," she said suddenly, voice barely above a whisper.

I didn’t look at her. "You missed an idea of ."

"No. I missed you." She took a breath. "I know we were never the closest, not really. But you always made feel steadier. Like I wasn’t the only one trying to figure things out."

"That’s because I wasn’t trying to figure anything out," I said. "I just did what had to be done."

"And now?"

"Now I still do."

Her fingers traced a small circle on the stone table. "I’m glad you’re alive. Even if we don’t talk again after this... I’m glad I got to see you."

I t her gaze. "We’ll talk again."

She blinked. "We will?"

"You brought lemon cookies. That earns you at least one more conversation."

She grinned, and this ti her teeth showed. "Next ti, I’ll bring chocolate."

"You always did know how to bribe ."

"I still do."

Behind us, the guards shifted slightly. A breeze carried the scent of mint and stone. Sowhere in the palace, bells chid the hour.

I stood first. She didn’t rush to follow.

"We’re not on the sa path anymore," she said.

"No," I agreed. "But maybe we’re not on opposite ones either."

She bowed lightly, the court form just a touch too stiff to be native. "Until next ti, Xinying."

"Until next ti."

I walked away without looking back. But I didn’t stop smiling for a long ti.