The Witch in the Woods: The Transmigration of Hazel-Anne Davis Chapter 165: She Is Not His Princess

I didn’t want to be here. Then again, that wasn’t a big surprise to anyone. I didn’t think that anyone really wanted to attend a formal banquet in the middle of a hunting ground, and without an actual kitchen.

I did have to be a bit impressed with how well the servants were able to change the entire feeling of everything. The lanterns swayed overhead, the pale silk catching the breeze. Crimson ribbons were tied between posts fluttered with every draft, heavy with perfus and ambition. Long tables had been arranged in a crescent under the canopy of stars, adorned with gilded plates, carved peach wood utensils, and wines too sweet for my taste.

I would have rather been in the woods or back at ho. I honestly think I was peopled out by this point in ti.

Instead, I was here, trapped in a banquet that was too over the top simply because the Emperor liked theater, and I’d already beco the empire’s favorite prop.

I sat in silence, dressed in forest green, the embroidered peonies catching faint moonlight whenever I moved. The fabric shifted like shadows, muted and quiet, not ant to dazzle. Just enough to remind people I was still here. Still watching.

To my left was Zhu Mingyu, quiet and still as he subtly studied the room from above the rim of his teacup. I saw him pause at where the Third Prince was before continuing. I knew he was gauging threats, enemies, and neutral parties. But one thing I had learned after all this ti was that he fully believed that there was no one on his side in a place like this.

Reaching out, I placed my hand on top of his, biting back a smile when he jerked slightly, like he didn’t know that I was there. "Try to enjoy yourself," I grinned at him. "I promise, I have your back, no matter what."

His shoulders drooped slightly, the tension releasing as he nodded his head.

I turned my head to the right, watching Zhu Deming as he rested his forearms lightly on the table. He didn’t speak, but he never truly relaxed either. He always seed to be waiting. For a cue, for a blade, for a mont to be useful again, I don’t know, but he was waiting.

On his right sat Sun Longzi, his posture perfect, and his gaze forward, unmoved. He looked like a general carved from cold marble, only the faint flicker of his fingers against his wine cup betraying thought. Beyond him was his younger brother, Sun Yizhen, in red and ivory, laughing too easily, leaning back as if he hadn’t a care in the world.

And right behind , leaning against the back wall like he’d always belonged there, stood Shi Yaozu—watchful, quiet, deadly. He didn’t speak. He didn’t move. But I felt him.

Like I always have.

I was completely surrounded, and for once, I don’t think I minded it. In fact, there was sothing natural about it.

A server approached with small dishes. I didn’t reach for them. Before I could, a porcelain plate slid in front of —thin-sliced venison, marinated in plum and garlic.

I didn’t have to ask, I already knew who had done it. Zhu Mingyu had placed one of my favorites on my plate in a natural manner.

He hadn’t said a word all evening, not to , not to the court, but he had not stopped watching. Every ti my cup emptied, it filled again. Every ti the food shifted on the table, it shifted toward . When the fire pit to my side flared too hot, a servant adjusted the angle of the basin before I could even ask.

He never addressed . He didn’t have to. But everyone inside the banquet tent noticed.

Everyone except, perhaps, the woman seated across from , clothed in fla-red silk and fury.

Princess Yuyan looked radiant. Her gown shimred like fire, every inch of it stitched with phoenix feathers and gilt thread. Her hair had been arranged with surgical precision, cascading ornants clinking like wind chis. Her face was completely flawless; I couldn’t see a single imperfection on it. She sat in her seat, surrounded by guards behind her, practiced and refined.

And yet she was invisible.

At least to him.

She raised her cup and laughed too loudly. Told a story from her ti in Baiguang and glanced at Mingyu after every line, waiting for him to laugh too.

He didn’t.

In fact, he hadn’t ever looked at her since she entered the tent in a parade of red and guards.

Instead, his attention was fixed on the food I hadn’t touched, the cold cup of tea I hadn’t refilled.

Crown Princess Yuyan’s smile cracked for half a breath before she pressed it back into place. She rose from her seat, regal, poised, and nodded to the court musicians.

"I thought," she said with a graceful dip of her head, "that perhaps I might sing a song from my holand... one we often perford on cold spring evenings. It’s a silly thing, but I hope it brings a bit of warmth."

A few nobles clapped politely. The Emperor lifted his wine cup with amusent.

"Let us be ward then," he declared, "by lody and mory."

Yuyan stepped forward, palms open, her sleeves drifting like wings. The lody began—faint, familiar. Too familiar.

My breath stilled.

It was a song from the old world. From another ti. Sothing once played in movies or dorm rooms—soft and haunting in another language entirely. But here, wrapped in courtly rhythm, sung with lilting grace, it passed as an ancient lullaby.

The others watched her, puzzled but chard. I stared at my cup.

She was reminding . Reminding him. Reminding everyone that she didn’t belong in this world.

I looked up and across the room to where Princess Liang Yiran was sitting beside the Third Prince. Our eyes t, and I couldn’t hold back the snort that ca out of when she rolled her eyes and stuck out her tongue.

It wasn’t a ’Princess Lian Yiran’ thing... but it was definitely sothing that my old friend had done on more than one occasion when so girl thought that she was better than she was.

The song ended.

Scattered applause rose like polite rain.

But Zhu Mingyu did not clap. Instead, he turned toward and leaned in slightly, just enough for his voice to be heard. "Would you like sothing warr?" he asked, gesturing toward my tea. "They brewed so chrysanthemum, but I rember you preferred jasmine."

I nodded my head, handing him my teacup. However, Yuyan was watching our interaction intently. Her spine stiffened for a second before she returned to her seat, her fingers curling tightly around her chopsticks.

No one said anything. But the air turned sharp with unspoken tension.

Now that the entertainnt was done, the feast seed to drag on. Dishes ca and went, and I couldn’t help but slouch as toasts rose and fell. This wasn’t my place, and everyone knew it. But at the sa ti, not a single person was brave enough to say anything.