The Witch in the Woods: The Transmigration of Hazel-Anne Davis Chapter 216: I’ll Wear Red

The banners above the southern gate hung motionless in the morning air.

Not limp, not frayed—just still. As if even the wind was holding its breath. They were normally sothing that I overlooked every ti I went in and out of the capital city, but today, there was sothing ominous about them that make take a second look.

I stood on the inner parapet, looking down over the lower market and the outer checkpoint. From here, you could see where the floodplains ended and the flat country stretched out toward all four directions. If nothing else, this war has made a lot more conscious of the world around . Like the fact that this city was in the exact center of Daiyu that was the exact center of the continent.

The ground around us was pale, dry, and brittle. The riverbed had narrowed again, curling like a spine between the cracked ridges of old farmland. Even with the coming winter, there wasn’t much hope for precipitation.

"They’re moving," Yaozu said beside . "Small groups, staggered. Testing the lines."

I nodded, my gaze never leaving the horizon. "Scouting formations?"

"Too disciplined. They’re baiting us."

"How far?" I asked.

"Two li from the secondary outpost. They’re staying just out of reach." He shifted slightly behind . "But they want to be seen."

I blinked at him. Every so often he seed to have forgotten that I wasn’t from here, that I didn’t know how far a li was.

"According to you, its almost a mile?" Yaozu said as if understanding the look on my face.

I nodded my head, grateful for the clarification.

But the fact that they wanted to be seen didn’t co as a surprise to .

Everything about Baiguang’s southern war strategy had been precise so far—asured, quiet, rooted in old pride. But the formation I was looking at now wasn’t precision. It was arrogance. They weren’t here to win ground.

They were here to deliver a ssage.

A warning.

Shadow growled once, low and guttural from behind the stone wall. His golden eyes followed the ridge-line, watching not the flags, but the movents between trees. He’d noticed sothing before I had.

Always did.

I leaned forward slightly, letting my eyes narrow against the pale light. "Tell what I’m not seeing."

"There," Yaozu said, pointing with one gloved hand toward the third set of trees near the stream. "Right edge. Too still."

I saw it.

A flutter of silk where no silk should be.

Green.

Not like the robes of Daiyu courtiers or Chixian riders.

This green was duller, muted—like the moss that grew along the tombs of forgotten kings.

"They want to see that," I said flatly.

"Yes," Yaozu agreed. "It’s not a threat."

"Not yet." My tone stayed level, but my mind was already turning.

They weren’t here to take land.

They were here to get my attention.

And whoever chose that shade of green knew exactly which battlefield they were walking onto.

"I want scouts riding out before dusk," I said, stepping back from the edge. "Keep the second formation hidden in the shadow of the rice stores. If they break ranks, we strike."

Yaozu nodded, already turning to relay the ssage to one of the guards stationed near the lower turret.

But he didn’t leave.

He paused, then looked back.

"You don’t have to et them yourself."

I arched a brow. "Who else would they be trying to provoke?"

"They want to shake your control. Disrupt your rhythm."

I stared down at the winding figures below—the green cloth, the purposeful distance, the careful pattern of their stalling.

"Well," I said dryly. "Let them try."

By afternoon, I was seated inside the side hall of the Crown Prince’s council manor, docunts spread in front of . The door was open just enough to let in a crosswind, but the scent of smoke and spring was still thick in the air. Soone had started burning incense again—jasmine, by the sll of it.

The Empress entered without knocking.

She never knocked anymore; she didn’t have to. And she was definitely enjoying not being under the old Emperor’s thumb anymore.

I was going to have to see if he was still alive when I had the chance.

"I take it you’ve seen the ’gift’ Baiguang sent us this morning," she said, brushing past the threshold and taking the seat across from .

"It’s not a gift. It’s a dare."

Her eyes narrowed slightly, then slid to the edge of the open scroll on the desk between us.

"What shade of green was it?"

I looked up sharply.

She t my gaze.

"No one else would notice," she added, "but I rember. It was the sa color as Lady An’s veil at her husband’s funeral. And the sash the old Baiguang Empress used to wear on feast days."

"It’s the sa," I confird.

"They’re not subtle."

"No," I agreed. "But they’re deliberate. And they want to know that they still rember their Empress—and what happened to her."

The Empress folded her hands in her lap, face expressionless.

"It’s not like we killed her," she said softly. "And a little bit of torture never hurt anyone."

"I didn’t bother to save her either."

"You know that Mingyu wouldn’t have touched her like how she is suggesting, right? I an, he has a few won in the backyard, but he isn’t interested in the future Empress of Baiguang like that. She is lying through her teeth."

"It doesn’t matter." I glanced toward the window, watching the curve of the outer wall. "Her story’s out there, and it’s intrinsically linked with mine now, whether I want it or not."

We both sat in silence for a mont.

Then the Empress said, "You’re not her."

"I know."

"But they want to make you into her. They want the people to see her face when they look at yours. They want to write the sa tragedy twice. Only this ti, I wouldn’t be surprised if you are kidnapped to Baiguang to be at the rcy of their Crown Prince."

I tapped my fingers against the edge of the scroll, the rhythm steady. "They won’t get the ending they want."

"They never do," she said with a soft smile. "Not when you’re the one writing it."

I didn’t smile back.

Instead, I leaned forward and set the brush to the lower corner of the page, where the list of rchants still waited for signatures.

"I want the court assembled tonight. No performances. No gas. Just facts."

"They’ll expect sothing festive," she warned.

"Then they’ll be disappointed."

The Empress stood. "I’ll make sure it’s done." She paused just before the door. "And I’ll wear red."

I looked up.

"For what purpose?"

She glanced over her shoulder, smile sly. "To remind them that history can be rewritten."