The Witch in the Woods: The Transmigration of Hazel-Anne Davis-Chapter 323: The First Cracks

The porridge had only just been set down when the first ledger arrived.

I let out a sigh so soft that no one was able to hear it. Hadn’t Yaozu promised me breakfast before everything went to pot? Hadn’t that been the deal?

But now, we were going on days now where the politics of the crown took precedence over everything else.

Some days, I truly believed that it was just easier to kill everyone who annoyed me, just so that I didn’t have to deal with things like this anymore.

A clerk bowed so low his hat nearly toppled into the dish. His hands shook as he extended the bundle. "From Revenue, Your Majesty. Pages lifted from the false bottoms of Zhao Hengyuan’s boxes."

I didn’t touch it yet. I hated to eat cold porridge, but I hated interruptions more. "Read."

He cracked the string with fingers that wanted to flee.

The brushwork was tight, the kind a man uses when he thinks no one will ever measure the lines or read it but him. The numbers were stacked into neat columns, the sums bent themselves around holes that weren’t holes at all.

Everything looked on the up and up, but that was until you took a closer look. There was fattened stipends, contracts that named dead men that I myself had killed.

Grain was counted twice in one town and never in another. And while it had been counted twice, the price of it had more than quadrupled.

I took one sip of tea, bitter on my tongue. Yizhen needed to bring me more jasmine before I forgot what good tea was. "Who signed all these?" I asked with a sigh.

The clerk swallowed, his eyes going wide in fear for a moment before he looked back down at the floor. "It was the Left Prime Minister Zhao, Your Majesty. Every page carries his mark." He leaned forward to point at something that looked like nothing more than a dot on the bottom right hand corner.

"Of course it does." I set the cup down, my eyes narrowing on that mark. The steam from the tea curled as if it wanted to hide from my look.

Mingyu sat across from me, his own untouched bowl of porridge before him. His fingers folded with a patience that would have worried anyone who knew him less.

He didn’t look at the pages.

Instead, he looked at me.

The doors swung wide before I could speak again.

Zhao Hengyuan entered without summons, his robes neat, his hat square, and his dignity so overdone it cracked at the edges.

Behind him trailed Meiling, her silks chosen carefully. A demure blue, silver-threaded, hair pinned with restraint that wanted to look like virtue.

At this point in time, nothing that these two did would surprise me anymore.

"Your Majesty," Zhao Hengyuan began, ignoring the clerk who nearly tripped to get out of his way. "I hear slander has been seeded in your halls. I’ve come to clear the smoke before it blinds loyal eyes."

"You came," I corrected, "because you already smelled fire and was wondering how to put it out."

His face tightened. "Ledgers are not proof. Errors occur. A clerk copies the wrong line, a town reports late, a scribe pads a margin and it slips through the cracks—"

"These aren’t cracks," I cut. "They’re rivers. And you swam in them until your skin wrinkled."

Meiling’s hand brushed his sleeve.

She stepped forward, her princess voice pitched softer. "Elder Sister, every minister has entries that don’t balance on paper. You know this. The empire is too large to track every coin exactly. My father has served through three reigns. His loyalty is proven."

"Proven to whom," I asked. "To Daiyu? Or to himself?"

Her chin lifted, practiced poise. "To both. What is good for his house is good for the throne. That is the way of alliances."

"No," I said, flat. "That is the way of parasites."

Color rose under her powder, but she did not drop her gaze.

Zhao Hengyuan stepped in, voice rising with heat. "You throw accusations without listening. Without precedent. I have built this court’s stability while emperors changed like seasons. I am the spine that keeps these walls upright. If a coin has gone astray, it is because I bore the burden of ten men, not because I sought to rob the empire I serve."

Mingyu finally moved. Just one finger tapping once against his porcelain bowl, porcelain ringing faint as a bell. The sound silenced the air.

"Curious," he murmured. "That the burden always leads to your own tables growing heavier, never lighter. Curious, too, that your ’errors’ always feed mouths that bow first to you, not to me."

Left Prime Minister Zhao flushed dark. "Your Majesty—"

"Enough." My word cut between them. "This isn’t debate. This is simple math. You stole. The numbers are clean even if your excuses aren’t."

Meiling tried again, slipping sweetness between steel. "Perhaps the Empress sees only the worst columns. Elder Sister, you have enemies who would love to see you pull down your own blood. If you give them this, they will make you look cruel, unfilial—"

"I don’t keep enemies in my weaving halls," I replied. "I keep numbers. Your father’s numbers are bent. Bent numbers break kingdoms."

The silence after was thick enough to spoon.

Zhao Hengyuan’s knuckles whitened on the sleeves of his robe. "Empress, you forget who raised you into this court. Without my hand, you would still be—"

"Say it," I urged softly. "Still be what." 𝑓𝓇𝘦ℯ𝘸𝘦𝑏𝓃𝑜𝘷ℯ𝑙.𝑐𝑜𝓂

He swallowed it, but the damage was done. The ministers in the side gallery had heard. Even the servants holding trays had heard.

Before he could recover, the doors opened again.

Yaozu entered without ceremony, a packet in his hand. His stride was quiet, unhurried, but his eyes were sharp enough to cut the cloth on Zhao Hengyuan’s shoulders. He set the bundle on the table with the care of a man laying down a blade.

"Testimony," he reported. "From the temple quarter. A monk admits to taking coin from Zhao Hengyuan’s clerk in exchange for doctrine favorable to his household. A second witness confirms the same man purchased rope in bulk, unmarked, from the northern markets."

The clerk who still lingered nearly dropped his brush. Zhao Hengyuan stiffened. "Lies. Paid tongues, nothing more—"

"Funny," Yaozu murmured, "how the paid tongues always speak the same numbers your ledgers do."

I let my fingers rest on the parchment, not yet unrolling it. "Shall we read it aloud, Minister Zhao? Or would you prefer to recite it yourself?"

His mouth opened, closed. Meiling reached again for his sleeve, her face pale now, ambition wrestling with dread.

I leaned back, tea untouched, porridge cooling, the phoenix in silver gleaming steady at my side even here in the breakfast hall. "You came to clear smoke. Congratulations, Zhao Hengyuan. We can all see the fire now."