The Witch in the Woods: The Transmigration of Hazel-Anne Davis-Chapter 339: Night Under The Lantern Light

Outside of the palace, the lanterns along the eastern pavilions were never entirely honest.

They burned too steadily for the wind that haunted the river, casting a glow over merchants who spoke in lowered voices and thieves who didn’t bother lowering theirs at all.

Maybe that was why Yizhen liked it there so much.

The air carried rumors as easily as it carried incense—dealings about taxes, smuggling routes, priests bribed to look the other way, nobles who thought their shadows were invisible if they paid enough for them.

The place hummed with the kind of talk that built empires in back alleys while the court still debated the price of ink.

Tonight, though, his attention wasn’t on the whispers. It was on the woman beside him.

Xinying walked as if she belonged anywhere she set her feet.

No guards trailed her tonight—only Shadow at a distance and Yizhen himself keeping pace half a step behind. She hadn’t asked why he wanted her here, under these lights, where the city smelled of pepper broth and river mud instead of polished corridors.

He hadn’t told her yet.

He liked the silence between them, liked that she didn’t fill it with useless questions. She walked the way she ruled—without apology.

"You said this was business," Xinying remarked finally, her voice calm, curious but not prying.

"It is," Yizhen answered. Then, after a beat: "Mostly."

Her eyes slid toward him, dark as the river under the lantern light. "Mostly?"

He smiled—not the careless grin the court knew, not the one that mocked its own charm. This one stayed smaller, edged with something close to real. "You’ll see."

They stopped where the pavilion leaned out over the water. Across the river, the night market sprawled—boats lashed together into floating streets, sails furled, decks bright with fire pots. Men bartered for spices, women for silk, captains for crews willing to look the other way.

Yizhen rested one hand on the rail, his rings catching the lantern glow. "That," he said, nodding toward the busiest wharf, "is where it begins."

Xinying followed his gaze. "Smugglers?"

"Merchants who forgot what taxes feel like or how much they would have to pay if caught," Yizhen corrected lightly. "And captains who know how to keep a ship quiet when it leaves Daiyu’s waters." 𝕗𝕣𝐞𝐞𝘄𝐞𝚋𝚗𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹.𝚌𝕠𝚖

He glanced at her then, letting the next words come slower. "The first port outside the empire opens in spring. My name will be on it before summer."

She studied the wharf, the anchored boats swaying like they shared one slow heartbeat. "You want the trade."

"I want the reach," Yizhen said simply, shrugging his shoulders. "When the western borders start whispering, I want to hear them first. When the northern lords decide they’ve been loyal too long, I want their letters in my hand before they reach a minister’s desk. Salt, grain, silk—those buy ears faster than bribes."

His fingers tapped the rail once, idle motion hiding a sharper thought. "If Daiyu falls, it won’t be to an army. It will be to a market that changed flags before anyone noticed."

Xinying turned toward him fully now. Lantern light curved along her cheek, caught on the silver pin at her temple. "And you plan to notice first."

"Exactly."

He didn’t add for you. He didn’t have to.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The noise from the market drifted across the water—bells, laughter, the occasional shout when a price cut too close.

Then Yizhen said, quieter, "I want you in it."

Her brow lifted slightly.

"My plans," he clarified, though his pulse betrayed him with the smallest jump. "Not as Empress. Not as the throne’s voice. As you."

Xinying considered him for a long time. The wind tugged at the end of her sleeve. "That sounds suspiciously like a confession," she said at last, a ghost of a smile on her face.

"It is." Yizhen’s mouth tilted, but the smile didn’t quite reach deflection. "I’m not Deming, carving gifts into wood. I’m not Longzi, building walls that no knife can climb. I buy futures, Xinying. I deal in things that don’t exist yet. And I want you in all of mine."

The words landed with more weight than he expected. He let them stay there, between the lanterns and the dark river, no grin ready to turn them aside.

Xinying didn’t answer right away. She stepped closer to the rail instead, close enough that her shoulder brushed his arm as she leaned forward to watch the boats.

The contact was nothing—less than nothing—and Yizhen felt it everywhere.

"Careful," he said lightly, because silence might make him say more than he meant to. "People will think you actually like me."

Her mouth curved, not quite a smile, not quite denial. "People think many things," she murmured.

When she didn’t move away, he shifted his hand along the rail until his fingers almost—almost—touched hers. Not a demand. Not a game. Just the question left there, waiting.

Wanting her to make the first move.

Xinying let the space close between them. Her hand stayed exactly where it was, the warmth of her skin seeping through the inch between them until it wasn’t an inch at all.

"You should tell me about the western borders," she said, voice steady.

Yizhen exhaled once, slow, as if he hadn’t realized he’d been holding the breath. "Caravans out of Jinling report unrest near the passes. A minor lord playing at rebellion. Nothing sharp yet, but sharp things start small."

"And you want the ports before they start," she guessed.

"I want the ports," he corrected softly, "so no one touches Daiyu without me hearing the coin drop first." His fingers brushed hers deliberately now, the barest line of contact. "So no one touches you without thinking twice."

The wind caught her sleeve again. She didn’t pull her hand away.

Lantern light reached across the water, trembling where the river shifted.

Xinying’s gaze stayed on the horizon. "You’re asking for a lot of trust."

Yizhen turned his hand, let his palm meet hers properly this time, warm and certain. "I’m offering it first."

For a long moment, neither of them moved. The noise from the market blurred to a hum, the wind dropped, even the lanterns seemed to burn steadier.

Then Xinying’s fingers curled once against his, deliberate as any promise she’d ever made.

Yizhen didn’t smile this time. He just stood with her under the lanterns, two sharp minds dividing the future like a map neither of them intended to lose.