Hot flashes

Zhou Heng felt that he might have been possessed by an evil spirit, or perhaps the feng shui of the military camp was simply bad and was specifically designed to harm him.

Ever since that night, that elusive pervert seemed to have made his home in his room, visiting him every few days without fail.

At first, Zhou Heng tried to resist.

He got a short sword and put it under his pillow. On several nights, he even stayed up, sitting on the edge of the bed with the sword in his arms, staring wide-eyed at the dark doorway.

However, human energy is ultimately limited. The days of military paperwork had already exhausted him, and if he continued to work like this at night, Zhou Heng would soon be unable to hold on.

Often, he would stay alert until the wee hours of the morning, his eyelids would start to droop, his head would nod off, and he would eventually slip and fall, his consciousness fading.

Then, when he was awakened again by that familiar, heavy sense of oppression, all he saw was familiar darkness.

After several attempts, Zhou Heng realized: it's impossible to defend against, absolutely impossible! This thief is a professional! The master of sneak attacks!

Unable to resist and too afraid to call for help, Zhou Heng was so frustrated he almost suffered internal injuries.

He started to give up and become somewhat reckless, and later he became almost numb.

The pervert came, blindfolded him, and then began his usual kissing and touching, like a large, energetic dog leaving marks all over his body.

Zhou Heng lay there, his body stiff, but his mind was already wandering: The map that the Marquis gave me today seems to have a mistake in one place... The millet porridge I ate tonight was a bit thin... The ten coins that the guy surnamed Zhao lost to me yesterday still haven't been paid back... This bastard is licking my neck so itchy, damn it, is he a dog?

He even started to find humor in giving this pervert a "rating": "Your strength was lighter tonight than last time, bad review; Your kissing skills seem to have improved? Pshaw! What are you thinking!"

He just muddled along like that, treating it as if he was forced to raise a large, bad-tempered stray dog ​​that liked to bite people and only ventured out at night.

Although it's frustrating and disgusting, at least it didn't get to the final step, right? Let's just consider it a rather unusual "ordeal" that we have to endure on the road to "assisting in the great cause".

Zhou Heng comforted himself in this way.

However, Zhou Heng's self-deceptive "calm" was soon shattered.

He was horrified to discover that the "large dog" seemed no longer content with just licking, nibbling, touching, and pinching.

On one occasion, when those calloused fingers carried a distinctly different, more aggressive intent, Zhou Heng felt every hair on his body stand on end!

No! Absolutely not! He screamed inwardly.

He was scared, really scared.

Thus began Zhou Heng's clumsy and desperate "escape".

He dared not make a fuss and could only try to physically isolate himself from the danger.

He first shamelessly packed his bedding and went to share a bed with Zhang Tiezhu, with whom he had a fairly good relationship and who seemed the most honest and simple-minded, under the pretense of "discussing ideas on arms improvement and talking all night long."

Although Zhang Tiezhu was puzzled as to why Zhou Canjun was suddenly so "studious," he didn't think much of it and moved over with a simple smile.

Zhou Heng curled up on the inside of the bed, listening to Zhang Tiezhu's deafening snoring beside him, and felt a little more at ease: Surely he wouldn't do it in front of other people... right?

He was on edge, staying up until the wee hours of the morning, when he finally couldn't stay awake any longer and drifted off to sleep.

Then--

Zhou Heng was awakened by the familiar weight on his body and the familiar darkness before his eyes.

He suddenly realized that he was lying in the wrong place! The hardness and feel of the bed beneath him were clearly those of his own barracks!

You could even smell the lingering odor of old wood and cheap ink in the air, a scent unique to his room!

How did he get back to his room?! Where's Zhang Tiezhu?! When did he get back?!

A wave of overwhelming horror and absurdity chilled him to the bone. Before he could think any further, that distorted, sickening voice rang in his ear again, tinged with an obvious, wicked pleasure: "Run? Where can you run to?"

Zhou Heng was utterly desperate. How...how did this person do it?! The military camp was heavily guarded; was he a ghost?! Or was he sleepwalking?!

The "process" continued as before, but Zhou Heng could clearly feel that because of his "escape," the other party's movements became more punitive and blatant...

After that, Zhou Heng tried again, sneaking into the room of another clerk in the same camp in the middle of the night, using the excuse that "there are urgent documents that need to be checked, and I am afraid of disturbing the Marquis's rest."

As expected, when he opened his eyes again, he was back in his room, with someone on top of him, and everything was black.

He didn't even have the courage to hint to Chen Zhen that there were loopholes in the barracks security—what if this pervert was one of Chen Zhen's personal guards, or worse, Chen Zhen himself? Although he didn't think Chen Zhen, with his coffin-like face, would have the leisure to be so...

Zhou Heng lay sprawled on his hard bed, staring at the dark beams, feeling utterly desolate.

Damn it, is this never going to end? He was on the verge of tears. There were so many people in the military camp, tall and short, fat and thin, rough and fine... why the hell did they only target him?!

He began to miss the door locks, surveillance cameras, and emergency numbers (110) of modern society. In this godforsaken place, he couldn't even be guaranteed the most basic personal safety: "not being disturbed while sleeping"!

What annoyed him even more was that this pervert had terrifyingly high energy levels, and he "visited" him almost every night, rain or shine.

During the day, Zhou Heng had to deal with heavy paperwork and rack his brains to come up with ideas for Xiao Jue. At night, he was "forced to work" to deal with this insatiable "wild dog." His dark circles were almost drooping to his chin, and he was walking with a slightly unsteady gait.

During a morning meeting, he nearly knocked over his inkstone due to exhaustion. Xiao Jue glanced at him and said calmly, "Military Advisor Zhou seems unusually tired lately. Is it because the affairs of the camp are too numerous?"

Zhou Heng's heart tightened, and he quickly stood up straight: "Reporting to the Marquis, no, it's not complicated! It's just that I... I was studying military books last night and got carried away, so I went to bed a little late."

How could he dare tell the truth? That some weirdo, who knows if he's human or a ghost, climbs into his bed every night? Would he even be able to live?

Upon hearing this, Xiao Jue did not ask any further questions, but his gaze lingered for a moment on the dark circles under his eyes and the excessively pale lips, unfathomable.

Zhou Heng lowered his head, mentally torturing that bastard who disturbed his peaceful dreams every night a hundred times over.

He sees everyone as a suspect now.

He was completely unaware that the "large stray dog" he wanted to tear to pieces...

At this moment, he was sitting in the main seat not far in front of him, looking at his profile, which was trying to look up but could not hide his haggardness, with those deep eyes that he dared not look directly at. Deep in his eyes, there was a languid feeling after being satisfied, as well as a darker patience and determination to completely seize his prey.