Hot flashes

The most awkward, inexplicable, and unbearable question that made him want to disappear on the spot was asked by Xiao Jue in such a calm tone.

He opened his mouth, his throat dry and tight, and after a long pause, he managed to squeeze out a barely audible sentence, one that even he himself found utterly unconvincing: "I...I don't know...Do you...do you believe me?"

He wanted to slap himself as soon as he finished speaking. What kind of talk was that!

As expected, Xiao Jue remained silent for a moment.

In this suffocating silence, Zhou Heng could clearly feel the other person's gaze on his face, a gaze that seemed tangible, stripping away all his panic and pretense.

Then, he heard Xiao Jue give a very soft hum, a sound that revealed neither joy nor anger, yet it made Zhou Heng's heart sink to the bottom.

"So," Xiao Jue said slowly, each word like a blow to Zhou Heng's tense nerves, "you had such intentions."

"I didn't!" Zhou Heng suddenly looked up and retorted urgently, his voice meeting Xiao Jue's unfathomable eyes, which reflected his flustered face and a trace of dark emotion that Xiao Jue couldn't understand.

"No?" Xiao Jue raised an eyebrow slightly, his arm still loosely wrapped around him, yet carrying an invisible pressure. "Then why don't you want to go back to your own room to sleep?"

"I..." Zhou Heng stammered. What could he say? That he was afraid some pervert outside would take advantage of him?

In the current situation, this reason is simply a ridiculous attempt to cover up the truth!

His hesitation and speechlessness were interpreted by Xiao Jue as tacit agreement and "shyness".

Xiao Jue's lips seemed to curve almost imperceptibly for a moment, so quickly that Zhou Heng thought it was an illusion.

Then, that usual authoritative tone rang out, uttering words that sent chills down Zhou Heng's spine: "Considering your devoted heart and the small contributions you've made before, since that's the case..."

He paused for a moment, his gaze locking onto Zhou Heng's widening eyes. "Then I'll allow you to stay by my side."

Zhou Heng was numb.

Shame and indignation surged to his head like magma, burning his vision until it went black.

He practically spat out the words through clenched teeth: "No, no need, Your Excellency! This humble general... this humble general will return to his own barracks now! The folding chair... the folding chair is broken, this humble general can sleep on the floor!"

He struggled to sit up, this time using great effort.

The arms around his waist suddenly tightened, pressing him back into place with irresistible force, even embedding him deeper into the embrace behind him.

Xiao Jue's voice turned cold, the previous hint of "tolerance" vanished, leaving only a chilling pressure: "No need to be shy."

"I'm not being shy!" Zhou Heng was both anxious and angry, his voice trembling without him even realizing it. "My lord, there's really no need! This humble general had absolutely no such intention! It was all a misunderstanding! I..."

"Misunderstanding?" Xiao Jue interrupted him, his voice suddenly close, almost touching his earlobe, and carrying a chill, "What, do you think I am not good enough for you?"

Or are you just trying to take advantage of me? What do you take me for? Someone you can let roll into your arms in the middle of the night, undress, and tease at will, only to walk away with a "misunderstanding"?

A barrage of questions left Zhou Heng dizzy and speechless.

"Taking advantage"? "Indecently flirting"? What kind of logic is that!

But Xiao Jue's tone was too cold and his aura too strong. The arm around his waist was like an iron hoop, blocking all his words of explanation from his throat.

What's even more terrifying is that the "evidence" Xiao Jue presented—that he stayed voluntarily, that he "slept poorly" and rolled over, that his pants were gone, and that he had just "grabbed" Xiao Jue's arm—fitted together perfectly in Xiao Jue's logic, forming a flawless story that "Zhou Heng harbored ill intentions and deliberately seduced him!"

He shuddered in fright, swallowing back all his words, leaving only instinctive fear and submission to the authority of his superior. His face was deathly pale, his lips trembling: "N-no...this humble general wouldn't dare..."

Xiao Jue stared at his panicked, almost crying face. After a moment, the coldness around him seemed to ease a little, but his all-controlling demeanor remained unchanged.

"That's good." He said calmly, loosening his grip on his arm a little, but still not letting go. "Alright, then it's settled."

It's settled? Settled about what?!

Zhou Heng's mind was buzzing, completely blank. He wanted to say something more, but Xiao Jue was no longer looking at him, as if the matter had been resolved and the dust had settled.

He even slightly adjusted his posture and closed his eyes again, as if to continue sleeping, but the arm that was wrapped around Zhou Heng still declared ownership.

Zhou Heng was frozen in his arms, unable to move.

As the morning light grew brighter, everything inside the tent became clear.

He could see Xiao Jue's chin, so sharp and cold, so close to him; he could smell the cool, unique masculine scent emanating from him; and he could feel the body temperature and heartbeat of another person pressed against him.

All of this felt incredibly real, a stark reminder of what he had just experienced and what had been "determined" for him.

After an unknown amount of time, a low voice from a guard came from outside the tent, requesting instructions.

Xiao Jue opened his eyes, loosened his arms, and got up from the bed with ease. He began to dress, his movements natural and fluid, as if the confrontation just now was nothing more than an insignificant interlude in the morning.

Zhou Heng remained lying on the couch, wrapped in a quilt, like a puppet whose soul had been taken away.

Only when Xiao Jue was dressed and ready to leave did he glance at him again, his tone returning to its usual calm during discussions: "Military affairs will proceed as usual today. It's alright to be a little late."

After saying that, he lifted the curtain and went out.

Silence returned to the tent.

Zhou Heng lay there for a while before slowly sitting up, like a rusty machine. He looked down and found his undergarments under the bed.

He slowly and stiffly dressed and folded the bedding. His mind was still a mess, like it was stuffed with soaked cotton.

"It's settled..."

These three words lingered in his mind.

He didn't know how he got out of the inner room, or how he walked out of the main tent under Chen Zhen's calm and indifferent gaze.

The morning sun was a bit too bright, shining on the busy soldiers in the camp, and everything was as usual.

Only Zhou Heng, standing outside the tent, felt a chill run through him under the sunlight. The tangled mess in his mind gradually settled, leaving only a clear and cold realization:

He seems to have gotten himself into big trouble.

He looked bewildered, his steps unsteady as he moved toward the office where he was supposed to be, his back view appearing quite lost.