Hot flashes

He paused, then added, "Find some literate and eloquent people to go to the marketplace and, like storytellers, tell the story of how the old Marquis spent all his wealth to keep the soldiers warm, and how he was framed by the court and his entire family of loyal martyrs died unjustly. Tell the story in detail, in a way that will move people to tears."

The clerk was taken aback at first, then his eyes lit up: "Understood! I'll get on it right away!"

This is the best way to address the root cause of a problem. If you speak of "loyalty and righteousness," then I will speak of how "loyalty and righteousness" have been betrayed.

If you insist on discussing "orthodoxy," then I will expose the corruption and injustice beneath that "orthodoxy." The battlefield of public opinion is never just about who shouts the loudest.

Two days later, on a drizzly evening.

Chen Zhen arrived at Zhou Heng's small office where he handled documents. His face remained expressionless, but a sharp glint of relief shone deep in his eyes.

"Black Wind Valley has been breached." He said succinctly, "The Marquis spent four days openly repairing the plank road while secretly crossing the Chencang pass."

The elite troops sneaked in from the abandoned mine, working together from the inside to capture the bandit leader and hundreds of others. Among them were indeed those knowledgeable in battle, who have been taken back for detailed interrogation.

The Marquis suffered minor injuries and is in no danger. The army is currently clearing the battlefield and will return soon.

Zhou Heng's heart, which had been hanging in suspense, suddenly settled. Minor injury? He caught those two words, and his heart jumped again. "Where is the injury? Is it serious?"

Chen Zhen glanced at him: "The arrow wound on your shoulder blade has been treated and will not prevent you from riding a horse and wielding a knife."

Zhou Heng nodded and didn't ask any further questions.

"What's the situation in the south?" he asked, turning his attention to the more imminent threat.

Chen Zhen's expression returned to its cold and stern tone: "Huo Yi's vanguard has already left Nandu, numbering about 30,000, mostly hastily assembled. However, the central army consists of his old elite troops, numbering about 20,000. Although their march is slow, their formation is well-organized."

In addition, scattered troops from various places are still converging on them. It is expected that their main force will reach the Canghe River line in twenty days. The Canghe River is an important waterway running between Northern Liang and the Central Plains, and it is also one of the expected battlefields for the decisive battle.

"The 20th..." Zhou Heng repeated softly. Time suddenly became urgent. Xiao Jue needed time to return, rest, and make deployments. Yingyang needed to stabilize the situation to the greatest extent possible and send supplies to the front lines during this period.

"The Marquis has ordered," Chen Zhen continued, "that everything in Yingyang be carried out swiftly according to the established strategy. In particular, provisions, medicines, and arrows must be prepared and transported with the highest priority. The Marquis is expected to return in about five days."

"Understood." Zhou Heng took a deep breath, suppressing the turbulent thoughts in his mind.

The rain gradually thickened, pattering against the tent ceiling in a soft, mournful patter.

The storm is really coming.

On the fifth day, Xiao Jue returned.

The sound of horses' hooves thundered across the land, approaching from afar, carrying with it the smoke and blood of Black Wind Valley, and a deeper sense of solemnity after a triumphant return.

Zhou Heng was in the government office with Mr. Du, finalizing the list of the last batch of medicinal herbs to be sent to the front lines, when he heard a faint sound. His pen paused, and a drop of ink spread across the rice paper.

He stood up and walked to the window. The streets had been cleared in advance, and the people had been ordered to go home; only soldiers with spears and armor stood solemnly along the street.

First, a troop of light cavalry, covered in dust, swept past, followed by a large black banner unfurled in the afternoon sun, fluttering in the wind.

Xiao Jue, still clad in black armor, rode slowly towards them on an exceptionally tall black warhorse.

His face was somewhat pale, his lips were pressed tightly together, but his back was straight as a spear, and the air seemed to freeze wherever his gaze swept.

Sunlight shone on the cold nail plate, reflecting a dazzling light and illuminating a barely noticeable repair mark on his shoulder blade—the color was slightly darker, as if it had been carefully wiped clean, and the outline of the previous injury was still visible.

Xiao Jue's gaze seemed to pass through the crowd and windows, quickly sweeping across the government office window before disappearing without lingering. He led his personal guards and the captured bandit leader straight towards the main camp.

It wasn't until evening that Zhou Heng finished dealing with his urgent matters and returned to the camp.

The atmosphere in the camp was noticeably different, a mixture of the exhilaration of victory and the tension of facing a real battle. The main tent was several times more heavily guarded than usual, and brightly lit.

Zhou Heng tidied up his small tent briefly, hesitated for a moment, and then headed towards the main tent. Chen Zhen, who was guarding outside the tent, nodded slightly when he saw him arrive, but did not stop him, only saying in a low voice, "The army doctor just left."

The tent was filled with a faint smell of wound medicine mixed with the stench of blood. Xiao Jue had removed his armor, wearing only a dark-colored robe, and stood with his back to the tent door in front of a basin of water, wiping his arms with a cloth.

Zhou Heng stopped a few steps away, looking at his broad shoulders, which seemed thinner than usual, in the candlelight, and the bandaged outline faintly visible under his thin clothes. The air was somewhat still.

"I'm back," Zhou Heng said first, his voice dry and monotonous.

"Hmm." Xiao Jue responded, threw down the cloth, and turned around.

His face appeared paler in the candlelight than during the day, but his eyes remained sharp as ever. In fact, the weariness, tinged with a bloodshot hue from days of fighting without proper rest, made him even more imposing. "How are things in Yingyang?"

"Progressing as planned, spring planting has begun, more than half of the new policy provisions have been issued, and the first batch of grain and medicinal herbs can be shipped in three days." Zhou Heng reported concisely, but his gaze involuntarily fell on his left shoulder, "Your injury..."

"It's alright." Xiao Jue interrupted him, his tone calm. He walked over and sat down behind the desk, picking up a military report from the southern front that had just been delivered. "Huo Yi's vanguard has crossed the Si River, two days ahead of schedule. The Canghe defense line needs to be prepared in advance."

Zhou Heng silently walked to the side and, by the light of the lamp, began to peruse the stacks of documents concerning provisions and fodder. The only sounds in the tent were the rustling of paper turning and the occasional soft tapping of Xiao Jue's fingertips on the map.

As night deepened, the documents finally began to take shape.

Zhou Heng rubbed his sore eyes and looked up to find that Xiao Jue had closed his eyes and was leaning back in his chair, his brows slightly furrowed and his breathing a little heavy.

The candlelight cast flickering shadows on his face, revealing a hint of vulnerability beneath the weariness that had made him so impeccably tough during the day.

Zhou Heng hesitated for a moment, then got up, poured a glass of warm water, and gently placed it beside him.

Xiao Jue suddenly opened his eyes, his gaze sweeping over like lightning. Only when he recognized Zhou Heng did the sharpness in his eyes slowly subside. "What time is it?"

"It's 3:45 PM," Zhou Heng said in a low voice, "It's time to rest."

Xiao Jue didn't speak, picked up his water glass and drank it all in one gulp, then stood up, supporting himself on the armrest. As he moved, his left shoulder seemed to twitch, and he took a barely audible breath, his brows furrowing even more tightly.

Zhou Heng subconsciously took half a step forward, then abruptly stopped.

Xiao Jue, however, went straight to the inner tent and took off his single garment.

In the candlelight, his lean upper body was exposed, old and new wounds intertwined, the most striking being the bandage on the back of his left shoulder, a dark red glimpse through the white cloth. He reached out to untie the bandage, his movements somewhat awkward.