Hot flashes

The blood of Cangyun Ridge had not yet been completely cleansed by the spring breeze, but Xiao Jue's gaze had already crossed the continuous mountains and rivers of the northern border and turned to the fertile fields and cities further south.

Inside the study of the Marquis of Zhenbei's residence, the lights were on. A huge map of the northern border and parts of the Central Plains covered the entire wall, densely marked with various symbols.

Xiao Jue stood with his hands behind his back in front of the painting, dressed in black robes with dark hair, his posture as straight as a pine tree, only a cold flame flickering deep in his eyes.

After losing Huo Yi, a pillar of support and a real threat, Ningwu Pass experienced escalating internal conflicts, with the supervising officer's faction and the former subordinates of the garrison commander becoming irreconcilable enemies.

Xiao Jue didn't even need to launch a direct attack; he simply sent envoys to secretly make contact, promising great rewards, and the generals inside the pass were willing to act as his inside agents. Within a month, this formidable pass gradually opened its gates due to internal strife.

But this is just the beginning.

"My lord," Shen Yu presented a summary of the latest intelligence, "the Southern Capital court posthumously conferred upon Huo Yi the posthumous title of 'Zhongwu' and provided him with generous compensation, making a grand gesture. However, within its court, the three factions—those advocating war, those advocating peace, and those shirking responsibility—are locked in endless disputes."

Although the emperor issued an edict ordering Ningwu Pass to be strictly guarded and sent envoys to secretly probe our side's intentions, seemingly showing restraint, he was actually secretly investigating embezzlement at Ningwu Pass and the deficit in provisions for the northern expedition, seemingly intending to rectify the situation.

Xiao Jue took the document, quickly glanced at it, and a cold smile curled at the corner of his mouth: "The young emperor isn't too stupid; he knows where the wound is."

Unfortunately, the damage was too deep-rooted; he couldn't remove those deeply entrenched corrupt officials, nor could he stop my southward march.” He tossed the document back onto the desk. “Where is his secret envoy?”

"We've already crossed the Zhang River and will soon reach Ningwu Pass. The leader is an inconspicuous doctor from the Ministry of Rites, but among his entourage are skilled palace guards, who must be trusted confidants of the emperor," Chen Shen, in charge of intelligence, said in a deep voice.

"Leave them hanging," Xiao Jue said calmly. "Tell Ningwu Pass to stall; there's no need to rush into contact. We can talk after we take Hengshui and Luancheng."

Hengshui and Luancheng are two important passes and granaries south of Ningwu Pass, guarding the heart of the Central Plains. Only by capturing them can the gains in the northern border be truly consolidated, and the army's advance directed towards the Central Plains.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

As the bugle sounded to signal the army's departure, Zhou Heng was being wrapped in a thick cloak by Xiao Jue without any explanation, and then carried to his magnificent black warhorse, "Xuan Ying."

"Hey? Wait! Xiao Jue!" Zhou Heng hurriedly grabbed the saddle on the jolting horse, turning to glare at the man holding him in his arms behind him. "Do I really have to go? I can't ride a horse, much less fight. Wouldn't I just be a hindrance?"

Xiao Jue adjusted the reins, allowing the horse to catch up with the moving column of the central army. Hearing this, he glanced down at him, his tone calm yet unquestionable: "I'm worried about leaving you alone in the manor."

"What's there to worry about? The Marquis's residence is heavily guarded..." Zhou Heng tried to explain.

Xiao Jue interrupted him, his voice low, "You're safest under my nose."

Zhou Heng was speechless. He sighed, resignedly leaning back and embedding himself into the limited space created by Xiao Jue's armor and cloak, muttering, "Then it's settled, I'm just an accessory, don't expect me to do any work..."

"Yes, a keychain." Xiao Jue repeated readily, a deep vibration emanating from his chest, seemingly tinged with amusement. He tightened his grip on the "keychain," holding it even more securely. "Hold on tight."

Xuan Ying quickened his pace, merging into the surging torrent of iron. Banners fluttered like a forest, and swords and spears, reflecting the rising sun, emitted a chilling glint.

The sounds of clashing armor, hoofbeats, footsteps, and the occasional command intertwined to create a solemn yet powerful symphony.

Being in the midst of it all, Zhou Heng felt the immense power of a large-scale army marching in the era of cold weapons up close. His heart pounded involuntarily in rhythm with the movement, feeling both awe and reverence.

Xiao Jue's central army was well-equipped and marched at a considerable speed, but they did not rush things. They set up camp every day according to a set plan, with scouts advancing ten miles ahead to maintain a tight watch.

During the day, Xiao Jue would mostly ride his horse to inspect the troops or discuss military matters with the generals. Zhou Heng was placed in his commander's carriage—a specially made vehicle with a simple exterior but thick carpets inside, a small table, and a fixed book box. It was pulled by two strong horses and was quite stable.

A few days later, the army approached Hengshui. Scouts reported that the Hengshui garrison had indeed been drawn by Zhao Ting's feint attack at Laoyaling and had moved part of its main force to the east to set up defenses.

Wang Ben's two thousand elite cavalry had vanished like ghosts in the direction of "Wild Fox Gorge".

The atmosphere before the war suddenly became tense.

That night, Zhou Heng waited until midnight before Xiao Jue finally entered, shivering with cold. He quickly brought out the food that had been kept warm.

Xiao Jue looked somewhat tired. He sat down, quickly ate something, and his gaze fell on the Hengshui city defense map spread out on the simple wooden table.

Zhou Heng silently poured him a cup of hot water and sat down beside him. The tent was quiet, with only the occasional crackling of the charcoal fire.

Suddenly, Xiao Jue spoke, as if addressing him, yet also as if talking to himself: "Wang Ben should have already circled around to the rear of Hengshui. If we see fires in the city at dawn tomorrow, that will be the signal."

Zhou Heng's heart tightened. He looked at the location of Hengshui City on the map, as if he could imagine the beacon fires that might be lit in the darkness before dawn, and the ensuing battle.

"Will it...go smoothly?" he couldn't help but ask.

Xiao Jue looked up at him, the candlelight flickering in his deep eyes: "The battlefield is ever-changing, and no one dares to claim certain victory. But with the plan in place and the soldiers fighting with their lives, the odds of victory should be seventy percent." He paused, his tone steady, "There's no need to worry."

Zhou Heng nodded.

After Xiao Jue finished eating and rinsed his mouth, he walked up to Zhou Heng and reached out to stroke his cheek: "Get some rest early. Tomorrow, stay in your tent and don't go out."

His fingertips were a little cold. Zhou Heng took his hand and nodded: "You... be careful."

Xiao Jue's eyes flickered slightly, and he leaned down to place a brief, yet exceptionally tender, kiss on his lips. "Mmm."

Zhou Heng did not sleep well that night. In his daze, he seemed to hear the distant sound of horses' hooves and the faint sound of horns.

He woke up before dawn. Xiao Jue's seat was empty, and the armor was gone.

He put on his robe, got up, walked to the tent flap, and gently lifted a corner. The sky outside was grayish-blue, the torches in the camp were still burning, and the soldiers had silently assembled, forming a strict formation.

Xiao Jue, clad in black armor, stood at the front of the formation, giving his final instructions to several generals. His figure appeared tall and majestic in the morning mist and firelight, like a sharp sword about to be drawn from its sheath.

Zhou Heng watched quietly, his heart churning with emotion.

As dawn broke, the east began to lighten. Suddenly, in the distance, from the direction of Hengshui City, a faint red light rose, illuminating the low-hanging clouds.

Almost simultaneously, a deep and powerful attack horn resounded throughout the entire camp!

Xiao Jue drew his longsword and swung it forward. The iron torrent started, rolling towards Hengshui City, which was just beginning to emerge from the dawn.