Hot flashes

Xiao Jue assumed he was just tired and didn't think much of it.

He gently placed the person on the thickly quilted couch, pulled the blanket over him, and then took off his outer robe and shoes. He lay down beside the person and habitually pulled him into his arms.

Zhou Heng obediently leaned closer, but his body didn't seem as relaxed as usual.

"Sleep." Xiao Jue placed a light kiss on the top of his head and closed his eyes. The high tension and fatigue of the past few days quickly turned into a deep sleep in the warm and comforting embrace, and he fell into a deep sleep almost instantly.

Listening to the gradually becoming steady and long breaths beside him, and confirming that Xiao Jue was already fast asleep, Zhou Heng slowly opened his eyes in the darkness.

My pupils have adapted to the darkness and I can barely make out the outlines that are right next to me.

As Xiao Jue slept, all the coldness and majesty of the day were gone. His brows were relaxed, and he even showed a rare sense of peace. However, the weariness in his eyes was still clear in his sleep.

These days, he has been deliberately avoiding this target.

He immersed himself in Xiao Jue's tenderness, the blood and fire of battle, and the deepening bond between them, deliberately avoiding thinking about the inevitable ending—

In the original story, Xiao Jue ascended the throne and became a wise and ruthless ruler, and then... at some point, he chose to end his life in the extreme way of being burned alive.

He couldn't understand it. The Xiao Jue before him was decisive in killing, yet he didn't indiscriminately slaughter the innocent; he was ruthless to his enemies, but had a deep sense of responsibility and protection for his own people.

Ambitious, skillful, and with the matching tenacity and wisdom.

How could such a person become the tyrant described in the dream system as "disheartened by betrayal and slander, and died by self-immolation"?

His intuition told him that it couldn't be that simple.

Betrayal? Given Xiao Jue's personality, his first reaction to betrayal would probably be to eliminate the betrayal with swift and decisive action, rather than to feel disheartened.

Slander? How many infamy has he borne along the way? "Traitor," "rebel general," "murderer"... has he ever truly cared?

What exactly was it? What earth-shattering event happened after he reached the pinnacle, something that could destroy such a person?

Zhou Heng's fingertips unconsciously curled slightly, touching Xiao Jue's warm skin beneath his nightgown.

The real, vibrant body temperature formed a sharp, suffocating contrast with the solitary figure enveloped in raging flames that suddenly flashed through his mind.

A belated, sharp pain swept over his heart without warning.

He couldn't imagine that this person would ultimately meet such a tragic and desperate end.

In the darkness, Zhou Heng stared intently at Xiao Jue's sleeping profile, as if trying to etch every detail of that face into the depths of his soul.

The system's cold notification tone seemed to echo in his ears again, overlapping with the sleeping face before him, making his mind in turmoil.

What exactly happened?

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Zhou Heng seemed to have developed some kind of "can't live without someone" hysteria overnight, and began to follow Xiao Jue closely.

While Xiao Jue was discussing matters with his generals and staff in the main hall of the garrison, Zhou Heng, carrying a hand warmer, huddled in a corner by the window at the back of the meeting hall, flipping through old files or casual books that were allowed to be brought in and were not confidential.

He wasn't watching closely, but his ears were perked up like a rabbit's, catching every word of discussion about the battle situation, troop strength, and supplies. His gaze would occasionally drift towards Xiao Jue in the main seat, watching how he issued orders, analyzed the enemy situation, and made decisions about the layout thousands of miles away.

Zhou Heng knew perfectly well where this change came from. When he first transmigrated and learned that he would be facing a "future tyrant," he was filled with utilitarianism and anxiety, focused on completing his mission and saving his own life.

Later, as he spent time with Xiao Jue day and night, he witnessed his decisiveness and ruthlessness, and also felt the indulgence and warmth that Xiao Jue occasionally showed only to him. That sense of "mission" gradually changed.

Especially that night, when he heard Xiao Jue say in a tired but earnest voice, "Once I sit in that position, I will have enough time to accompany you," the sharp, dull pain in his heart made him unable to deceive himself any longer.

He was no longer a bystander; he genuinely didn't want this man to meet that fate of being consumed by flames. The mere thought of such devastation and utter isolation made him breathless.

But he didn't know why the ending would happen.

The only thing he could do was to follow Xiao Jue closely from now on, to see with his own eyes, hear with his own ears, and understand every step he took, every choice he made, and every experience he went through.

He was like the most diligent student, and also like the most anxious detective, trying to unravel the crucial thread between the complex reality and the possible tragedies of the future.

Xiao Jue was initially surprised by Zhou Heng's "clinginess," but more than that, he felt an indescribable, suppressed joy.

He was used to Zhou Heng enjoying himself in his own little world behind him, and rarely saw Zhou Heng so proactively and almost clingily intervene in his core daily affairs.

It felt somewhat novel, like a young animal that had always stayed near its warm nest suddenly cautiously reaching out its paws, trying to touch and understand the stormy outside world where its master was.

He didn't dislike it; in fact, he... somewhat enjoyed it. So, he tacitly approved of this "following."

That afternoon, in a makeshift signing room, Xiao Jue, along with Shen Yu and several officials in charge of logistics, reviewed recent expenditures and seizures of funds and provisions.

The numbers were complex, the arguments subtle, and the atmosphere heavy. Zhou Heng, as usual, stood by his side, an account book-like object spread out in front of him, a charcoal pencil in his hand, but he hadn't written a single word in a long time. His eyes were somewhat vacant, and his fingertips were unconsciously tracing patterns on the pages.

Xiao Jue listened intently, occasionally asking questions or giving instructions, but his gaze would inadvertently drift to the side again.

Zhou Heng seemed to yawn slightly, nodding his head like a chick pecking at rice, the account book in his hand tilting to one side, about to slip from his grasp.

His expression remained unchanged as he listened to Shen Yu's analysis, but his arm reached out naturally from under the table, catching the account book just before it fell to the ground, and gently pushing it back into Zhou Heng's arms. The movement was as fluid as if he had simply brushed off some dust.

Zhou Heng snapped out of his daze, clutching the account book tightly, his face slightly flushed, and secretly glanced at Xiao Jue.

Xiao Jue nodded slightly to Shen Yu, seemingly agreeing with his plan. His profile was cold and focused, as if the little action just now was not his doing at all.

Only Shen Yu, who was closest, had a fleeting, knowing smile in his eyes before his expression returned to its usual calm.

Zhou Heng pursed his lips, then lowered his head, pretending to look intently at the "ledger" in front of him.

That attempt to cover up the truth was just like a student caught daydreaming in class by the teacher.

Xiao Jue's lips curved into an almost imperceptible smile, and the annoyance in his heart dissipated somewhat.