Hot flashes

The lights dimmed, and the noise subsided.

In the vast hall, only the lingering fragrance of incense from the burner remained, silently contrasting with the mess of cups and plates scattered across the table.

The attendants had already quietly retreated outside the hall, and the heavy hall doors were ajar, shutting out the last trace of liveliness.

Xiao Jue remained seated in the main seat, one hand supporting his forehead, his eyes closed.

The flickering candlelight cast swaying shadows on his sharply defined face, completely concealing the imposing presence he exuded on the altar during the day and the relaxed conversation he shared at the banquet.

Zhou Heng, who was sitting in his seat, was hesitating whether to quietly leave or go forward to inquire. Seeing that Xiao Jue had not moved for a long time, he quietly got up, intending to first call a servant to bring some hangover soup.

He had just reached the door when Xiao Jue's deep, slightly hoarse voice came from behind him: "Where are you going?"

Zhou Heng paused and turned around. He saw that Xiao Jue had opened his eyes at some point and was looking at him.

Those deep eyes, now clouded by alcohol, lost their usual clarity and sharpness, instead becoming veiled in a hazy, aggressive dark light that locked onto him.

"...Go ask someone to bring you some hangover soup," Zhou Heng replied, feeling a little uncomfortable under his gaze, and subconsciously tried to open the door.

"No need." Xiao Jue stood up, his steps slightly sluggish due to the alcohol, but he walked towards Zhou Heng with unusual stability.

The hem of his dark-colored casual robe was slightly open from the recent banquet, revealing a small patch of skin below his collarbone, which gleamed warmly in the candlelight. "Today... I'm happy."

He stopped in front of Zhou Heng, his tall figure almost completely enveloping Zhou Heng. The strong smell of alcohol mixed with his unique cold aura hit him, bringing a chilling sense of oppression.

Zhou Heng's heart skipped a beat, and he knew something was wrong.

Xiao Jue's eyes and tone were all too familiar to him—this was pretty much how Xiao Jue acted before he ever messed with him, especially after he'd had a few drinks, when his arrogance would multiply.

"You've had too much to drink, get some rest..." Zhou Heng tried to back away, his hand already touching the cold door.

Before he could finish speaking, Xiao Jue stretched out his arm and easily wrapped it around his waist, pulling him back abruptly.

The force was so great that Zhou Heng was caught off guard and crashed into his arms, his nose hitting his solid chest, causing a sore sensation.

"Why run?" Xiao Jue chuckled, his laughter carrying a hint of intoxication and a confident languor.

He tightened his grip, almost lifting Zhou Heng off the ground, then turned and walked back to the main seating area of ​​the banquet in a few steps.

There stood a large, heavy rosewood armchair with a dragon carved on the back and a thick brocade cushion; it was the seat where Xiao Jue had just been sitting.

Without the slightest hesitation, Xiao Jue walked to the chair, loosened his arm, and sat down first. Then, with a forceful pull of his wrist, he brought the unsuspecting Zhou Heng onto his lap.

"Xiao Jue! Are you crazy! Here..." Zhou Heng exclaimed in shock, frantically trying to get up by supporting himself on Xiao Jue's shoulders. This was the main hall where the grand banquet had just ended!

"How is it here?" Xiao Jue interrupted him, gripping his waist with both hands like iron clamps, firmly fixing him to his lap, looking up at him, the flames dancing in his eyes almost burning him.

"Today I am crowned king, a day of universal celebration." His voice was low, tinged with the heat of the wine, each word drilling into Zhou Heng's ears, "My Ah Heng...shouldn't you...be...good...to...keep...with...me?"

He spoke the last few words very slowly, with an unquestionable air, while one hand slid down Zhou Heng's back and slipped under the hem of his robe.

The cool fingertips touched the warm skin, sending a shiver through Zhou Heng's body. "No... go back to the room..." he struggled in vain, his voice trembling, his cheeks flushing rapidly with shame, anger, and inexplicable arousal.

"It's too late," Xiao Jue whispered, his other hand already loosening the belt around Zhou Heng's waist, causing his robes to fall loose instantly.

He kissed Zhou Heng's lips as he tried to protest. The kiss was intensely hot with the smell of alcohol and domineeringly irresistible, quickly stealing his breath and reason.

Zhou Heng's body went limp from the kiss, and his symbolic struggles seemed insignificant under Xiao Jue's absolute power and control.

Xiao Jue's patience, fueled by alcohol and some indescribable emotions stirred by today's grand ceremony, became extremely thin.

He roughly tore away the last piece of clothing separating the two of them.

Zhou Heng tilted his head back and let out a broken sob, his fingers digging into the fabric of Xiao Jue's shoulder. It all happened so suddenly.

Xiao Jue groaned, and a vein throbbed faintly on his forehead.

Zhou Heng was held captive in his arms.

Sobs and broken moans escaped uncontrollably from her throat, only to be mostly swallowed back by Xiao Jue's burning lips and tongue.

After an unknown amount of time, just when Zhou Heng felt he was about to be torn apart.

Xiao Jue used his strength to lift Zhou Heng, who was limp and had a dazed look in his eyes.

The sudden suspension and change of position caused Zhou Heng to gasp in surprise, and his arms instinctively wrapped around Xiao Jue's neck.

Xiao Jue carried him away from the messy rosewood chair and headed towards the inner hall.

His steps were steady, showing no signs of drunkenness, only the flames burning in his eyes grew even more intense.

A long, carpeted corridor leads from the main hall to the inner chambers.

The walls on both sides are decorated with captured calligraphy and paintings by famous artists and sharp weapons, casting long shadows in the dim light of the corridor lamps.

Xiao Jue didn't walk very fast, but every step he took was steady and powerful.

"Mmm... Xiao Jue... don't go... put me down..." Zhou Heng's soft, tearful pleas for mercy escaped his lips, this was even more torturous than when he was on the chair.

Xiao Jue seemed not to hear him. He lowered his head and kissed Zhou Heng's sweaty forehead, his voice hoarse: "Weren't you going back to your room? We're going back now."

That's what he said, but he stopped at a corner. It was a shadowy spot in the corridor, with a cold wall on one side and a tightly closed sandalwood window with intricate carvings on the other.

Xiao Jue pinned Zhou Heng against the cold wall. The solid wall and the burning chest in front of him formed an impenetrable cage.

"This place... isn't bad either." Xiao Jue gasped for breath, finally letting go of his long-suppressed, even more violent impulse.

Her groans were broken and fragmented, tears blurred her vision, and slid down her flushed cheeks, dripping onto Xiao Jue's dark clothes, leaving dark watermarks.

When the carved door to the inner chamber finally slammed shut behind him, Zhou Heng's consciousness was almost completely lost.

He was thrown onto a large bed covered with thick brocade, and then his hot, heavy body pressed down on him.

The last barrier was also completely stripped away.

The curtains swayed, and the red candles burned brightly. The moonlight outside the window had been obscured by clouds at some point, leaving only a room filled with decadent spring light and lingering breaths inside the hall.