Hot flashes

The next morning, Zhou Heng was awakened by the sound of pattering rain outside his window.

The autumn rain lingered, pattering against the roof tiles. He groggily turned over, reaching out his hand—nothing; the blankets were already cold.

"So early again." Zhou Heng thought to himself as he sat up and found a note on the small table by the bedside.

Xiao Jue's handwriting was strong and vigorous, penetrating the paper: "It's cold in the rain, put on more clothes. You don't need to come to the study today. The workshop sent over a sample of a newly made hand warmer, which is on the table."

Zhou Heng rubbed his eyes and got out of bed. Sure enough, he saw a small brass hand warmer on the table. It was round and had simple cloud patterns engraved on its body.

He picked it up and weighed it in his hand; it felt solid. The lid was cleverly designed, keeping the stove warm without burning his hands. The stove was already filled with charcoal, and it felt warm and cozy in his palm.

"That's quite thoughtful," Zhou Heng muttered, carrying the hand warmer as he walked around the room. Rainy days are indeed boring, so he pulled out the storybook he hadn't finished reading yesterday and curled up on the soft couch by the window.

The storybook is a classic tale of talented scholars and beautiful women, written in a mediocre style, but its strength lies in its melodramatic plot.

Zhou Heng read with great interest, but when he came to the part where the scholar wrote a poem to express his love for the young lady, he couldn't help but sneer: "So cheesy, so cheesy."

The words had barely left his mouth when the door was pushed open. Xiao Jue entered, his clothes damp, the shoulders of his dark robe soaked through. Behind him followed Chang An, carrying a steaming bowl of ginger soup.

"What's so funny?" Xiao Jue took off his wet cloak and handed it to Chang An, then walked to the bedside.

Zhou Heng flashed the cover of the storybook: "The Dream of Mandarin Ducks. This scholar's love poems are worse than the rhymes I cobbled together in elementary school..."

"Elementary school?" Xiao Jue caught the unfamiliar word.

Zhou Heng's heart skipped a beat, but he remained outwardly calm: "It's just the kind of school where we country kids first learn our manners, the local dialect, the local dialect." He quickly changed the subject, "Why are you back? Didn't you have military business?"

"It's raining, so the martial arts exercise is suspended." Xiao Jue sat down on the edge of the couch, took the dry cloth that Chang An handed him and wiped his hands. "The craftsmen's camp has some questions about the sketches you drew, so I brought them to ask you."

As he spoke, he took out a roll of drawings from his sleeve and unfolded it. It was the improved design that Zhou Heng had drawn yesterday, but with many more annotations and questions in vermilion ink next to it.

Zhou Heng leaned over to take a look and found that the questions the craftsmen asked were quite professional, some even touching on the fundamentals of materials mechanics.

He became interested and grabbed a pen to write and draw explanations: "The curved hinge here is to distribute stress... This wheelset needs to be used with a braking system, otherwise it will lose control downhill..."

He was so engrossed in his speech that he didn't realize he was leaning almost half his body on Xiao Jue's shoulder.

Xiao Jue didn't push him away, but simply adjusted his posture to make him more comfortable, his gaze following the movement of the pen tip.

"...So we need to add a limit stop here to prevent backlash." Zhou Heng finally finished speaking, and when he looked up, he found that their faces were inches apart. Xiao Jue's breath gently brushed against the wisps of hair on his forehead.

Zhou Heng shrank back a little: "Well, that's about it."

Xiao Jue hummed in agreement and carefully rolled up the blueprints. "I will pass it on to the craftsmen's camp." He paused, looking at Zhou Heng, "These ideas are not something ordinary people would have."

Here it comes. Zhou Heng's heart tightened, but he forced a smile: "I already said it was just wishful thinking... There's an old carpenter in my hometown, his skills are amazing, I always loved watching him work when I was a kid..."

Xiao Jue looked at him quietly without saying a word. Those deep black eyes seemed to see right through people's hearts, and Zhou Heng almost couldn't hold on any longer.

Fortunately, Xiao Jue didn't press the matter further. He simply tucked a stray strand of hair behind his ear and asked, "What would you like for lunch?"

The topic shifted abruptly, and Zhou Heng paused for a moment before saying, "It's cold, I'd like to eat something hot... like mutton hot pot?"

"Alright." Xiao Jue stood up, walked to the door and instructed Chang An to prepare, then turned back to look at Zhou Heng, "Don't sit and read for too long, it'll hurt your eyes. If you're bored, I have a set of backgammon in my study, have Chang An fetch it."

Zhou Heng blinked: "You know how to play?"

"I know a little," Xiao Jue said calmly. "It's enough to keep you entertained."

The rain continued until the afternoon. The mutton hot pot simmered on the red clay stove, and the paper-thin slices of mutton cooked quickly in the milky white broth. Dipped in the special sauce, they were incredibly tender and delicious.

Zhou Heng ate until his nose was sweating, while Xiao Jue ate very little, mostly serving him meat and vegetables.

After the meal, the backgammon board was indeed brought out. The chess pieces were carved from ivory, and the board itself was made of warm, smooth wood with exquisite craftsmanship.

Zhou Heng had played the game a few times in modern times and considered himself fairly skilled. However, less than fifteen minutes into the game, he was utterly annihilated by Xiao Jue.

"Wait a minute..." Zhou stared at his few pieces on the chessboard, scratching his head. "Your luck is too good! Is there something wrong with the dice?"

Xiao Jue picked up his teacup and took a slow sip: "Warfare is based on deception. Backgammon is like warfare; you can't just rely on the luck of the dice."

"What do you mean?"

"Just now, on your third move, you should have played on the left flank to create pressure, but you greedily captured one of my scattered pieces, leaving the center vulnerable." Xiao Jue tapped the chessboard with his fingertips. "Just like in warfare, you can't just focus on immediate small gains; you have to consider the overall situation."

Zhou Heng: "..."

He silently pushed the chessboard away: "I'm not playing anymore. Playing this with you is just asking for humiliation."

A hint of a smile flashed in Xiao Jue's eyes as he put the chessboard away. "So, what do you want to do?"

Zhou Heng's eyes darted around, and he suddenly had an idea: "I saw in a journal yesterday that there is a kind of 'paper kite' game in Jiangnan. It can't be flown on rainy days, but we can make one! We can fly it when the weather clears up."

"A kite?" Xiao Jue frowned. "A child's toy."

"This looks fun!" Zhou Heng had already gotten up to find the materials. "Do you have any Xuan paper here? And some thin bamboo strips... What kind of glue do you use? Paste?"

Xiao Jue watched him rummage through the room, then rubbed his temples in exasperation: "Chang An."

A reply came immediately from outside the door: "Your Highness."

"Go and fetch some materials for making kites." Xiao Jue paused, "and call two skillful maids over to help."

"Yes."

The materials were quickly gathered. Relying on his childhood memories, Zhou Heng directed the two maids to help him build the skeleton and paste the paper. Xiao Jue initially just sat to the side reading, occasionally glancing up to watch them work.

But Zhou Heng clearly overestimated his crafting skills. The bamboo strips were simply unruly in his hands; they were either too stiff to bend or too soft to stand upright. When pasting the paper, he applied too much glue, leaving the paper a crumpled mess.

An hour later, Zhou Heng looked at the crooked "kite" on the table, which could barely be made out of a bird shape, and fell silent.

The two maids were suppressing their laughter, their shoulders trembling slightly.