Hot flashes

Zhou Heng pieced together news from the battlefield from Chang An's brief daily reports.

On the 23rd of the twelfth lunar month, the army camped thirty li outside Chuzhou. On the 25th, the vanguard launched a probing attack, but the Chuzhou garrison commander refused to come out and relied on the city's strong defenses.

On the 27th, Xiao Jue ordered the city to be besieged, and at the same time divided his troops to cut off the passage between Chuzhou and neighboring prefectures and counties.

As the year drew to a close, there was no festive atmosphere whatsoever in the Prince's mansion. Zhou Heng spent his days sitting by the window, holding a cloud-like object, watching the snow fall and then stop. The jade pendant on his chest would occasionally feel slightly warm, especially at night, like some kind of ominous premonition.

On the third day of the first lunar month, the first great victory came from Chuzhou—Xiao Jue used a trick to lure out a part of the defending army, and ambushed them at Luoyanpo, five miles outside the city, annihilating all three thousand men, and the commander was killed in action.

When Chang An reported the news, his tone was filled with undisguised excitement. Zhou Heng, however, asked, "How many casualties... have we suffered?"

Chang An paused for a moment: "I don't know the exact number, but it shouldn't be much."

Zhou Heng gave an "Oh," and continued to play with the cat. He didn't know whether to be happy for Xiao Jue's victory or to grieve for those who had died.

On the tenth day of the first lunar month, Chuzhou fell.

The news came in the middle of the night. Zhou Heng was startled awake from a light sleep and heard people walking quickly outside the courtyard, their hushed conversation revealing excitement.

He put on his coat, got up, and pushed open the door, bumping right into Chang An who was rushing over.

"Why are you up, young master?" Chang An asked, holding an urgent military report in his hand, the wax seal already broken.

"Chuzhou... has fallen?" Zhou Heng stared at the letter in his hand.

Chang An hesitated for a moment, then nodded: "Yes. The Prince used gunpowder to blow up a section of the East Gate barbican. General Zhao Ting was the first to scale the city walls. After a night of street fighting, all four gates were completely under control this morning."

"Gunpowder?" Zhou Heng caught the key word. He remembered mentioning the crude formula of gunpowder in casual conversation, and Xiao Jue had just listened without commenting.

"It's the 'Thunderbolt' newly made by the Craftsmen's Camp," Chang An said. "Its power is astonishing."

Zhou Heng fell silent. He suddenly realized that his "casual mentions" of modern knowledge were turning into real weapons of destruction in this time and space.

"Your Highness... how are you?" he asked.

"His Highness is well." Chang An handed over the letter. "His Highness specifically instructed that the young master be informed as soon as the good news arrives."

Zhou Heng took the letter. It contained only a few words in Xiao Jue's handwriting: "Chuzhou has fallen. All is well. Don't worry. It's cold from the snow; wear more clothes."

He pressed the letter to his chest, where his heart was pounding.

After the fall of Chuzhou, the war on the southern front proceeded with overwhelming force.

On the fifteenth day of the first lunar month, Xiao Jue divided his troops and marched west to capture Luling. The garrison in Luling surrendered upon hearing the news, encountering almost no resistance.

On the 22nd day of the first lunar month, the main force marched south and approached Fuzhou. The prefect of Fuzhou held the city for five days and died defending it. After the city fell, he set himself on fire and died for his cause.

On the third day of the second month, Xiao Jue returned east and joined forces with Zhao Ting's troops to besiege Jianchang. Jianchang was a well-fortified city, and its defenders were tenacious. After a ten-day siege, the city finally opened its gates due to lack of food.

At this point, the gateway to Jiangzuo was lost, and the southern capital was exposed to the enemy's advance.

During this period, Zhou Heng received only three letters from Xiao Jue. Each letter was shorter than the last, and the handwriting was increasingly illegible, clearly written hastily amidst the hustle and bustle of military life.

The content was nothing more than "I'm fine," "Don't worry," and "Eat more food in this cold weather," but each letter ended with a different sentence.

First letter: "Is the cat still bothering you?"

The second letter: "Have the plum blossoms in the courtyard bloomed yet?"

The third letter contained only two words: "Wait for me."

Zhou Heng kept the three letters under his pillow and would take them out to read when he couldn't sleep at night.

The cloud has grown a bit and is no longer clingy all the time, but whenever he sits by the window lost in thought, it always jumps onto his lap and curls up to keep him company.

In mid-February, Southern Metropolis Daily finally took action.

The young emperor issued an edict to personally lead an expedition, gathering the last 100,000 elite troops in the capital region, under the command of the veteran general Li Chong, to march north and meet the enemy.

At the same time, the imperial court issued a proclamation denouncing Xiao Jue as "a wolf in sheep's clothing who has brought disaster to the people" and calling on the people to come to the aid of the emperor.

When the news reached Linchuan, Zhou Heng was grooming Yuntuan. The comb fell to the ground with a "thud".

"A personal expedition..." he murmured, "How old is he?"

Chang An lowered his head: "Your Majesty is seventeen years old this year (by the traditional Chinese age reckoning)."

Seventeen. In modern times, he would still be a high school student. Zhou Heng suddenly felt a tightness in his chest.

"Your Highness...you know?" he asked.

"The military report should have reached the Prince by now," Chang An said. "Mr. Shen analyzed that Nanjing is making a desperate gamble. The 100,000 troops in the capital are almost the last of the court's resources. If they lose this battle, there will be no more protection for Jiangnan."

Zhou Heng closed his eyes. He could almost see two torrents about to collide, blood and flesh flying everywhere.

That night, the jade pendant burned incredibly hot. Zhou Heng woke up with a start, clutching his chest, drenched in cold sweat.

He dreamt again of Xiao Jue standing on the ruins, covered in blood, with flames raging behind him. He rushed over to pull him up, but his hand passed right through Xiao Jue's body.

"No..." He sat up abruptly, gasping for breath.

The moon was bright and the stars were few outside the window; it was already late at night. He couldn't sleep anymore, so he simply got up, put on his clothes, went to his desk, laid out paper, and ground ink.

He wanted to write a letter to Xiao Jue, but after holding the pen for a long time, he couldn't write a single word.

The ink from the pen tip dripped onto the paper, spreading into a smudge.

In the end, he only wrote four words: "Hoping for your early return."

He hesitated for a moment when signing his name, but ultimately did not write his name. He only drew a crooked cat's head—like a cloud.

Chang An was tasked with delivering the letter. Then came the long wait.

In late February, news came from the front lines: the two armies were locked in a stalemate on the Poyang Lake plain. Xiao Jue used a strategy of exhausting the enemy to lure them deeper into his territory, but Li Chong, being cautious, dared not advance rashly.

In early March, the spring rains continued and the war was at a stalemate.

March 7th was Zhou Heng's birthday. He himself had forgotten, but Chang An brought him a bowl of longevity noodles, saying that the prince had specifically instructed him to have them before leaving the mansion.

The noodles were thin noodles from the Jiangnan region, topped with winter bamboo shoots and ham, and served with two poached eggs. Zhou Heng stared at the bowl of noodles for a long time, then picked up his chopsticks and ate it all up, bite by bite.

That night, the jade pendant was heated again. This time, he clearly felt that it was not an illusion—the extremely faint lines inside the jade glowed slightly in the darkness, like flowing blood vessels.

He gripped the jade pendant tightly and whispered, "What exactly are you trying to tell me?"

Yu remained silent.

On the night of the full moon, March 15th, the decisive battle broke out.

The news came three days later. When Chang An rushed into the dormitory, Zhou Heng was feeding Yun Tuan. His hand trembled, and the food bowl was knocked to the ground.

"Young Master..." Chang An's face was pale and his voice trembled, "The great victory at Poyang Lake... His Highness... His Highness was injured..."

Zhou Heng's mind went blank, and his vision blurred. He steadied himself by grabbing the table for support: "Where...where are you hurt? How badly?"

"He was shot in the left shoulder with an arrow, which has been removed. The army doctor said it didn't damage any bones or tendons, but he lost a lot of blood..." Chang An spoke very quickly. "Before he fell unconscious, the Prince ordered the army to pursue the fleeing enemy and head straight for the Southern Capital. General Zhao Ting has already led the vanguard south, while General Wang Ben is leading the central army to protect the Prince from behind..."

"Go...go back where?" Zhou Heng's voice trembled violently. "Back to Linchuan?"

Chang An shook his head: "His Highness ordered... to go directly to Nandu."

Zhou Heng was stunned. Then he understood—Xiao Jue was going to press on relentlessly, not giving Nandu any chance to catch its breath before he regained consciousness, nor giving himself any chance to hesitate.

"Then..." he heard himself ask, "What about us?"

Chang An bowed deeply: "His Highness has ordered that you pack your belongings and depart for Nandu in three days."

The cloud seemed to sense its owner's unease, meowed, and rubbed against his ankle.

Zhou Heng looked down into the cat's deep blue eyes, then looked up towards the south—the most prosperous yet most corrupt capital city of this era, a place he had never set foot in before, the place of Xiao Jue's sworn enemy that he was determined to destroy, and the place where the "self-immolation" ending took place.

He gripped the jade pendant at his chest, feeling its slightly warm temperature, and took a deep breath:

"Okay, let's go to Nandu."