Hot flashes

It was completely dark. The path was rugged, and he ran frantically, stumbling along, the only sounds his heavy breathing and his pounding heartbeat. The jade pendant on his chest was burning hot, almost scorching his skin.

After running for an unknown amount of time, the sound of water and the rustling of reeds came from ahead—the reed marshes had arrived.

Without hesitation, he squeezed inside. The withered reeds were taller than a person, densely packed, and once inside, they completely submerged him.

He struggled forward through the reeds, the branches and leaves scraping against his face and arms, leaving streaks of blood.

The shouts of pursuers and the rustling of reeds being parted came from afar, growing ever closer.

Zhou Heng gritted his teeth and suddenly remembered the wilderness survival shows he had watched before.

He crouched down, quickly took off one of his outer robes, wrapped a stone around it, and threw it forcefully into the depths of the reeds on his left. The sound of the cloth slicing through the reeds was exceptionally clear in the silence.

Sure enough, the pursuers' footsteps turned to the left.

He seized the opportunity to turn to the right and continued deeper into the reeds. But he hadn't gone far when the reeds suddenly thinned out—he had reached the riverbank.

The riverbank was steep, and below it was pitch black, with the faint sound of rushing water. In the moonlight, jagged rocks and a narrow shoal could be seen below this section of the riverbank.

The sound of pursuers approached from behind again, this time from both sides.

Zhou Heng glanced back; he could already see a swaying shadow in the darkness. He gritted his teeth and leaped off the riverbank—

A feeling of weightlessness gripped his entire body instantly. The wind whistled past his ears, mingled with the angry shouts of his pursuers. He desperately curled up in mid-air, trying to land on his feet first—

"Bang!"

His back and left shoulder slammed hard against the rocks, and excruciating pain exploded within him. Then, the icy river water engulfed him, and the immense impact made his vision go black, causing him to choke on several mouthfuls of water.

The river was swift, sweeping him downstream. Before his consciousness faded, he vaguely saw figures moving on the bank, seemingly wanting to go into the water, but being held back by their companions who pointed downstream…

Then came boundless darkness.

---

In the chaos, fragmented images floated and sank.

It's like looking at the sunlight underwater—swaying, distorted, and flickering.

He saw himself—still in his modern form, with short hair, wearing out-of-fashion coarse ancient clothing, squatting by a crystal-clear mountain stream.

The stream water was icy cold. He scooped up some water to wash his face, and when he looked up, he saw a boy standing on the opposite bank.

At the age of thirteen or fourteen, dressed in fine clothes and wearing a jade crown, his brows and eyes already hinted at the sharpness that would later appear, yet they had not yet been tempered with icy coldness.

The boy looked at him curiously, his eyes clear and pure, like a pebble in a mountain stream, untouched by the world.

The screen suddenly jumped.

It was the same boy, holding an oil paper package in his hands, cautiously peeking out from behind the tree.

Inside the parchment paper were two exquisite pastries, their flaky crusts crumbling, their aroma seemingly able to penetrate into a dream.

The boy handed over the pastries, his lips moved slightly, but no sound was heard; only the kindness and a hint of shyness in his eyes were visible.

Jump again.

The night was deep in the woods, with firelight flickering in the distance. He grabbed the boy's hand and ran wildly through the darkness; the boy's palm was burning hot, and his breathing was rapid.

The sounds of horses' hooves, shouts, and barking dogs grew closer and closer behind me.

He dragged the boy with all his might and pulled him into a cave hidden by vines. The two huddled together in the cramped space, holding their breath, and could hear each other's frantic heartbeats and the footsteps of the pursuers running past outside the cave.

The boy leaned on his shoulder, his body trembling slightly.

Jump again.

Flames soared into the sky. The mansion was burning, beams and pillars were collapsing, and screams of agony filled the air.

He pulled the boy out the back door, and the boy glanced back once, just once. Something died in that instant, and something else was brutally reborn from the ashes.

Zhou Heng awoke in excruciating pain.

My first sensation was cold, a bone-chilling cold. The second was pain; my left shoulder and back felt like they had been crushed, and my head was throbbing as if it were about to explode.

He found himself half-lying on the pebbles of the riverbank, his lower body still submerged in the icy river water.

The sky was just beginning to lighten. The reed beds stretched into the distance; here lay a shallow bend in the river, where the current had slowed considerably.

He struggled to sit up, but a sharp pain shot through his left shoulder, his vision blurred, and he fell back down. Reaching out, he found his left shoulder badly swollen; it was likely dislocated.

My back was burning with pain, probably from a large abrasion. My head was sticky, I couldn't tell if it was blood or water.

The worst part was that his arms were empty—the cloud was gone. The token was still there, clutched tightly in his other, intact hand, so hard it hurt his palm.

He lay there panting for a long time before finally gathering his strength to slowly move to a dry spot on the shore. The early spring morning was bitterly cold, and his soaked clothes clung to his body, making his teeth chatter with cold.

Those dreams... no, those fragments, were so clear they didn't seem like dreams.

But he didn't remember. Whether in the modern era or after his time travel, he didn't recall ever meeting Xiao Jue as a teenager.

He suddenly remembered the jade pendant on his chest and reached out to touch it—the jade pendant was still there, as warm and smooth as ever, even warmer than usual, and pulsating slightly as if it were alive.

"Is it you..." he murmured, his voice hoarse and unpleasant.

Zhou Heng leaned against the rock, gazing at the gradually brightening sky, his mind a jumbled mess.