Hot flashes

Spring comes earlier in the southern capital than in the northern border.

On the imperial road outside Chengtian Gate, the officials of the previous dynasty knelt for two whole hours until the sun began to set in the west. They were then led into a side hall one by one, where Shen Yu led several clerks to question, register, and verify their identities.

Xiao Jue did not show up.

He spent the entire afternoon in the East Warm Pavilion of the Qianqing Palace. On his desk were piles of urgent reports sent by Zhao Ting—troop deployments in various strategic locations, allocation of provisions, movements of the former imperial family, and lists of envoys sent by various observing forces.

The vermilion pen swept across the paper, leaving behind the character "准" (meaning "accurate"), the ink dripping freely.

Zhou Heng sat on the couch by the window, holding a hand warmer, watching Xiao Jue review official documents for an hour.

Sunlight streamed in slantingly through the carved window and fell on Xiao Jue's shoulder.

His profile was half-lit and half-shadowed in the light and shadow, his brows slightly furrowed, his hand holding the pen steady and strong, pausing occasionally to make annotations, and occasionally looking up to give a few instructions to Chen Shen, who was waiting outside the door. Everything was in perfect order, as if he had rehearsed it a thousand times.

Zhou Heng noticed that there was a cup of tea next to him, which had gone from hot to cold, but he hadn't touched it.

"Take a break," he finally said.

Xiao Jue paused, then looked up at him.

Zhou Heng got off the couch, walked over, took the cup of cold tea away, poured a fresh cup of hot tea, and placed it beside him. Then he didn't leave, but leaned against the desk, looking down at the official documents he had approved.

Xiao Jue's gaze lingered on his face for a moment before he looked away and continued writing.

"Chen Shen is going out for a while," he said.

"Um?"

"The list of members of the former dynasty's imperial family has been released," Xiao Jue said calmly. "Thirty-seven are in the capital, and fifty-one are in other places. Seventeen of them are from the close relatives."

Zhou Heng remained silent. He knew what this meant. With the change of dynasties, the former imperial family was the biggest hidden danger.

Even if they themselves don't want to rebel, there will be people who rebel under their banner. There are too many examples of this in history.

After Xiao Jue finished reviewing the last document, he put down his pen, picked up the cup of tea, and took a sip.

Zhou Heng was stunned for a moment.

"So what are your plans?"

Xiao Jue looked up at him, but did not answer immediately. His eyes were deep and unreadable.

Zhou Heng felt a little uncomfortable under that gaze and was about to speak when Xiao Jue suddenly asked, "What do you think?"

Zhou Heng thought for a moment: "You promised him you wouldn't kill the clan, but not everyone in the clan is necessarily obedient. Keep the obedient ones, and the disobedient ones... we can't give them a chance to rebel."

A faint glint flashed in Xiao Jue's eyes, something like relief, or something else entirely.

"Chen Shen has investigated," he said. "Of the thirty-seven, twelve had previously advocated resisting to the bitter end and even submitted a blood oath, saying they would rather die for their country than surrender. Of the other five close relatives, three are honest men and two are children who know nothing."

Zhou Heng understood. Those twelve who advocated resistance wouldn't suddenly become docile. Keeping them around would only bring trouble sooner or later.

"That……"

"Chen Shen is going tonight." Xiao Jue picked up his teacup, his tone as casual as if he were asking what to eat for dinner. "Let them find another place to stay. There's a quiet estate in the outskirts of Beijing, suitable for retirement."

Zhou Heng was stunned for a moment. Move to a different place? It took him a while to realize—it wasn't killing, it was house arrest.

"Those twelve..."

"Same." Xiao Jue looked at him. "Those who listen will stay put in the manor. Those who don't..."

He didn't finish his sentence, but Zhou Heng understood. There were countless ways to make those who disobeyed "die of illness" or "accidentally."

Zhou Heng nodded and didn't ask any more questions.

The sunlight outside the window had shifted westward a bit. Inside the east-facing warm room, the charcoal fire burned brightly, creating a cozy atmosphere.

Zhou Heng leaned against the desk, while Xiao Jue sat in a chair, a foot apart. Neither of them spoke, yet there was a strange tranquility between them.

"Your Highness." Chen Shen's voice came from outside the door.

Xiao Jue raised his eyes: "Go in."

Chen Shen entered, carrying a stack of documents. He glanced at Zhou Heng without any attempt to hide his presence, and went straight to the desk to present the documents.

"As Your Highness instructed, the list of those to take over military and political power in various regions will prioritize former troops from the northern border and generals who have rendered meritorious service this time. This is the preliminary list of candidates; please review it, Your Highness."

Xiao Jue took the documents and flipped through them one by one. Zhou Heng glanced at them and saw a series of familiar names: Zhao Ting was the governor of Yangzhou, Wang Ben was the governor of Xuzhou, and there were several other generals who had followed Xiao Jue in the northern border region and were assigned to various strategic locations.

"Has Mr. Shen seen it?" Xiao Jue asked.

"Mr. Shen has reviewed it and said it's generally appropriate, except for one point that needs Your Highness's decision." Chen Shen pointed to one of the pages, "Li Chong, a surrendered general from the previous dynasty, volunteered to guard Jiangling. He has a high reputation in Nanjing, and employing him can appease the gentry of Jiangnan; but..."

"But he is a veteran general of the previous dynasty, and his loyalty is unknown," Xiao Jue continued for him.

Chen Shen lowered his head: "Yes."

Xiao Jue looked at the document and remained silent for a moment.

Li Chong. Zhou Heng remembered this name. He was the one who led the reinforcements that Xiao Jue used to defeat during the Battle of Hengshui.

Later, when Xiao Jue marched south, Li Chong resisted on the outskirts of the southern capital until the great victory at Poyang Lake, after which he was forced to surrender. This man was not one to fear death; he surrendered only because he was truly outmatched.

"Where are his family members?" Xiao Jue asked.

"Living in Beijing. I have a wife and two sons; my eldest son is sixteen this year, and my second son is nine."

Xiao Jue gently stroked the paper with his fingertips.

"Jiangling is an important town upstream, and it cannot be entrusted to an unstable person." He paused, "But if I don't use him, the gentry of Jiangnan will say that I am intolerant of people."

Zhou Heng, listening, suddenly interjected: "Letting him go is fine, but leaving the eldest son in the capital is a favor in name only, but in reality, it's a hostage. If he's truly loyal, he won't object; if he has something to hide, he'll definitely make excuses."

Xiao Jue looked up at him.

Chen Shen also glanced at him.

Zhou Heng felt a little uncomfortable under their gazes: "What? Did I say something wrong?"

"Yes." Xiao Jue withdrew his gaze, wrote a few words on the document, and handed it to Chen Shen. "Do it this way. Li Chong will take charge of Jiangling, his eldest son will remain in the capital, be granted a residence, and enter the Imperial Academy."

Chen Shen took the document and added, "There's one more thing. In this siege, General Zhao Ting's contribution was the greatest, followed by General Wang Ben. According to the previously agreed-upon rewards, General Zhao should be ennobled as a marquis, and General Wang should be given the title of general. But..."

"But what?"

Chen Shen lowered his voice: "Some of General Zhao's men have said that General Zhao complained in private that when the Prince was injured during the campaign against Poyang, he rushed to attack the city day and night, but the Prince... personally left the camp to search for him."

Zhou Heng's heart skipped a beat.

Xiao Jue's expression didn't change, but his eyes darkened for a moment.

"I understand," he said.

Chen Shen waited for a moment, but received no further news, so he lowered his head and withdrew.

Only the two of them remained in the East Warm Pavilion. Zhou Heng looked at Xiao Jue, wanting to say something, but unsure what to say.

Zhao Ting was an old man who had followed Xiao Jue since the Northern Border. He had guarded Wild Wolf Valley and fought in Cangyun Ridge; he was a true hero. But it's not a good thing for a hero to harbor resentment.

"Are you angry?" Zhou Heng couldn't help but ask.

Xiao Jue glanced at him, then suddenly reached out and pulled him closer.

Zhou Heng slumped onto the armrest of his chair, his waist held in Xiao Jue's arms, the position a little awkward. He tried to break free, but Xiao Jue's arms tightened.

"No," Xiao Jue said. "He's been with me for thirteen years. But if he hears this, he needs to know I know."

Zhou Heng blinked: "So what are you planning to do?"

Xiao Jue didn't answer, he just looked at him.

That gaze was rather deep, and Zhou Heng's heart skipped a beat. Just as he was about to look away, Xiao Jue suddenly asked, "Where did you learn all that you were saying?"

"What?"

"Dispose of the imperial family, settle the surrendered generals, and keep the son as a hostage." Xiao Jue looked at him.

Zhou Heng froze for a moment.

"I...I just made it up," he said, forcing a smile. "Isn't that how it's written in storybooks? 'When the cunning rabbit dies, the hunting dog is cooked,' and so on..."

Xiao Jue looked at him, his eyes deep and unfathomable, as if they could see right through him. Zhou Heng felt guilty under his gaze and was about to make up some more excuses when Xiao Jue suddenly withdrew his gaze and leaned back in his chair.

"When the cunning rabbit dies, the hunting dog is cooked." He repeated these words. "Who taught you that saying?"

Zhou Heng opened his mouth, but suddenly didn't know what to say. This is an idiom in modern times, and everyone knows it.

But in this era, this comes from the "Biography of Marquis of Huaiyin" in the Records of the Grand Historian, and was said by Han Xin before his death. A farmer's son shouldn't know this.

"I..." He was about to evade the question when Xiao Jue interrupted him.

"No need to say anything." Xiao Jue raised his hand and pressed his thumb to his lips. "If you don't want to say it, then don't."

Zhou Heng was stunned.

Xiao Jue looked at him with a deep gaze, but showed no intention of asking further questions.

"When do you want to talk about it?" He paused, "I'm listening."

Zhou Heng felt a lump in his throat. He lowered his head and buried his face in Xiao Jue's shoulder, remaining motionless for a long time.

Xiao Jue placed his hand on his back and patted him gently.

The sunlight outside the window dimmed a little. Inside the East Warm Pavilion, the charcoal fire crackled and popped, creating a cozy atmosphere. In the distance, the faint sound of drums from outside Chengtian Gate could be heard—the city gates were about to close.

Zhou Heng, nestled in Xiao Jue's arms, suddenly asked, "Aren't you afraid I'm a spy?"

Xiao Jue paused for a moment as he patted his back.

"Are you?" he asked in return.

Zhou Heng thought for a moment: "No."

"That settles it."

Zhou Heng looked up at Xiao Jue. The face was very close to his, and the eyebrows and eyes looked particularly deep in the dim sunlight.