Hot flashes

Three months is neither a long nor a short time.

The irrigation canal in Qingnigou has been dredged.

On the day the water was supplied, Zhou Heng stood by the canal and watched the turbid water meander down the newly built stone trough and flow into the slopes that had been dry for twenty years.

Old Zhao squatted at the edge of the field, dipped his hands into the water, scooped them up, and looked at them for a long time. Something trembled on his deeply lined face.

"For three generations of my ancestors," he said, his voice dry like cracked earth, "they've never seen this land irrigated."

Zhou Heng didn't speak. He stood there, watching the water flow over the parched earth, watching the withered leaves of the crops slowly unfurl under the nourishment of the water.

The two newly built mud houses of the Zheng family are now inhabited. It's the two children—after Zheng Liushi died, Zhou Heng had them brought back from the family they had adopted and arranged for them to live in the rebuilt houses on the original site.

Zhao Laosi's wife went over to take care of him every day, cooking for him, washing his clothes, and mending his clothes.

The child is too young. Too young to remember much about what happened that night.

So small that it can still laugh.

Zheng Liu's eldest daughter, seven years old, squatted at the door of the new house, holding her younger brother, and pointed to the clouds in the sky, saying, "They look like horses." Her younger brother looked up for a long time and said, "They look like sheep."

They started arguing, one saying horse, the other saying sheep, and then they started laughing.

Zhou Heng stood not far away, looking at the two smiling faces.

In Jiangling City, the implementation of the new policies was fraught with difficulties.

Three government-run pawnshops opened. For the first month, no one dared to enter. In the second month, some bolder individuals went in to borrow money and discovered that the interest rates were indeed only half of those at pawnshops, and they didn't have to use their children as collateral. By the third month, queues had formed in front of all three pawnshops.

More than 300 new farm tools were made. The blacksmith shop was open from morning till night. Ge the blacksmith's two apprentices took over their master's mantle and took on four new apprentices.

Curved plows and dragon-bone waterwheels were delivered to the countryside one by one. Some farmers were hesitant to use them, fearing they would damage their fields, so some people tried them out first and then taught others how to use them.

The tax system was also affected. Jiangling Prefecture issued a document abolishing the poll tax and merging it into the land tax.

Farmers with little or no land can save a hundred or so coins a year. It's not much, but it's enough to buy a few pounds of salt, a few feet of cloth, or a piece of candy for their children during the New Year.

The news spread, and people in the surrounding counties began to inquire about it. An old farmer from a neighboring county walked for three days through the mountains to come to Qingnigou specifically to see the irrigation canal.

He squatted by the canal, staring wide-eyed at the rushing water.

On March 30th, an imperial edict arrived in the capital.

Zhou Heng knelt to receive it. He unfolded it and saw:

"Go back to Beijing."

It's Xiao Jue's handwriting.

Zhou Heng read the imperial edict three times, folded it neatly, and put it into his bosom.

That night, he went to Qingnigou.

Sitting on the threshold of the Zheng family's new house, gazing at the dark mountain shadows in the distance, he sat for a long time. Chen Shen stood not far away, not disturbing him.

When the moon rose, Zhao Laosi arrived.

He handed Zhou Heng a bowl of water. Zhou Heng took it and took a sip. It still had that earthy smell, just like the first time he came.

"Is the master leaving?" Zhao Laosi asked.

Zhou Heng nodded.

Zhao Laosi remained silent for a while.

"Will you give it back?"

Zhou Heng did not answer.

He looked at the irrigation ditch in the distance, shimmering in the moonlight, at the land nourished by the water, and at the two children who were fast asleep in front of the new house.

"I don't know," he said.

Zhao Laosi nodded and didn't ask any more questions.

He just stood there, beside Zhou Heng, watching the moon with him.

Much later, Zhou Heng stood up and returned the bowl of water to him.

"Take care," he said.

Zhao Laosi took the bowl and looked at him.

"Sir," he said, "you are a good man."

Zhou Heng did not respond.

He turned and walked into the night.

On the eighth day of the fourth month, Zhou Heng set off to return to the capital.

The people of Jiangling lined the streets to see him off. Some knew him, some didn't, some had received favors from him, and some were just there to watch the spectacle.

In the crowd, some shouted "Farewell, Lord Zhou," some shouted "Come again, Lord Zhou," and some didn't shout anything, just stood there watching the carriage slowly pass by.

Zhou Heng sat in the car, watching the faces pass by one by one through the gap in the curtain.

Zhao Laosi has arrived. He stands at the very front of the crowd.

The two children arrived as well. The girl, holding her younger brother, stood beside Zhao Laosi and waved vigorously at the carriage.

The carriage continued forward.

Jiangling City is getting farther and farther away.

The capital city is getting closer and closer.

On April 15th, Zhou Heng arrived in the capital.

On the day he entered the city, the sky was overcast, and the gray clouds hung low. He rode his horse, entered through the south gate, and walked along the imperial road towards the capital.

The streets were bustling with pedestrians, and the cries of vendors rose and fell, just as they had been when I left a few months ago.

That night, at the Qianqing Palace.

"come over."

Xiao Jue's voice came from behind the imperial desk.

Zhou Heng walked over.

He had just reached the desk when a hand pulled him towards it. He stumbled into a familiar embrace, his face pressed against a familiar chest, inhaling the familiar scent of sandalwood and ink mingled together.

"You've lost weight," Xiao Jue's voice came from above, muffled.

Zhou Heng shook his head in his arms: "I haven't lost weight."

"You've lost weight."

"I haven't lost any weight."

Xiao Jue looked down at him.

Those eyes, deep as a pool in the candlelight, seemed to hold something churning at their bottom. Before Zhou Heng could see what it was, Xiao Jue leaned down and kissed him.

Zhou Heng was pressed against the imperial desk, his back pressed against the unfinished memorials, his breath stolen and broken. He could only clutch Xiao Jue's clothes tightly, enduring all the anxiety and longing in this kiss.

Xiao Jue released his lips, pressed his forehead against his, and breathed heavily.

"Three months," he said, his voice hoarse like sandpaper scraping against metal. "Do you know how I've survived these past three months?"

Zhou Heng opened his mouth as if to say something, but Xiao Jue didn't give him the chance.

The kiss landed again. This time it was on his brow, his eyelids, the tip of his nose, the corner of his mouth, his chin, and the side of his neck. It traveled downwards, hot and urgent, as if it wanted to devour him whole.

Zhou Heng's body went limp from his kisses, his fingers clinging to his shoulders, his knuckles tightening and loosening, loosening and tightening again.

"Aheng." Xiao Jue's voice was muffled in the crook of his neck.

Xiao Jue raised his head and looked at him. His eyes were red in the candlelight, and the veins in his eyes were bloodshot, as if he hadn't slept well in a long time.

"I want to come find you," he said. "I want to leave all this mess behind, ride my horse, and gallop to Jiangling tonight."

His voice was very low, as if it were being ground out of his chest.

Zhou Heng's eyes suddenly welled up with tears.

He reached out and cupped Xiao Jue's face in his hands.

"I'm back," he said. "I'm alright. See, I'm back."

Xiao Jue looked at him.

Then he lowered his head, buried his face in the crook of his neck, and bit him hard.

"Hiss—" Zhou Heng took a breath and didn't dodge.

Xiao Jue raised his head and looked at him. The redness in those eyes hadn't faded yet, but something at the bottom of the pool was glowing. It was very bright, so bright that Zhou Heng's heart trembled.

"I don't care," Xiao Jue said. "From today onwards, you are not allowed to leave my side even for a moment."

Zhou Heng was stunned for a moment, and before he could say anything, Xiao Jue had already covered his mouth.

This time, I really couldn't say anything.

Clothes were scattered all over the floor. Memorials were swept aside. The imperial desk was too hard, causing Zhou Heng's back to ache, but he didn't care.

Xiao Jue's hands roamed over his body, carrying a burning heat, carrying all the things he had suppressed for three months, and carrying the almost frantic possessiveness of finally holding him in his arms.