Hot flashes

Zhou Heng nodded and was pulled outside by him.

Stepping out of the sleeping quarters, sunlight began to slant into the corridor. A slightly cool morning breeze blew from the other end of the corridor, brushing against my face and dispelling any lingering sleepiness.

Xiao Jue walked beside him, one hand still holding his, not letting go.

The breakfast delivered from the imperial kitchen was laid out in the small hall of the East Warm Pavilion. It consisted of a few small dishes, two bowls of porridge, a basket of steaming hot buns, and a plate of thinly sliced ​​braised beef. It was simple and unpretentious.

Xiao Jue sat down and pulled him to his side instead of across from him.

Zhou Heng sat down next to him, picked up his chopsticks, and took a steamed bun. The bun was still hot from the steamer, and when he took a bite, he gasped for breath from the scalding soup inside.

Xiao Jue glanced at him and pushed the slightly cooled bowl of porridge in front of him over.

"Have some porridge first."

Zhou Heng took a sip of porridge, dipped his burning tongue in it, and then swallowed the steamed bun.

Xiao Jue didn't eat; he just stared at him.

Zhou Heng felt uncomfortable under his gaze, so she picked up a steamed bun and held it to his mouth, saying, "You eat too."

Xiao Jue looked down at the steamed bun, then took a bite.

Zhou Heng waited for his evaluation, but he just chewed slowly without saying anything. After finishing that bite, he picked up his chopsticks, took a slice of braised beef, and put it into Zhou Heng's bowl.

Zhou Heng was stunned for a moment.

Xiao Jue picked up another side dish with his chopsticks and put it into his bowl.

Zhou Heng looked down at the food slowly piling up in his bowl and suddenly felt like laughing.

"I'm not a pig."

Xiao Jue glanced at him and the corners of his mouth curved slightly.

"You've lost weight, you need to gain it back."

Zhou Heng remembered that he had said the same thing last night, and his ears burned again. He buried his head in his porridge, not daring to look at him anymore.

Sunlight streamed in through the window, casting dappled patterns of light on the table. The patterns of light moved slowly, from the corner of the table to the rim of the bowl, and then from the rim of the bowl to the back of Zhou Heng's hand.

As he lowered his head to drink his porridge, the light fell on the top of his head, gilding his black hair with a faint golden hue.

Xiao Jue stared at the light for a while.

Then he reached out and tucked a strand of Zhou Heng's hair behind his ear.

Zhou Heng looked up at him, his mouth still full of porridge, his cheeks puffed out.

Xiao Jue didn't say anything, withdrew his hand, and continued drinking his porridge.

Zhou Heng swallowed the mouthful of porridge and muttered softly, "Aren't we going to court today?"

"Take a break," Xiao Jue said.

Zhou Heng calculated the date, and it really was. The ninth day of the month, a day of rest on the ninth day of every month.

"So today..."

"What do you want to do?" Xiao Jue asked, looking at him.

Zhou Heng thought for a moment, then shook his head. He didn't have anything in particular he wanted to do. The matter in Jiangling had come to an end, things were temporarily quiet on Shen Yu's side, and there were no urgent matters in the court.

"Then stay here," Xiao Jue said.

Zhou Heng nodded.

After finishing breakfast, Xiao Jue went to approve several urgent dispatches. Zhou Heng had nothing to do, so he nestled on the couch in the East Warm Pavilion, flipping through a miscellaneous notebook that someone had left there.

The sunlight gradually rose higher, illuminating the entire room. Birds were chirping outside the window, chattering away, I couldn't tell what they were arguing about.

He flipped through a few pages, got a little sleepy, the book slipped down his spine, and he fell asleep on the pillow.

He didn't know how much time had passed when he woke up to find himself lying on a couch, covered with a thin blanket. Xiao Jue was sitting beside him, still holding the unfinished document in his hand. Seeing that he was awake, he looked up at him.

"woke up?"

Zhou Heng rubbed his eyes and sat up. The blanket slipped down, and when he looked down, he saw that his outer robe had been unbuttoned at some point, the collar open, revealing the collar of his nightgown underneath.

He paused for a moment, then looked up at Xiao Jue.

Xiao Jue's gaze swept over his open collar and landed on his face, very calmly.

"I'm afraid you'll get hot."

Zhou Heng lowered his head and straightened his outer robe.

Xiao Jue put down the folding book and reached out to pull him over.

Zhou Heng fell into his arms, his face pressed against his chest, and he could hear the steady, powerful heartbeat there.

"It's still early," Xiao Jue's voice came from above. "Sleep a little longer."

Zhou Heng shook his head: "I'm not going to sleep."

Xiao Jue didn't speak, but placed his hand on his back and stroked it gently.

The two remained there, neither speaking. Sunlight streamed in through the window, casting dappled shadows on the floor. The shadows slowly moved, from the doorway to the edge of the bed, and then from the edge of the bed onto the two of them.

Zhou Heng leaned against him, listening to his heartbeat, and felt as if time had stopped.

---

After the holiday, the court returned to its usual rhythm.

As usual, Zhou Heng went to the Hanlin Academy to report for duty. When he entered, several editors were talking in the corridor. When they saw him, they paused for a moment, then continued as if nothing had happened.

As Zhou Heng walked past them, he caught a glimpse out of the corner of his eye that one of them slightly turned aside, making way for them.

He didn't say anything and went straight into the duty room.

The desk was piled high with documents that had accumulated over the past few days. Zhou Heng sat down and began to look through them one by one.

Most of them were routine matters—local greetings, reports of the amount of money and grain submitted by various departments, and some inconsequential suggestions.

He marked several documents with the character "阅" (read) and then reviewed a few more that needed to be presented to the emperor, categorizing and putting them away neatly.

The sun gradually rose higher. Faint voices drifted in from outside the window; it was the people on duty in the next room discussing something. Zhou Heng couldn't make out what they were saying, only occasionally hearing a few words—"Salt Administration," "Jiangling," "that person."

He kept his head down, reading the documents, as if he hadn't heard anything.

At noon, Chen Shen arrived.

He closed the door behind him as he entered, walked to the desk, and whispered, "Young Master, there's some commotion at the Shen residence."

Zhou Heng raised his head.

"Last night, Shen Yu met with three people. One was Qian Duan, the Vice Minister of Revenue; another was Wang Xun from the Censorate; and the third—" He paused, "was someone from the Xie family who remained in the capital."

Zhou Heng paused for a moment.

Qian Duan, Vice Minister of Revenue, was in charge of the nation's financial records. Wang Xun was a notorious tough nut to crack in the Censorate; the number of people he impeached could stretch from Chengtian Gate to Meridian Gate.

The Xie family member who remained in the capital—Xie Xun's nephew, Xie Jin—was an inconspicuous yet ubiquitous figure.

These three people got together.

"What did you talk about?"

Chen Shen shook his head: "The Shen residence is heavily guarded; we couldn't get in. All we know is that those three people went in at 7 PM and didn't come out until midnight."

Zhou Heng nodded.

Chen Shen waited a while, and seeing that he had nothing else to say, he whispered, "Young Master, should we have someone keep an eye on those few?"

"No need," Zhou Heng put down his pen. "Staring won't reveal anything."

Chen Shen agreed and withdrew silently.

Zhou Heng sat there, looking at the cup of tea on the table. The tea had gone cold, and a thin film had formed on the surface. He picked it up and took a sip; it was cold and somewhat astringent.

None of the three people were useless.

Qian Duan was in charge of the Ministry of Revenue. The Ministry of Revenue was in charge of money and grain. Money and grain were the lifeblood of the imperial court and the foundation of the new policies. The new policies required tax reduction, canal construction, and the opening of pawnshops, none of which could be done without money. If Qian Duan were to manipulate the accounts, adding or subtracting entries, the local governments would not be able to allocate funds, and the new policies would be unable to proceed.

Wang Xun was an imperial censor. An imperial censor's mouth is sharper than a knife. If he were to submit a memorial impeaching the new policies for "wasting money and burdening the people" and impeaching Zhou Heng for "abusing his power and disrupting the government," even if Xiao Jue suppressed it, it would be enough to cause a great deal of discussion throughout the land.

Xie Jin—the eyes and ears of the Xie family in the capital. He didn't need to do anything; he only needed to relay the news back to Jiangling, letting Xie Xun know the court's movements, when to act, and when to wait.

These three people each occupy different positions and have their own uses. But their simultaneous appearance at Shen Yu's residence is no coincidence.

Zhou Heng picked up the cup of cold tea and took another sip.

That night, Zhou Heng spoke of this matter to Xiao Jue in the Qianqing Palace.

Xiao Jue was reviewing memorials, and even after he finished speaking, his pen did not stop.

“Qian Duan,” he said, “during the end-of-year accounting, salt tax revenue in Jiangsu and Zhejiang was down by 30%. His reason for reporting it was famine.”

Zhou Heng was stunned for a moment.

Xiao Jue continued, "Wang Xun impeached Zhao Ting at the beginning of the year, accusing him of allowing his troops to harass the people. I ordered an investigation, but found no evidence. The memorial is still in effect; he is still with the Censorate."

Zhou Heng listened without saying a word.

After Xiao Jue finished reviewing the last document, he put down his pen and looked up.

"As for Xie Jin—" he paused, "he's been in the capital for seven years and hasn't done anything. Yet, there's not a single business the Xie family has in the capital that he doesn't know about."

Zhou Heng suddenly understood something.

"You mean—"

Xiao Jue looked at him, his gaze calm.

"I didn't say anything."

Zhou Heng shut his mouth.

Xiao Jue stood up, walked to his side, and sat down beside him.

"Aheng," he said, "Shen Yu wants to move, let him move. Only when he moves can I see where he's going."

Zhou Heng looked at him.

"Aren't you going to stop them?" he asked.

Xiao Jue shook his head.

"We can't stop him," he said. "He's been planning this for so long, he's bound to make a move eventually. If we stop him now, he'll hide even more deeply next time."

Zhou Heng fell silent.