Hot flashes

Zhou Heng has been feeling uneasy lately.

At first, it was just an occasional moment of dizziness. While reviewing documents, his vision would suddenly blur, like a candle flame flickering in the wind. He rubbed his eyes, thinking it was just from days of hard work, and didn't pay much attention to it.

Later, I experienced these delirious moments more often.

Xiao Jue summoned the imperial physician.

When the imperial physician arrived, Zhou Heng was reviewing the accounts for the new batch of schools. The physician took his pulse, frowned, and then examined him again. After finishing, he said that Lord Zhou's health was fine; he was probably just overworked and would be alright after a few days of rest.

Xiao Jue dismissed the imperial physician.

Another imperial physician was summoned. When the second physician arrived, Zhou Heng was discussing matters with several officials from the Hanlin Academy. The physician waited for half an hour until Zhou Heng finished his discussion before going in to take his pulse. After taking his pulse, the physician said something similar to the first physician—nothing serious, just tired.

Xiao Jue's expression was not good.

The head physician of the Imperial Medical Academy, surnamed Zhou, who had served in the palace for thirty years, was summoned. Xiao Jue stood by and watched as he took Xiao Jue's pulse. Physician Zhou examined Xiao Jue's left hand, then his right, then his left, for a full quarter of an hour.

After the diagnosis, he knelt down and said, "I am incompetent."

Xiao Jue remained silent.

Physician Zhou knelt there, sweat dripping from his forehead.

After a long time, Xiao Jue waved his hand.

Physician Zhou felt as if he had been granted a pardon and withdrew.

That restlessness slowly spread from the Qianqing Palace.

During the morning court session, Xiao Jue's expression was grim. The ministers below reported on their respective affairs, each one cautious, glancing up at the emperor's expression halfway through their sentences.

This situation lasted for about ten days.

That day, Zhou Heng was looking at folded paper in the East Warm Pavilion of Qianqing Palace.

Several documents awaiting approval were piled on the desk. He flipped through them one by one, wrote a few words on each one, and then put down his pen.

I suddenly felt thirsty.

He stood up, intending to get a glass of water.

The moment he stood up, the scenery before him suddenly swayed. He reached out to grab the edge of the table, but his fingers touched nothing but empty air.

When Xiao Jue returned, the door to the East Warm Pavilion was open.

He went inside and saw Zhou Heng lying on the ground in front of the bed.

Something seemed to explode in Xiao Jue's mind.

He rushed over and picked him up. Zhou Heng's body temperature was alarmingly high; the heat could be felt even through his clothes. His face was flushed red, but his lips were white, chapped, and completely devoid of color.

"Imperial Physician!"

The Qianqing Palace was brightly lit that night.

The imperial physicians were busy coming and going, some decocting medicine, some taking pulses, some boiling soup, and others keeping watch.

Zhou Heng felt like he was dreaming.

But this dream was too chaotic.

He stood in a strange place. Lights of all colors surrounded him, so bright they hurt his eyes. People were laughing, people were shouting, and music blared, each beat pounding against his chest.

He looked down and saw that he was wearing a strange outfit, short-sleeved, with his arms exposed. In front of him was a table covered with bottles of various colors, the contents of which he couldn't identify.

Someone came over, put their arm around his shoulder, and said something loudly. The music was too loud to hear. After the person finished speaking, they laughed and shoved a glass of wine into his hand.

Zhou Heng looked down.

The wine is yellow, and there are ice cubes swirling inside.

He suddenly remembered.

This is……

That place where he lived in a daze for more than twenty years.

He looked up and saw those people. Some he knew, some he didn't.

They were laughing, joking, and clinking glasses. Someone stood on a high place, holding a strange object and shouting something. Someone else leaned against the railing next to him, flirting with a girl.

Whose birthday is this?

He thought for a long time, and then he remembered.

He couldn't remember who it was, but it was one of his cronies, someone he hung out with all the time, eating, drinking, and having fun. It didn't matter whose birthday it was, they'd just find another place to drink.

That's how I was every day back then.

The screen suddenly came to life.

He saw himself put down his wine glass and stagger out. Someone next to him asked something, and he waved his hand, muttering "It's convenient" as he continued walking.

Zhou Heng followed.

It was a narrow corridor with white walls on both sides. At the end of the corridor was light—light from outside. He pushed open a door and went outside.

The outside is a deck.

The wind was strong, making it hard to stand. He held onto the railing and walked forward step by step until he reached the side of the boat, where he suddenly stopped. He bent over, leaned on the railing, and his shoulders heaved.

I feel like throwing up.

Zhou Heng stood there, looking at the figure leaning against the railing, and a strange feeling suddenly arose in his heart.

That person is him.

But that person doesn't seem to be him.

Too far.

It feels like something from a past life.

The figure vomited for a while, then straightened up and wiped his mouth. He turned around, seemingly intending to walk back. His foot slipped, and he fell to the side.

The railings are very low.

Zhou Heng saw his hand reach out in mid-air, but he grabbed nothing. Then the figure vaulted over the railing and plummeted downwards.

He rushed forward and reached out to pull her up.

The hand passed through the person's body.

I didn't encounter anything.

The next second, everything in front of me shattered.

Fragments of light, fragments of music, fragments of smiling faces, all fell in a flurry. When they were all gone, darkness enveloped everything.

In the darkness, light slowly seeped through.

The sunlight filtering through the leaves cast dappled shadows on the ground.

Zhou Heng saw himself lying there.

He lay in a grove of trees. He was wearing a short-sleeved shirt, his arms were exposed. His face was covered in mud, his hair was studded with grass, and he was lying motionless with his eyes closed.

After an unknown amount of time, the hand moved slightly.

Then his eyes opened.

Zhou Heng saw himself slowly sit up, looking completely bewildered. He looked down at his hands, then at the trees around him, and stared blankly for a long time.

"Where is this?"

The voice was very soft, as if the person hadn't fully woken up yet.

He stood up, staggered, and grabbed a tree for support. Once he was steady, he looked around.

"Stop playing around!" he yelled, his voice louder than before. "How did you guys get me here?"

No one answered.

He yelled again, "It's fucking painful! Get out of here right now! Or I'll really get angry!"

Still, no one answered.

The wind blew through the woods, rustling the leaves.

He stood there and waited for a while. The anger on his face slowly subsided, and he gradually began to sense that something was wrong.

He started walking forward.

He walked along, looking around. A branch scratched his arm, but he glanced down at it, ignored it, and continued walking.

We walked for a very, very long time.

A building appears ahead.

It's a Taoist temple.