Hot flashes

Its daybreak.

Zhou Heng opened his eyes and stared at the blue canopy above his head. It took him a while to realize where he was.

There was a rustling sound coming from next door, like someone was moving around.

He got up and dressed—he studied the ties for a while before finally getting them right. He pushed open the door and saw Xiao Jue standing on the veranda.

Xiao Jue had his back to him, and when he heard the door open, his shoulders visibly stiffened.

Zhou Heng walked over.

Good morning.

Xiao Jue slowly turned around.

For some reason, there was something wrong with that face. Her eyes darted around, not daring to look directly at him, but staring at the area next to his shoulder, the tips of her ears were red.

Zhou Heng looked down at himself.

There's no problem.

"What's wrong?" he asked. "Didn't you sleep well?"

Xiao Jue shook his head.

"Then why aren't you looking at me?"

Xiao Jue's gaze swept quickly across his face before quickly moving away.

"I saw it, I saw it," he said, his voice a little muffled.

Zhou Heng was amused by his appearance. Where did that friendly demeanor from yesterday go? How did he become like this overnight?

He deliberately took a step forward.

Xiao Jue shrank back a little.

Zhou Heng took another step.

Xiao Jue shrank back again.

He turned away, trying to cover up his true intentions.

He quickly said, "Are you hungry? I'll take you to eat."

Zhou Heng smiled and followed behind.

Xiao Jue's master was already sitting there. When he saw them come in, he put down his chopsticks and smiled at Zhou Heng.

"Young Master Zhou, did you sleep well?"

Zhou Heng nodded.

"That's good, thank you, sir."

The old man waved his hand.

"Don't be so polite, sit down, sit down, let's eat."

Zhou Heng sat down next to Xiao Jue. On the table were a few side dishes, a basket of steamed buns, and two bowls of porridge—simple yet delicious-looking. He picked up his chopsticks and took a steamed bun.

I took a bite, and the meat filling was tender, with the broth bursting in my mouth.

Zhou Heng was stunned for a moment.

This tastes much better than the steamed buns he ate in modern times.

He took another bite.

Xiao Jue sat beside him and stole a glance. Seeing him eating with relish, the corners of his mouth couldn't help but curve upwards. Then, as if afraid of being discovered, he quickly lowered his head and focused on drinking his porridge.

The old man glanced at Xiao Jue, then at Zhou Heng, but said nothing.

After that, life was peaceful and comfortable.

Zhou Heng slept until he naturally woke up every day, and then went to the main hall for meals. After meals, he would wander around the villa, looking at the mountains and trees, and occasionally taking a walk in the back mountain. In the evenings, when Xiao Jue came home from school, he would pull him aside to talk.

Xiao Jue had to go to his master's for lessons every day. He studied literature in the morning and practiced martial arts in the afternoon, keeping him very busy. But whenever he had a spare moment, he would go to Zhou Heng's side.

Besides Xiao Jue, Zhou Heng also often chatted with the old man.

The old man is a very interesting person.

He was well-read and knowledgeable, and could chat about anything. Yet he wasn't pretentious; he spoke casually and occasionally cracked a joke. Zhou Heng didn't find chatting with him tiring; on the contrary, it was very relaxing.

Over time, Zhou Heng became familiar with the old man. Every few days, he would be invited over for tea and a chat, which would last for most of the day.

One day, the old man suddenly asked him.

"Young Master Zhou, what do you think of Xiao Jue?"

Zhou Heng was stunned for a moment.

"She's great," he said. "Smart, lively, and kind to people."

The old man nodded.

"So, how's his homework going?"

Zhou Heng thought for a moment and then told the truth.

"I've seen his handwriting..." He paused, "It's alright, I guess."

The old man smiled.

"Not bad? His handwriting looks like a dog's scribbles."

Zhou Heng couldn't help but laugh too.

The old man sighed.

"This child is restless. He's smart, but he can't sit still. If I ask him to recite, he'll get distracted after a while. If I ask him to write, he'll complain of being tired after writing two lines. I'm too old to manage him anymore."

Zhou Heng listened, unsure of what to say.

The old man looked at him.

"Young Master Zhou," he said, "I'd like to ask you for a favor."

Zhou Heng was stunned for a moment.

"Please speak."

The old man asked, "Could you be his teacher?"

Zhou Heng was stunned.

"I?"

The old man nodded.

Zhou Heng quickly waved his hand.

"Sir, you must be joking. How could I possibly teach him? I know nothing—"

The old man interrupted him.

"Young master, there's no need for you to be so modest."

Zhou Heng opened his mouth, but couldn't say a word.

The old man looked at him with gentle eyes.

"I can see that you are a man of great wisdom, young master. Your thoughts and insights are not something that ordinary people possess. That's exactly what Xiao Jue lacks."

Zhou Heng felt extremely guilty.

What great wisdom does he possess?

His ideas were nothing more than the result of having lived in the modern world for over twenty years and having seen and heard a lot.

Ask him to talk about history, and he can give a general overview. Ask him to talk about principles of life, and he himself is a complete mess.

What kind of wisdom is this?

"Sir," he said with difficulty, "I really can't—"

The old man waved his hand.

"No rush, take your time to think it over."