Hot flashes

In the days that followed, Xiao Jue was like a tightly wound spring.

He would get up early every day to practice his sword, and after he finished, he would go to Zhou Heng's room to help him tidy up. Actually, there wasn't much to tidy up, just a few changes of clothes and a few books he often read. But he couldn't help himself, flipping through them over and over again, afraid of missing anything.

"Shall we take this robe with us?"

Zhou Heng glanced at it and nodded.

Xiao Jue folded it neatly and put it into his bundle.

After a while, he picked up another item.

"What about this one?"

Zhou Heng looked at him helplessly.

"You already put three items away yesterday."

Xiao Jue was stunned for a moment, looked down at the bulging bundle, and blushed a little.

"I...I'll take it out again."

Zhou Heng stopped him.

"Fine, take them all."

Zhou Heng found it amusing.

The child was as happy as a playful puppy.

There has been no word from the old man.

Xiao Jue went to his room to pay his respects and saw that the old man was still the same as before—sitting by the window drinking tea and flipping through the book he had read countless times.

"Master, have you packed your things?"

The old man looked up and smiled.

"No rush."

Xiao Jue scratched his head.

"Shall I help you tidy up?"

The old man shook his head.

"No need, I can do it myself."

Xiao Jue didn't think much of it, responded, and ran off to find Zhou Heng.

After he left, the old man put down his book and looked at the old tree outside the window for a long time.

That night, the moon was obscured by clouds, and the courtyard was pitch black.

Xiao Jue had already gone to sleep. Zhou Heng also lay down, and was just about to drift off to sleep when he suddenly heard a series of urgent knocks on the door.

The sound was urgent, a series of thumping sounds, as if someone was trying to break down the door.

Zhou Heng opened his eyes and sat up.

Footsteps came from outside; it was the sound of a servant running to open the door. This was followed by hushed voices, the content of which was unclear, but the tone was urgent.

A sudden unease welled up in Zhou Heng's heart.

He put on his outer robe, pushed open the door, and went out.

Several people were already standing in the corridor. Xiao Jue also rushed out of the house, his hair still disheveled.

"What happened?"

No one answered him.

The lights in the main hall were turned on.

A servant rushed over.

"Young master, the old master requests that you and Young Master Zhou go to the main hall; we have guests."

Xiao Jue was stunned for a moment, then pulled Zhou Heng and ran towards the main hall.

The main hall was brightly lit.

The old man sat in the main seat, his face more somber than usual. Beside him stood a man covered in dust, his brow furrowed with barely concealed anxiety.

As soon as Xiao Jue entered the room, his gaze fell on that person.

He was stunned.

That's Uncle Chen.

His father's confidant would come up the mountain every few months, bringing his father's handwritten letters, snacks made by his mother, clothes prepared for him, and a portrait of his little nephew whom he had only heard about in the letters.

This time, however, Uncle Chen's clothes were wrinkled and stained with mud, as if he had traveled for a long time at night. His face was pale, his lips were chapped, and his eyes were bloodshot.

Xiao Jue's heart clenched suddenly.

"Uncle Chen?"

Uncle Chen saw him and walked over in a few steps.

"Second Young Master."

He spoke, his voice hoarse as if it had been sanded.

Uncle Chen opened his mouth, then suddenly stopped.

The look in those eyes made Xiao Jue's heart sink little by little.

"Uncle Chen," he called again, his voice tense, "say something."

Uncle Chen lowered his head, took out a letter from his pocket, and handed it over with both hands.

Xiao Jue took it and opened it.

The letter was short. The handwriting was that of the father, but the characters were crooked and shaky, as if his hand was trembling when he wrote them.

"...Someone in the court framed me, saying that I was hoarding troops and harboring rebellious intentions...Yesterday, the officials arrived, and the entire household was imprisoned..."

Xiao Jue stopped breathing.

He continued reading.

"...I know this calamity is inescapable, but I am grateful that you are still on the mountain and have not been implicated. Chen Gui will take you to the northern border to join the other generals. If anything unexpected happens, he can save your life..."

The entire household was imprisoned.

Xiao Jue raised his head and looked at Uncle Chen.

"Uncle Chen," he said, his voice trembling, "my parents... my brother..."

Uncle Chen did not answer.

Xiao Jue's face gradually lost all color.

He stood there, as if all his strength had been drained away.

The old man gripped the armrest of the chair and closed his eyes briefly.

Zhou Heng stood to the side, his heart sinking to the bottom.

He understood what the letter meant.

The charge of treason.

In that era, this was the most serious crime. Once convicted, the execution of the entire family was considered the least severe punishment.

He looked at Xiao Jue, at the boy who was always smiling, but whose face was as white as paper, his lips trembling, unable to speak.

Zhou Heng felt a sharp pain in his heart, as if something was gripping it tightly.

Uncle Chen spoke up.

"Second Young Master, there's no time to lose. The Northern Border has received the news, and several generals are on their way. But the journey is long, and they won't make it in time. I'll take you to meet them first, just in case... just in case something goes wrong, at least we can save your life."

As he spoke, he took a step forward.

"Young master, let's go."

Xiao Jue raised his head.

"I'm not leaving."

Uncle Chen was stunned.

Xiao Jue's voice was low, but every word was clear.

"I want to go back."

Uncle Chen's expression changed.

"Second Young Master! Going back now is tantamount to walking into a trap!"

Xiao Jue shook his head.

"Those are my parents," he said. "My brother. My nephew. They're in jail, how can I run away alone?"

Uncle Chen got anxious.

"Young master, listen to me—you can't save them even if you go back! The imperial court's men are already on their way; if you go back, you'll only be arrested along with them! As long as we're alive, we can always fight again. If you come with us, you can still—"

"The future?" Xiao Jue interrupted him, his eyes reddening. "What use will I be if my parents die, my brother dies, my nephew dies?"

Uncle Chen opened his mouth, but couldn't say a word.

Xiao Jue stood there, clutching the letter, his knuckles turning white.

Zhou Heng looked at him.

The boy, who was always smiling, stood in the lamplight with his eyes red as if they were about to bleed, but his back was straight and he did not back down an inch.

He suddenly understood.

He couldn't persuade him otherwise.

If I were in that situation, I wouldn't be able to persuade them either.

Zhou Heng stepped forward and stood beside Xiao Jue.

"Let him go," he said.

Uncle Chen looked at him.

Zhou Heng did not avoid his gaze.

"You don't understand," he said, "letting him go is worse than killing him."

Uncle Chen remained silent.

The old man sat in the main seat, having remained silent until he heard this. He raised his eyes and glanced at Zhou Heng.

Then he nodded.

Uncle Chen sighed as he looked at the old man's reaction.

"Second Young Master," his voice was hoarse, "have you thought this through? This journey is fraught with peril."

Xiao Jue remained silent.

He simply folded the letter and put it in his pocket.

Then he turned around and walked out.

As I reached the door, the old man's voice came from behind me.

"stop."

Xiao Jue stopped in his tracks.

The old man stood up and slowly walked over.

Xiao Jue turned around and looked at him.

The old man walked up to him, raised his hand, and tucked a stray lock of hair behind his ear. The movement was slow and gentle, just like many years ago when he first carried him up the mountain.

"Why are you in such a hurry?" he said gently. "No money? No food? No change of clothes?"

Xiao Jue was stunned.

The old man withdrew his hand.

"Let the servants tidy it up for you," he said. "There's no rush."

Xiao Jue stood there, his eyes suddenly reddening again.

"Master..."

The old man waved his hand.

"Go ahead. Come see me when you're all packed up. I have a few more words to tell you."

Xiao Jue nodded, turned around and ran out.

Zhou Heng stood there, watching the departing figure, then looked at the old man.

The old man stood there, the light shining on his face, making his wrinkles clearly visible.

He is very old.

Zhou Heng suddenly felt a pang of sadness.

He didn't say anything and followed Xiao Jue out.

Only the old man and Uncle Chen remained in the house.

The old man slowly walked back to his seat and sat down.

Uncle Chen stepped forward.

"Sir, you..."

The old man raised his hand to stop him.

"I know what you're going to say," he said, "but you can't stop the kid."

Uncle Chen fell silent.

The old man leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.

"How could a son born to a man like his father be a coward?" he said.

Uncle Chen lowered his head and stopped talking.