Hot flashes

When they crawled out of the secret passage behind the mountain, the entire Floating Cloud Manor had been burned to the ground.

Zhou Heng pulled Xiao Jue along, stumbling and running down the mountain. Behind them were the crackling sounds of wood exploding, the rumbling of beams collapsing, and the howling of the night wind whipping up flames.

Xiao Jue suddenly stopped.

Zhou Heng turned around and saw him standing there. He turned around and looked at the towering flames on the mountaintop.

The firelight dyed half the sky red. Thick black smoke billowed upwards, carrying sparks, as if something was struggling to crawl out of hell.

The mountain wind carried the sounds over—crackling explosions, the loud crash of something collapsing, faintly resembling a scream, yet not quite.

After a while, Xiao Jue turned around.

"Let's go."

They arrived at the abandoned Taoist temple.

Zhou Heng helped Xiao Jue inside.

Xiao Jue sat down on the stone bench.

Moonlight streamed through the dilapidated roof, falling on him and illuminating his pale face. He sat there, motionless, like a stone statue.

Zhou Heng rummaged through the Taoist temple and found several broken earthenware pots left over from before, as well as a usable tinderbox. He gathered some dry branches in the courtyard and started a small fire.

The firelight flickered, illuminating the small space a little brighter.

Zhou Heng rummaged through his bundle and pulled out the last two dry biscuits, broke them in half, and handed one to Xiao Jue.

Zhou Heng's hand hovered in mid-air. After a while, he placed the piece of cake on his lap.

Zhou Heng finished the pancake and swallowed the last crumb.

He looked up at Xiao Jue.

The face flickered in and out of the firelight. Its eyes were sunken, its lips cracked, and its face bore traces of mud and blood from who-knows-when. Its eyes stared fixedly at the fire, unmoving, as if its soul had been emptied.

Zhou Heng opened his mouth as if to say something, but then swallowed it back.

He stood up, rummaged through his bundle and pulled out an old garment, then walked over and draped it over Xiao Jue's shoulders.

They descended the mountain before dawn the next day.

Uncle Chen brought over two sets of old clothes and a piece of rag, and asked Zhou Heng to help Xiao Jue wrap his head and face.

The portraits are plastered everywhere.

On the walls of city gates, street corners, teahouses, and taverns, the paintings of Xiao Jue still retain a touch of boyish innocence.

They dared not take the main roads, choosing instead to venture into secluded alleys. They hid during the day and traveled at night. When thirsty, they drank well water; when hungry, they ate dry biscuits.

Three days later, they arrived at a checkpoint on the outskirts of the city.

The city gate was crowded with people. The officers and soldiers held up portraits and compared them one by one.

No one could escape, whether they were leaving or entering the city. The soldiers were investigating very thoroughly.

Zhou Heng and his group hid in an alley, watching the commotion at the city gate from afar.

Xiao Jue tightened the cloth covering his face even more.

Uncle Chen frowned and stared at it for a long time.

"This won't do," he said in a low voice. "The checks are too strict."

Zhou Heng noticed it too. The portraits of the officers and soldiers were posted on the wall, and everyone who passed by had to look up at them. They didn't dare to look up, but looking down only made them more conspicuous.

"Try another route?" Zhou Heng asked.

Uncle Chen shook his head.

"There is only one exit within a radius of dozens of miles. All other roads are guarded by soldiers and are impassable."

The three fell silent.

Xiao Jue suddenly spoke.

"Uncle Chen, take Zhou Heng with you."

Zhou Heng suddenly turned his head.

Xiao Jue's face remained expressionless.

"I'm alone, so I'm a small target. I'll take advantage of the darkness and go around through that woods. If I can get through, great; if not... I won't drag you down with me."

"Bullshit," Zhou Heng blurted out.

Xiao Jue was stunned for a moment.

Zhou Heng looked at him, his eyes red.

"What did you say?"

Xiao Jue opened his mouth, as if to say something.

Uncle Chen coughed beside him.

"Young Master Zhou is right," he said. "Second Young Master, please don't have such thoughts."

Xiao Jue lowered his head and said nothing more.

Another half hour passed.

Uncle Chen suddenly stood up.

"I'll distract them."

Zhou Heng was stunned.

Xiao Jue suddenly raised his head.

"Uncle Chen—"

"Listen to me," Uncle Chen interrupted him. "I'll ride my horse over there and make a big fuss to draw all these people away. You guys can slip out in the chaos."

"Once you leave the city, go north for thirty miles. There's a dilapidated temple there. Wait for me there for three days. If I don't arrive after three days, you can go on your own to the northern border."

Xiao Jue shook his head.

"no."

Uncle Chen looked at him.

"Second Young Master," he said, "the Marquis has been kind to me. My life belongs to your family. The Marquis entrusted you to me. If anything happens to you, I will not be able to face the Marquis."

Xiao Jue's eyes reddened.

"Uncle Chen—"

"Stop talking." Uncle Chen stood up and patted him on the shoulder.

The hand landed on Xiao Jue's shoulder and pressed down hard.

"Live well," he said.

Uncle Chen mounted his horse, squeezed his legs together, and charged off.

The sudden sound of hooves startled the soldiers at the city gate. They looked up and saw a fast horse charging straight towards them, aggressive and showing no sign of slowing down.

"stop!"

"Stop him!"

The officers and soldiers were in complete chaos.

Uncle Chen didn't stop. He spurred his horse and charged past the edge of the crowd like a black lightning bolt, galloping wildly in another direction.

"Chase!"

The soldiers rushed after them, and chaos erupted at the city gate.

Zhou Heng pulled Xiao Jue up.

"Walk!"

The two of them, heads bowed, mingled in the chaotic crowd, inching their way toward the city gate. Zhou Heng's heart was pounding, as if it were about to leap out of his throat.

Nobody was watching them.

All the officers and soldiers went after Uncle Chen.

Zhou Heng pulled Xiao Jue forward. They dared not run, for fear of attracting attention.

After walking quite a distance, Zhou Heng turned back.

Chaos still raged at the city gate, with figures moving about and shouts faintly drifting over.

They found the dilapidated temple, standing alone in the wilderness, drafty on all sides, with several holes in the roof. At least it provided some shelter from the wind.

They hid inside, waiting for Uncle Chen.

On the third night, Zhou Heng leaned against the wall and drifted off to sleep. Xiao Jue sat beside him, watching the night outside.

The moon rises and sets.

Its daybreak.

The third day passed.

Zhou Heng opened his eyes and saw Xiao Jue sitting there, in the same posture as last night.

Neither of them spoke.

Zhou Heng stood up, walked over to him, and sat down.

After a long while, Xiao Jue spoke.

"Let's go."

Zhou Heng didn't speak. He stood up and began packing his meager belongings. He rolled up the bundle and slung it over his shoulder.

The two left the dilapidated temple and headed north.