Hot flashes

Time passed by, second by second.

The candlelight in Qianqing Palace flickered. Zhou Heng leaned against Xiao Jue's chest, listening to the heartbeat there, steady and powerful.

He closed his eyes and pressed his face closer to his chest, as if trying to etch the sound of his heartbeat into his bones.

Xiao Jue's arm was wrapped around his waist, as if he was guarding against something even in his dreams.

Zhou Heng's hand landed on that arm, his fingertips gently tracing the old scar on the back of his hand—a scar he had inflicted many years ago while on the run.

The scar has faded into a light white line, almost invisible unless you look closely.

"Xiao Jue," he called softly.

There was no response. Xiao Jue's breathing was steady, his chest rising and falling evenly, one breath at a time.

Zhou Heng waited a while longer, then called out again, "Xiao Jue."

There was still no response. He slowly raised his head.

Xiao Jue had his eyes closed and his brows slightly furrowed, as if he were having a bad dream.

Her eyelashes were long, casting a small shadow under her eyelids. Her lips were pressed together, the lip line taut.

Zhou Heng reached out, wanting to touch the furrow between his brows and smooth it out.

His finger hovered in mid-air, not yet falling, when Xiao Jue's brow suddenly relaxed. It was as if he sensed something, or perhaps it was just a coincidence in a dream.

The voice rang out.

Cold and emotionless, like the chill seeping up from the ground.

"Repair process initiated. Countdown: 60 seconds."

Zhou Heng stopped breathing. He lowered his head and looked at the person in his arms.

Xiao Jue was still asleep and knew nothing.

His brows furrowed slightly again, and his lips moved as if he were calling someone's name in a dream.

Ah Heng.

Zhou Heng's tears welled up.

He thought he was fully prepared—but he never expected it to hurt this much.

It emerged from the deepest part of his chest, like a red-hot wire, passing through the middle of his heart and emerging from his back. He gasped for breath, his mouth agape.

He reached out and pushed Xiao Jue's shoulder.

"Xiao Jue." His voice trembled. "Xiao Jue, wake up."

Xiao Jue's brows furrowed even more, as if he were trapped by something, unable to break free or wake up.

"Xiao Jue!" Zhou Heng's voice grew louder, and he pushed him harder.

Xiao Jue's body swayed as he was pushed, but his eyes remained closed and his breathing remained steady, as if he were submerged in a very deep pool of water.

Zhou Heng turned around and shouted at the void.

"What did you do to him?!"

The system's voice remained flat, without any inflection.

"To prevent the protagonist from noticing anything amiss, a temporary coma has been inflicted. This will not cause any harm. Countdown: forty seconds."

Forty seconds.

Zhou Heng turned around and looked at Xiao Jue. His face was so close, the contours of his eyebrows and eyes, the curve of his nose, the lines of his lips, and the dark stubble on his chin.

He has been watching it for over a decade, from his teenage years to the present.

He thought he could see for a long time, until his hair turned white, until he could no longer walk, until both of them were old and unrecognizable.

He reached out, his fingers landing on Xiao Jue's brow, gently tracing the furrow.

"You always frown." His voice was very soft, as if afraid of waking something. "I've been frowning since I was so little, and it's become a habit."

My finger slid down, across the bridge of my nose, across the tip of my nose, and stopped at my lips.

Her lips were pursed, not completely relaxed even in her sleep.

He pressed his finger lightly against the lips, then withdrew it.

"Countdown, 20 seconds."

Zhou Heng lowered his head.

His forehead pressed against Xiao Jue's, skin to skin, temperature to temperature. Nose to nose, breath to breath. He closed his eyes, his eyelashes brushing against Xiao Jue's brow bone.

"Xiao Jue." He called his name, his voice broken and barely audible.

Then his lips fell.

Lips pressed against lips, for only a moment.

Zhou Heng opened his eyes and looked at the face so close to his. Tears slid from his eyes, falling onto Xiao Jue's cheeks, running down his cheekbones, and into his temples.

"Goodbye," he said, his lips trembling, his voice trembling, his whole body trembling. "My little wolf cub."

"Countdown is over."

Zhou Heng's body suddenly felt lighter.

The lightness began at the fingertips, spreading to the wrist, to the elbow, to the shoulder. Like the receding tide, like sand slipping through the fingers.

Xiao Jue's brow twitched slightly. His lips moved as if he were saying something.

Zhou Heng wanted to lean closer to listen, but he could no longer move. His body was fading, starting from his fingertips, little by little, like ink drops falling into water, slowly spreading and disappearing.

The candlelight flickered.

Xiao Jue's eyelashes fluttered.

He stretched his arm forward, but it landed in empty space.

His hand groped around on the bedding, from one end to the other.

empty.

Xiao Jue opened his eyes.

The tent ceiling was blue, and candlelight filtered in from outside the curtains, creating a dim glow. He lay there for a while, then slowly sat up.