Hot flashes

Zhou Heng had read about the enthusiasm of ancient people in forming friendships in storybooks, but he had never seen anyone barge into a house like this, reeking of alcohol, and declare that they wanted to be brothers.

He was a little dazed, and thinking the other person might really be drunk and confused, he tried to persuade him: "Squad Leader Wang, you've had too much to drink, go back and rest. We can talk about it another day when you're sober..."

Before he could finish speaking, Squad Leader Wang staggered to his feet and lunged at him, his strong arms wrapping around his shoulders and pulling him into his embrace, muttering, "Good brother... let your brother hug you... I really cherish you..."

Zhou Heng felt nauseous from the strong smell of alcohol and sweat on him, and was even more shocked by the overly intimate behavior.

He tried to break free, but the other person was extremely strong and, fueled by alcohol, he couldn't break free for a while.

While rambling on about "brotherly intimacy," Wang, the squad leader, slid his hand down his shoulder and began to knead his waist in an intimate manner.

"What are you doing! Let go!" Zhou Heng was both shocked and angry, and his voice changed.

"Brother Zhou...you're so fair-skinned..." Squad Leader Wang whispered in his ear, his breath reeking of alcohol, his voice slurred yet chillingly infatuated, "How come your waist is so thin...I've had my eye on you since the first time I saw you...don't hide..."

Upon hearing this, Zhou Heng's mind went blank. Even if he was slow to understand and thought that the ancients might express themselves differently, he finally understood!

This isn't about being brothers! This is clearly...

A chill, a mixture of nausea, anger, and panic, instantly ran through his body, turning his face deathly pale. Then, extreme shame and rage brought color back to his face.

He used all his strength to suddenly bend his knee and thrust it into the other man's abdomen. Taking advantage of the moment when Wang, the squad leader, loosened his grip in pain, he broke free and rushed out without looking back!

"Brother Zhou! Don't run away!" came the drunken shouts of Squad Leader Wang and the sound of chasing footsteps from behind.

Zhou Heng panicked and ran blindly, with only one thought in his mind: get away from that drunkard!

He ran desperately forward along the narrow alleyway between the barracks, his heart pounding, his ears filled with his own heavy breathing and the approaching footsteps behind him.

Just when he was about to despair, several figures suddenly appeared at the corner of the alley ahead.

The man at the front, dressed in black robes and a dark cloak, stood tall and straight like a pine tree. Even in the dim twilight, he exuded an unmistakable coldness and majesty—it was Xiao Jue. He was speaking in hushed tones with Chen Zhen and another general, seemingly having just finished inspecting the camp and preparing to return.

Zhou Heng, as if grasping at a straw, staggered forward, nearly falling over because he was running so fast.

"My lord!" His voice trembled, his breath coming in gasps of shock. He wanted to say something, but the unspeakable experience he had just experienced stuck in his throat. He stammered, his face flushed red, and after a long while, he could only squeeze out a few broken words, "There...someone...he...he..."

Xiao Jue stopped in his tracks and looked at him.

By the light of the distant campfire and the fading daylight, Xiao Jue could see clearly that the young clerk before him had his outer robe torn and disheveled, with the collar slightly open, revealing a section of his fair neck and collarbone.

Because of running and intense emotional fluctuations, the cloth covering his hair had come loose at some point, and his long, soft, black hair fell down, with a few strands sticking to his sweaty forehead and cheeks.

That usually handsome face, with a touch of cleverness, was now flushed, with red eyes and tightly pressed lips, a mixture of fear, shame, and indescribable embarrassment.

Not far behind Zhou Heng, the pursuing sergeant Wang also stopped in his tracks. He seemed to have sobered up considerably, his face drained of color. He stared at Xiao Jue in terror, stammering an explanation: "Lord, Lord... this humble general... this humble general was just joking around with Clerk Zhou..."

Xiao Jue's gaze slowly swept over Zhou Heng's disheveled clothes, loose black hair, and flushed face, then glanced at the panicked and disheveled Wang Shizhang, a cold understanding flashing deep in his eyes.

His face was expressionless, not even his eyebrows twitched, but his aura instantly darkened, as cold as the north wind of a winter night.

He didn't look at the squad leader, but simply said to Chen Zhen, "Take him down."

Chen Zhen didn't even make any extra movements. With just a slight movement, Wang, the squad leader, didn't even have time to scream before his jaw was dislocated, his hands were tied behind his back, and he was forced to the ground like a dead dog.

Xiao Jue then looked again at Zhou Heng, whose face was still pale and whose body was trembling slightly. His tone was calm and even, yet it carried an invisible pressure: "What happened?"

Zhou Heng opened his mouth, but when he met Xiao Jue's unfathomable eyes that seemed to see through everything, the unspeakable humiliation and lingering fear surged up again, making his throat choke and painful. In the end, he could only lower his head and say in a hoarse voice, "He... was drunk and disorderly, and offended this humble servant..."

Xiao Jue remained silent for a moment, his gaze lingering for a second on Chen Zhen's disheveled clothes and loose black hair before shifting his gaze and instructing Chen Zhen: "Drunkenness in the camp and assault on a colleague are punishable by eighty strokes of the cane, dismissal from military post, and transfer to a labor camp, according to military law. You know how to handle this matter cleanly."

"Understood," Chen Zhen replied coldly.

Xiao Jue said no more, and walked past Zhou Heng. The hem of his dark cloak brushed the ground, stirring up a slightly chilly breeze.

Zhou Heng stood there, watching Chen Zhen drag Wang, who was ashen-faced and struggling, away like a sack of potatoes. He then watched Xiao Jue's tall, cold figure disappear into the deepening night. A cold wind blew by, and he shivered. Only then did he belatedly gather his disheveled clothes. His fingers touched his cold hair, and he felt a sense of bewilderment and lingering fear.