Hot flashes

After dealing with the initial and final issues in Wancheng, and allowing Han Lie's troops a few more days to thoroughly consolidate the city's defenses and appease the people, Xiao Jue's central army finally broke camp and left this land imbued with both tragedy and the spirit of new life, continuing southward.

Next stop, Yingyang.

Intelligence indicates that the garrison commander of Yingyang is a fence-sitter. After receiving the proclamation from Beiliang and news of the fall of Wancheng, his will to resist has wavered. The secret envoy he sent was evasive, wanting to negotiate terms but not daring to openly betray the court.

Xiao Jue had his own methods for dealing with this kind of character: a large army pressing in, plus sweet talk and bribery, usually enough to bring them down easily. The atmosphere on the march was much more relaxed than when they besieged Wancheng.

At night, the army set up camp sixty miles north of Yingyang. Inside the main tent, the lights were on, and Xiao Jue and several trusted generals discussed the specific pressure strategy after arriving in Yingyang the next day.

As a "senior clerk," Zhou Heng, as usual, listened in and took notes. The topic wasn't particularly heavy, and as he listened, the fatigue from marching all day came over him, and the warmth of the charcoal fire in the tent made him somewhat drowsy.

After finally enduring the meeting, the generals dispersed. Zhou Heng forced himself to stay awake, packed up his writing materials, and was about to sneak back to his small barracks to catch some sleep when Xiao Jue's voice came from behind: "Stay."

Zhou Heng sighed inwardly, resignedly turning around: "Does Your Excellency have any further instructions?"

Suddenly, I felt a chill on the back of my neck.

It was Xiao Jue's hand, which had somehow reached behind him, its fingers resting on the side of his neck, carrying the coolness of the night.

Zhou Heng jolted awake, his sleepiness vanishing almost entirely, and the tip of his pen poked a dot of ink on the paper.

"Tired?" Xiao Jue's voice was close to his ear, carrying a hint of languor, his breath brushing against his earlobe.

"No, no!" Zhou Heng said stiffly.

Xiao Jue gave a soft "hmm" but did not withdraw his hand. Instead, he leaned down slightly in this position, almost encircling Zhou Heng in his arms, and his gaze fell on the document that Zhou Heng was copying.

"Here, 'He is permitted to retain 300 private soldiers' has been changed to 'He is permitted to retain 200 personal guards, and the rest will be incorporated into the Northern Liang army.'"

He pointed, his finger lightly tapping the paper as he spoke, very close to Zhou Heng's hand holding the pen.

Zhou Heng was stiff all over, his nose filled with Xiao Jue's clean and refreshing scent, mixed with a hint of ink. He tried to ignore the presence coming from the side of his neck and the back of his head, and tremblingly made the changes according to the instructions.

Zhou Heng put down his pen: "My lord, it's all corrected."

"Hmm." Xiao Jue responded, but still did not move away. The hand that was resting on his neck began to slowly and meaningfully caress the skin on the back of his neck, the fingertips tracing the protrusion of his spine, bringing a subtle shiver.

Zhou Heng felt a chill run down his spine, sensing something was wrong. He tried to get up, saying, "Then... this humble general will take his leave..."

Before she could finish speaking, her waist tightened, and she was pulled backward by a strong force, landing heavily on Xiao Jue's lap, her back slamming into his solid chest.

"My lord!" Zhou Heng exclaimed, frantically trying to stand up.

Xiao Jue's arms wrapped around his waist like iron hoops, holding him firmly in his arms, while his other hand gripped his chin, forcing him to turn his head.

Then, a kiss with irresistible force landed on his lips, silencing all his unspoken protests.

This kiss was unlike the usual one, which always carried a hint of testing or punishment. Instead, it felt unusually urgent and deep, as if a long-suppressed desire had finally found an outlet.

They sucked and entangled, making sounds that made one blush.

Zhou Heng was so dizzy from the kiss that his head was buzzing from lack of oxygen, and his struggles seemed insignificant under absolute control.

Xiao Jue only stepped back slightly when he felt he was about to suffocate.

Xiao Jue's breathing was heavy, and a familiar dark fire burned deep in his eyes as he stared intently at Zhou Heng's face, which was flushed from lack of oxygen and embarrassment, and his moist, misty eyes.

"Lord, Lord Marquis... document... um!" Zhou Heng tried to distract himself with official business, but before he could finish speaking, his lips were sealed again.

This time, Xiao Jue was no longer satisfied with just kissing; his hands began to deftly untie Zhou Heng's belt.

Outer robes, inner garments... were quickly stripped off and carelessly thrown on the ground.

Although the charcoal fire inside the tent was warm on a spring night, the skin suddenly exposed to the air still developed a layer of fine particles.

Zhou Heng was both ashamed and anxious, but his body was firmly restrained and he could not move.

The last piece of clothing covering their bodies was also removed.

then……

Zhou Heng: "!!!"

He opened his eyes abruptly, staring incredulously at Xiao Jue's face, so close to his, filled with desire. What... what new trick is this now?!

"Do it yourself." Xiao Jue's voice was terribly hoarse, carrying both command and temptation, his hot breath brushing against his lips.

Zhou Heng's face turned so red it was almost bleeding, and his mind went completely blank.

...............

"Finally... it's over, right?" he thought groggily, too tired to keep his eyelids open.

However, she didn't loosen her grip on his arm. Xiao Jue's breathing remained heavy.

No way... again? Zhou Heng's heart skipped a beat, and an ominous premonition welled up inside him.

"Waaah..." Zhou Heng couldn't help but sob.

Xiao Jue's breathing became increasingly heavy.

He lowered his head, his kisses traveling up Zhou Heng's spine, finally landing on the back of his neck, gently nibbling at that sensitive skin.

Xiao Jue freed one hand, stroked Zhou Heng's face, and then kissed him.

She kissed his straight nose, then returned to his slightly swollen, rosy lips, as if she could never get enough of kissing him.

"Zhou Heng..." he whispered between his lips, his voice muffled, yet filled with an intense, possessive desire. "Call my name..."

Zhou Heng mumbled, still half-asleep: "Xiao... Xiao Jue..."

"Hmm." Xiao Jue seemed satisfied.

Zhou Heng nearly fainted.

Everything has finally calmed down.

Inside the tent, only the heavy, intertwined breathing of the two men and the occasional crackling of the charcoal fire remained.

Xiao Jue remained on top of him, not immediately pulling away, but instead holding him tightly in his arms, resting his chin on his sweaty shoulder, calming his breathing.

Zhou Heng lay sprawled on the couch like a lump of mud, too weak to even move a finger.

That pervert! If we don't let him do it for real, the others are getting more and more adventurous.

Her body was covered in hickeys and fingerprints, especially on her waist and inner thighs, a complete mess.

Xiao Jue seemed to have recovered. He loosened his arms, rolled over to lie down on one side, and casually pulled the blanket that had slipped off over to cover the two of them.

"We'll break camp tomorrow, so get some rest." Xiao Jue's voice was still slightly hoarse from the incident, but his tone had returned to its usual calmness, as if the person who had been fierce yet gentle and forced him to call his name just now wasn't him at all.

Zhou Heng: "..."

He silently rolled his eyes and resignedly closed them. Rest? He felt like his whole body had been taken apart and put back together; how could he possibly fall asleep!

Outside the tent, the footsteps of the night patrol soldiers rang out rhythmically, accompanied by the faint neighing of horses in the distance.