Hot flashes

Consciousness struggles to break free from a lump of glutinous rice that has been repeatedly pounded, stretched, and baked.

When Zhou Heng opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was the familiar bluish-gray curtain above the tent, and the warm, gentle glow of the setting sun filtering in through the gaps.

He paused for two seconds, then tried to move his fingers. Thankfully, they obeyed. Next, he attempted to sit up in a more comfortable position—

"Ouch—oh my god!"

Halfway through the movement, a strong, familiar soreness came from my waist and abdomen, as if it were not muscles, but two lumps of dough that had been over-fermented and then mercilessly pounded.

Not to mention the dull pain coming from somewhere.

Although it wasn't as painful as he had imagined, its presence was extremely strong, reminding him that last night was definitely not a ridiculous dream.

Zhou Heng grimaced as he propped himself up and looked down to examine the "crime scene."

My body felt fairly clean, with only a few scattered light red marks, as if I had been accidentally bitten a few times by some large canine, which were slowly fading. Apart from the pervasive soreness, I didn't feel any other discomfort?

He turned his suspicious gaze to the low table beside the bed. A small, round, jade-white bottle stood quietly, next to a piece of fine white cotton cloth.

Fragments of memory flashed back—before his consciousness completely sank into a deep sleep, it seemed someone whispered in his burning ear, in a hoarse voice, "...There's medicine...apply it and you'll feel better tomorrow..."

So... it's all thanks to this stuff? An ancient version of a special soothing gel? Zhou Heng picked up the bottle, uncorked it, and sniffed it. A refreshing herbal scent, somewhat like mint mixed with cedar, smelled quite nice.

Wait, this tangy feeling...

...Why does this seem familiar?

It's a bit like...yes! Just like how I felt after waking up drunk in Xiao Jue's tent that time! At the time, he thought it was because the ancient bed was too hard, or because he was a bad drinker!

[At this point, I hope readers will remember our domain name: 202ᴋᴋs.ᴄᴏᴍ]

Slow!

A thunderclap shattered his chaotic mind!

The aches and pains after waking up from a drunken stupor...

No, perhaps more than that...

Who else but Xiao Jue could come and go freely in the military camp with that pervert who comes every night?

"boom--!"

Blood rushed to the top of my head instantly, then "whoosh," it all disappeared completely.

Zhou Heng sat on the bed, his face like a spilled palette, turning white, then red, then purple.

"I can't believe I'm only just realizing this now." His fists clenched so tightly they cracked; if anger had a physical form, there would probably be a hole in the roof of the tent by now.

Just then, the curtain was calmly lifted. Xiao Jue stepped inside.

He had changed into a dark blue cloud-patterned casual robe, his hair tied up with a jade crown, and his posture was upright. Apart from a faint, almost invisible look of weariness under his eyelids, he was still the dignified, profound, and extraordinary Marquis of Zhenbei.

She even thoughtfully held a bowl of steaming hot soup in her hand, which looked like a nourishing broth.

He saw Zhou Heng sitting stiffly, and that fascinating face. His steps paused almost imperceptibly, then he approached with a normal expression, his tone perfectly calm, even with a hint of concern: "Awake? How are you feeling? Are you still uncomfortable?" As he spoke, he naturally reached out and touched Zhou Heng's forehead.

"Get your claws off me!" Zhou Heng slapped away the hand with its distinct knuckles. The force of the movement aggravated his aching back, and he couldn't help but hiss. His momentum immediately weakened by three points, but the anger in his eyes burned even brighter.

He looked up, staring intently at Xiao Jue, all his usual timidity and awe vanished, his voice trembling with excitement:

"Xiao... Xiao Jue!" he called out by name, each word seemingly squeezed out through clenched teeth, "Confess! Did you... did you... did you... do ...

The last few words rolled on his tongue, burning his cheeks, but anger ultimately overwhelmed his shame. He steeled himself, closed his eyes, and uttered a shocking question:

"Did you sleep with me a long time ago?! Without my knowledge?!"

The tent was deathly silent.

A crack finally appeared on Xiao Jue's composed and concerned mask.

His thick eyelashes trembled very slightly, and his deep eyes flashed briefly before he slowly lowered his eyelids.

That drooping eye is something else!

That handsome face, usually as cold and sharp as a blade, exuding an overwhelming aura, now, with its lowered gaze, inexplicably revealed a hint of... loneliness? Innocence? And even a subtle... grievance?

Zhou Heng was stunned by this sudden "change of face".

When Xiao Jue looked up again, his eyes were filled with a frank confusion, mixed with a hint of sadness at being misunderstood.

His voice lowered, carrying an almost genuine doubt: "Aheng, why do you say that? How could I...?"

He paused, as if organizing his thoughts, then looked at Zhou Heng with focused and serious eyes, even raising one hand, his tone solemn as if making a vow: "Last night was indeed the first time." He emphasized, "I know you may be angry with me yesterday... for being too reckless."

He feigned just the right amount of annoyance, his brow furrowing slightly, and continued, "But you should also know that the wine at yesterday's banquet was tampered with. You drank too much, the effects of the drug were very strong, and... and you were so eager to seduce me."

He seemed somewhat embarrassed to say this, and his ears turned a barely perceptible red. "I...I am also made of flesh and blood. I couldn't control myself for a moment and caused you suffering. It is my fault."

His speech was logically clear and emotionally progressive: first, he firmly denied any prior record; then, he objectively described the effects of the drug and Zhou Heng's "enthusiasm"; and finally, he took the blame for his own "inability to control himself."

With a sincere attitude and expressive face, he perfectly portrayed a "gentleman who felt guilty for losing control due to an accident".

Zhou Heng's boiling anger seemed to have been doused with a small basin of warm water, and with a sizzle, his arrogance subsided by half.

The word "first time," especially, combined with Xiao Jue's "How could you think of me like that?" look, made the foundation of the "criminal accusation edifice" that had just been built in his heart begin to crumble.

Could it be... that I'm overthinking it?

Xiao Jue didn't give him much time to think.

His expression suddenly turned cold, and a chilling light flashed in his eyes: "This matter must not be let go. How dare they use such despicable means at a welcoming banquet."

"I have ordered Chen Zhen to conduct a thorough investigation and bring the person behind this to justice. They will be severely punished and given an explanation." His tone was resolute, displaying the anger befitting a leader.

Then, he changed the subject, his brows furrowing even more, a thoughtful look on his face, as if he were talking to himself, or as if he were analyzing with Zhou Heng: "However... the guards last night were extremely tight, especially when I was eating or drinking, Chen Zhen was almost never out of my sight."

How exactly did they manage to slip that medicine into my wine jug without anyone noticing? Someone must have seized upon an oversight, or used some secret method we don't yet know about...

As he spoke, his gaze slowly and thoughtfully swept across Zhou Heng's face.

Zhou Heng: "!!!"

A wave of overwhelming guilt instantly engulfed him! It was more turbulent than anger, more direct than shame!

His eyes began to dart around frantically, looking left and right at the blanket and the medicine bottle, but he dared not look into Xiao Jue's eyes, which seemed to see through everything.

Exactly! Who is Xiao Jue? He's a powerful and ruthless ruler, able to get whatever he wants. Why would he resort to underhanded and despicable means to do something unethical to him?

Pretending to be a flower thief? That's so beneath me! I must be under too much stress lately, having a paranoid episode, plus I was drugged into a daze yesterday, that's why I'm making such a ridiculous connection!

"Okay, okay, okay!" Zhou Heng hurriedly interrupted Xiao Jue's "case reasoning," his voice weak and filled with obvious panic and a forced attempt to save face. "It's enough that you know you're wrong! Investigating the case is your business, why are you nagging me! I, I have a headache!" He rubbed his temples, trying to brush it off.

Looking at his guilty and weak appearance, Xiao Jue's eyes were almost overflowing with laughter, but he forcibly suppressed it.

He readily agreed and stopped asking questions. Instead, he sat down beside the couch, handed over the bowl of soup, and spoke in an unprecedentedly gentle tone, even with a hint of coaxing:

"Yes, it's my fault." He admitted his mistake readily, then leaned slightly closer to Zhou Heng and whispered in a voice only the two of them could hear. His voice still held a hint of hoarseness from the previous night, yet it penetrated Zhou Heng's ears with exceptional clarity:

"Next time... I'll be more careful so you won't feel this bad again."

His breath brushed against my ear, carrying the crispness of the ointment and his own unique, heart-pounding scent.

Zhou Heng was still feeling dizzy from his guilty conscience, and upon hearing this promise-like statement, he subconsciously, vaguely, and with a slightly nasal tone, responded:

"……Um."

After he finished speaking, the air froze for three seconds.

Zhou Heng: "...?"

He suddenly turned his head, his eyes wide open, like a cat whose tail had been stepped on. His expression went from bewilderment to shock to disbelief, and finally to blankness.

Ok? ? ?

next time???

What next time?

Who made a promise with you about next time?!

Xiao Jue seemed oblivious to his near-collapse, simply reaching out and gently smoothing his disheveled hair, his movements as tender as if he were handling a fragile glass vessel.

"Drink the soup and rest a bit. There are military matters to discuss later; I'll have someone come and fetch you." With that, he turned and walked steadily away from the tent.

Zhou Heng was left petrified on the bed, holding the still-warm soup in his hand, his expression blank, as if his soul had left his body.