Hot flashes

Some time passed again during the "steady" days of copying documents at the Central Military Office.

Zhou Heng was like a pebble thrown into a deep pool; the ripples on the surface gradually subsided. He sank into the most inconspicuous corner of the document room, repeating mechanical labor.

Yet deep within his heart, the waters of his soul never truly calmed. He constantly paid close attention to every word and phrase in the documents he handled, like a vigilant animal sniffing out its surroundings.

His obsession with going home grew stronger each day, turning into an anxious wait—waiting for an opportunity that might bring him closer to Xiao Jue and prove that he was "useful".

The opportunity came unexpectedly, accompanied by a familiar, chilling premonition.

The atmosphere in the document room was noticeably different that day.

The people delivering official documents hurried back and forth, while Secretary Shen and several other senior clerks held a long discussion behind closed doors, and even Clerk He looked solemn.

While copying down a batch of orders to increase grain supplies, Zhou Heng keenly noticed several key place names and troop numbers—"Fukouxing", "Heishiling", "Vanguard Third Battalion", and "Central Army Valiant Cavalry".

These words, when put together, convey a sense of impending doom and impending storm.

That night, Zhou Heng curled up on the cramped bunk assigned to the clerk in the office, exhausted but unable to fall asleep. In the stillness of the night, the piece of white jade on his chest once again felt a faint warmth.

The dream arrived as expected, clearer and more urgent than ever before.

There was no lengthy narrative, only a few sharp, dagger-like images and sounds that pierced his consciousness:

The precipitous Fukouxing Gorge is flanked by mountains that resemble the fangs of monsters. An army bearing black banners with the character "Xiao" is marching through the narrow valley, the column stretched out in long lines. The sky is overcast.

On a high ground called "Black Stone Ridge" on one side of the canyon, a large number of people and horses were vaguely visible, their banners a mottled mix of colors, not in the style of the Northern Liang army. They were silent, their bows nocked, and logs and rocks piled up.

A violent explosion suddenly erupted in the middle of the army's ranks at the bottom of the valley! It wasn't an oil canister, but something far more intense—flames, thick smoke, and rubble shot skyward! The ranks were thrown into chaos instantly; horses trembled, and men were trampled. Almost simultaneously, arrows rained down from the high ground on both sides, and logs and rocks crashed down with deafening roars!

The black banner struggled to maintain its position amidst the chaos, but the central army seemed to be located slightly behind the epicenter of the explosion, resulting in heavy casualties among the guards. A blurry, tall black figure...

Zhou Heng instinctively felt that it was Xiao Jue.

He retreated rapidly under the desperate protection of his personal guards, his shoulder armor covered in a dark stain, it was hard to tell whether it was blood or dirt.

A deafening explosion, screams, shouts of battle, and a venomous, triumphant grin: "Xiao Jue! This is where you'll die!"

The final frame shows the Fukou Pass transformed into a massive wound, flowing with blood and fire.

The vanguard and central army of the Northern Liang army were separated and routed, suffering heavy casualties and retreating in disarray. A heavy sense of defeat, of utter despair, permeated the entire dream.

Following this, an even more turbulent undercurrent emerged in the imperial court: military generals questioned Xiao Jue's abilities, and civil officials attacked him for being "stubborn and reckless"... The shadow of defeat gnawed at Xiao Jue's prestige and power like a leech.

Zhou Heng suddenly woke up with a start, jumping up from his bunk. His heart was pounding like a drum, and cold sweat instantly soaked through his shirt.

His throat was filled with the smell of gunpowder and blood from his dream. He was breathing heavily, his fingers gripping the straw mat beneath him so tightly that his fingertips were icy cold.

Fukou Pass, Black Stone Ridge, explosion, ambush, retreat... every detail is so clear, carrying the unique realism of a nightmare.

The chain reaction of consequences triggered by that defeat subtly echoed the ending in his previous dream where Xiao Jue was ultimately betrayed and abandoned by everyone, and his ideals were destroyed.

Fear washed over me like ice water.

But then, a completely different, even more intense emotion suddenly surged up—opportunity!

Yes, it's dangerous, but it's also a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity!

He knew about the conspiracy beforehand, the ambush location, and the key tactics! If he could have warned Xiao Jue before the battle, he could have changed the outcome of this war…

What could better prove one's worth, better allow one to get closer to Xiao Jue, and even better bring one into his field of vision, becoming someone he needs to "pay attention to" or even "rely on"?

This thought sent shivers down Zhou Heng's spine.

He has to do something! He has to get the message up there!

But how could he deliver it? As a lowly clerk, he rarely even saw Secretary Shen. How could he possibly bypass all the checkpoints and deliver this warning, which concerned the life and death of the army and sounded like a dream, directly to Xiao Jue?

If things go wrong, before the message even gets through, you might be treated as a traitor who is disrupting morale and spreading rumors.

Time was running out! The sense of urgency in his dream told him that he didn't have much time left.

Zhou Heng forced himself to calm down, opened his eyes wide in the darkness, and his mind raced at an unprecedented speed.

Seeking an audience directly? That's a dead end. Going through Old Wu or Clerk He? They would never risk their lives for that, nor would they believe it.

We must come up with a roundabout way that can attract enough attention and is not too out of place with our identity.

His gaze swept across the shabby dwelling in the darkness, finally settling on his copying tools and a few sheets of cheap paper left over from the daytime.

An adventurous plan gradually took shape in his mind.