Hot flashes

As dusk fell, the secluded mountain stream behind the military camp was bathed in the orange glow of the setting sun, its murmuring waters carrying the lingering heat of the day.

Most of the soldiers had already washed up and returned to camp, and the surroundings were unusually quiet.

After confirming that no one was around, Zhou Heng quickly took off his clothes and stepped into the cool stream.

Since the incident involving Squad Leader Wang, he has developed a strong psychological aversion to such group activities, always deliberately avoiding peak hours and preferring to wait until it gets dark.

The cool water washed over his skin, bringing a sense of relaxation. He scooped up the water and haphazardly washed away the fatigue and dust that had accumulated from days of working at his desk.

Just as he bent down, and the sound of the water masked other subtle movements, he suddenly felt—not heard, but his skin instinctively sensed the disturbance of the water and the approach of another presence—that someone was silently approaching the water from his side and rear.

Zhou Heng stiffened, a fleeting thought flashing through his mind: "Anyone else here so late?" A sense of unease crept into his mind. He instinctively wanted to straighten up and turn around to check—

However, he didn't have time to make any effective response.

A hot, powerful hand, like an iron clamp, suddenly reached out from behind and grabbed his chin and half of his cheek, pulling him backward with irresistible force!

His back was suddenly slammed into a chest as hard as iron and burning hot, the impact making his lungs ache. All his cries of surprise were muffled in his throat by that large hand.

Immediately afterwards, another hand swiftly covered his eyes, the five fingers pressing hard, plunging him into complete darkness.

Was it a strip of cloth? Zhou Heng struggled in terror, his hands futilely clawing backward and kicking at the stream, but it was like a mayfly trying to shake a tree. The attacker's arms were like cast iron, holding him firmly in his embrace.

Then, carrying the scorching heat that even the mountain evening breeze couldn't dispel, a burning, undeniable kiss landed heavily on my lips.

It precisely pierced his lips, which were slightly parted in shock and still wet with the stream water.

"Ugh—!" Zhou Heng was terrified, his eyes widening in shock, though he couldn't see anything. Who the hell was this?! Another one?!

He twisted his body frantically, trying with all his might to break free, letting out a trapped beast-like whimper.

But the man's strength was terrifying enough to induce despair, easily suppressing all his resistance, and even effortlessly turning him around in his arms so that he was facing away from the attacker and towards the stream bank.

"Let me go! You... Ugh!" Zhou Heng's angry curse had just escaped his throat when it was blocked back by an even stronger restraint.

He felt the blindfold being quickly tightened, completely robbing him of his sight.

"You bastard! You beast! If you have the guts, tell me your name! I'll skin you alive!" Zhou Heng trembled with rage, cursing incoherently, his voice distorted by fear and fury.

His response was not words.

Zhou Heng froze instantly, and then an indescribable sense of shame and overwhelming rage surged to his head!

"You...you dare!" He was so angry he almost fainted, and struggled even more fiercely.

The attacker seemed quite satisfied with his reaction, even letting out a low, very soft chuckle from his chest, the breath brushing against Zhou Heng's damp nape and raising a few small goosebumps.

That person went even further.

Zhou Heng's angry curses turned into terrified screams.

The man clearly didn't intend to go all the way, but these things were enough to make Zhou Heng feel devastated and humiliated.

After an unknown amount of time, just when Zhou Heng felt he was about to suffocate or faint, the suffocating feeling suddenly eased.

The attacker withdrew without even making a loud splash.

Zhou Heng's legs were so weak that he couldn't stand up. He staggered forward and fell, choking on the icy stream water.

He frantically ripped off the blindfold—it was an ordinary dark cloth, with no discernible features. Before him lay only the stream, dyed golden-red by the setting sun, and the silent forest on the opposite bank; not a soul in sight.

He trembled like a leaf in the autumn wind, and scrambled ashore in a disheveled state. He didn't even have time to dry himself before hurriedly putting on his clothes.

Looking down, I saw that my whole body was covered with ambiguous red marks and fingerprints, and some places were even chafed raw, burning with pain.

A sharp, stinging pain shot through the skin of my thigh.

Shame, anger, fear, lingering dread... all sorts of emotions churned within him like ice water mixed with boiling oil.

He clenched his fists tightly, his nails digging deep into his palms, and looked around at the deserted stream bank, feeling a chill creep up from the soles of his feet.

It's happening again! Who is it?! How many of these despicable perverts are hiding in the military?!

He gritted his teeth, enduring the physical discomfort and nausea in his heart, and quickly fled from the stream.