Hot flashes

The silence inside the tent gained weight, pressing heavily on Zhou Heng's heart.

The candlelight flickered restlessly, casting Xiao Jue's long, distorted shadow onto the tapestry, as if the wronged souls and bloodshed of the past were also swaying along with it.

Xiao Jue's calm, almost cold, self-analysis was like a chilling dagger, unexpectedly tearing open the heavy curtain of history and revealing the hideous, rotten truth behind it.

Zhou Heng felt a chill creep up his spine, rising from his tailbone. He opened his mouth, but his throat felt blocked.

He seemed to see with his own eyes the frozen border, and the wounded general who gave away all his wealth just to buy his soldiers a cotton coat to keep them warm.

When news of victory flew into the magnificent palace, it brought not rewards, but the venomous snakes of suspicion flicking their tongues.

I saw an upright military general roaring alone in the court, but his voice was easily drowned out.

Finally, there were towering flames, the cries of women and children, rolling heads, and the blood-stained eyes of a fourteen-year-old boy amidst a mountain of corpses and a sea of ​​blood.

Xiao Jue's gaze fell on his slightly trembling fingertips. He walked back to Zhou Heng, his tall figure blocking most of the candlelight, leaving Zhou Heng's face half-lit and half-shadowed.

"Cold?" Xiao Jue suddenly asked, his voice low.

Zhou Heng nodded subconsciously, then shook his head.

A robe, still warm from his body, gently fell onto his shoulder.

Xiao Jue's movements were not gentle, even somewhat stiff, as he adjusted his clothes, his fingertips inevitably brushing against the cold skin on his neck.

"These old stories," Xiao Jue did not immediately withdraw his hand, but instead placed it on the edge of the table behind Zhou Heng, forming a semi-enclosed, but not confining, posture, "there is no need to tell you about them."

His presence was close, carrying the familiar, cool scent of pine, yet strangely giving one a sense of stability.

"Then why did you say that?" Zhou Heng raised his head and looked into his deep, pool-like eyes, where the emotions were too complex for him to understand.

Xiao Jue was silent for a moment, seemingly choosing his words carefully. "Huo Yi is here," he finally said, each word clear and slow. "You're by my side; there are some things you should know."

He paused, his gaze sharp as he looked into Zhou Heng's eyes. "I don't want you to hear a distorted story from someone else, whether it's about my father, about Huo Yi, or... about me."

Zhou Heng's heart skipped a beat.

………………

Before dawn, Xiao Jue led his elite troops away from the camp. Their horses, their hooves wrapped in cloth and their mouths gagged, galloped swiftly, like a dark dagger silently drawn from its sheath, piercing the mist of Black Wind Valley.

He did not wake Zhou Heng, but paused for a moment by the bed before leaving, gazing at the sleeping face buried in the pillow, his brows slightly furrowed, in the fading darkness.

Her fingertips paused just before touching his warm cheek, and in the end she simply tucked the blanket around him before turning and disappearing into the biting morning wind outside the tent.

When Zhou Heng woke up, the bed beside him was empty, with only the lingering warmth and the faint scent of pine wood remaining. He sat up, wrapped in the covers. The tent was silent, with only the red glow of the remaining charcoal fire.

He stared blankly for a while, his fingertips unconsciously tracing the cool brocade quilt beside him, then he got up, his movements more deliberate than usual.

After finishing his preparations, Zhou Heng headed to the temporary government office in Yingyang City.

The streets were more orderly than in the previous days, vendors were opening their stalls one after another, and the bewilderment in the pedestrians' expressions had faded considerably. However, a new, subtle sense of tension permeated the air, a silence and busyness unique to the rear before a major battle was about to begin.

Inside the government office, Mr. Du was discussing matters with several of his remaining subordinates and several newly appointed officials from Yingyang. His desk was piled high with files on household registration, land, granaries, and lawsuits.

Upon seeing Zhou Heng enter, Mr. Du paused his conversation and nodded to him gently yet solemnly: "Secretary Zhou, you've come at the right time. Spring plowing is approaching, and there are countless matters to attend to, such as water conservancy repairs, distribution of grain seeds, and implementation of new tax regulations. Before his departure, the Marquis entrusted us with these matters, and we must all work together with one heart and one mind."

Zhou Heng composed himself, walked to sit down next to Mr. Du, and began to listen, take notes, ask questions, and add information.

His modern ideas about process optimization, data clarity, and clear responsibilities found a clumsy but practical foothold on this stage where everything was in ruins.

Disputes often arise, but Mr. Du often makes a decisive decision at crucial moments, either by adopting Zhou Heng's opinion or by finding a compromise, and his efficiency is surprisingly high.

At the end of the day, Zhou Heng's mouth was dry and his temples were throbbing, yet he also felt a strange sense of fulfillment.

Watching the resolutions become documents, stamped and issued; listening to the resolute steps of the subordinates as they left to carry out their orders;

He even resolved a long-standing land dispute, leaving the elderly farming couple deeply grateful... He truly grasped the essence of "governance"—rough, arduous, yet containing the power to change.

Upon returning to camp in the evening, Zhou Heng did not go back to the main tent, but instead went to a small study that had been prepared for him to continue checking the follow-up arrangements for the various decisions made that day.

As the candles were lit, Chen Zhen brought over dinner. He remained silent, but there was an extra small jar of herbal tea, supposedly prepared at Xiao Jue's request, to soothe the mind and improve eyesight.

In the stillness of the night, Zhou Heng was taking a nap at his desk when he vaguely heard a muffled thunderous sound rolling across the sky from a great distance outside the tent.

Was it the sound of the wind? Or... movement from the direction of Black Wind Valley? His heart tightened, and he was wide awake.

The following days were the same. During the day, I buried myself in endless administrative details, arguing, compromising, and pushing things forward with Mr. Du and his colleagues.

Alone at night, facing the solitary lamp, processing documents, listening to the distant howling wind and the cries of cranes, the string in my heart becomes tighter and tighter.

Meanwhile, news from the south began to seep in sporadically, carrying a chill.

The news that Huo Yi, at the age of seventy, had once again donned his armor and taken command of all the armies in the land had spread like wildfire.

They requisitioned provisions, assembled the few combat-ready troops from various regions, and even reinstated some long-marginalized old-school generals.

Although the actions appeared hasty and chaotic, the title of "General Huo Yi" itself acted like a shot in the arm, allowing the previously disorganized Southern Capital court to barely muster a tragic and heroic momentum for a counterattack.

What made Zhou Heng even more uneasy was that, as news of Huo Yi's army's imminent northward spread, some previously suppressed and subtle public opinions began to resurface in Yingyang and even within the Northern Liang-controlled area.

In teahouses and taverns, people began to whisper about "General Huo's loyalty and righteousness," "the court's righteousness and legitimacy," and even subtly mentioned the old stories of the Xiao family. Their tone was full of regret and criticism of Xiao Jue for being "ungrateful" and "insubordinate."

Although the improvement of governance and the gradual recovery of people's livelihood under the rule of Northern Liang were visible to the naked eye, the lingering influence of the concept of "loyalty to the emperor" that had existed for thousands of years still stubbornly grew in the hearts of some people.

"Secretary, there are rumors circulating in the market today that General Huo is a pillar of the nation and has come to mourn the people and punish the guilty," a minor official in charge of collecting public opinion reported to Zhou Heng in a low voice, his face full of worry.

Zhou Heng put down his pen and rubbed his temples. He recalled Xiao Jue's words—"Break through his 'name' and 'power'." Huo Yiren hadn't even arrived yet, but the pressure brought by his "name" was already ever-present.

"Understood," Zhou Heng said calmly. "There's no need to suppress it deliberately, but we need to compile the various measures the Marquis has taken in Yingyang, such as implementing new policies, reducing taxes, and handling long-standing grievances, into easy-to-understand messages so that more people can know about them."

In particular, this should be compared with the actions of the Southern Capital court in this area in previous years.