Restlessness

Xiao Jue suddenly opened his eyes.

The room was pitch black, with only a faint, pale light from the snow filtering through the window. His chest heaved, his breathing unusually heavy in the silence, and cold sweat beaded on his forehead, sliding down his temples and disappearing into his hair.

Beneath him... was a complete mess.

He remained supine, not getting up immediately. In the darkness, those eyes, which were always sharp and cold, now resembled a stagnant, icy pool, with unfathomable undercurrents surging within.

In the darkness where no one could see him, the usual cold, hard lines on his face showed a very subtle, almost crack-like stiffness.

The images from the dream still linger in my mind, every detail so vivid it's chilling.

Zhou Heng's terrified eyes, pale skin, fragile neck, and that... feeling of complete control and wanton invasion.

This is not him.

At least, it's not something Xiao Jue would do or have thoughts about when he's sober.

He had never had such concrete, such...unbearable desires for anyone.

In the silence, he slowly sat up, the rustling of fabric against fabric echoing in the darkness. He didn't light a lamp, but by the dim light from the window, he glanced at the disheveled bed beneath him, his eyes growing even darker.

A mixture of shock, anger, astonishment, and a hint of restlessness that even he himself was unaware of spread silently through his chest.

He thought of Zhou Heng. The clerk who was terrified in the mine tunnel but still thought of saving him; the subordinate who could always find the key points in piles of documents; the young man who became more cautious and low-key after receiving a reward, almost shrinking into a shadow.

It was that man, with fair skin and delicate features, who stood out in the military camp and even attracted unwanted attention...

Xiao Jue raised his hand and pressed hard on his throbbing temples.

The absurdity of the dream and the physical reaction it evoked made him feel an unprecedented sense of loss of control. This feeling was more unsettling than facing a vast army or a conspiracy.

Before dawn, he got up. His movements were heavier than usual, carrying an invisible sense of oppression.

Washing my face with cold water, the chill was biting, but it failed to completely dispel the inexplicable restlessness in my heart.

At the morning meeting, the generals arrived one after another. Xiao Jue sat in the main seat, listening to reports from all sides and issuing orders, just like any other day.

But his gaze seemed colder than usual, and the oppressive atmosphere around him made people afraid to breathe loudly.

When Zhou Heng bowed his head and respectfully presented the summary of the emergency military intelligence from the previous night, Xiao Jue reached out to take it.

Their fingertips inevitably touched for an extremely brief moment.

Zhou Heng's hands were icy cold, bearing the thin calluses from years of holding a pen. Xiao Jue's fingertips were warm and dry, with the roughness characteristic of someone who practices martial arts.

With just a moment of contact, Zhou Heng quickly withdrew his hand as if he had been burned, and lowered his head even further.

Xiao Jue held the document in his hand, yet his fingertips seemed to still retain the icy touch that had separated them so quickly.

He raised his eyes, his gaze falling on the small section of Zhou Heng's lowered neck that was exposed. The pale skin in his dream, the trembling curve under the moonlight, overlapped with reality.

His Adam's apple bobbed almost imperceptibly, his eyes suddenly darkened, then returned to a deep, unfathomable pool of cold water.

"Go down." His voice was lower and hoarse than usual, with a hint of tension that was barely perceptible.

Zhou Heng felt as if he had been granted a pardon and bowed as he withdrew.

Xiao Jue watched the slightly thin, blue-clad figure hurry away until it disappeared beyond the curtain before slowly withdrawing his gaze.

He unconsciously clenched the document in his hand, leaving a few fine creases.

He refocused his attention on the military affairs at hand, his face as cold and hard as iron.

For several nights in a row, similar dreams disturbed Xiao Jue's sleep in different forms.

Sometimes it's the bloody entanglement in the dimly lit mine tunnels, sometimes it's the messy documents and disheveled clothes under the flickering candlelight in the study, and sometimes it's just the repetition of the trembling curve of that fair nape in the moonlight.

Each time he woke up, the ground beneath him was icy cold, a reminder of his uncontrollable physiological response and the vivid image of Zhou Heng in his dreams.

Anxiety, like a persistent boil, spread through Xiao Jue's cold and hardened mind.

He tried to attribute it to heavy military duties, excessive pressure, or normal desires that had not been relieved for a long time.

However, whenever he saw Zhou Heng's handsome, quiet face with a cautious expression, an inexplicable restlessness would surge up uncontrollably, intertwining with fragments of his dream and disturbing his peace of mind.

This wasn't like him. Xiao Jue abhorred anything out of control, whether it was the war situation, people's hearts, or... his own desires.

He needs to solve this problem in the most direct and logical way.

That afternoon, after processing a batch of urgent military reports, Xiao Jue kept Chen Zhen behind. The crackling of the charcoal fire in the study illuminated his expressionless face.

"Chen Zhen," Xiao Jue said, his voice as calm as ever, revealing no emotion.

"My lord," Chen Zhen bowed.

Xiao Jue's gaze fell into the void, his fingertips unconsciously stroking the edge of the cold paperweight. After a moment's pause, he said in a tone as casual as if discussing the weather or military supplies, "Go, find a few clean women."

Chen Zhen suddenly raised his head, a rare blankness appearing on his usually calm and composed face. He even wondered if he had misheard due to exhaustion from the past few days.

Lord Marquis... wants a woman? In this military camp on the front lines in Wuwei?

Since he began following Xiao Jue, whether at the Beiliang residence or on military campaigns, he had never seen the Marquis show any particular interest in women, let alone make such a request while the war was not yet over and military affairs were numerous and complex.

"Lord Marquis?" Chen Zhen couldn't help but ask, his voice filled with disbelief and hesitation.

Xiao Jue lifted his eyelids and glanced at him. His gaze was still cold, but it seemed to hold a hint of melancholy that was less noticeable than usual. "Do I need to repeat myself a second time?" His tone was still calm, but it carried an undeniable pressure.

Chen Zhen's heart skipped a beat, and he immediately lowered his head: "Understood! I will do it right away!" He dared not ask any more questions and quickly retreated, but his heart was filled with turmoil.

Given Xiao Jue's status, even in the military camp, finding a few women wouldn't be difficult.

Chen Zhen was extremely efficient; in just two hours, he brought three carefully selected women to the outer room of Xiao Jue's temporary residence.

These women were not camp prostitutes, but rather respectable women from nearby towns, with good family backgrounds and beautiful appearances. Some were women from good families who had fallen on hard times due to the war and had come here voluntarily in exchange for shelter and money. Their identities had been verified by reliable people to ensure they were clean and law-abiding.

Chen Zhen brought the man to the door and said in a low voice, "My lord, the man has been brought." He then stepped back outside the door with his hands at his sides and stood at attention as he usually did when he was on guard duty.

Xiao Jue came out of the inner room. He had changed out of his daytime military uniform and was now wearing a dark undergarment with a loose, dark robe over it. His hair was loose and casually draped over his shoulders, which made his face look even more stern and his eyes more profound.

The three women had already received instructions, and when they saw the person in charge come out, they quickly curtsied and bowed, their postures submissive.

They each possessed unique beauty, some delicate and pretty, others all alluring. At this moment, they all bowed their heads, revealing their slender necks, awaiting the judgment of fate.

Xiao Jue's gaze swept over them indifferently. They were indeed clean, and their clothes were decent, not overly revealing. But he frowned almost immediately.

The air was filled with an overly sweet, powdery scent, mixed with the unique warmth of a woman's body. It was completely different from the rust, sweat, and dust that permeated the military camp year-round, and its pungent smell made him feel displeased.

The fragrance tried to mask something, yet it was pervasive, reminding him of something superficial and pretentious.

"Raise your head," he said, his voice devoid of emotion.

The three women looked up as instructed, timidly gazing at him with fear, curiosity, and perhaps a sliver of hope of clinging to him.

They tried to make themselves look more gentle and lovable, and their eyes unconsciously carried a seductive quality.

One of the bolder ones even slightly adjusted her posture, making her thin spring shirt fit her body curves more snugly.

Xiao Jue's brows furrowed even more deeply, almost enough to trap a fly.

He looked at their deliberately posed postures, at the impure light shimmering in their eyes, and at their cheeks that were slightly flushed with nervousness or anticipation.

It didn't move me at all. On the contrary, a deeper sense of irritation and a vague sense of disgust rose from the bottom of my heart.

Too deliberate. Too fake. Too...wrong.

What was wrong with it? Xiao Jue himself couldn't explain it.

He felt that these carefully prepared "antidotes" not only failed to quell the nameless anger in his heart, but instead, like water being poured into a hot oil pan, they sizzled and aroused even stronger rejection.

What he wanted... or rather, what appeared in his dream, was something completely different.

It was the frightened yet clear eyes in the darkness of the mine tunnel, the lips pursed carefully behind the pile of documents, the fingers red from the cold in the duty room yet still nimbly recording, and that section of fair neck that looked fragile yet... alluring under the moonlight.

It wasn't these strange women with makeup on and striking standard seductive poses.

"My lord..." The slightly bolder woman, seeing that he remained silent for a long time and only stared intently at them, felt uneasy yet still held onto a sliver of hope. She tried to take a small step forward, her voice soft and sweet, with a deliberate air of coquetry, "Let this servant serve you..."

She didn't finish her sentence.

Xiao Jue abruptly averted his gaze, as if even a glance was tainting his being. He turned away from them, his voice icy cold, devoid of any warmth, filled with unmistakable disgust:

"Chen Zhen".

Chen Zhen, who was guarding outside the door, immediately pushed it open and entered: "My Lord?"

"Take them out." Xiao Jue's voice was firm and decisive, leaving no room for negotiation. "Immediately. Get them all out."

Chen Zhen immediately replied, "Yes!" Then, he coldly said to the three women who had turned pale and were at a loss, "Please, ladies."

The women had never seen anything like this before. They were so frightened that they forgot to take their leave and were "invited" out by Chen Zhen without any room for argument. Soon, the outside room returned to silence, with only the unpleasant scent of cosmetics stubbornly lingering in the air.

Xiao Jue stood still, his back straight as a pine tree, yet with an invisible stiffness about him.

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and tried to dispel the nauseatingly sweet smell from his nose and the growing, unvented irritation in his heart.

It seems that it's not simply a matter of unfulfilled desires.

The problem seems to lie with that clerk named Zhou Heng.

This realization made Xiao Jue's expression even more obscure.

He opened his eyes, a complex mix of emotions surging deep within them—coldness, scrutiny, and a hint of something he himself didn't fully understand…interest, or rather, trouble.

He walked to the window, pushed it open, and let the biting cold wind rush in, dispersing the stuffy air in the room and trying to cool down his somewhat out-of-control emotions.

Outside the window, the sky was gradually darkening, and scattered lights appeared on the walls of Wuwei.

The source of all this chaos is probably in his humble duty room right now, diligently sorting through an endless stream of documents by the dim light of an oil lamp.

Xiao Jue gazed at the deep twilight, his fingers slowly tightening on the cold window frame.