Awkwardness

The following evening, Zhou Heng returned from the outer study with slightly heavy steps, his mind still lingering on the details of the Qi King's troop movements that Xiao Jue had discussed with Mr. Du and General Zhao during the day.

He lifted the tent flap, and a wave of warmth washed over him. His gaze instinctively swept first to his corner against the wall, then he suddenly stopped, a look of surprise crossing his face.

His simple yet always stable folding chair had now collapsed in one corner.

It wasn't just a simple tilt; a key tenon supporting the bed frame had completely broken, causing half of the bed to collapse at an angle, with the neatly folded bedding slid awkwardly to the ground and piled up next to the broken wooden frame.

"This...?" Zhou Heng took a few steps forward, squatted down, and carefully examined the broken edge. The wood was dry, and the broken piece was brand new, as if it had suddenly borne an undue weight or force.

But it was fine when I slept last night... Could it be that someone accidentally broke it while I wasn't there during the day? No, that doesn't make sense either. Although this folding chair isn't very sturdy, ordinary collisions shouldn't cause the mortise and tenon joints to break at the root.

Just as he was racking his brains trying to figure it out, the curtains moved slightly, and Xiao Jue lifted the curtains and walked in, bringing with him the chilly air from outside.

He took off his cloak and casually hung it aside, his gaze falling on the sunken Hu bed.

"It's broken?" Xiao Jue's tone was flat, revealing no emotion, only his brows furrowed slightly.

"Yes, Lord Marquis." Zhou Heng quickly stood up and reported with some helplessness, "I don't know why, but the mortise and tenon joint suddenly broke. Perhaps the wood is old..."

Xiao Jue approached, glanced down at the broken section, but didn't examine it closely. He simply said, "You certainly know how to pick your time. We'll make do tonight, and have a craftsman fix it tomorrow."

Zhou Heng didn't dare go back to his own room to sleep, and brazenly said, "This humble general can just lay some bedding on the ground, so as not to disturb the Marquis."

Upon hearing this, Xiao Jue looked up at him, his deep eyes appearing particularly somber in the dim light of the tent: "The ground is chilly; how can you handle military affairs if you catch a cold?" His tone was calm, yet carried an undeniable force. "My bed is spacious enough to accommodate many people."

Zhou Heng's scalp tightened, and he instinctively wanted to politely decline: "My lord, this... is really against the rules, how could this humble general..."

"Rules?" Xiao Jue interrupted him, a barely perceptible twitch at the corner of his mouth. "Why so many pretentious rules in the army? We're all men; it's common for comrades to sleep side-by-side. Or perhaps," he paused, his gaze falling on Zhou Heng's unconsciously flushed ears, "that Military Advisor Zhou finds it inconvenient to share a bed with me?"

"This humble general...this humble general was just afraid that my sleeping posture would disturb Your Highness." Zhou Heng finally managed to squeeze out a dry reason.

"It's alright." Xiao Jue stopped looking at him and turned to walk into the inner room. "This Marquis is not so easily disturbed. Get some rest; we have things to do tomorrow."

After saying that, he went inside, leaving Zhou Heng alone, staring blankly at the collapsed folding chair and that undeniable back view.

He looked down at the strange broken edge again, feeling that something was off. But Xiao Jue had already said so much, and if he refused again, it would really make him seem pretentious, coy, and scheming.

Zhou Heng sighed, resignedly bent down to pick up his bedding, and shuffled towards the inner room.

The charcoal fire inside was warmer, and the cool fragrance of pine and cypress seemed even stronger. Xiao Jue had already taken off his outer robe, wearing only his inner garment, and was sitting on one side of the main couch, holding a scroll of some unknown document in his hand.

The candlelight cast a warm glow on his profile, but it couldn't soften the sharpness between his brows.

Zhou Heng stood by the bed, holding the bedding, feeling like he didn't know what to do with his hands and feet.

"What are you standing there for?" Xiao Jue didn't even look up; his voice came from behind the book. "The outside is for you."

"...Yes." Zhou Heng forced himself to spread his bedding on the outside of the spacious main bed, his movements stiff as if he were setting up some kind of trap.

He took off his outer robe, leaving only his inner garment, and carefully lay down close to the edge of the bed, trying to keep as much distance as possible from the person on the inside, his body taut and straight.

The soft sound of a book closing came from beside him, and one of the candles was blown out, plunging the light into a sudden dimming. Then came the rustling of clothes, and Xiao Jue lay down.

Zhou Heng immediately closed his eyes, held his breath, and his senses involuntarily amplified, capturing every movement around him.

The man's presence was so strong that even from a distance, his steady breathing, his crisp aura, and even his invisible pressure made him tense.

Time flowed slowly in the silence. Just when Zhou Heng thought he would spend the night in this stiff silence, the person next to him seemed to turn over and face him.

An arm casually draped over, resting across the blanket at Zhou Heng's waist.

Zhou Heng froze, his breath catching in his throat. The arm, though separated by two thin blankets, was heavy and undeniably warm.

Is it... an unconscious movement while fast asleep? He dared not move, silently repeating to himself.

However, the owner of that arm didn't seem to be sleeping soundly. The arm moved slightly, not by moving away, but by sliding down a little, with the palm even touching Zhou Heng's crotch almost imperceptibly through the blanket.

Zhou Heng's scalp tingled, and he bit his tongue hard to keep himself from jumping up.

He squeezed his eyes shut, frantically chanting in his mind: An accident, it's all an accident, the Marquis is fast asleep, he doesn't know...

It felt like an eternity before the arm finally settled down, merely hanging loosely.

Zhou Heng's tense nerves relaxed slightly, and extreme fatigue finally overwhelmed him. His consciousness gradually blurred in the tug-of-war between tension and drowsiness, and he sank into a restless light sleep.

……

As dawn broke, the light inside the tent was dim.

Zhou Heng was awakened by the heat. He stirred groggily and immediately realized something was wrong—

Her back was pressed tightly against a firm, burning chest, the heat emanating from her thin undergarment.

An arm wrapped tightly around his waist, pulling him back into the embrace of the person behind him. This posture was far more intimate than the usual "comrades-in-arms".

What instantly brought him to his complete wits' end, and almost froze his blood, was...

Zhou Heng's mind went blank for a second, as if all the blood in his body rushed to his head, only to vanish completely in the next second, leaving behind only a cold stiffness and a resounding sense of shame.

He... Xiao Jue... that...

He understands. Men, when they wake up in the morning… it's normal.

Zhou Heng curled up his toes, his body stiff as a frozen stone, and dared not move an inch.

Wake him up? How do you even begin? Just thinking about it makes Zhou Heng want to dig a hole in the ground and disappear right there.

What if Xiao Jue was just unaware? Wouldn't my shouting make things awkward for both of us?

What if Xiao Jue gets angry? Will I even be able to live?

Not call out? Are we just going to put up with it like this?

He could only try to slow his breathing and pretend he was still asleep, but his body was honestly tense, every muscle screaming silently.

Fine beads of cold sweat trickled down his forehead, his heart pounded like a drum, and in the quiet morning, he almost doubted that the loud noise would be heard by the people behind him.

Xiao Jue's breathing remained steady and long, as if he were fast asleep.

The arms wrapped around his waist seemed to tighten slightly.

Zhou Heng abruptly closed his eyes, biting his lower lip hard to suppress the gasp that was about to escape from his throat.

My mind was a mess, with only a few pale, powerless words scrolling futilely: accident...men are all like this...he must be dreaming...hurry up...hurry up...

He stood stiff as a nailed specimen in the dim morning light.

Every second felt infinitely long, rendering the thin undergarment useless, and amplifying every tactile sensation to the point of near collapse.

He was completely unaware that the man behind him, who should have been "sleeping," had a barely perceptible, extremely satisfied smile curving his lips the moment his body suddenly stiffened and he held his breath.

The arms wrapped around his waist, palms pressed together, felt the slight trembling of his slender waist under extreme tension.