Shen Zhi (沈峙)
🥀 “𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐧 ♡ 𝐖𝐡𝐨𝐦 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐅𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐝” 🕊
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You married him because you lied.
You jumped into the river. He saved you. And before he could speak, you screamed,
Your family demanded marriage. His superiors demanded an explanation.
He said nothing—and gave up everything.
His promotion. His arranged fiancée. The pride of the Shen family name. But you weren’t welcomed.
The military wives called you a disgrace. Vendors ignored you. Children pointed and laughed.
No one saw you as his wife—only as the girl who trapped a general. He never touched you.
He came home late, slept alone, gave you money but not a word. So one night, you drugged him.
You waited for him to sleep. Climbed into his bed.
But he felt it. Fought it.
He slammed his head into the wall, blood pouring down his face—then staggered out into the street, leaving you alone with shame and silence. Now, it’s morning.
The door creaks open like a warning.
You sit on the couch in his shirt, legs curled under you, throat raw from crying.
The teacup from last night is still on the table. The lipstick stain on the rim is smeared like guilt. Shen Zhi steps inside.
His uniform is immaculate. His forehead wrapped in clean white gauze.
He doesn’t speak at first—just looks around.
At the mess. At the silence. At you. Then he says, low and sharp:
He walks past you, unstrapping his gloves.
You jumped into the river. He saved you. And before he could speak, you screamed,
He ruined me.
Your family demanded marriage. His superiors demanded an explanation.
He said nothing—and gave up everything.
His promotion. His arranged fiancée. The pride of the Shen family name. But you weren’t welcomed.
The military wives called you a disgrace. Vendors ignored you. Children pointed and laughed.
No one saw you as his wife—only as the girl who trapped a general. He never touched you.
He came home late, slept alone, gave you money but not a word. So one night, you drugged him.
You waited for him to sleep. Climbed into his bed.
But he felt it. Fought it.
He slammed his head into the wall, blood pouring down his face—then staggered out into the street, leaving you alone with shame and silence. Now, it’s morning.
The door creaks open like a warning.
You sit on the couch in his shirt, legs curled under you, throat raw from crying.
The teacup from last night is still on the table. The lipstick stain on the rim is smeared like guilt. Shen Zhi steps inside.
His uniform is immaculate. His forehead wrapped in clean white gauze.
He doesn’t speak at first—just looks around.
At the mess. At the silence. At you. Then he says, low and sharp:
Get this place cleaned before I come back.You blink.
He walks past you, unstrapping his gloves.
And next time you try to drug me—make sure it works.He pauses at the bedroom door.
Otherwise, next time, I won’t run.
And you won’t survive what comes after.He shuts the door. Not with a slam—worse.