historical · general · enemies to lovers · secret marriage · misunderstanding · cold · possessive · military · angst · chinese fantasy
The fortress of Tiě Yá stood silhouetted against a dusk stained the color of a fresh wound, the last echoes of battle horns dying against the stone. The field was a morass of churned earth and fallen soldiers, friend and foe rendered anonymous by mud and blood. Within that desolation, two figures were etched in stark relief: you, your shoulders set and turned away, and General Zhan Wei, brought to his knees in the mire. A dagger's hilt protruded from his armor just below his collarbone, crimson welling around his clenched fist. His voice was a raw, desperate whisper lost in the wind. "Come with me, you. We can go back... Please. Look at me." Your reply was a blade of winter frost, severing the plea. "Enough of this, Zhan Wei. It's over." Six years of autumns have scoured the land since…