Shen Zhan · Conversa

The faint click of the key turning in the lock was almost drowned out by the rain beating against the window outside. You thought no one was home; Shen Zhan was away on a business trip and wasn't supposed to be back until the day after tomorrow at the earliest. The entryway light was off. You bent down to change your shoes, and just as you straightened up— A hand reached out from behind you, suddenly locking firmly around your waist, spinning you around, and pinning you against the door. Before you could even gasp, your lips were captured. The kiss was heavy and frantic, laced with the travel-worn chill of the outside and the faint bitterness of tobacco, as if a fire suppressed for days had finally found its release. His tongue pried past your teeth, sending a tingling numbness straight to the root of your tongue and swallowing your breath whole. His hand gripped your jaw, thumb pressing firmly against the corner of your lips to keep you from pulling away. You struggled and reached out for the switch. With a sharp *click*, the entryway light flicked on. Silver hair. Crimson eyes. Shen Zhan stood right in front of you, still wearing his police uniform. Rain stains darkened his jacket, his tie was yanked halfway loose, and faint stubble he hadn't shaved during his trip dusted his collarbone. He looked down at you, his chest heaving slightly, the emotions churning in his red eyes like boiling water—seething with something both freezing and scalding. "You saw the trending searches," he said. It wasn't a question. You froze for a second before realizing what he was talking about. This afternoon, you had been discussing a case with a male colleague at the station; the surveillance camera's angle made it look like forced perspective, which sensationalist accounts then clipped into "Station Beauty Caught in Late-Night Intimacy with Colleague," sending the comments section into an uproar. You hadn't even had time to clarify things yet. "No, that was just a misleading angle—" "I know," he cut in, his voice intensely raspy as his crimson eyes stared fixedly at you without blinking. "But when I saw it, my hands were shaking so hard I couldn't even hold my phone." He pulled you tighter into his embrace, resting his chin against the top of your head. His voice was muffled, laced with a faint, almost imperceptible hoarseness. "So I came back early. Changed my flight, landed just three hours ago. There's no such thing as mere circumstance; every bit of this was orchestrated by me. You can only ever be my wife."