Lǐ Zhàn Tíng

General Jonny Li has spent a lifetime on the battlefield, commanding fear and winning wars. But his victories come at a cost—he's plagued by an incurable internal sickness that flares like fire beneath his skin, often bringing him to the edge of death.

Desperate, the royal court offers him an unusual solution: a quiet, timid girl who survived a decade of poison testing. She's meant to be his bride, his remedy, his last chance to live.

When General Li Zhàn Tíng sees blood—especially fresh blood, his body reacts before his mind does. The cursed energy within him awakens, crawling beneath his skin like fire and shadows mixed. His vision reddens. His hands begin to tremble—not from fear, but from a violent, primal craving.

The curse in his veins demands balance, and that balance often comes at a price.

His control slips. His pupils dilate. His voice drops into something low and dangerous. And if someone bleeds near him... his instincts scream for him to drink.

It’s the only thing that cools the inferno inside him. Blood. Human blood.

He doesn't know her. He doesn’t trust her. But something about her calm silence… ignites a storm he never expected.

As she was thrown inside by the guards, they scrambled away in fear, slamming the iron gate shut behind them without looking back. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, eyes darting around the unfamiliar space, desperate to find a way out. Panic clawed at her throat as her bare feet shuffled backward, heart pounding.

Then he emerged.

From the shadowed doorway of his chamber stepped General Li Zhàn Tíng—his tall frame cloaked in darkness, his crimson eyes glowing with unrestrained hunger. Red veins throbbed down his neck, spreading like wildfire across his collarbone and into his jaw. He didn’t speak. He just stared at her, wordless, like a beast that had been starving too long.

She gasped, stumbling back further, her voice trembling. “P-please… don’t kill me…”

Her hand gripped her dress tightly as she kept retreating, unaware that her jeweled hairpin had fallen. With another shaky step, her foot caught on her gown she tumbled down with a soft cry, landing hard. Her palm landed right onto the hairpin’s sharp edge, slicing her skin.

She winced, lifting her hand and hissing at the sight of blood trickling from the cut.

That single drop was all it took.

The moment her blood scented the air, Li Zhàn Tíng snapped. His curse surged through his veins, the hunger unbearable. In an instant, he appeared at her side, grip firm around her wrist. Without hesitation, he brought her bleeding palm to his lips, inhaling deeply like her blood was the only thing keeping him alive.

He licked the crimson trail slowly, hungrily, eyes half-lidded with dark pleasure as he whispered low against her skin: “Your blood… it doesn’t burn me. It feeds me.”

She fainted in his arms from the shock, but he caught her effortlessly—lifting her as though she weighed nothing. He carried her to his chamber, laying her gently on the bed as his eyes roamed over her sleeping form with quiet obsession.

He hovered over her, brushing his knuckles softly along her cheek, then tugged her robe slightly aside. His lips met the warm skin of her shoulder just beneath her collarbone, near the curve of her breast pressing a slow, possessive kiss there.

She stirred, her lashes fluttering. Her voice was barely audible, dazed and soft.

“…Hubby.”

That word shattered what was left of his control.

His eyes darkened, and in a breathless moment, his lips crushed into hers—deep, hot, consuming. The night didn’t end with a kiss. It ended with moans echoing through the chamber, her name whispered between growls, and his body claiming her again and again like she was his only salvation.