An Unbearable Marriage (Completed Main Story) - Chapter 15
“This should do.”
Tae Sang handed over a white cotton T-shirt and light gray shorts as he spoke.
Da Jung accepted the clothes with both hands, draping the shorts over her arm and holding the T-shirt up against her shoulders. The loose short-sleeved top looked enormous—enough to swallow her whole at any moment.
He’d carefully selected what he thought was the smallest size available.
Seeing her shoulders far more slender than he’d anticipated, Tae Sang let out a faint, troubled sigh.
“I’ll look for something smaller.”
“Oh, no! I actually prefer wearing oversized clothes when I sleep.”
Tae Sang eyed Da Jung’s face skeptically, scanning every detail—not by asking questions, but by instinctively reading her expressions and gestures, like a wild animal attuned to its surroundings.
Da Jung quietly lowered her head, slipping away from his gaze.
“Oversized is more comfortable, honestly. Don’t worry—just go rest quickly.”
Though a faint frown still lingered between his brows, unsatisfied, Tae Sang soon dropped his suspicious look.
“I have an early meeting in the morning.”
“A meeting…?”
“When you wake up, no one will be here.”
“Oh… I see. Then, good night.”
“Sleep well.”
His gentle baritone nighttime greeting was so sweet it felt like it would melt your ears.
The soft *click* of the door closing, the shuffling *tap-tap* of slippers. Though many sounds reached her ears after he left, none could erase the deep resonance lingering in her mind.
★ ★ ★
Late at night, pitch-black darkness spread across her eyelids. An indistinct heat coiled around her body like a serpent. Da Jung faintly opened her eyes, still half-asleep.
All around her blazed crimson flames. The flickering red glow resembled both the shadow of some unknown beast and a butterfly dancing in midair.
Gasping for breath, Da Jung barely managed to twitch her fingertips. Though she tried to scream, her throat remained tightly constricted—no sound escaped—and her body lay paralyzed, as if completely numb.
Meanwhile, the vivid red shadow grew larger, inching ever closer. The moment it seemed about to engulf her entirely, Da Jung jolted her eyelids wide open.
“Haah, haah…!”
All she saw before her was an unfamiliar ceiling and utter darkness. As she exhaled shakily and pressed a hand to her forehead, it came away drenched in cold sweat. She still felt surrounded by those blazing flames.
Da Jung pressed her hand to her forehead and buried her face deep into the pillow. Strangely, rather than fading with time, the nightmare from her past only grew sharper and more vivid.
“It’s okay. Hold my hand.”
Only sharp, ragged breathing filled her ears—yet suddenly, a familiar voice brushed past.
A soft, moderately low-pitched boy’s voice—the longed-for sound she always recalled after nightmares. Thinking of her stoic older brother, who had always held her hand tightly, eased the tightness in her chest.
It was truly strange. Even now, though his face had grown blurry in her memory, she still drew comfort from that boy. Da Jung gently pressed a hand to her heart and sat up.
The digital clock on the nightstand read 4:30.
Da Jung swept her disheveled hair aside and swung her legs out from under the covers. At that moment, the oversized gray shorts fluttered down along with her movement.
For an instant, she recalled the man’s solemn expression—and a soft chuckle escaped her lips. Even now, the thought of him seriously bringing something so huge, thinking it would fit her, struck her as hilarious.
Slowly rising from the bed, Da Jung walked toward the door. She could no longer endure the burning thirst.
—Creeeak.
Trying too hard to open the door quietly only made the sound worse. Moving like a stealthy cat, Da Jung tiptoed forward. With each step, a sharp twinge shot through her sprained ankle.
‘Why is the light…?’
Contrary to her expectation of darkness, the living room lights were brightly on. Had Tae Sang forgotten to switch them off before entering his room? As she passed through the hallway, the clinking sound of glass reached her ears.
Da Jung swallowed hard and stepped into the living room—only to see Tae Sang seated alone at the far end of the long sofa, drinking wine by himself.
“…Deputy Director?”
Completely unprepared to find him there, Da Jung froze in place, dumbfounded.
“Why are you up?”
“I was thirsty, so I came to get some water.”
Awkwardly pointing toward the kitchen with her fingertips, Da Jung’s tone unintentionally took on the sound of making excuses—even though he hadn’t accused her of wandering around recklessly.
As she silently waited for some kind of permission, Tae Sang abruptly stood up, brushing off his seat. Taking several long strides, he headed straight into the kitchen.
Clearly aiming for the shelf, he apparently intended to fetch her water.
“Oh, I’ll do it.”
Da Jung hurriedly followed him, but her shorter legs couldn’t possibly keep up with his stride, easily twice as long.
Tae Sang opened one of the cabinets in the center of the kitchen. Positioned rather high—likely designed to suit the homeowner’s height—the spacious shelf sat well above average reach.
He pulled out a clear glass and handed it to Da Jung, who’d trailed behind him. She bowed her head slightly and accepted the cup.
“Thank you.”
“Trouble sleeping?”
“No, I slept fine… just woke up after tossing and turning.”
There was no need to mention the bad dream. After a brief hesitation, Da Jung added what sounded like the most natural explanation.
“Hand it here.”
Still holding the glass while answering, Da Jung watched as Tae Sang took it back from her. He alternated hot and cold water from the purifier.
Just listening to the gentle sloshing of the water made her throat feel refreshingly cool. Da Jung quickly accepted the cup and eagerly gulped down the lukewarm liquid.
“Haaah…”
Only after draining the entire glass did her parched mouth finally regain some life. Clutching the cup to her chest like a shield, Da Jung exhaled a long, held breath.
“Go back to sleep soon.”
Tae Sang, who’d been quietly observing her, leaned sideways against the countertop as he spoke.
A few strands of hair had fallen onto his forehead, apparently bothering him; he ran his long fingers gently through them, pushing them back.
Only then did Da Jung realize he was dressed in extremely relaxed attire.
He wore a dark gray T-shirt and black pants. The fluid fabric naturally accentuated the contours of his well-defined physique.
Dressed so casually, Tae Sang appeared significantly younger than in his formal suits—so much so one could easily believe he was a handsome college student, if only given a backpack.
Da Jung stared blankly at the strands of black hair falling around his fingertips.
“…”
“Is the sleeping arrangement uncomfortable?”
After a long silence, Tae Sang suddenly fixed her with a concerned look. Despite his appearance, he was surprisingly attentive in every little detail. Da Jung struggled to suppress a smile threatening to escape.
“No, not at all. It’s perfectly comfortable. Rather, shouldn’t *you* go to bed soon? Didn’t you say earlier you have an early meeting and need to leave early?”
“I usually go to bed a bit later.”
“A bit later…?”
It was already well past midnight—yet he called it just “a bit.”
Da Jung carefully masked her suspicion and shifted her gaze toward the wine glass on the living room table. The deep purple liquid pooling inside appeared to be red wine.
He’d stayed awake drinking until this hour, and not the slightest hint of drowsiness showed in his expression or tone… Somehow, she sensed an unfortunate conclusion waiting at the end of this train of thought.
“Do you like wine?”
After she’d stared at the wine glass for a while, Tae Sang tilted his head slightly and asked.
“No… I’m not really into alcohol. I’ll just get another glass of water.”
Da Jung shook her head sheepishly and started toward the water purifier.
“Ah!”
During their quiet conversation, she’d completely forgotten her injured ankle. A sharp stab of pain shot up—prompting a short gasp to escape her lips.
“Are you all right?”
“Yes—I just forgot about the injury for a moment.”
Da Jung lifted one leg like an injured puppy. Her poorly wrapped ankle dangled weakly in the air.
Tae Sang’s eyes narrowed as he watched her. Clearly, she hadn’t treated it before bed—no bandage, no patch, nothing.
After all, he should’ve known better than to simply put her to bed. Regret washed over him belatedly, like a crashing wave.
“The patch—”
“Oh, that… I took it out after my shower, planning to apply it afterward?”
By now, Da Jung had fully adapted to his conversational style. Clearly, he was scolding her for not applying the patch yet. Hiding her sore ankle behind her, she hurriedly continued, flustered.
“But then I got distracted drying my hair and just… completely forgot.”
“…”
His firmly pressed lips made it obvious he was upset.
He’d bought enough bandages and patches to overflow a bag—and she’d done absolutely nothing. He had every right to be angry. Da Jung warily glanced up at him.
His heavy gaze dropped to her ankle.
“Go sit on the sofa so I can apply an ice compress.”
“An ice compress…?”
“It’s swollen even more since before.”
Without waiting for her reply, Tae Sang turned and walked away. Opening a storage cabinet at the far end of the kitchen, he pulled out a small, round pouch.
“Quickly.”
He didn’t even look her way as he spoke. Though the words “I’m fine” rose to her throat, she obediently complied, guilty over having disregarded his efforts.
Da Jung replied in a tiny, sheepish voice and crossed the living room—carefully tiptoeing, for fear of making another pained sound.
As she sat down, the long leather sofa let out a soft *flump*. Wide enough to accommodate two full-grown adults with room to spare, Da Jung now sat alone upon it, awkwardly awaiting his return.
Moments later, Tae Sang approached, holding a sagging ice pouch downward. Stopping in front of the sofa, he knelt on one knee on the floor.
His posture suggested he might apply the ice himself—prompting Da Jung to rush out her words.
“I’ll—I’ll do it.”
“Lean back fully.”
“No, really—it’s fine. I’ll handle it.”
“When you sprain something, you need to keep the injured area elevated.”
Meeting her eyes once with a stern expression, Tae Sang picked up a cushion lying nearby—and then lightly lifted another from farther away, stacking them high into a makeshift elevation on the floor.
Da Jung watched, dumbfounded, as her foot was carefully lifted and placed atop the cushion pile.
It was utterly surreal—the body part she’d always considered the most ordinary now receiving such meticulous care.
“It’ll feel cold.”
At his most willful moments, he could be stubborn—but now, he’d shifted again into flawlessly gentlemanly demeanor. Da Jung gazed down at him, bewildered. His rapidly shifting moods were sometimes difficult to keep up with.
“Ah!”
In an instant, the icy sensation spreading across her ankle swept away every thought in her head. Da Jung flinched her shoulders briefly and lowered her gaze.
The sight before her was, indeed, peculiar.
A coolly beautiful man, wearing a serious expression, tenderly tended to her ankle—holding the ice pouch lightly suspended in midair, as if even the edges of the ice might somehow bother her.
Male lead is a Divorced Husband
She said to him: “Tell me, what makes you like me? I’ll change it!”
Liu Changning transmigrated into a female cannon fodder character in a female-dominant novel.
After reading the first half of the novel’s plot, the first thing she did upon transmigration was to divorce the Pan Jinlian-style male protagonist she had just married.
She indulged herself, pretending to be ugly and poor.
But as time passed, the way that man looked at her became more and more unusual…
Liu Changning was dumbfounded: Tell me, what makes you like me? I’ll change!
――
This lifetime, Pei Yuanshao was rejected by the same woman twice!
The first time, she drove him away. Forced by the situation, he endured the waves of anger in his heart, yielding and humbling himself.
That person lay slanted on a rocking chair, her sallow face emotionless: “If you don’t want a divorce, go cook!”
Pei Yuanshao’s face was dark and gloomy: “You!”
The second time, after the crisis in Jinling City was resolved, the new emperor sent someone to pick him up. He turned around, stammering: “I… I have to go. If you keep me…”
That person lay on the kang bed, her back to him, as if she had long anticipated this day, crisp and clear: “Goodbye!”
Pei Yuanshao was so angry his fingers trembled: “You… you!”
The mission of family and country made him restrain himself, averting his eyes and turning to leave this broken household.
Two years later, they met again. Seeing her ethereal face, his body shook like a sieve.
“She was originally a ‘she’!”
At the Qionglin Banquet, the top scholar of the imperial examination, a talented person with exceptional speech and conduct, all the unmarried young gentlemen from aristocratic families looked at her with shy and timid eyes.
The peerless imperial official Pei Yuanshao felt the anger in his heart erupt. He pointed at the woman surrounded by the crowd at the Qionglin Banquet, his thin lips slightly curled: “Little sister, I wants that person to be the wife-master of my Mingde Prince Manor.”
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