The general broke up with the princess and married me out of anger.
After five years of marriage, he and the princess were obsessed with each other.
They looked at each other affectionately outside the palace gate, and she watched him go to war on the city gate.
Everyone knows that I am a wretch, a substitute, a beggar for the general's love.
Until the general accidentally got drunk and I had his child, I drank a bowl full of safflower without telling him.
His eyes were red with anger, he strangled my neck and asked me why.
I pecked the red mole at the corner of his eye, neither sad nor happy: "I don't love you."
The person I love is my twin brother.
