In Jiaofang Sishui Pavilion, I was wearing my father's new wedding dress made from blood clothes. In the audience, Prime Minister Zuo Xie Jiwei raised his glass and said that he would need to take a physical examination before paying the money. I untied my belt, revealing the word "prostitute" burned with a soldering iron on my waist. The blood letter slipped from my inner garment into his palm. He lowered his head and discovered that the private seal on the paper was the one he had personally stamped on his father's broken wrist.
