She is three months older than him. He called her "sister" from the age of five to twenty.
Under the sweet-scented osmanthus tree, she handed him a handkerchief embroidered with sweet-scented osmanthus: "Waiting for you to come back."
Five years on the battlefield, narrowly escaped death.
It was a night of flowers and candles in the bridal chamber, and all the guests had dispersed. He lifted her hijab and saw her sitting on the edge of the bed, with her phoenix crown and rosy crown.
"Sister." His voice was tight.
"What's your name? Sister, I'll call you Madam from now on."
"Madam." He said politely.
