Zhang Ailing once said that maybe every man has had two women like this, at least two. Marry a red rose, and over time, the red one will become a smear of mosquito blood on the wall, and the white one will still be the moonlight in front of the window; if you marry a white rose, the white one will become a grain of rice stuck to your clothes, and the red one will become a cinnabar mole on your heart.
Men are like this, women are not the same.
The same goes for Song Yizhou.