On the night of Chinese Valentine's Day, a beacon fire suddenly broke out at the border pass. The enemy troops pressed on the border, and Yanmen Pass was in danger. I wrote a letter all night and urgently reported to the capital to ask for help from my wife. She was the eldest princess and the only person in Daliang who could lead the cavalry to rescue the siege. She wrote back anxiously: "Don't be afraid, Shaoqin. I will come home as soon as possible for my wife." But three days later, the smoke outside the pass was blocked, the city was running out of ammunition and food, and the reinforcements had not yet arrived. I knelt down with my gun broken, covered in blood, and one after another the carrier pigeons asked about her whereabouts. But all he saw was that the city wall collapsed, his mother and eldest sister were stabbed in the chest with spears, and all his soldiers were killed or injured. There were ninety-nine homing pigeons, but they all disappeared into the sea. When the city was destroyed, I was covered in blood and hiding under the ruins, but I heard the caravan returning in triumph talking. During the Chinese Valentine's Day, the eldest princess shot 99 white pigeons with her bow and arrow at the Qiuwei hunting ground to make the prince of Bohou Mansion smile. In the scroll in their hands, she tied the fox fur on him with her own hands. He said, "A small matter at the border is not as important as the crown prince." It turned out that my ninety-nine homing pigeons had never flown out of her hunting ground. The lives of thirty thousand people at the border and my screams of blood and tears are nothing compared to the prince's smile.
