Summary
My elder sister and I were married off on the same day. Her red bridal procession stretched for miles, while I had only a modest little sedan chair. She comforted me. “War never ceases in the northwest. If your husband should have the misfortune to die, you may return to the capital and seek refuge with me. “The Heir of the Marquis pities me and loves me. He will naturally take you in as well.” Unfortunately, Heaven did not grant her wish. Her husband was sentenced to beheading for treason. My husband, however, became a new favorite of the court after saving the Crown Prince. She was clearly kneeling at my feet. Yet, with tears streaming down her face, she begged my husband to take pity on her. What was I to do? My husband is a military man. He does not know how to be tender. He only knows how to kill.