Hong Dali finally understood why she kept her face covered with her hair. She was only twenty-four or twenty-five years old, at the peak of her youth. Her eyes, nose, mouth, and silhouette was beautiful. Perhaps not comparable to Tang Muxin or Li Nianwei, but she was in the superior range. But on her face was a rather big black birthmark which made her look like an ink bowl was on her face. Simply put, the female version of Yang
She quirked up the corners of her mouth. "Do I look very ugly?"
Hong Dali simply said, "Actually, yes. It's very ugly. Even if I said you look beautiful, you wouldn't believe me, right?"
The lady was satisfied with Hong Dali's reply. "Yes, you're very honest. Thank you. I have to leave. It's my honor to meet someone as honest as you before I die. I'm very happy. Hopefully, we will become friends in my next life."
