The woman was meticulously cared for from head to toe, her hands as beautiful as artifacts.
However, Yan Sinian's sharp eyes soon discovered something unusual at the tips of her fingers.
There were faint traces crisscrossing.
It seemed she had been injured recently but had healed in a short amount of time.
Yan Sinian put on gloves and bent down to grasp the woman's wrist.
Cui Xiaoman made a choking sound from her throat, clearly distressed by the contact of the gloves.
Her husband couldn't help but want to step in.
But he shut his mouth after seeing Yan Sinian's cold gaze.
Upon closer look, the scars on her fingertips became even more distinct.
All ten fingers bore marks.
They appeared to have been sliced by a very thin blade, leaving behind a barely visible white line after healing, almost undetectable by ordinary people.
Fortunately, Yan Sinian was no ordinary man.
"Dr. Xiaoyan?"
