The old woman mustered a smile to what she was interested in. "Youth cannot be separated from romance, is it not?" she affirmed, their eyes locked. "Let me see your right hand."
Xinran, fascinated, extended her hand toward the elder who began to touch it. The milky-white skin of the palm with a pinkish tint in some areas was rubbed by Defia and scrutinized.
She said nothing as she followed the lines, each of which had its meaning that a commoner would not understand. Defia interpreted the top line which began in between the middle and index fingers, elongated in the curve to the side.
"Hmm, you have an interesting story," she mumbled while closing her eyes. Her wrinkled forehead knotted. "You have faith in him, and he does too. But, there is a separation."
