The young girl's palm was as white and tender as snow, her fingers slender like top-grade suet jade, her nails neatly rounded, soft and adorable—an undoubtedly gorgeous hand.
Master Ting Chan took only one glance and said unhurriedly, "The lines are blurred and unclear, the life line breaks right at the start, your palm line suggests an early demise. When did you die?"
Ah Da's heart tightened slightly, she shook her head and replied, "I don't know, I only remember being in the incense burner for about a thousand years or so."
"A thousand years, in a sense, you've also achieved longevity," Master Ting Chan said half-jokingly.
"Longevity?" Ah Da's brow furrowed slightly, confusion evident on her stunningly beautiful face, that word seemed familiar to her.
