Each person's palm print was unique. He remembered her entire person, including the lines on her palms.
He must have stayed in the mountains for a long time—he had grown a beard. When Jiang Yao touched his chin, his beard pricked her palm. The man pressing on her sensed it. He pushed her hand back in dissatisfaction, letting her hand continue to press against his face.
"Who drew your face? It's so ugly. Tell me their number, and I'll cut him." Lu Xingzhi raised his hand to wipe Jiang Yao's face, but he could not wipe it off as it was a special paint.
Lu Xingzhi clicked his tongue. His fair, clean, and fairy-like wife had been drawn like a ghost by those guys on the Red Team.
"You're about the same. We're about the same. Don't look down on each other." Jiang Yao giggled. Then, she retracted her hand and looked at it carefully.