The white flags in the mourning hall were lifted up by the draft, which was very similar to the last scene I saw when I died in my previous life. The sandalwood mixed with stepmother Lin's hypocritical cries entered my nose. I stared at the crescent marks on my palms made by fingernails - this body still had the scars from the porcelain fragments scratched by my kneeling on the day my father died in the war.
