The Fragrance Way Defies Fate

I chopped firewood for eight years, earning eighty cents a day.

My mother coughed up blood for eight years, and good medicine cost two yuan.

My stepfather said, "Figure out the money for her medicine yourself."

So I did. The answer was in my ten fingers.

On my eighteenth birthday, my fingers began to glow.

I could see everyone's "aura": who was about to die, who was about to meet with disaster, and who had blood on their hands.

I could also see my mother's fate. It wasn't an illness. Someone hundreds of miles away had flicked a finger.

I had to make incense.

One stick could change a person's fate.

The price was another black line appearing on my wrist.

The black lines won't stop until I've repaid the karmic debts of seventeen lives.