Xiaojin is already forty-four years old.
For women in East Asia and Southeast Asia, crossing the age of forty is practically a disaster, as if they've committed some sort of crime and must endure countless people's mocking and sighing:
"Ah, what a pity."
"Ah, so old."
As if they themselves won't grow old!
Living a life is a form of spiritual cultivation. Age and experience mature you, provide you with support in this world, and clear your mind.
Like Long Qiu, who transformed from a naive girl into a supreme being capable of both divine and demonic feats. Of course, there are exceptions, like this young girl frolicking in the pond, seemingly never growing up.
"Hahaha, serves you right for being arrogant!"
Xiaojin dove in and out seven times, soaked to the skin, finally pulling out the head of that old softshell turtle, swinging and shaking it in her hand, which left the turtle foaming at the mouth and listless, before she hurled it back into the pond with a "biu".
