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"It seems that I really have transmigrated—"
In the lavishly decorated carriage, Zong Shou gazed expressionlessly at the round mirror before him.
The reflection in the mirror was unmistakably that of an underage boy, around the age of thirteen, with a pale complexion. However, his features were exceptionally handsome and exquisitely beautiful.
A pair of slender phoenix eyes shone brightly, but at this moment they were filled with bitterness and helplessness.
Just recently, I had an extremely ordinary face, the kind that would never be found if lost in a crowd.
