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"It seems I truly have transmigrated—"
Inside the lavishly adorned carriage, Zong Shou gazed expressionlessly at the round mirror before him.
The reflection in the mirror was clearly that of an underage youth. About thirteen years old, with a pale complexion, but those features were exceptionally handsome and impeccably fine.
A pair of slender phoenix eyes sparkled enchantingly. However, at this moment, they were filled with a bitter and helpless sentiment.
He remembered that not long ago, he himself had an exceedingly ordinary face, the kind that one could never pick out from a crowd.
