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"It seems I really have traveled through time,"
In the lavishly decorated carriage, Zong Shou expressionlessly gazed at the circular mirror before him.
The reflection showed a boy not yet of age, about thirteen years old, with a pale complexion but exquisitely striking features that were rare and flawless.
His narrow phoenix eyes sparkled, yet they were filled with a sense of bitterness and helplessness at the moment.
I remembered, not long ago, my face was utterly ordinary—one that, if thrown into a crowd, you couldn't possibly pick out.
