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"It seems I really have transmigrated—"
In the extravagantly adorned carriage, Zong Shou watched his reflection in a round mirror, his face expressionless.
The image in the mirror was that of a youth not yet of age, about thirteen years old with a pale complexion. However, his facial features were rare in their handsomeness and refinement.
A pair of slender, phoenix-like eyes sparkled brilliantly, yet they were filled with a sense of bitterness and helplessness at the moment.
