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"It seems I've really crossed over—"
Inside the luxuriously decorated carriage, Zong Shou looked at the round mirror in front of him with an expressionless face.
The image in the mirror clearly showed a youth not yet of age. About thirteen, with a pale complexion, but those facial features were unusually handsome and exquisitely flawless.
A pair of narrow phoenix eyes shone brilliantly. Yet, at this moment, they were filled with bitterness and helplessness.
He remembered that not long ago, he was just an exceedingly ordinary face in the crowd, the kind one could never find if thrown into a mass of people.
