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"It seems I really have transmigrated—"
In a luxuriously decorated carriage, Zong Shou watched expressionlessly at the round mirror before him.
The reflection showed a youth who was not yet of age, around thirteen, with pale skin. However, his features were extraordinarily handsome and delicately perfect.
A pair of slender phoenix eyes shone with light, but at this moment, they were filled with bitterness and helplessness.
He remembered that not long ago, he definitely had an utterly ordinary face, the kind that would not stand out in a crowd.