A strange yet familiar face was reflected in the bronze mirror. With sword-shaped eyebrows and starry eyes, a high bridge of nose, thin lips, and a stern face, he is exactly what Shen Yan, the young minister of Dali Temple, looks like!
"No... Impossible!" Pei Xu staggered back a few steps and bumped into the pear wood table behind him. The teacup on the table fell to the ground with a crisp sound. "How did I become Shen Yan? Then it was me who was struck by lightning just now. Where is Shen Yan? Did he become me?"
A series of questions exploded in his mind, giving him a splitting headache. He thought of the figure he saw before he fell into coma. Was that really Shen Yan? Isn't this thunder disaster an accident?
"Sir, are you awake?" A respectful voice came from outside the door, and then, a man wearing a blue yamen uniform walked in. Seeing the broken teacup on the ground, the yamen servant was stunned for a moment, then quickly stepped forward and said, "Sir, are you okay? Did you drop it?"
Pei Xu's heart tightened and he forced himself to calm down. He is Shen Yan now and cannot reveal his secret. He imitated Shen Yan's usually stern tone and said in a deep voice: "It's okay, I accidentally knocked it off."
