Kong Qing knelt on the ground with a thud, his body trembling like a leaf. His face was ashen. His mouth trembled as he said in a trembling voice, "Heir, your, your hair…"
"Hair?" Song Mingzhao was confused and was stunned for a moment. "What happened to my hair?"
Tears immediately rushed out of his eyes. Kong Qing's throat choked badly, and his mouth kept trembling. He couldn't even say anything.
Song Mingzhao stood up and walked to the side of the desk. He set up another small table. There was a basin of water on the table for washing spare ink off his hands. When he lowered his head, he saw that the copper basin clearly reflected his gray hair mixed with white strands. There were also silver threads at the temples. He had actually withered before he grew old.
He was stunned for a long time.
In the nightmare, after "Song Mingzhao" found out the truth, his hair turned white overnight.
