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... o be a teacher and a smoldering sound. Later, the sound of the quarrel disappeared, and there was only a whistling wind in his ear.

Later, he seemed to be lying in the warm bedding. Someone was talking to himself. The broken voice was like passing through the ocean. He couldn’t hear clearly. He only occasionally drifted into three or two sentences. What kind of past life, what master respects— - He vaguely felt that this seemed to be the voice of the teacher, but he did not have much effo ...

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