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... himself, then slowly lifted his head. The jagged scar across his face was a terrifying sight.
He pushed himself up, his movements sluggish, hindered by the handcuffs tightly restraining his wrists.
Walking down the corridor, his disheveled hair hung over his lifeless eyes, his steps slow and unsteady.
A police officer opened the door and motioned for him to enter.
Han ShuYi raised his head—only to see the person he hated most. If he had a knife in his hands right ...
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