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In front of him was the all-too-familiar interrogation room, with glass windows, iron fences, and cold lights.
Only ten minutes ago he was behind the glass window, this time he is outside the glass window.
Zong Qi looked down at his wrist.
It was empty here, with neither heavy handcuffs nor the red strangle marks left by his desperate struggle.
There are 14 hours and 10 minutes left in the impromptu shooting time displayed on the pupils, just deducting the te ...
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