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It was a cell, dark and damp, with a musty smell in the air.
A figure sat cross-legged in the middle of the darkness, with a calm expression and an ancient well, like a Buddha.
There is nothing in the cell, not even a person to talk to, day after day, year after year, until death, many prisoners choose to commit suicide because of despair.
But this man is not desperate, he is waiting for an opportunity.
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