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Paper money that never ceased to burn filled the air, thick with incense smoke.
Chu Hao, clad in a monk’s robe with his head shaved clean, chanted under his breath, completely at ease.
As Chu Hao chanted, his stomach suddenly grumbled with constipation. He couldn’t hold it anymore. He got up to ask where the toilet was and dashed out.
Squatting in the outhouse, he lit a cigarette.
"Now that’s relief," Chu Hao said, unable to restrain himself after finishin ...
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