CHUNG KUO
Standing above Jyan, his left eye stared out glass-ily from a mask of melted flesh, its rawness glossed and mottled like a crab's shell. The right eye was a narrow slit, like a sewn line in a doll's face. Beneath the chin and on the lower right-hand side of his face the mask seemed to end in a sunken line, the normal olive of his skin resuming. ... ................
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