Heaven holds the scales to weigh my pain and his, and always balance it out.
I, Fei Ming, am nineteen years old. I dropped out of school to support my younger brother Fei Shiming. I laughed at the wine table and relaxed on the hospital bed.
I thought that one night, the effects of the medicine mixed with the alcohol would burn through my sanity, and he would be the one weighing on me.
"Brother, stop being so arrogant."
The world is falling apart.
Later, I became Fei Shiming, and I was in his body and experienced the pain he had never said before: the dead cat in the desk, the rotting corpse in the cabinet, the "suicide schedule" circulated to the whole class, and the man named Jiang Huai: "If you get first in the exam, I will kill your brother."
It turned out that my supposed sacrifice had already pushed him deeper into purgatory. We are two ends of a blood scale. When one end rises, the other end must be immersed in a thicker pool of blood.
When I finally changed back to myself and dragged my broken body back to our small rental house, he was using my photos to soothe his burning passion. The light was dim and he looked up, his pupils bottomless.
Just two lonely souls.
The blood scale weighs sin, desires, and our pain, and finally reaches the end.
Intention: elder brother and younger brother
