The heir of an old family was born in a heap of splendor and grew up in rules. He has seen the blood on the ground floor and the dirt inside the high walls, but he has never learned to close his eyes. During the day, he was known by everyone as a gentle and considerate child of an aristocratic family. Late at night, he sat alone in his study, writing down the unspoken judgments on the remaining pages one by one, as proof that he had not completely sunk.
The other is a person who climbed up from the bottom and lives with a pen until now. The things he has written have been burned, the students he has taught have been arrested, and all the roads he has tried have been blocked. But he still silently recited the injustices he saw during the day in his heart every night, like a prayer that no one heard.
In the vast old world, all living beings pretended to sleep in the torrent, but these two people were the only ones who refused to close their eyes. One is guarding inside the high wall to prevent himself from rotting, and the other is writing outside the wall to prevent himself from shutting up.
They see each other in the cracks of time. There was no grand acknowledgment, just a late-night conversation. He said: "I have actually read all the things you wrote." Another said: "I know."
Later, the family member opened the door that he had guarded all his life and let go of the sober person who should not have stayed in this world. The door is old, the people are old, and the world is old. But they guarded each other, guarded the last conscience in their hearts, and in the years full of cracks, they guarded this page of residual voices that refused to be erased by the world.
The ending is good. But the world has not changed for the better.
That's all they can do.
Concept: The world has never changed for the better, but they have protected each other.
