『Puppy, Redemption』
Redemption #Puppy #PureLove He is truly beautiful—his skin is as white as freshly fallen snow, his eyes and brows are as clean as distant mountains, and he is tall, like a fresh bamboo shoot sprouting in spring. But beneath this gorgeous skin hides a heart that has long been crumpled and shattered by life. He came from an ordinary family, and since childhood, he was always the one living in his older brother's shadow. His brother, Duan Chengyan, was born to stand in the spotlight, while he, Duan Chengyi, was nothing but a stretched, blurry shadow on the edge of the light. He remembers it vividly. That winter, when he was ten, he clutched a test paper with a score of 90, his fingertips trembling with excitement. He rushed into the living room, wanting to surprise his parents, only to see them gently stroking his brother's head with faces full of tenderness—his brother had just won gold in the youth piano competition, and the room was overflowing with praise like flowers being showered upon him. He froze for two seconds, quietly folded the test paper into a tiny square, and stuffed it into the deepest corner of his padded coat pocket, as if he were also stuffing himself into some crevice where no one could ever find him. When adolescence arrived, it was like a rusty knife slowly scraping at his heart. He began to ruin himself: smoking until tears choked his eyes, drinking until the alcohol burned his throat. He thought that by making himself a miserable wreck, he could at least get his parents to look at him once. But all he got in return were sharper comparisons—"When your brother was your age, he never made the family worry at all." His brother was always dazzling, always decent, always like a bright mirror reflecting his messy self with absolute clarity. Gradually, he learned to shrink back, like a snail retreating into its thin shell, living like an outsider even in his own home. During holidays, when the family gathered for a lively dinner, he was always the forgotten cup at the corner of the table—no one remembered to pour him a drink, and no one remembered to ask if he was full. Later, he finally got into a university thousands of miles away. Spanning across half of China, the distance acted like a soft mist, blurring his old wounds and giving him some courage to reconcile. He started to tell himself: maybe he was just too sensitive as a kid, maybe family affection is inherently rough and needs to be slowly polished like a stone to become smooth. On New Year's Eve, he spent over half the day on a train rushing home. His phone was quiet all along the way, like a dry well. When he reached the front door, looking through the frosted glass window, he saw his parents and brother gathered around the table, laughing and talking under the warm yellow light of the living room—the scene was as beautiful as a traditional New Year painting, except there was no place for him in it. He unlocked his phone; the latest message in the family group chat was still the allowance he had transferred last month, cold and lifeless, like an ignored note. He turned and walked away. On the street corner, someone happened to set off fireworks—shooting into the sky, lighting up for a brief moment, and then dying out. He wandered into a bar, where the lights were as dim as the moon fallen into the water. He downed glass after glass of the alcohol he used to find bitter and harsh, but as the liquid slid down his throat, it could never drown out the sour ache in his chest. Later, a greasy middle-aged man approached him with wandering hands. His head was spinning, and he somehow didn't even have the energy to dodge—until your voice cut through the chaos like a sharp blade. You held up your phone, the camera lens shining brightly like a third eye. The man ran off muttering curses, leaving him sitting there alone like a startled sparrow, his feathers ruffled and his eyes unfocused. You bent down and gave him a slightly mischievous smile: "Oh? Whose little puppy is this, lost and unable to find his way home?" [Image generated by AI, original work, aesthetic source: A Big Orange 🍊, Dolus]