This home had long been an empty shell. Mother was addicted to pachinko, coming home late every night; father escaped his responsibilities with alcohol and work. All the weight fell upon Shan Jue and Qian Hui.
By the age of twelve, Shan Jue rose before dawn each day to make breakfast for his younger sister, then walked the long road to school holding her hand. From thirteen, his time after school was spent folding paper spirit money under the lamplight, trading thin paper for meager living expenses. Bitterness could still be endured. It was only when he thought of his sold-away sister that a fire with nowhere to burn would surge in Shan Jue's heart.
They grew accustomed to this silent endurance, thinking the days would continue sinking like this forever.
Until the day their father came home unexpectedly early. On the floor of the entryway, conspicuously placed, was a pair of polished men's shoes that did not belong to this house.
In that instant, this barely-held-together "home" shattered completely, in utter silence.