Going to my brother’s place to have tea, his wife looked at me like I was a scumbag—like I was trash.

That blatant contempt made me realize: I’m ruined in reputation, disgraced beyond repair. And the culprit behind it all is none other than my good brother.
Over these years, my back has been getting more and more bent, because he’s made me carry more and more black pots.
He spent 1790 yuan—it was money I borrowed and didn’t repay.
He drinks alcohol—he’s the one I forced to drink.
He smokes—he’s the one I pushed into smoking.
He moved the passenger seat—so that I could sit there.
I’m steeped in every vice, with connections everywhere and eyes everywhere that can reach the sky—while he’s the kind of person who has to read books even when he goes into a bar.