Who Fights With His Life, And Who Sells The Liquor?

　The Drunkard stared at the starry night and pondered for a long while. He was having some subtle sentiments as if he had been drinking too much and found himself amidst an ocean of stars. He was either too drunk or unwilling to look for a way out.

"Perhaps it will indeed be beautiful."

He stared at the stars and suddenly seemed scared. He was like a kid who had been exposed to a whole new world out of his mountain village, and he was filled with fear and restlessness. His voice trembled, "Yet also scary."

The sweetest candy was probably the most poisonous drug. The best hope was sometimes the worst fear. It could be alluring to be free, but dreadful to be independent. It was just a matter of choice.

The Eldest Brother sighed gently, as he knew the Drunkard was already sober and had made up his mind.

The Drunkard turned to him and said solemnly, "To me, being alive is always more important than anything else. I can give up a lot for it."