The two met, and there wasn't the inherent closeness one might expect from shared blood.
But looking at each other's faces, the slightly protruding cheekbones on either side of their faces, in the moment their eyes met, they immediately confirmed each other's identity.
"Big brother." Nezha spoke first.
"Third brother!!!"
Nezha already had the appearance of a young man, but Jinzha, who was not much older, looked even more mature.
He embraced Nezha in one go, his throat producing a dull sound of dislocation, like the snapping of lute strings inside his chest.
He quickly withdrew his hands, his knuckles pressing hard against his eye sockets, but couldn't stop the tears from soaking his clothes—each drop leaving a rough, salty crescent mark on the silk.
"Third brother, I heard about our father, our father! I am such an unfilial son!" Jinzha's tears poured out like a fountain, and he wailed loudly.
