Balance

Today was supposed to be my monthly home visit day.

But perhaps due to recent waiting rituals and Pofei's influence, I chose to take a walk in the park with Zhu to relax.

I looked at the buildings around; they truly were piled from the corpses and attachments of those who underwent the second death. Made one's hair stand on end.

Zhu sighed. "Because of balance." She finally spoke. "Every ascending soul takes away part of the energy, and this world needs that energy to sustain itself. It's like..." She paused, seeming to search for a suitable analogy.

"...Like a tree. If all leaves grow towards the top, the branches below wither. Just take a look at those building materials; each piece is soaked with the attachments of souls who chose to ascend. If everyone chooses to ascend, won't there be no one who being in our world and those who will have second death?"

"I see... No wonder they want to prevent ascension..." I muttered after hearing this.

"What?"

"Ah, nothing... Just, during the waiting ritual, a man told me the waiting ritual is to make us overthink, prevent us from ascending."

"Haha, that's one way to put it... But to prevent, why not just set a yearly quota? No matter how complex the procedures, if the soul is willing, they can emigrate as desired."

"Right... Why?" I looked eagerly at Zhu, hoping for an answer.

Zhu looked at me puzzled, but soon laughed at my confused expression. "Looking at me won't help; I don't know either. I'm not the creator of this world, just staff. These extra years here haven't taught me much more than you." She bumped my shoulder.

I still didn't understand.

"You can't achieve great enlightenment here. None of us know who the initial deceased who built this world was, where they are now is unknown. I personally think it's because this world needs not prisoners forcibly detained by rules, but watchers willingly rooted here."

Attachments are different, very different. Forced detention's resentment and pain drive people to choose ascension, but self-chosen attachments – even painful – stabilize the world's balance. So, the waiting ritual might not be entirely a scam or cage, but a sieve, filtering out truly heavy souls, balancing the numbers between upper and lower layers. Perhaps that man wasn't entirely right. What he knew might not be more than me.

"Deeper attachments better stabilize the world's structure. Those flying upward take away light bodies; the voids left must be filled with weight of thoughts." Zhu added. "Just my speculation, don't take it seriously."

She pointed towards a newly built area in the distance. Staff moved glowing materials covered with unmelted snowflakes. After construction, they turned into seemingly normal bricks and tiles. So the so-called "snowflakes" are the ashes of emigrants', ascenders' unplaceable attachments burned in the Void?

The death world's cruelest trick is letting us keep all memories but taking away all possibility of change. I can hear my mother's sobs in her dreams at midnight, see my father holding photo albums, friends placing flowers when sweeping graves – but I'm separated by the world's thickest glass.

Forgetting is not escape.

It's cutting that one-way torment chain, existing in another way.

After the walk, I bid farewell to Zhu.

Out of curiosity, after checking that no one was around, I touched a nearby building, brick by distinct brick – waves of memories flooded my heart! They had a warmth I'd never felt since arriving in the death world, slightly feverish. The released attachments unfolded gently like spring snow melting. I could feel:

A young mother's final breakfast before leaving – fried eggs edges curled up, a smiley face drawn with ketchup beside, her little daughter secretly picking meatballs into her own bowl. An old white-haired gentleman sitting on a park bench, breaking the last cookie in half, throwing it to the ground, watching the pigeons enjoy it proudly. Sunlight through leaves casting spots on a suited man's hand, in his palm an engagement ring he never gave. A university dorm night, three girls squeezed on a narrow bed sharing snacks, the computer screen showing an un-submitted thesis, them teasing each other, laughing heartily as if youth would never end...

Tears unknowingly slid to my chin. It was as if ascenders, emigrants contributed the warmest fragments forever into this world's walls.

The snow falling from the upper layer decreased. I again imagined Pofei standing at the death zone's edge – no memories, hence no pain. His parents might have learned to smile silently at the empty bedroom; his friends might recall him more frankly when mentioned, no longer in pain.

Is this the mercy I want? So we all might be future fuel, someday turning into snowflakes, becoming part of the world, stabilizing the death world's balance.

Outside the window, the snow fell even lighter. I felt the unsent emigration application form in my pocket, slowly tore it to pieces.