The sun beats down mercilessly on the courtyard, but beneath the ancient pagoda tree, I find some relief from the heat. The gnarled branches stretch above me like twisted fingers reaching for the sky, while the trunk, rough against my back, provides a measure of stability in this chaotic world.

I trace the familiar scars on the tree's surface—marks I made as a child, carving my frustrations and dreams into the only constant in my life. The tree has witnessed everything: our family's rise and fall, my brother's increasing seriousness, and my own descent into the madness they all accuse me of.

A shadow falls across my face, blocking the dappled sunlight. I don't need to look up to know who stands before me.

"You shouldn't be here," Zhuge Jin says, his voice as controlled as always, though I detect the faint tremor beneath the surface.

I tilt my head back, squinting up at my brother. His hair has more gray than the last time we spoke, and those cave-like eyes of his seem deeper, more hollow somehow. He carries the weight of our crumbling family like a physical burden.

"It's still my home too, brother," I reply, deliberately casual. "Or have you officially disowned me while I was away?"

His jaw tightens. "We have visitors today. Important visitors. Your... antics would not be appreciated."

"Ah, important visitors," I repeat, sitting up straighter. "The kind that require you to sell pieces of our heritage, or perhaps pieces of our family?"

He steps closer, voice dropping to a warning whisper. "You have no idea what you're talking about. I'm trying to save what's left of this family."

"By inviting wolves into our den?" I stand, matching his height, our faces inches apart. The years of tension crackle between us like static electricity.

Behind us, the sound of approaching footsteps echoes through the courtyard. Our time is running out.

"Choose carefully, brother," I say quietly, so only he can hear. "Whatever game you're playing, remember who will burn if you lose."

The footsteps grow louder, and Zhuge Jin steps back, composing his features into the mask of calm respectability he wears for the world. But in his eyes, I see the flicker of fear—and something else, something like recognition.

The ancient pagoda tree watches silently above us,见证 to the latest chapter in our family's tragedy.