20 A Brother's Core
The small room was dim, the shutters closed against the storm outside. The only sound was the steady drip of rain from the eaves.
Wei Xie stirred on the narrow bed, his face pale and drawn. His fingers curled weakly at his side.
"My… core," he whispered, voice raw. "It's gone. I will never be the next King of Wei."
The words hung in the air like heavy chains.
The door slid open and Wang San stepped in, water still dripping from his hair. "Don't say that," he said firmly. "I'll find a way to get it back. Even if I have to turn the whole world upside down."
Xie turned his head away. "Leave me."
San took a step closer. "No."
"Leave me, San!" Xie's voice cracked.
San still didn't move. His hand rested on the edge of the bed, stubborn as stone. "You can push me all you want, but I'm not going anywhere."
Xie's strength faltered, and he sank back onto the pillow, eyes closing.
The door opened again. Wei Liang entered quietly, carrying a small clay bowl. The warm smell of herbs filled the room.
"Xie," she said softly, "drink this. I made it for you." She set the bowl on the bedside table and tried to smile. "It's your favorite, remember?"
Xie didn't answer, his eyes still closed.
Wei Liang's smile trembled, but she placed the spoon gently in his hand. "Even if you can't be king," she whispered, "you're still my brother."
In the corner, Wang San stood silently, fists clenched. His eyes burned, not with tears — but with promise.