The old bungalow was nestled in the middle of a large garden. After their mother’s funeral, the atmosphere gradually calmed down, but the three brothers’ hearts were still heavy. The two older brothers seemed anxious, wanting to quickly resolve the division of property. The youngest brother, Minh, sat quietly at the altar, looking at his mother’s portrait as if he wanted to find peace. The lingering scent of incense made the house even more gloomy. Outside, the sound of roosters crowing and dogs barking made the atmosphere even more stifling.

When the meeting began, the eldest brother spoke first, his voice clear as if it had been arranged long ago. “Mom is gone, the land should be divided clearly, lest the brothers lose heart later.” The second brother echoed, saying a few more words about fairness, but his eyes revealed greed. Minh just nodded, not objecting, because he believed that everything should follow his mother’s wishes. The lottery had given the two brothers the frontage land, while Minh was left with only a tiny plot of land in the back with a rickety kitchen.

“Consider your luck unlucky,” the eldest brother sneered, his tone half-joking and half-sarcastic. The second brother also laughed, shaking his head in a fake pitying manner. Minh did not respond, only smiled faintly, his eyes calm. He knew he could not compete at this moment, he could only accept it. But deep down, Minh felt sad when the contempt was so obvious.

The next day, Minh started cleaning up the old kitchen. The walls were patchy and the corrugated iron roof had holes here and there, making the kitchen look like it was about to collapse. He quietly swept away the piles of trash and gathered up the broken bricks. His hands were rough but firm, without a single complaint. In Minh’s eyes, this place was not just an abandoned kitchen, but the root of the whole family.

While prying the rotten tile floor, Minh suddenly discovered an old, hidden wooden crack. His heart pounded, his hands trembled slightly as he lifted each tile. A wooden compartment appeared, partially rotten but still retaining its shape. Minh carefully pulled it out, the dust flying up made his eyes sting. When he opened the wooden box inside, he was stunned.

Inside the box were the red book, the gold loan papers, a savings book, and especially a handwritten letter from his mother. The familiar slanted handwriting made Minh feel like he could hear his mother whispering in his ear. He trembled as he opened the letter, each line blurring his vision. His mother confessed that she had secretly redeemed the land that had been mortgaged, and transferred most of the land to Minh. The reason was simple: she believed that only he knew how to preserve his roots.

After reading, Minh sat there in a daze for a long time. He remembered the days when his mother was seriously ill, still secretly borrowing gold, working for hire to save up. Every drop of sweat, every worried look of his mother was now clearly visible before his eyes. Minh placed the letter and papers on the altar, knelt down and prayed silently. Tears fell on the cold tile floor, mingling with the scent of incense.

The next morning, Minh called his two brothers over. “I have something to show you,” Minh said, his voice low but firm. The eldest brother raised his eyebrows, a little annoyed, but sat down anyway. Minh placed all the papers and letters on the table. The atmosphere in the room immediately became heavy.

The second brother picked up the land certificate, his eyes wide open. “This… how did this happen?” The first brother’s face paled, his hands trembling as he flipped through each page. When they read the handwritten letter, both fell silent, their faces gradually changing color. The truth was revealed, they understood that all the land legally belonged to Minh. If they sued, they would have nothing more to say.

“What… what do you intend to do?” the eldest brother asked, his voice faltering. The second brother lowered his head, fell silent, and avoided Minh’s gaze. Minh took a deep breath, then slowly replied: “That’s what Mother meant. But I don’t want the family to be torn apart because of the land. I just hope you two understand that greed will cause blood relatives to become strangers.” The words echoed, heavy as a mountain pressing down.

The eldest brother looked at the youngest brother in confusion, then sighed sadly. The second brother was moved to tears, perhaps feeling regretful. After a while of discussion, they took the initiative to write a paper to return the land to Minh according to their mother’s will. The pen was signed but his hand shook like a dry branch in the wind. The atmosphere was quiet, only the sound of the ceiling fan was heard.

Minh did not gloat, nor did he laugh sarcastically. He burned his mother’s old letter, the white smoke rising and blending with the weak light. “As a human being, the most important thing is not to let greed obscure your blood ties,” Minh repeated, his voice soft and resonant. The two brothers bowed their heads, silent as if they had been touched to the bottom of their hearts. Outside, the wind blew through the trees like a reminder.

Even though all the land belonged to him, Minh did not kick his brothers out of the house. He divided a portion so they would have a place to live, and he kept the land that his mother had entrusted to him. The eldest and second brothers looked at each other, no longer daring to look down on their youngest brother. In their eyes, Minh was now completely different, not just a poor brother. He was the one who kept the roots and the family honor.

From that day on, the atmosphere in the house became less tense. The eldest brother often came to help Minh fix the kitchen. The second brother gradually learned to be less talkative and less boastful. Minh still worked quietly, but he smiled more than before. The once-dilapidated kitchen was now a warm gathering place.

Every time he sat by the boiling pot of rice, Minh remembered his mother’s words. “Keep the roots, then the tree will grow green.” The simple words were engraved in his heart. His two older brothers sometimes sat silently looking at their younger brother, their eyes filled with respect. They understood that the land could be lost, but not the spirit.

The whole neighborhood began to look at Minh differently. People no longer called him “the foolish youngest son”, but respected him for his composure. When there were land disputes, people sought Minh for advice. Minh just smiled and said: “It’s nothing, just be amicable and your family will be warm.” Those words spread, becoming a reminder to many people.

One day, the eldest brother sat quietly on the porch and whispered, “I’m sorry, I was wrong before.” Minh smiled, not blaming, just tapping his cigarette lightly on the brick floor. The second brother also sighed, talking about the days when greed made him feel uneasy. Minh patted the two brothers on the shoulder, his voice as light as the wind: “There’s still time to fix it, as long as we don’t leave each other.” Those words made the three of them look at each other, their eyes stinging.

The 300m2 plot of land is not only an asset, but also a blood bond. The old kitchen that was once looked down upon is now the place that keeps the fire burning for the whole family. Every meal has laughter, every evening there is yellow light shining from the porch. Minh sits looking up at the altar, silently knowing that his mother is still watching. And somewhere, she smiles, relieved that her children have understood.