"Get up, Rat," said the leading slave. "It's time to dance for the king."
Flower jumped up from where he was leaning against the wall and stood at attention. He emerged, eyes downcast, back straight, hands clasped around his navel. He gritted his teeth and waited impatiently for the slave to hit his ears with a stick as usual, but the stone man just turned around and led Hua out of the quarterdeck house, where he slept with the king's women and girls. Next to me, we walked into the open-air fortress.
The sun had set, but not that long ago as there was still a little light in the sky. It was a long walk from one end of the fenced-in hilltop to the other, and the stonemason was in no hurry. He walked slowly, even though the icy mud on the road froze into their leather shoes.
Flowers was almost unbearable; he wanted to run anywhere as fast as possible. All day long he just stood there doing nothing but waiting. Wearing gorgeous red linen trousers, no shirt, and lots of silver jewelry. Now that he was outside, the necklace immediately froze against his bare chest; but it didn't matter. Even if the cold turned his face redder than white, it didn't matter. This was the first time they'd let him wear shoes outside, and he wanted to enjoy it.
But he can't. He can't act too happy or too sad, or someone will hit him. So he tried to hide his excitement and focused on maintaining good posture and not letting his tail wag around like a happy dog.
The leading slave was not a foreigner like the king and his subjects. After living with Mom, Dad, and Gabby, Flower was able to tell the different kinds of stone people apart. The exotic had pale hair, but was not as beautiful as Gabby, and had a beard that hung down to his mouth. Sometimes they grow beards too, but not like Dad. Their skin is usually the color of dry wheat straw. But the slave leader's hair and beard were as black as his father's, and his face was a different shape. His skin is not as dark as Dad's, so he is not an old believer either. None of the other slaves would say where he came from, but one time Flower overheard that he had once been a king.
From the way the man walked, Flower believed it too. He doesn't walk like a slave, even if his voice is humble. His steps were too long and he walked with his chest out instead of hunched over. It's hard to tell what he's thinking, though, unlike Dad. Dad, you can always tell. He's frowning half the time, so you know he's angry and what he's angry about.
But now, the lead slave walked slower than usual, his steps leaning slightly backwards, as if he didn't want to go there. terrible. After being trapped inside for so many days, Flower wanted to run, stretch, play, see everything in the King's entire fortress, but he could only follow. slow.
The lead slave looked back once or twice to make sure the flower was still following him, but his face had an expression of tenderness, or perhaps sadness, rather than the usual expression of impatience. Flower felt his excitement fade away, replaced by nervousness. Not much. Only a little.
The Stone Man said, "Listen, Rat. The King's new slave will be there. You know who I mean. If you say a word to him—a word!—you will be beaten and hung. One day. Outside. Don't wave at him and don't pat your heart. Don't even look at him. You're going to get punished and you're not going to like it."
"I know. They told me," Flower said. His heart jumped into his throat, beating wildly. He could feel his tongue pulsing. He was so excited it was almost unreal. Like this is a scam. He was finally going to see his dad again.
"I'll say it again, lest you forget." The slave leader sighed and looked down at the ground. Flower pricked his ears to hear clearly. The stone man's shoulders leaned forward slightly, and he sounded like he was regretting what he said when he spoke. "Don't screw it up. The king can strangle you like a five-legged lamb if he wants to and no one will care. Your only value is to please the king. No one wants you."
The words stung him, even though everyone said such things to him, he gradually got used to it. In fact, presbyopia has always heard this, but it is no longer true. Now his whole family knows. Laohua is hated by everyone, even his old mother, even his brothers and sisters. Presbyopia is not good at anything. The old man didn't dare to speak, he was always afraid.
But flowers are A
d
son of okles. Xiaohua can sing better than anyone else, he can use a sling and a knife, and he can do anything if someone teaches him. Because that’s what daddy’s boys are. The new flowers have no intention of letting the old flowers come back. "Little Flower" will one day be as great as his father, just like he was when he was about seventeen years old.
The stupid aliens thought they were embarrassing him by putting jewelry on him and teaching him how to dance. But little did they know that the Raphaelians had been dancing, boys and girls, and even adults, and that these aliens were actually just teaching him some good things.
So Hua endured the shame and doubt, relaxed and ignored the leader's harsh words. He walked very quietly, because walking quietly makes one look elegant. The King's Dancer taught him this. He smiled to himself, but only in his heart, not on his face.
When they reached the King's Great Hall, Flower was shivering with cold. It towered over him, much taller than he had imagined from the women's descriptions. In the light of the torches, he could barely make out the small animals, people, and things carved into the wooden beams and doors. He wished he could stop and climb up there and look at everyone, but he couldn't.
The building exuded power and skill, and Flower wondered what Dad thought. Dad hated what the barbarians had done, but even he had to admit that the King's Great Hall was a building worthy of a powerful ruler.
Flower curled her fingers, imagining Pepper standing next to him holding hands. Finding Pepper is harder than finding anyone. Dad can take care of himself and Mom will take care of Gabby. One of them will also take away the wolf sca
. But Pepper was taken away on his own. Pepper, his first and best friend, had loved him since he was a presbyopic girl. Dad needs to hurry up and save everyone.
A shocking shock of pain tore Flower from his mind as his head slave punched both of his ears through with his rod.
"Did you pay attention?" the leading slave asked with an annoyed voice.
Flower nodded through tears.
"Good. You look like you're zoning out. Focus!"
Flowers are concentrated. The pain in his ears spread downwards, throughout his head and even his neck. He gritted his teeth, leaned forward slightly, took a deep breath, and blinked hard to wipe away the tears and disorientation caused by such a hard slap on the ear. They hurt so much that he worried they might tear apart, but he didn't dare reach out and touch them. The pain shot up to his jawbone.
The lead slave said, "I think I can give you a minute to get yourself ready." Then he sighed, put his fists on his butt, and looked at the sunset, relaxing a little. Although the lead slave had a disciplined face, Flower saw deep regret or pity in it. In Hua's memory, this was the first time she had seen anything like this from him; maybe the man would open up and they would get along better? Maybe not, but maybe. After a while, the pain in Hua's ears disappeared. He took a few more deep breaths and nodded, preparing to look as elegant as the women had taught him.
There was a hint of excitement in the stone man's voice as he said: "Listen, mouse, there is..."
When he stopped, Flower looked up. However, the leading slave was not finished. The man's face twitched, as if he had been seized by indecision—indecision that hurt him. Xiaohua immediately felt very uncomfortable, and to make matters worse, the slave remained silent for a long time, becoming very embarrassed.
Finally the man said: "It doesn't matter. Come on."
Flower asked in his most humble voice: "What do you want to tell me?"
"Nothing. Let's go," said the lead slave. He led Flower around the back of the King's Hall to the slave's door, which faced the high wooden wall of the fortress. There were several paths leading in different directions, which gave Flower the impression that the back end of the building was used more than the front, which he found odd. The trails here are icy due to being in the shade most of the time.
The stone man opened the door, and a rush of warm air rushed out, filled with the smell of meat and strong liquor. Flower could almost taste the smell in the air, and he must have been too obvious because the maître d' reminded him: "None of this food is for you. Move forward. Stand to the left of the King's women and look after them Do as you say. You can dance after dinner."
Hua lowered her head and walked in. When the master and slave almost closed the door, Hua flicked her tail. The warm air wrapped around him like a blanket, invigorating him and making him feel comfortable. There was nothing to see, however; a flat wooden wall separated this entrance from the view of the king's guests. A short corridor ran from left to right, and a low-burning oil lamp hung from a hook on the wall so that one could see where one was going.
He hesitated for a moment, wondering if he would be in some serious embarrassment. But no one really notices the slaves until they need a drink or drop something, not even the Thunderbolt slaves with their pointy white ears. He turned to the left and followed the wall until it carried him to the Great Hall.
The interior had lived up to every rumor he'd heard. The walls and tables were decorated with riches beyond his imagination; pottery from Baba's people and elsewhere, beautifully carved shields, stone statues of gods, animal bones inlaid with gold, boldly embroidered cloths and tapestries.
Most prominent and abundant are severed heads. There are dozens, even hundreds, of kings. Flower didn't even count. In fact, there was one next to him, an arm's length away. Its hollow and sunken eyes could not see anything, and its open jaw revealed a withered tongue. It smells like cedar oil, not rot, and doesn't look like it's falling apart. Flower didn't know how old it was.
The room was filled with sounds, smells, colors, and light unlike anything he had ever seen in his life. Hua couldn't accept all this; he swayed slightly on his feet and almost fainted. He felt dizzy breathing the thick air. The light dazzled his eyes. He blinked rapidly and shook his head so hard that his ears were askew, which always stung a bit. He straightened his hair with his hands and took a deep breath to clear his head.
But the sound pressed into his ears. It was the sound of too many people talking. It was the sound of drums, flutes, clangs and crashes. The smell penetrated deeply into his lungs and occupied the air. Space. He couldn't control himself. Even though he hadn't eaten today, his stomach was churning and he was about to vomit. He needs to get stronger; he needs to be new. New Flowe
Can handle this. New flowers…
A loud voice shouted over the chaos: "Ah, here comes my new dance partner! Come on, come on!"
A burst of cheers echoed through the hall, and Hua'er looked up and saw that it was the king himself who was shouting. The muscular man with a short, oiled beard sat on a gold-fringed pillow and was richly dressed, from a gold-winged helmet to silver-threaded slippers. There was a ring on each finger and several in each ear. His handsome and fierce eyes were fixed directly on Flower, expecting immediate execution of the order.
Flower found himself awakened from his earlier uneasiness with a sudden feeling of fear. This is not what is supposed to happen. He should stand behind the women, they dance first, and then he dances. But later, not now. He took a few uncertain steps toward the center of the room, luckily he remembered to look down instead of at all the free people, which made it easier.
Flower managed to get to where he was supposed to stand without stumbling, although people snickered to each other and said, "Am I supposed to believe that's a boy?" and "Where did they find such a timid little rabbit?" He stood. Standing, arms hanging at his sides, head lowered, looking like a slave. New Flowe
This can be done.
"Alsafir, tell us about our little dancer," said the king. There was amusement in his voice, but not contempt.
"As my master wishes," said a man sitting next to the king, whose voice the little flower could not recognize. He didn't dare to raise his head because he knew what would happen. The man's voice sounded stiff and flat, like the ice outside. "My father's guest, our entertainment. Tell us your name, child."
Hua'er replied without looking up: "Hua'er, master." After hearing this, the crowd laughed and laughed, thinking it was a joke. He clenched his fists, feeling ashamed.
The king laughed and said, "That was his name before we took him away. It fit so well that we kept it and made him a dancer. A flower boy! What a sweet little thing he was, wasn't he?" Like a girl!" The crowd laughed wildly again.
After the crowd calmed down for a while, the man with a cold voice next to the king asked: "Whose son are you?"
Hua hesitated for a while, not knowing how to answer. He said, Master, this is no one else’s son. Just a slave. "
"But you weren't always a slave, were you?"
"No, Master."
"Whose son were you before?"
Flower hesitated again. Should he boast? He chose to object, saying simply: "I am the son of Androcles, son of Palamonos of Decea, master. In glory."
Vicious tension permeated the room, and the crowd gasped. Flower felt their eyes burning on his bare back, and underneath it all there was just a hint of Dad's anger, just enough to let him know Dad was in the room.
It took all the courage New Flower Town could muster not to look up and look for the source of the anger. He wanted to see his father so much that his throat felt hot and his eyes filled with tears, but he did not dare to wipe away the tears with his hands. The slave leader warned him not to look at Dad or talk to him, so he couldn't look. Not now, everyone is watching. His heart was pounding in his chest, enough to make him feel like he was going to die. He tried to keep his eyes open, blinking, hoping they would dry. they do not.
However, Altfer came to his rescue, saying: "Have a good look at him. Notice anything strange? Anything that might be out of place?"
No one spoke, but a few shifted their weight and muttered affirmations.
"What could it be?" Maybe it's the muscles. Smudge, stand up and bend down for us. "
Flower heard movement not far to the king's right, opposite the wall through which he had entered. After a moment of silence, several people agreed and commented on his scar.
Arsal, with a cold voice, said: "Now it's your turn, flower. Your flex. Let's see if you have your father's muscles."
Without looking up, Flower nodded, raising his arms and twisting as many muscles as he could, even his chest, belly and legs. The crowd burst into laughter again, the flames of shame burning higher and higher. He wants to be the "new flower," but it's getting harder and harder to stop feeling like the "old flower."
The king said: "You must do whatever my prince tells you! Why don't you bend down?" The crowd laughed again, this time louder, probably because they had to.
The flower obediently bent tighter, gritted her teeth, and curled her toes. He used all his strength.
The laughter of the crowd died away when the prince spoke again. "It's muscles. Narrow shoulders. They look nothing alike. I can't believe this little thing is that man's son. Never mind the white ears and the white tail." Despite the joke, his voice There was not a trace of smile in it. The crowd chuckled anyway. Even the king was snickering. The man continued: "Friends, I do think our new slave Smudge is a cuckold."
After hearing this, the room burst into laughter, as if a hundred trees fell down at once. Their plates and glasses clinked. They clapped their hands and stamped their feet. There was an air of malice and mockery in it all that had until now been absent. They were trying to humiliate Dad, who knew it was Hua's fault. He had never heard of a cuckold before, but he knew what it meant: a person. Flower had never before realized that Androclus must have lowered himself in order to save him.
Hua's shame grew bigger and bigger, and soon overwhelmed him, blocking all his thoughts. This incident burned his determination and confidence. After all, presbyopia is the real flower. He didn't deserve the love of Androx, Mom, and Pepper. How could he think he was?
no no. He can do this. New Flowe
This can still be done. He crossed his arms tightly over his chest and tried to cheer himself up. In order to prevent "Little Flower" from dying on the spot.
When the laughter basically subsided, the king smiled and said: "Altfer, if you point out these things, our little stain over there may not be so obedient. Who will save the child of his wife's lover? We Don't say anything. He probably didn't notice that the child wasn't his." He paused, making everyone laugh, and then said, "Besides, I asked the bunny to come out and dance, and I didn't see it dance."
Altfer's voice was as dull, flat and stiff as ever, and he said: "Merciful king, please forgive me. I have no intention of delaying your happiness. Drummers, are you ready? Who are you? OK. Now dance Come on, kid, don't slip in front of the king. Everyone's watching."
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