Flower nodded and swayed into the starting position. In the moments before the music started, he glanced briefly at the wall where Dad was, despite the maitre d's warning not to do so. He couldn't control himself. Dad was sitting on the ground with his arms crossed and his legs crossed, wearing only a pair of torn trousers that were just above his knees. His shaggy beard was spread out in all directions. His unbraided hair fell over his shoulders. He was frowning at Flower, but it was a thoughtful frown, or a concerned frown, not an angry one.
Hua desperately wanted to look until her father blinked, or waved, or made some small gesture to show that it was okay, but he did not dare to look anymore.
The musicians began to play according to the king's instructions, and the drums and flutes played the dance music of "Flower". He started spinning, just like he was supposed to. The dance was complex and difficult, and it might have been impossible to dance if it hadn't been for Dad's exercises that got him used to moving like that. Flower focused on his feet and let his arms follow. After a while, everything got better and seemed easier.
After doing a few more movements, it became easier. His confidence began to return and his shame slowly faded. New flower, she can learn to do anything. Presbyopia is no longer real. "New flowers, new flowers," he repeated over and over in his head, in time with the music.
When he was halfway through the song, fear returned to him. He began to notice the way the stone men and their king looked at him; some nodded to the music or tapped the ground, but others giggled and snickered at each other. Someone laughed behind him, and when the dance brought him to the king, Hua saw him smiling almost maliciously, his face almost white, his clenched teeth surrounded by opulence.
The flowers stomped their feet to the music. One, two, new flowers, one, two, and then turned around, the ground suddenly changed, he stepped on a plate, fell back heavily, and hit his head on the ground. He hit the ground hard and saw a flash of white light, and when he jumped up and continued dancing, a wave of nausea nearly made him fall again. he said hesitantly.
The king laughed, and the others laughed too. Their laughter made him sick and dizzy, and when he couldn't immediately find his place, the king threw a handful of food from his plate. It spread out in mid-air, hitting Flower from his hair to his navel. He froze with fear. He had offended the king. He is dying.
The crowd was still laughing and started throwing food at him. The musicians continued playing, and Flower's mind raced as he wondered where to continue. He hoped he could still survive, if only he could remember where to go...
Altfer stood up and raised his hands, and after a moment the crowd fell silent. He said, his voice still flat and stiff, "You seem to have forgotten your place."
Hua murmured: "Yes, Master." His throat was choked. Close to death.
"Stand in front of me."
The flower approached tremblingly. He obeyed with great difficulty. His heart nearly failed.
Altfer picked up a whip from next to where he sat. He spun dramatically overhead and then shattered with a loud thud in the air. "Do you want to feel its kiss, child?" he asked.
Hua choked and said, "No, Master."
Arsal snapped again, loudly.
Hua raised her head and saw him staring at me viciously from under his thin and light eyebrows. He drank it all in one gulp. His toes were trembling.
"You're lucky that your skin is beautiful and doesn't get stained," the man said, his voice as flat and stiff as ever. He nudged Flower with his whip. "Dance, or we'll make a drum out of it."
Flower stepped back and cleared his dancing area. He was sure that plate had never appeared before. But why would someone drop it while dancing? He suddenly realized this and his heart pounded. They do this on purpose. The crowd wanted him to mess it up. As he stood at the starting line, his knees were shaking so badly with fear that he thought he might collapse.
He risked a look at his dad to get the strength he needed. He found his father glaring at him angrily and about to scream. Flower had never seen him so crazy without unleashing his evil and killing something. there has never been. Sweat gathered on Dad's forehead in large drops, as if squeezed from his body, and the chest muscles, which were larger than a man's head, twitched and flexed involuntarily. For a moment, he worried that his father was angry with him.
However, Dad relaxed when he saw Hua peeking at him. Dad held back his anger and sat up straight, with dignity. He folded his hands patiently in his lap. We are strong. We are better than them. Got it? he seemed to say.
The flower looked away. If he nods or winks at his dad, they can tell. But his knees no longer shook. His heart didn't knock a hole in his chest. The new flower pushed the old flower aside and stood up to dance.
When the music started, Flower was ready. His fear disappeared when he showed everyone how the dance should be performed. His movements were precise and in perfect time with the beat of the drums. He noticed that Altfer was nodding to the drummer and they slowed down, but that didn't knock him off. They picked up speed and he kept up. Someone rolls an apple at his feet and he kicks it away to make it look like part of the dance. Another stoner sitting at the front of the crowd pretended to drop his cup into the dancing area, but Flower saw it and pushed it back with his heel.
At the end of the dance, when the flower had to shake its butt and wag its tail wildly, the king laughed loudly. This dance was apparently designed for tailless stone men. The female teacher who taught him always grinned when he did this move, but he did it anyway. If he wiggles his butt like he's supposed to, his tail will fly all over the place, even if he tries to hold it steady.
The flower ignored the king's laughter. But when the whole room joined in, he became nervous. He almost changed the dance the second time, but he was sure someone would notice. So he shook his butt, his tail went wild, and the room erupted in laughter again. After a while, they saw that he didn't have to do it a third time, and they grew restless. The dance brought him again to the edge of the crowd, close to the man who had dropped the cup. He drank another glass, full of it, and poured it directly on Hua's face.
When Flower stumbled, the crowd laughed loudly at him. The stinky mead seeped into his ears and flowed everywhere, even to his lower back. It stung his eyes. He lost his rhythm, and then his nerve. However, he didn't think long before someone threw a hard object and hit him on the arm. Something wet splashed on him. Something gooey stuck to his stomach and he plopped to the ground.
Flower tried to wipe his eyes and continue dancing, but he couldn't see where he was going and tripped over someone else's lap. A stone man roared and pushed Flower back into the dancing area. The crowd laughed harder, drunkenly and feverishly, and Flower soon found himself being pelted with food thrown at him from all angles. Some even threw cups, horns, and plates at his bones, causing him great pain. He collapsed to the ground, curling up into a ball to protect himself. Soon he was covered in food, the most he had eaten since the king's men captured him.
"Get up, slave!" Get up and dance! shouted the king. Flower tried to stand up, but he slipped in a pile of mud around him. It went into his mouth and he tasted salt and gravy, and he felt so ashamed as he licked his lips for more. The second time, he stood more carefully, trying to wipe his eyes clean so he could see. However, his hands were so dirty, which only made matters worse. He licked his fingers and tried again, with a little more success. He could blink through the water in his eyes and make out the room.
Alsafir asked, his voice harder than metal and colder than snow, "Child, are you still hungry?"
When the king heard this, he shouted: "Hey! Eat more!" Then he threw a piece of meat covered with sauce, which fell right between Flower's ears and fell to the ground. Then the king grinned and glanced glanced at Androx.
Hua followed his gaze and saw her father shaking with anger. At any moment Dad would unleash his evil and all these people would die. Flower had felt this evil before and didn't want to feel it again. It chokes all breath and clouds thought. It's like being thrown into a grave and never hitting the bottom.
He had to run. Now.
He had just turned towards the door when the rim of a cup touched his nose, just under his eye. Pain spread throughout his head and he was blinded by tears. He sobbed, gritting his teeth to avoid crying in pain, and he felt something break inside him. He felt his insides collapse and he knew he was going to fail. He has nothing. A puddle of sticky sauce splattered on his neck and face, and he didn't even bother to wipe it off. He stood there, eyes and fists clenched, sobbing silently and shaking as he waited for his father to smear their blood all over the walls. All he could do was endure it.
The crowd went wild, shouting drunkenly. Everything they got their hands on was thrown at him, and Flower fell to the ground, curling into a ball to protect himself like the coward he'd always been. After a while, they left him and turned their attention elsewhere. He heard the thumping and tearing sounds of bodies colliding with each other, and all sorts of other chaotic sounds that he couldn't understand. The room was in chaos.
Dad's evil was not revealed. The flower waited and waited, but it never happened. Dad did nothing to save him.
A strange, soft object hit him across the head, and Flower saw another white flash and felt his brain tremble. His skull ached, his ear on that side rang and stung, and when he opened his eyes, everything was blurry for a moment. He felt sick and tried to take deep breaths to keep from losing what was left in his stomach.
Then his eyes focused and he saw what struck him: a stone man's head falling from the wall. Its gray skin hangs loosely over its skull like melted candle wax. Hana almost screamed and cried in fear; he frowned, showing his teeth, and tears welled up in his eyes. He blinked his eyes away and looked at his father.
A
d
Okles is still sitting as before. He only made eye contact with Flower for a moment, then turned away. Hua stared at him harder, screaming in her heart: Dad, help me! Please! His tongue wriggled behind the grimace and spoke. Dad, Dad! Dad!
His adoptive father never laid eyes on him again. Flower's tears made it difficult for her to tell or even see what her father was feeling; everything was too blurry for him to blink away and see clearly.
"Beynon, what are you doing down there?" Aserfer said, standing next to the flower. His voice was as flat as ever, but there was something about his body language that made him sound arrogant. The man reached down and grabbed the severed head by its hair and lifted it up. "Beynon, you know what happened last time you wandered somewhere you didn't belong," he told it.
Hearing this, the crowd roared with laughter. The king didn't hear it, so he had to ask someone to repeat it. When he did, he clapped and shouted: "Put him by the door. If he runs away, there will be one less mouth to feed! Ha!"
Altfer threw his head to the back of the room and leaned against the door to the road. Then he raised his hand, and after a while the room became quieter. He paused, lending an air of solemnity to the silence. The crowd quieted further. Then he said: "Master, someone has made a mess in your hall."
Flower looked up and saw the king sitting solemnly, the humor gone from his face. He turned his head and glared at Hua, who just reluctantly lowered her head to avoid his gaze.
"Who dares to do this, my son?" Who dares to laugh at me like this? said the king, his voice full of power.
"Your slave, my lord. The dancing boy," said Altfer.
Flower felt a jolt of shock and moved through the crowd; but he wasn't quite sure what it was. Excitement? Fear? For Flower, there's a good chance he'll wet himself.
"My slaves did all this?" said the king slowly. Shock. inauspicious.
"Yes, my king. He danced so poorly that your people made a scene."
"Bring him to me," commanded the king.
Arsal grabbed Flower harshly by the hair on the top of his head, just between his ears. Despite being stained with food grease, the prince's hand held firm. He lifted Flower sharply and pushed him forward into the open space in front of the king.
Flower's heart raced as he struggled to get the water down his stomach without screaming out of sheer terror. There was no order left in his mind. He didn't even dare to open his eyes. His legs went weak, but Alsafir helped him up.
"Did you do it?" Look at my hall! the king roared.
Hana felt a drop of moisture hit his cheek; it must have been the king's spittle, coming all the way from where he sat. Even if Flower dared to answer, his fear prevented him from doing so.
"Look, I say!" cried the king, louder this time.
Flower forced him to open his eyes and see the damage he had caused. It took great effort to untie them; only his fear of the king made it possible. Food and silt were everywhere. The trophies were dismantled, and not just the severed heads. The king's guests, all dirty and bloody, rearranged their clothes and assumed wild and contented looks. Women and slaves huddled together for protection, still unsure if they dared resume their duties. Of all the chambers, only Anchorex and the King escaped the chaos. To this day, Dad still doesn't look at him.
"He should be skinned!" shouted the king. Flower heard all the anger in his voice—an inevitable thunderstorm was coming. A fast river cannot be dammed.
Flower lost his water and it flowed down his legs in a warm stream. His voice was almost a scream, and he started to cry. He knows what skinning means - he's skinned a fish more than once. He wanted to shout for his dad to come save him, but he couldn't even force himself to say it.
But before he could think about it for long, a wave of pure power shook the entire room, and Androx stood up. Flower and most of the men in the room were breathless at Dad's wrath. It seemed to squeeze the blood out of his brain, nearly rendering him unconscious. If Dad was serious, that would be it. Flowers quickly realized this was a warning.
Even the king raised an eyebrow slightly in concern. Alterfer was the only one in the room, and he didn't seem to be affected at all. His grip on Flower's hair never diminished.
Ancrès stood with his hands on his hips, glaring at the king and Alsafir to see if they dared to continue. After a while, his evilness disappeared and the flower could breathe again.
Prince Altsfer's voice was as cold and flat as ever, and he said: "Do you think this poor little weasel is worth saving? Him? Are you going to fight to save him? Do you think he is worth saving? Then come on. . Come and save him."
The flower stared at Dad imploringly, but Dad never looked at him. No matter what Flower wanted, Ankles kept his eyes on Alsafir.
"He's not worth what you're doing, is he?" He's not worth saving. You never really cared about him, you cuckold. I do not blame you. This child is as worthy of love as clay. Altfal said, his voice low, almost like chanting a hymn.
Flower whimpered, "That's not true!" He said to himself, so softly that no one could hear him. But somehow Altfer heard it.
The prince turned around, grabbed Xiaohua's hair, and lifted him to his toes. "Oh, you don't agree?" You're worthless. You are not cute. You deserve to be a slave, but you're not even a good slave. "
If Alterfer had spoken with anger, resentment, or any emotion, Flower knew it wouldn't have hurt so deeply. But it sounds like he's saying a simple thing, like saying "the leaves are green" or "the stone is hard." "Flowers are worthless."
"Don't you think so?" Altfer asked. Then he shook Flower's hair, encouraging him to answer.
"No, Master," the flower whispered. He felt the words on his lips and knew it wasn't a lie. All the pain, tension and fear in his body, all the physical pain and mental torture, condensed into a hard ball of pain in his heart. This is a truth that Flower can't even hope to erase. No new flowers. No presbyopia. It's Flower, as always.
"Don't you agree, Smudge? Is this child valuable? Can you say a few words for him?" Altfer asked.
Dad paused, then looked away, and Hua's heart was broken. The pain in his chest was like a stone, pressing against his insides. Disrupting his blood and breathing ruined his life. His grief turned to physical pain, and he could feel that he was closer to death now than when he was starving. His chest would burst open on the spot.
Altfer said: "O king, shall we skin him again? Even his so-called father doesn't care."
Flower saw movement out of the corner of his eye from where Dad was, but he couldn't bring himself to look.
The king sighed and said, "No, I changed my mind. He doesn't deserve to pay for the mess he caused. Let him wash the jewelry and return it to me. We have to think of some other way to deal with him. Take him away Bar."
A slave girl came forward, took Flower's hand, and led him out of the auditorium. He glanced back at the man who had failed to save him one last time. Anchorex stared back at him with a strange emotion on his face, but Flower was too confused inside to process it.
Then the glance ended and the flowers were taken outside. The cold air didn't bother him, and he didn't answer any of the woman's questions. She cleaned him with a bucket of cold water and a rag, then removed the jewelry from his unresponsive body. At last she took him to the hut, where he slept on a thin pile of straw beside the king's daughter's bed, and left him there without a word. Everyone else was busy doing their own thing, and no one gave him warmth. He lay in the cold darkness.
After a while, he began to cry helplessly, mourning the person he once thought he could be. He sobbed himself to sleep.
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