Flower woke up when someone put a hand on his shoulder and shook him, but he didn't want to talk to anyone, so he kept his eyes closed and motionless.
A big boy's voice said: "Come on, I have to give you a bath. They are worried that you will get sick."
Flower opened his eyes and saw an alien child one or two years older than him, with a bald head and black eyes. The boy looked down at him with an impatient expression.
"I got one last night," Flowers said.
"She's doing a terrible job. You're spreading. I need to see if you have any cuts. Get up. Come on, before the water is cold."
"What?" said the flower. Before the water got cold? Does that mean it was warm? He sat up quickly and the boy grabbed his arm and held him the rest of the way. The king's women were still lying on the thick Sleeping on pillows and furs, they were all dressed warmly enough to leave in a hurry if called upon.
"Don't wake them," the older boy whispered. "Watch your step."
"I know," Flower said, exasperated by the necessity of the warning. He almost stepped on a finger.
It was the first time he woke up before some women. They liked to talk until late, which kept him awake and forced him to sleep in. But no one cared, because he had nothing to do all day anyway, unless they taught him how to dance. But that was in the afternoon, never in the morning.
Flower wondered if the boy was really supposed to be here, or if he might have come to steal him. Or a prank or something. But it doesn't matter. Flower was too weak to fight the big boy, and if he had to fight, no one would come to help. He wasn't worth the trouble of protecting - but that also meant he wasn't worth stealing either. Who would want him?
The boy led him through the fort, even though they were both barefoot and it was a long way. Hana stared at the frozen ground, trying not to draw attention to herself. His toes ached from the cold, but that was his life. He was glad the sun hadn't risen yet, for the predawn darkness matched his feelings. He felt like he was old again. real flowers. He didn't want anyone to see him. Being outside felt like the air was pressing down on him from all sides, making his skin feel tight. Shame made his legs weak and his steps unsteady.
A sudden blast of hot wind covered Flower's body, and he almost jumped with fright. He looked up to find the older boy leading him through an open door into a square building hewn from gray stone. The floors were all brick, with small gaps in between, mostly filled with sand or dirt. In one corner, a large, round oven built with thick tan bricks burned red, providing the only light.
A pipe leads to a leather bellows in another corner and a pillow for someone to sit on while working on it. A large pot filled with water sat on the oven door waiting to be heated, and another equally large pot steamed nearby. Along the walls are placed an assortment of containers: wooden barrels, clay pots, and cloth bags of various shapes and sizes. Most of them hold charcoal or red sand with red rocks inside.
The room looked so warm and comfortable that Hua almost forgot the shame of last night. It was as hot as summer in the room, as if he had stepped through half of the year all at once. Hotter than the King's Auditorium. "What is this place?" he asked.
The older boy turned a bucket over and placed it in the center of the square room, just a few feet from the oven. He said: "You can sit on this. Your pants are not worth keeping, throw them over there. I have new ones for you. This is a smelter."
Flower thought it was weird that they weren't going to save his pants because they didn't have holes or anything and they fit him fine. Just wash it and it'll be fine. But Flower wasn't going to argue for something new, so he took off the rest of his clothes, sat down and threw his pants against the wall. A feeling of normalcy and contentment drove away the darkness within him.
The boy grunted with difficulty and slid the large kettle that was not in the oven over. Once the water was within reach, he dipped a cup into it and poured it gently over Flower's head, being careful not to let it get into his ears.
The water was hot, almost boiling. The flower almost forgot that warm water existed, let alone that there was any. It flowed all the way down his body, and the path didn't feel cold at all. The water seeped into the spaces between the bricks on the floor, leaving no puddles.
"What is a smelter?"
"Yes... that thing over there is called a furnace. You put the ore in it, and then you make the bellows to let the air heat the fire so it melts. I make the bellows. That's my job."
"Oh, okay. I know what a bellows is. We had one before. But I don't know anything about ore and melting. What happens when it melts?"
"It turned to iron," said the boy. "The blacksmiths took it out and made things with it. Nails, tools, knives. That kind of thing." He washed Flower's hair well, rubbed it, poked it, rinsed it. He was also very gentle with the flower's ears, without dripping a drop of water into them. feels good.
"Are you a slave too?" Hana asked after sitting there enjoying herself for a minute. All his tension was washed away by the water and mud.
"Yes. Why do you think I gave you a bath instead of sleeping on you?"
"Oh." This made Flower a little nervous, as if he was disturbing you. But that was stupid - the big boys came and took him away. Flower didn't ask, so it should be fine. Right?
The boy was satisfied that Hua's hair was clean and said, "Okay, close your eyes." He poured a glass of water on Hua's face and began to wipe it clean with a cloth. He washed vigorously, some bruises from last night still hurting, like on his eyebrows and cheekbones, but Flower tried not to show it. This time, he was thankful that his hair hadn't grown out yet. It's much harder to clean than bare skin.
"I'm sorry, I can't tell what's a bruise and what's dirty. It's really... stuck in there..."
"It's good. It doesn't hurt that much."
"Good. Just close your eyes. I don't think you got a cut on your head anywhere."
After the older boy had washed his head, he moved to Flower's shoulders and back, poured warm water on it, and wiped it until it was clean. Flower winced every time he found a new bruise because it was so sudden. However, the boy turned out to be careful in those places.
"How long have you been a slave?" Flower asked. "For me, it's only been a few months."
"You used to belong to Smudge, didn't you?"
Flower felt nervous hearing the name again. Anger and shame gathered in his chest, turning into a tight little ball that shattered any previous relaxation he had felt. Mocking Androclus' good name is almost enough to make him lose his temper or cry in shame, both at the same time. But the boy probably didn't mean anything else, so Flower kept it to himself.
"I am the son of Androchus. Sorted. He adopted me. I was not a former slave."
"Oh. I wonder if he had a thunderbolt wife. I was a slave for three years, I think. Three or four. The king chopped off my father's head."
"Oh," Flower said, suddenly embarrassed. He didn't know what to say.
"He hung it in his hall. Sometimes I sneak in and look at it, but it doesn't look like it anymore."
Flower's anger disappeared, leaving only shame. He might have seen the boy's father's head last night, hanging on the wall. He shook his head, trying to clear the image of Ankrex's head tied to the wall from his mind. He opened his mouth and stuck out his old dry tongue, like...
He focused on taking a shower, trying not to think about anything else. The older boy worked his way down Flower's arms and between his fingers. He checked all the wounds, but all he found were bruises. "Why were you beaten so badly?"
Flower answered quickly, glad to be speaking rather than imagining. "I was supposed to dance for the king, but his guests threw things at me and turned it into a joke. At first, they just threw things like food, but then they threw plates, cups and anything else they had Something. Someone even threw a severed head at me. I'm sure they were trying to see if they could kill me."
From what the other boy told him about his father without hesitation or emotion, Flower discovered that he could do the same thing, just say it, without feeling embarrassed. Reliving the memory in this way made him feel better instead of worse, like some pain had bubbled out of him.
"Wow," said the older boy. "No wonder you were so dirty. I should have taken you out and bathed you in the river, but I would have frozen too. They wouldn't have known. Was Smudge here when it happened?"
"Yes," said Flower. He looked down at the ground and felt very small. old flowers. If A
d
okles has no name, then Flowe
What? "He didn't do anything, though. He just watched."
"Then I bet he can't," said the boy. "Would it be weird if I washed your tail? Does it hurt?"
"No, it's okay," Flower said. The older boy was gentler on his tail, but washed it thoroughly. The massage invigorated him and soothed him at the same time. But that's not because he can't do it. Dad could kill everyone in the entire fortress if he wanted to. "
"Now that you say so."
"he".
"Now that you say so." After being satisfied with the flower's back and tail, he began to study its feet and legs. He treated them both equally thoroughly, finding more bruises than Flower realized. No cuts though.
The water in the kettle was not even half empty, but a full one was already filled. The bricks were hot under his toes, and the stove dried the splashes much faster than he expected.
"Have you ever sneaked out?" asked the older boy.
"No."
"Why not? What have you been doing all day?"
Flower turned his head away in embarrassment. "I just sit there. I can go out and find water or make dirt, but I don't have shoes or a coat, so I don't stay out for long. Sometimes the women teach me how to dance, but that's it."
The boy was satisfied with Hua's toes and started touching his chest. Everything the rag touched turned red, almost like it had been painted and not cleaned. No one else's skin has ever done this, at least not that much. What if the boy thought he was strange and started spreading rumors? "Look, his skin is as delicate as a flower," his old family used to tease him. They'd say, "Don't touch him or he'll crack," and give everyone a hug except him. Just thinking about it made him hurt inside.
"So you don't do anything because you want to?" the boy asked, pausing again. Flower met his gaze and noticed how dark the boy's eyes were. The irises were so dark they looked black, but maybe that was just from the dim light from the stove. Still, there were faint little flashes of light in their darkness, like little stars.
"What do you mean? Like find someone to play with?"
"Well, whatever. I mean, you just want to do something, so you do it. Things no one tells you to do."
"I couldn't do anything like that. They were always staring at me, and I didn't have enough clothes to go anywhere. I was petrified. I couldn't do anything."
"I bet you can do it if you want to. Just a minute," the boy said. He picked up a bucket of charcoal and threw half of it into the open door. Then he picked up a metal poker and stabbed it several times. But Flower doesn't feel like he's cooling down at all. The water on his skin felt more like sweat, and he was sure the droplets running down his back were sweat.
"They also didn't give me enough food, so even if I could leave and play, I would be hungry," Flower added.
"Then let's steal some food."
"But if you get caught, won't they whip you?"
"So don't get caught. I do it sometimes, but never get caught."
"I'm not good at stuff like this. Pepper is, but I'm not. I can't even hide it very well."
"Then you sound like a born slave. Stand up," the older boy said. He finished bathing the flower and let it sit. "You don't have any wounds at all, so I can give the medicine back to you. That's good, because I hate touching that stuff. I've been smelling it all day. There's still some water in your jug that you want me to pour in In your neck?”
"Still warm?"
"Yes."
"Yes."
The boy struggled to lift the almost empty can, as it was almost half his size, but he lifted it high enough to pour it out. Hana closed her eyes and enjoyed the warm water flowing down the back of her head, shoulders and back. It felt better than anything he could remember.
The older boy set the pot down as carefully as he could without breaking it, and then he pushed the other pot through the stove door. He dipped his fingers into the water and smiled innocently, eagerly, and Flower noticed that he had good teeth. "Okay, you can do me now," the boy said. "I haven't had a shower since the fall. I washed my face a few times, but that's it."
Flower had never given anyone a bath before, but he got the hang of it right away. However, the boy was already dirty as hell. It was hard to tell in the soft red light of the fire, but the older boy was absolutely filthy from head to toe. Some is soot, some is dirt, and some is just dirt. Before Flower could finish shaving his head, the rag turned black and he had to start using another one. Luckily, there's a whole bunch of them.
"You said I was born to be a slave. What is that?" Flower asked, rubbing the rag up and down the boy's back with her hands.
That refers to people who are born slaves. This is their nature. Like you, you do whatever they ask you to do. If you're hungry, you won't even try to get more food. but I am not. My father lost to the king, but I was just a slave because I had nowhere to go. One day, I will run away, or they will let me go. I have no idea. But until then, I'm going to do what they say and not get in trouble, and that's okay because I'm still free in my heart. I'm still doing the things I want to do, they don't own my whole life. said the eldest son. His hands and feet were almost completely still, which made it harder for Flower to read his body language. But from the tone of his voice, he was trying to sound like this was a completely normal thing. Something, something already decided. It didn't sound like he was trying to convince Flower at all; it sounded more like he was trying to convince himself.
Fury burned in Flower's chest, and he scrubbed as if to peel the skin off. "I was not born a slave. I'm stuck now, but that's not where I belong! I can sing better than anyone and when I get to Digya, daddy says I'll be famous."
"You can sing?" So. If it were up to you, you'd be here forever. Being a slave doesn't mean you're not good at anything. You can be a blacksmith or a jeweler and still be a born slave. What matters is what you think in your heart, not whether you can do something. Some people are just not cut out to take charge of their own lives, so others have to do it for them. Did you sneak out to see your dad? Apply?"
Flower found herself clenching her fists and wanting to punch the older boy, but that would be stupid. This is the first person who has been nice to him in a while. There was no malice in the boy's voice. Nothing malicious. He was just talking. He probably didn't realize how hurtful it was to hear those words, especially after last night.
Part of Flower's anger was triggered by feelings of shame and helplessness, so she took a few deep breaths to calm down. When he was ready, he poured a glass of water on the boy's arm. By the time the water reached the ground, it was murky. "If I did that, they said they would hang me naked upside down and hang me out in the cold for a day. It's easy for you to say you're not a real slave because probably no one cares what you do as long as you keep the stove going during the day Fever. Someone was watching me all the time. They locked me in the most heavily guarded place. I don't know if they did it to prevent dad from coming in or to prevent me from getting out, but as long as I slipped out, someone would know. "
The boy smiled mischievously at Flower and held out his fingers so he could get a better bath between them. "Do you think anyone noticed you were missing?"
"What do you mean?"
"No one asked me to give you a bath. I thought of it myself after seeing you last night. You looked in pain, so I decided to do it. You slipped out. You disappeared."
Flower paused for a moment, staring at the older boy who wasn't lying. Flower will see that. "No one told you?" Then why did you sneak me out? They would beat me until I bleed!"
"No, they won't. Look, it's still dark outside. They're not even awake, except for a few guards who we can trick them into thinking I should be awake. You're all clean, aren't you?"
"But why are you doing this?"
"Just because I wanted to. I told you. You looked like you were in pain, so I decided to do something for you. I said I was not born to be a slave. I will do what I want when I get the chance. I Living my own life.”
Flower gritted her teeth and continued to wash clothes while trying to sort out the confusing feelings in her heart. Pour, wash, pour, wash. It took a long time because the boy was very dirty. Much dirtier than being in a place where you sweat all day long. The thought of it made him angry. The older boy wanted a bath, so he found someone he could convince to give him a bath, probably because he knew how difficult it was to get a bath.
but it is not the truth. He wasn't angry with the other boy. He was just ashamed that the other boy was better than him. Maybe he would have been a better son than Flower. The more he thought about it, the more he felt like an old man—perhaps he was born a slave. Who has ever heard of someone who didn't even love his mother? She must have seen his true colors. She knew how useless he was, and so did his old family. They treated him the way he deserved.
The older boy didn't speak for a moment. Instead, he relaxed and enjoyed every minute of the shower with a content expression on his face. It really was a long time and he needed it. Maybe Flower was right to do this, and it was right for the servant to do this. He could find a place in the world, beneath everyone. He can hide in a safe place.
The older boy was finally clean from head to toe. He stretched, sighed, and said, "Thank you. It feels really good. Now I won't get the food dirty just by picking it up." "
Flower smiled back at him, but his heart wasn't here.
The older boy noticed and said, "You still want to be a born slave, don't you?"
Flower nodded. His ears drooped on their own.
"Well, don't worry too much. If you're not born to be a slave, then you decide not to be one. It's that simple. If not, it doesn't matter. You're still one of us."
"What do you mean by deciding not to be a doctor?" Hua asked, still not looking up.
"Do you have a nature? Do you know what it is?"
Flower looked up and found himself caught in the boy's gaze again. He was startled by his black eyes with star-like white spots in them. "I have no idea."
"It's like living like you don't have any nature at all, you have to create it in your life." If you don't do it, someone else will. This is how you become a born slave. At least, that's what I thought," the boy said. He fidgeted for a moment, as if he wanted to pat Flower on the head, or grab his shoulder, or something like that. But he didn't. He just said, "You don't have to Always be an old man. You have to decide for yourself. "
Flower nodded, but his calm appearance didn't reflect the way the boy's words struck him like lightning, like he somehow knew how much Flower was in pain and so said the right thing. Give him a bath and make him feel better too. clean. Fresh.
The boy's words really affected him. Maybe it was only temporary, but all the bad feelings inside him were gone, replaced by hope. Hope and confidence that as long as Xiaohua continues to work hard, he can recover from all this.
"Oh, I almost forgot. You definitely don't want to run back naked. These are the clothes I bought for you. The slave leader has a cabinet with these things in it. If he asks, just say this is a slave to Yours, but you don’t know who.”
"What's your name?" Hua asked.
"If I tell you, you can't say you don't know who it is. Anyway, come back soon. If you lie down before they wake up, I bet they'll never notice you're gone," the older boy said . He helped Flower pull a clean woolen shirt and trousers over his wet body, then led him out the open doorway.
The sky was getting brighter and brighter, almost bright enough for the sun to rise. Morning came to this world and also came to his heart. The flower flew quickly across the frozen ground, along the rough, icy road, through the fortress and back to the house where the king's women slept. Hua didn't feel cold at all - his body was still warm after sitting in the furnace for so long. His mind became active and bright as he thought of all the ways he could be a "new flower," even in a place where everyone was forced to be a slave until Dad freed them.
Maybe he could do something too. Maybe he can sing well and the king and prince will do him a favor. He is not powerless. He can choose. He just needs to believe.
Flower turned and ran back to the smelter to thank the boy, but what he found shocked him so much that he had to blink five times to believe it was real. A large kettle was placed against the wall, containing charcoal. The bucket they had been sitting on was placed next to the stove. It was filled with light gray rocks that looked a bit metallic. The brick floor was completely dry, showing no sign of the dirt scraped from Flower and the other boy.
The boy himself disappeared without a trace. Only Flower's clean, new clothes indicated that this had actually happened.
