Divorce by Agreement C56
by MarineTLChapter 56
#What to Do When the Flower Withers?
The flower has withered.
What now?
I’ve stayed in this summer blossom longer than ever before in my history.
That day, after the summer flowers floated down through the forest, Xie Zhuo brought me back to his tent. He found a pot and stuck me inside it, as if wanting to keep a bit of that day’s luck with him.
Ever since then, whenever he left the tent, he started carrying the pot with me in it, wandering around.
Maybe he liked summer flowers. Maybe he liked the luck of that day. Or maybe, just maybe, he wanted those around him to notice him—through this flower.
To look at him and think: He’s lucky too.
But no one told him that you’re supposed to put water in the vase when you arrange flowers.
It was… a little funny. A little sad.
I did everything I could to absorb the spiritual energy of heaven and earth, trying to hold onto “my life,” trying to help Xie Zhuo preserve this piece of luck. But still, I withered—visibly, day by day.
Little Xie Zhuo seemed to notice. I was wilting. I’d been here for a while now, had accompanied him through many days. And for the first time, I saw worry on his face.
When he took me out in the pot, he saw the flowers others in the tribe had picked that day—still vibrant and full of life.
He wanted to go over and ask, but no one was willing to talk to him. Most likely, before he could even approach, everyone nearby had already left.
I thought he was out of options.
That night, Little Xie Zhuo stared at me the entire time. He didn’t sleep. He stayed up all night. And when the tribe came to offer him soul power the next morning, the first thing he said was:
“The flower’s withered. What do I do?”
Everyone who stepped into the tent paused. But they were already used to silence and avoidance. No one answered him. They simply stepped forward in silence, offered their soul power, and left.
Little Xie Zhuo held it in for a while, then asked again:
“The flower’s withered. What do I do?”
Silence. Still silence.
But it was like something inside him had latched on. To every single person who came before him, he asked:
“The flower’s withered. What do I do?”
One after another, everyone fell silent in front of him.
The Snow Wolf Tribe gave him soul power out of fear of the Evil God. The Evil God only needed his body—not his happiness. And in this moment, through their silence, the people of the tribe were coldly and wordlessly expressing all the malice they’d accumulated toward him over time.
That malice—I could feel it.
And I think Xie Zhuo could too.
So his voice grew smaller and smaller. In his disappointment, he gradually slipped into despair. His question began to change in meaning, as if from “The flower’s withered. What do I do?” to “Is it that you all hate me?”
Each silence was a firm slap.
“Yes…”
“We all hate you.”
I heard those voices.
Xie Zhuo probably did too.
“Add water…”
Those two words broke the silence.
Little Xie Zhuo’s head shot up.
Standing before him, Xie Ling was offering her soul power. She didn’t look at him, as if those words hadn’t come from her at all.
The soul power drifted into Little Xie Zhuo’s body, giving off a faint glow. That glow lit up his dark eyes, as though someone had painted them with lacquer.
Just two words. No extra tone, no emotion, no action. Xie Ling finished her offering and immediately left.
Xie Zhuo’s gaze followed her back for a long, long time.
After the offerings were done that day, Little Xie Zhuo filled the pot with water for me.
With water, I could hold on a bit longer.
Seeing me a little more energetic, he was clearly happy. But I think—his happiness wasn’t just because of that.
Because after that day, Xie Zhuo started growing a tail.
His ears also changed—becoming two furry tufts on top of his head.
After staying in the Northern Wastes so long, I’d learned this meant his Snow Wolf bloodline was awakening. He had entered his true growth stage.
For most Snow Wolf children, this might take decades—or never happen at all. Once they cultivate enough, the ears and tail vanish again, returning to simplicity.
Because of the tribe’s daily offering of soul power, Xie Zhuo’s body was always different from others. That’s why he could enter this stage in just a few years.
But I think what really made him want to grow up overnight was his mind—his heart—starting to awaken.
That one response from Xie Ling seemed to ignite in him a true sense of curiosity, anticipation, and longing for this world.
The one person who could see him had answered his question—neither warmly, nor cruelly.
And for Little Xie Zhuo, that was rare and precious.
Because of that, he wanted to be closer to Xie Ling.
His “longing” grew.
So he still went out every day with me in his arms, and he just so happened to “bump into” Xie Ling—earlier and more frequently than before, as she returned from gathering soul power.
He silently followed behind her. But he’d learned not to make her speak. He always stopped just outside the line she’d drawn.
One day, he looked at her just before she entered her tent. His lips moved slightly, and finally, he managed to say:
“A-niang…”
Xie Ling paused for a moment.
She didn’t turn around, nor did she scold him. She simply entered her tent in silence.
That day, Xie Zhuo stood outside her tent longer than usual.
After he left, he went to the edge of the icy lake, muttering over and over:
“A-niang, A-niang…”
He told me,
“Flower, she’s my A-niang.”
I didn’t know how to respond. I just let my petals dance in the wind.
The next day, Xie Zhuo went to see Xie Ling again. This time, the moment he saw her, he softly called out, “A-niang.”
Xie Ling ignored him, as though she hadn’t heard.
On the third day, Xie Zhuo followed her and said,
“A-niang, even in the water, the flower’s still wilting.”
Xie Ling shot him an annoyed look and said,
“Scram.”
On the fourth day, he went again—and spoke even more.
On the fifth day…
My final petal fell.
Even with water, I was a rootless flower.
My spirit drifted out from the fully-withered summer blossom. I looked at Xie Zhuo, still holding the pot, head lowered deep in thought. After a long time, he still picked up the pot and left the tent. I floated along behind him.
Just like always, he wandered around, searching for Xie Ling.
But today, she never returned.
So Xie Zhuo made his way to the tent she always came back to. He stared at the tent, as if wondering—had he come out too late today, and she’d already gone back?
He thought for a long time. Then, as if he’d made up his mind, he held the pot, his fluffy tail swaying, and walked toward the tent.
In my spirit form, all I could do was watch from the side.
Xie Zhuo lifted the curtain. Inside, the tent was simple—table, chairs, a brazier, a kettle, a bed.
Lying on the bed was a boy just reaching adolescence—Zhu Lian.
He coughed twice and poked his head out from under the blankets.
“A-niang…” He only said those two words before stopping.
He saw Xie Zhuo.
And of course—Xie Zhuo saw him.
The two boys had similar features. They looked at each other in silence.
Xie Zhuo noticed the book by Zhu Lian’s side, and the low stool beside the bed—like someone had just been sitting there.
Zhu Lian’s eyes, meanwhile, moved from Xie Zhuo’s ears to the tail behind him.
I guessed that at this moment, one of them was thinking about companionship, the other about power—each envious of what the other had, each yearning for what they could not attain.
Zhu Lian’s hand clenched tightly at his side. He clearly recognized the person before him. “Xie Zhuo…”
And it seemed Xie Zhuo recognized who stood before him too. He saw ink and brush still laid out on the table by the bed and asked Zhu Lian, “How do you write my name? Did Mother ever teach you?”
Zhu Lian raised his hand and hurled the book on the bedside at Xie Zhuo’s face.
The book hit him squarely. Xie Zhuo stood holding only a pot, making no attempt to block it. The spine of the book struck him right in the eye. I couldn’t tell how much it hurt—only that Xie Zhuo lifted a hand to cover his right eye.
“Get out!” Zhu Lian shouted, furious.
Just then, the sound of hurried footsteps rang from outside—Xie Ling burst in.
She took one look at the scene inside the tent and her expression darkened immediately. She grabbed Xie Zhuo’s arm—the very hand that was covering his eye. His bent elbow gave her just the right leverage to yank him away.
Xie Ling dragged Xie Zhuo out without a word and threw him aside.
His big fluffy tail helped him regain his balance. He didn’t fall, but stood there awkwardly, one eye shut, staring at Xie Ling.
She was clearly livid. She stared at him as though entirely consumed by rage, but strangely, she didn’t say a single word to him. Instead, she turned abruptly and stormed off in the direction of the Ice Lake.
Some of the Snow Wolf tribespeople had heard the commotion and came over. They started whispering:
“A-Yu’s heading toward where the Chieftain is secluded…”
“But the Evil God’s spirit resides in the Chieftain’s body—will A-Yu be alright going there?”
“A-Yu knows what she’s doing. That Xie Zhuo—he really shouldn’t be allowed to wander around like this.”
“What if he ends up hurting Zhu Lian…”
The whispers around us surged like a vortex, swirling with malice.
I only hated that I didn’t have a pair of hands right now—to cover Xie Zhuo’s ears.
But Xie Zhuo didn’t seem too affected. He simply rubbed his eye and, once he’d recovered, walked through the hurtful chatter, following the direction Xie Ling had gone.
I chased after him. This time, I was even faster than Xie Zhuo. I reached Xie Ling first.
Just as the others had speculated, she was in the darkest corner of the woods near the Ice Lake, standing before a black shrine-like wooden hut, shouting:
“Lock Xie Zhuo up! Imprison him!”
There was no response from inside the black wooden hut.
In a fit of rage, Xie Ling stepped forward, about to enter—but just as she reached the threshold, an invisible force blasted her back.
She fell hard to the ground. A low, male voice rumbled from within the hut:
“Your duty is to offer the Evil God a vessel. Or today, you shall be his sacrifice.”
Either she offered Xie Zhuo, or she became nourishment for the Evil God.
Xie Ling said no more. Her fingernails clawed at the ground, digging until they bent back and bled, leaving streaks of red across the pristine snow.
She stood up again, no longer full of burning anger, but as if she’d buried a seething hatred deep in her heart.
She turned and walked away.
I watched her retreat into the snowy woods. In that moment, a memory—or perhaps a dream I once had—overlapped with the scene before me, as though fate were replaying what I’d seen in that dream.
From a distance by the Ice Lake, a small Xie Zhuo came running after her.
But Xie Ling didn’t even look at him. She passed him like the wind.
“Mother.” Xie Zhuo chased her, calling after her footsteps. “I won’t go anymore.” He told her, “I won’t go.”
He knew he’d done something wrong. Maybe he didn’t know exactly what, but he knew enough to apologize—and when he did, he was just like any other child.
The difference was: he would not be forgiven.
Xie Ling kept walking quickly, back to him, not responding.
Xie Zhuo followed close behind. Tilting his head up to look at her face, he asked softly through the silence:
“I just want to know—how do you write my name?”
He wanted to know himself.
He wanted to understand why he had come into this world.
“啄? 镯? 灼? They… won’t tell me…”
Xie Ling’s sleeves fluttered in the wind.
Xie Zhuo reached out, as if trying to touch the hem of her sleeve.
Smack!
His hand was harshly slapped away.
That sound was louder than what I’d heard in my dreams.
It landed on a face not yet fully grown.
In Xie Zhuo’s eyes, and on Xie Ling’s face—there was no mistaking the disgust and hatred.
“Get lost! You’re a child of filth! Don’t come near me! You only bring misfortune!”
Xie Zhuo stood frozen where he was, watching her walk away and disappear from sight.
The light that had sparked in his eyes when she once responded to him—dimmed.
Looking at him like that, my heart ached. And I was afraid.
Afraid that he would think: once the summer flower loses all its petals, his luck is over too.
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