In the endless wind and snow, Cheng Weicai pressed forward through difficulty, hauling his supplies.

He was tired. He stopped for a brief rest and looked into the distance. The snowman had grown into a small mountain, making its way slowly along the edge of the blizzard ring, as if patrolling its own domain.

“You’ve grown up too…” Cheng Weicai murmured softly. “The rose should be close now, shouldn’t it…”

He let out a long breath, shouldered the tow rope again, and set off toward the castle.

……

When he returned to the castle, the Snow Queen was gone.

In the palace, the rose bud had grown large as a basin—full and round as a great ball—with crimson petals spilling outward, beginning to turn back just slightly at the tips.

Cheng Weicai dragged the supplies inside.

He had not found a container large enough to serve as a new flower pot, but he had found a wardrobe. He laid it on its side, filled it with soil, dug a hollow in the center, then carried the rose inside—

As if aware that Cheng Weicai had found it a spacious new home, the rose’s white roots gripped the soil firmly and buried themselves in of their own accord.

Cheng Weicai watered it thoroughly.

The rose seemed at ease.

Before long, its leaves grew fuller and greener, its bud more robust and vigorous—another round larger—more petals spilling over the edges, covering the exposed teeth. Faintly, unmistakably, it was on the verge of blooming…

Cheng Weicai tilted his head back and looked up at the rose, which had grown to over two meters tall. They were at the final moment now, and his heart rose with it.

He had done everything he could. Was the flower truly about to bloom?

Time passed, second by second.

The bud opened, little by little.

As the petals unfurled layer by layer, that shade of red rose like a radiant sunrise—seductive and brilliant to the utmost degree—seizing Cheng Weicai’s gaze completely. In an instant, all the lush green leaves around it became nothing more than backdrop.

The rose seemed to know how breathtaking it was at this moment. It proudly shook its petals—each one red as blood—and fragrance instantly filled the entire palace.

The flower bloomed with effortless ease, entirely unbothered by how much effort others had poured into it.

It blossomed in smug splendor, stripped of all the fierceness it had shown in its youth, doing nothing now but stretching its graceful form with endless indulgence—as if it never stopped saying: *Am I beautiful? Am I beautiful? Am I beautiful?…*

Watching the rose like this, Cheng Weicai felt the tension inside him dissolve completely.

His flower had bloomed. Now, surely, he could receive the sword?

But where was the sword?

He looked around. There was the Snow Queen again—the six hours hadn’t passed yet; perhaps she had sensed the flower blooming and come early.

Cheng Weicai hurried toward her. “The rose has bloomed now—can I receive the sword? Please, give me the king’s sword…”

The words were barely out of his mouth when a flash of red swept past!

The rose violently bit off the Snow Queen’s arm!

Cheng Weicai froze in shock, rooted to the spot. “How—no, stop! Stop this now!”

The rose seemed to have gone mad, attacking the woman again and again! Its petals peeled back to reveal teeth packed in dense, layered rings—ring after ring! Gnawing at her! Boring into her! Biting through her!

What was even more terrifying was that the woman did not bleed. Her body shattered like ice, crumbling into pieces under the rose’s relentless onslaught!

Cheng Weicai’s mind raced with panic. He rushed forward and threw his arms around the rose, desperate to stop it.

But the woman gazed at him with a blank expression, as distant and detached as a bystander.

“It doesn’t matter…” She lay on the ground, her voice utterly calm. “I was already dead to begin with… my reason for existing here was to wait for the rose to bloom… This outcome is actually very good. Very good…”

Her eyes filled with drops of water. Her features began to melt and blur, dissolving slowly. Her final words came like a breath of wind, drifting into Cheng Weicai’s ears:

“…It is yours. The king’s sword.”

She dissolved at last into a pool of snow and ice, and was gone.

Only her staff remained behind.

The layer of ice and snow on the staff’s surface had melted away, revealing the sharp blade within, and at the hilt, a ruby blazed with light.

……

The woman’s consciousness was fading.

As she drifted, she saw—in a wash of white light—her daughter seated in a wheelchair, asking: “Mama, do you hate me?”

She wanted to answer, but her consciousness was fragmenting…

Her daughter’s figure vanished. She had forgotten who she was, forgotten what she had just been trying to say.

She saw several flower seeds appear in her hand—

Oh…

That’s right. She needed to find someone to grow flowers.

She needed to wait for the rose to bloom.

No matter what, she had wanted to see the rose grow up.

*That would surely be so beautiful…*