"I just wanted him to live longer… for me."
The words slipped from his trembling lips--fragile as snow melting on skin.
No one answered. The prayer hall stood utterly still; candles half-burned, incense rising like ghosts of forgotten prayers. The air itself seemed to wait for judgment.
"Dì Zūn… please, don't hurt him. It was me… I was the one who--"
His voice broke. His hands were cold, shaking, as if a mortal plea could rewrite a god's decree.
Silence deepened. Then, footsteps--measured, divine.
A shadow fell before him. Fingers colder than stone lifted his chin, forcing his gaze upward into the Earth God's eyes.
"You call this a mistake?"
The Earth God's tone was calm—terrifyingly so.
"No, little ice flower. This is sin. And sins are not meant to be forgiven."
He tried to speak, but the grip tightened. Breath faltered. A cold, searing pain crawled down his spine. Icy tears spilled down his cheeks, yet they did not fall--
One… three… five…
They floated upward, glowing faintly, hardening into diamond-shaped stones that circled him like restless spirits, whispering violet light into the dark.
"Please…" His voice cracked against the pain. "Give me one last chance. I won't--try anything again."
"You already had your chance," Dì Zūn replied, eyes void of pity.
"Your mortal body awaits. The consequence is absolute."
The words echoed like a bell for the dead.
Out of Heaven. Cast away.
He felt abandoned--discarded, like a relic that no longer shone.
"Please, Dì Zūn… please don't do this to me!"
The god smiled faintly--no warmth, only judgment.
"Goodbye, little one. Heaven has no need for the weak."
The divine light shattered. The air split like glass--and he fell.
No sound. Only the desperate whistle of wind as his white hair billowed like torn silk. The world blurred into light and shadow. He reached for something--anything--but Heaven turned its gaze away, as if it had never known his name.
The five Tearstones followed him for a moment before scattering, fleeing like frightened souls--each streaking toward a different horizon, their silver glow bleeding into violet, crimson, gold, blue, and pale green before vanishing into the mortal earth.
Something tore inside him--a violent pull.
Half his soul ripped free, leaving him hollow, bleeding light into the dark.
He fell through the clouds like a broken feather.
Then came the voice--calm, final, unanswerable:
"You will be born as mortal flesh.
You will grow. You will fall. You will die.
And you will do it all again--until you choose to close the door yourself."
The decree wrapped around him like unbreakable chains.
He tried to scream, but only wind answered.
Faces flashed before him--the one he loved most, the hands that once held him, laughter beneath the last snowfall.
"My little flower… I'm sorry," he whispered.
His final tears drifted upward, glimmering against the storm--then everything, light and memory alike, went black.
When he opened his eyes again, the world was warm. Small. Alive.
He lay in someone's arms--a man's, trembling with joy.
A woman's voice spoke softly nearby.
"It's a boy, Jiāng. Look at him… he's like an ice doll."
Light filtered through the window, brushing his tiny face.
In a mirror, a child wrapped in white blinked back at him.
A faint gem shimmered on his temple--blue, not the familiar one he knew.
He tried to move, but the body refused. His heart beat too fast.
Warmth burned his skin; hunger twisted his chest.
So this was mortality.
"Let me hold him," the woman whispered, lifting him close.
"He has your hair… but my eyes."
The man laughed, voice thick with awe.
"He's perfect. A gift from Heaven itself."
Their love hurt more than any divine punishment.
He wanted to push them away--but something in their gaze felt achingly familiar, like a memory of sunlight he once knew.
He tried to speak his name, but only a faint cry escaped.
His lips tasted of milk and salt.
"He's quiet," the man said fondly. "Just like his father."
"Mm. He'll steal hearts one day," the woman teased.
"Then he needs a name," the man murmured, wrapping his arm around her.
"Something that carries us both."
She smiled down at the child.
"Jiǎng--from you. Língxi--from me."
The name lingered in the air, soft as falling snow.
And the boy, whose soul had once defied Heaven, closed his eyes.
A single blue tear slid down his cheek--his sixth.
Outside, the first snow of the season began to fall.
Thus began the mortal life of Jiǎng Língxi--
the fallen Heaven Official whose tears became stones,
and whose soul would remember every pain the gods wished him to forget.