How does Heaven Official’s Blessing use the recurring symbols of flowers and statues to explore the relationship between divinity and emotional suffering, and to show how suffering shapes, cracks, or affirms identity?
(Sorry if this is repetitive, I frankensteined two essays into this one)
In Heaven Official’s Blessing, Mo Xiang Tong Xiu uses recurring symbols to show how divinity is inseparable from emotional suffering. Rather than portraying gods as distant or flawless individuals, Mo makes her characters have traumas and desires. Which yeah, because characters need to have flaws, but the narrative explores godhood and identity in such a way I wasn’t expecting when I started reading TGCF for the first time—it dives into how suffering shapes identity and how perfection is unattainable through Xie Lian (a once-revered crown prince who ascends to godhood, only to fall twice, spending centuries in poverty and disgrace before ascending to heaven again as a god mocked by his peers). To recap, on a mission, he meets Hua Cheng, who helps him uncover the truth behind haunted sites, vengeful spirits, and corruption within Heaven, leading Xie Lian to confront his past and the painful realities of what perfection demands.
Statues: the Idealized Self
In Heaven Official’s Blessing, statues serve as both objects of worship and psychoanalytic mirrors that externalize Xie Lian’s fractured sense of self. They embody the pressures of divinity or perfection, demonstrate how identity fractures due to emotional suffering, and the conflict between Xie Lian’s true self and the expectations of him. Taking inspiration from the Lacanian theory, the statues represent the ego-ideal and the influence of the Other, which shape Xie Lian’s self-perception through society’s gaze. From Jungian theory, the statues are read as externalizations of the Shadow, meaning the repressed aspects of his identity that Xie Lian must ultimately confront and integrate.
From the moment of his first ascension, Xie Lian’s identity is shaped by worshippers who revere an image, not the real person—an image made permanent in stone. The people of Xianle celebrate his triumph by building a golden statue that shows the Crown Prince holding “a sword in one hand, flower in the other” (Mo 3.210). This image captures the paradox at the heart of his idealized self: a god capable of both destruction and protection, embodying both might and gentleness. His virtues are summed up as having “the power to end the world, but with a heart as gentle as a flower” (Mo 3.11). The statue becomes a physical expression of what both his people and Xie Lian himself believe godhood to be: for most gods, their statues are sources of pride; the more beautiful, the greater the honor. However, his perfection also alienates him. Unlike other gods who destroy statues they find unflattering, Xie Lian’s discomfort arises from the opposite—he believes the statues are too beautiful and distant from his true self, hinting at a fundamental conflict between his outward divinity and inner reality.
His divinity thus begins as a distortion and a public monument to an impossible ideal. Mo Xiang Tong Xiu suggests that divinity is not an inner truth but a performance maintained by collective belief. When this belief falters, so does the image, revealing the imperfections beneath. In Lacan’s Ecrits, he describes the Imaginary as "the realm of images, deception, and the lure of the mirror" (Lacan 75) and, within his The Four Fundamental Concepts of Psychoanalysis, as "the dimension in which the ego is constituted and where it finds its illusions" (Lacan 148). This emphasizes how the Imaginary molds our self-perception and our interactions with others; it is the realm in which the self is created through idealized images that are often deceptive. Xie Lian’s statue becomes a forced external, idealized self-image. It is the ‘mirror stage’ in which he feels he needs to reflect what he and his people need him to be: flawless, divine, invulnerable. Divinity thus begins as misrecognition, a Lacanian illusion where one confuses the ideal image for one’s true self, and in doing so, one is alienated from their ‘true’ self.
The Shadow: the Collapse of the Ideal
Xie Lian fails to prevent the war with the Yong’an people, who rebel and invade Xianle. In addition, bizarre accidents begin to occur. For example, an earthquake causes Xianle’s celestial pagoda—a renowned landmark and the tallest building in Xianle, known officially as the Pagoda of Celestial Being—to collapse. To prevent casualties, he possesses his own golden statue to hold up the collapsing tower. However, no matter how grand his statue is, even with his godlike abilities, Xie Lian realizes that the pagoda is too heavy. As a crowd approaches Xie Lian, demanding to know why he has not saved them from their suffering, they become increasingly violent. In his desperation, Xie Lian hears a startling voice within himself: “He was clearly a god of heaven, but in that moment, a feeble voice cried out at the bottom of his heart… Save me—” (Mo 6.223), and this brief cry reveals his truth under his divine image—that he is human too. He is as vulnerable and frightened as the humans who adorn him. Throughout his existence, Xie Lian’s goal is to ‘save the common people,’ and yet, in this moment of weakness, he finds he needs the saving instead. This is his confrontation with what Lacan terms the Real, the truth. The passage literalizes the burden of divinity or the ego ideal—the crushing weight of an identity built on the expectations of the Other. The pagoda’s collapse shatters the Imaginary, forcing him to face the painful truth of his limits.
This scene illustrates how his relentless effort to live up to the expectations of divinity corroded the very structures meant to sustain it. When the pagoda and statue collapse together, the destruction demonstrates Xie Lian’s internal disarray. Before this he believes that “even if the sky was going to fall, he had believed he could support it,” (Mo 3.215) but his faith in his own abilities is shaken and his fall truly began with his self-doubt as “even he could no longer believe in himself” (Mo 3.215). The statue’s collapse marks the first complete fracture between Xie Lian’s public image and his inner self. The very perfection that the statue embodied became alienating. Once worshipped as the “darling of heavens,” (Mo 1.17) he is now renamed a “God of misfortune,” (Mo 6.312) an embarrassment. Moreover, the same symbol that once elevated him now illustrates his failures. The burning of his temples and the desecration of his statues by the people of Xianle complete this transformation. The people refashioned his image into one of degradation: “once so highly venerated and worshipped,” (Mo 2.212) he is now “sculpted into the form of one kneeling down and begging for forgiveness” (Mo 2.213-214). These statues are deliberately placed in crowded spaces and designed for public participation in his humiliation of being spat on and kicked. Others are sculpted prostrating at thresholds so that “tens of thousands would walk all over it” (Mo 2.213). Yet, despite the humiliation, Xie Lian can’t look away as “Once he’d seen, he could not speak nor stop anyone—he could only stand there and watch helplessly” (Mo 6.227). While these statues mark Xie Lian’s public identity collapse, they also symbolize the eruption of the Shadow—every aspect of the self that is repressed or denied. Xie Lian’s identity as the perfect, compassionate god is fractured, and the desecrated statues externalize the parts of himself he is unable to face: helplessness, failure, the loss of perfection, resentment, and self-loathing.
Reconstruction of Identity
Xie Lian’s third ascension serves as a crucial moment in the novel’s exploration of how emotional suffering shapes identity and self-perception, directly addressing the intertwined nature of divinity and personal struggle. In his first descent, he rejects compassion and embraces bitterness. In his second, he regains his old self and rebuilds himself. By the third, hundreds of years later, he achieves something different: a stable, unbreakable confidence in himself and his ideals. This is demonstrated when he and his soulmate, Hua Cheng, are lost in a cave, specifically, the Cave of Ten Thousand Gods. There are thousands of statues, all of them are of Xie Lian, all created by Hua Cheng. This cave represents the most direct confrontation with Lacan’s concept of the Other; these statues depict every version of Xie Lian—divine, fallen, humiliated, heroic—and all are honored. He had always been terrified of being seen at his lowest; gods are meant to be powerful and strong. Here he can see that Hua Cheng has already seen and loved every version of Xie Lian. It is a different gaze that allows Xie Lian to see himself across time, by someone devoted to him regardless of the circumstances, and still concluding he is worthy of devotion. He consistently paints Xie Lian as a “glowing” (Mo 6.54) and a “mighty and glorious” (Mo 6.55) white figure that is pure, radiant, and seemingly untouchable. In this portrait, he depicts Xie Lian catching a red figure falling from the tower, symbolizing and glorifying his act of heroism, which others had condemned.
The desecration of Xie Lian’s statues marks the complete erasure of his divine identity, but it also begins the process of redefining his identity. The last statue that the author describes is made by Hua Cheng, and Xie Lian believes it is the best statue of himself ever created. It is built from an ‘Other’ who recognizes the truest version of Xie Lian, and it is his strongest and grandest version. When Xie Lian starts to doubt himself, it is Hua Cheng’s overwhelming faith in Xie Lian that keeps him steady. This confidence is also reflected by the monumental statue that Hua Cheng carves for Xie Lian, as it becomes a physical embodiment of Xie Lian’s restored self. Unlike the desecrated statues of his past, this one is “as large as a mansion,” (Mo 7.18) and its face is described with “long brows with elegant eyes, refined lips with slightly upturned corners…a face of compassion and beauty” (Mo 7.20) highlighting that Xie Lian’s greatest strength lies in his union of gentleness and power. Most importantly, like his earliest statues before Xianle’s fall, this one possesses a hand that is both “gentle enough to hold a flower and tough enough to wield a sword” (Mo 7.18). This image expresses the essence of his restored self: he is no longer torn between compassion and strength but is able to hold both in balance. He now believes that he may be able to finally defeat Bai Wuxiang, his enemy, and that he is finally good enough for himself, regardless of what others think.
Bai Wuxiang despises Xie Lian because he is compassionate without power, whereas after Bai Wuxiang fails, he becomes cruel and twisted. Wuxiang rules heaven through fear, manipulation, and spectacles. Most gods fear or seek Wuxiang’s favor, but Xie Lian does not care about acceptance or status. While his faith in his identity and convictions falters at times, he ultimately remains true to himself. Jung, in The Archetypes and the Collective Unconscious, defines the Hero archetype as “one who conquers the forces of darkness, the undifferentiated unconscious, and emerges with a new identity.” (Jung 169) By defeating Bai Wuxiang, Xie Lian completes his hero’s journey and finds himself. Meanwhile, Lacan's theories suggest that identity is not the real obstacle; what he needs to find himself is a stable relationship grounded in truth. The statues become markers of truth, depicting his journey from the Imaginary ideal to collapse and confronting the Shadow, becoming his individual and true self. In Heaven Official’s Blessing divinity is not granted by worship but by whether or not one’s true identity is worthy—suffering and struggle reveal this true self.
Flowers: the Internalized Self
From the beginning, flowers accompany Xie Lian as emblems of purity, compassion, and devotion. At the beginning of his godhood, during a festival, his white robes are described as fluttering in the “shape of a giant flower” (Mo 2.293) as he leaps to save a falling child. As previously stated, flowers are tied to his image. His statues hold a flower in one hand to symbolize his virtue, how his heart is “as gentle as a flower” (Mo 3.11). Upon catching the child, he notices that “the golden mask that hid his face had fallen” (Mo 2.300). The golden mask signifies his godhood, and its loss reveals Xie Lian’s instinct—his unwavering desire to protect others—without hesitation, even at the cost of his image. It is another marker of the beginning of his descent from godhood and his fall into understanding humanity and himself. However, Lacan’s mirror stage explores how this image of Xie Lian’s ideal, his kind self, becomes increasingly fractured as he confronts harsh realities.
After learning that his kingdom is suffering from drought and is on the brink of war, Xie Lian appears before his people, against Heaven’s wishes, and asks his subjects to believe in him, promising to protect everyone. The flower reappears during this scene after the crowd disperses, he notices “a single flower” (Mo 2.105). The flower is trampled by so much that it is now almost the “color of the dirt below” (Mo 2.105), and its “faint fragrance didn’t last; it soon dispersed” (Mo 2.105). The image serves a dual purpose, mirroring how the people of Xianle, like the flower, are fragile and vulnerable to being trampled by forces greater than themselves, such as war, famine, and drought. Xie Lian’s vow to protect them is noble, but the broken flower foreshadows his inability to shield them from destruction. Moreover, it foreshadows his own fate—he will be trampled beneath the weight of impossible expectations.
This quote is also an intentional allusion to a verse from Lu You’s Ode to the Plum Blossom. The verse goes like this: “And when she falls to the mud and is ground to dust, only her fragrance remains” (Lu, lines 7-8) which illustrates a message of resilience and integrity. Even when destroyed, the plum blossom retains its fragrance, symbolizing unyielding purity and inner strength. When Xie Lian notices the single crushed flower—its petals broken, its fragrance fading—it directly, albeit ironically, echoes this classical imagery with a tragic twist. Unlike Lu You’s enduring blossom, the flower here does not keep its fragrance. Instead, the fragrance did not last, and it “dispersed” (Mo 2.105), signifying that faith, purity, and devotion can be lost under the weight of destruction. The allusion creates a gap between the ideal, immortal strength of virtue and the reality, the fragility of life and devotion.
However, even as Xie Lian’s faith continues to fade, flowers continue to appear as signs of endurance. While struggling to hold the collapsing pagoda, he notices a “tiny little flower. Snow-white with a lush green stem” (Mo 3.220). The constant practice of offering blossoms to Xie Lian’s statues further cements floral offerings as an act of enduring devotion and hope. He “clutched the flower tight…and pressed it near his heart,” (Mo 3.220) as this single flower represents his hope; although “thin and weak” (Mo 3.220), he still holds onto it. The flower proves to him that there is still someone devoted to him who believes he can succeed. Yet, the fragrance of the flower is soon overpowered by the “stench of blood” (Mo 3.220), demonstrating how easy it is to lose sight of one’s faith and purity during times of hardship. Despite Bai Wuxiang’s words to Xie Lain, Xie Lian determines that amidst ruin, beauty and hope remain worth protecting. Regardless of the circumstances, he wants to hold onto his convictions and purity, to protect everyone despite his fading strength and status.
After his kingdom falls and he loses everything, Xie Lian embarks on the path of revenge. However, although he could easily unleash a curse upon Yong’an, he hesitates and chooses to wait for three days. To me this pause is crucial as it shows that there is still a part of him resisting his new persona, the one where he has adopted the same attire and objective as his enemy, symbolizing his shift into becoming the very thing he despises. Despite his deep hatred, some remnants of his older self linger, keeping him from immediately condemning Yong’an. Bai Wuxiang forces him to look upon one of his ruined statues, which is “a tragic sight” (Mo 6.303). He notices that both the “flower and sword in the crown prince statue’s hands were gone” (Mo 6.303), and the missing flower signifies the disappearance of his compassion and the missing sword signifies the loss of his godly powers. When Wuxiang leaves, and Xie Lian looks at the statue again, he sees a “fresh, delicate, little white flower” (Mo 6.305) placed in the statue's hand. The flower is “pure, like snow,” (Mo 6.305) juxtaposing the “blackened” (Mo 6.305) statue. Although the flower is a symbol of compassion and purity, it is also a demonstration of faith—someone still remembers him and offers him flowers. The statue even appears to mirror his own mantra, “body in abyss, heart in paradise” (Mo 7.198), that even when burned and beaten down, something pure can persist. Since his youth, Xie Lian attempts to do what is right while maintaining his compassion and gentle heart. Like him, it appears the statue suffers all its injuries to protect the flower, his compassion.
Lacan’s ‘Other’ plays an important role in Xie Lian’s emotional and spiritual journey. For Lacan, the Other is the force through which the subject’s desires and identity are shaped. In Xie Lian’s case, the Other takes the form of those who remember him—his followers who continue to offer these flowers. While this pure white flower serves as a symbol of devotion and lingering hope, Xie Lian’s response to the flower is violent. Overcome by self-loathing, as all at once he feels “very wretched and unkempt” (Mo 6.305) as he is forced to think on his present actions: how could he be kind and innocent when he wanted to murder thousands for revenge? He dismisses the flower as a prank rather than as real devotion. This is revealing: it is easier for him to believe in mockery than sincere devotion because thinking that there is still one believer confronts him with what he has lost. Lacan might suggest that this resistance to accepting this offering reflects the subject’s failure to recognize the Other’s role in constructing his identity. By rejecting this flower, Xie Lian denies the recognition of his unconscious desires—a desire for connection, compassion, and redemption, all of which are embodied in this flower. He “stomped it under his boot, crushing it like he was venting his fury,” (Mo 6.307) symbolic of his own self-rejection. This is a moment when he can’t bear the sight of purity or devotion because he no longer recognizes himself as deserving of it. It is a violent rejection of the part of himself still capable of goodness—a refusal to accept the self and all its contradictions. Xie Lian is caught in what Lacan calls the split subject, torn between ideal and flawed selves, and unable to reconcile with them.
When Xie Lian’s faith in humanity and in kindness is reaffirmed by one stranger helping him out of a literal and metaphorical hole, he immediately rejects his original plan for revenge. However, the curse is unleashed anyway, so his subordinate sacrifices himself for Xie Lian’s wish to save people. In the spot where Wuming disappears is a “tiny white flower” (Mo 6.33) that Xie Lian walked over to. He then “picked up the flower and the sword.” (Mo 6.338) This signifies him taking up his old convictions even after the darkest moments in his life. Jung would argue that this also represents a key stage in his individuation process, where Xie Lian is able to accept his full self, which includes his flaws and shadows, without self rejection—instead, he rejects Bai Wuxiang, who is believed to be defeated by Jun Wu. Jun Wu tries to offer Xie Lian a reward for his persistence—and yet, Xie Lian can’t accept anything. He even asks to be banished again. After his first fall into bitterness, Xie Lian’s second descent takes on a markedly different tone. As he walks down a road, he notices a “tiny red flower” (Mo 6.348) on the side of the road and gently crouches to cheerfully touch its petals. The imagery of the red flower further reinforces this tonal shift. The flower recalls earlier imagery of purity and resilience—and unlike before, he accepts it. The red flower—vivid where earlier ones were white—signals a rebirth in Xie Lian through acceptance or a new stage of growth. This suggests that his redemption is not found in triumph but in the resilience of his kindness.
When Xie Lian fears what Hua Cheng will think of him if he knew all the terrible things Xie Lian did, Hua Cheng says, “‘To me, the one basking in infinite glory is you; the one fallen from grace is also you. What matters is you, not the state of you.’” (Mo 4.182) This statement dismantles the notion that divinity requires distance from suffering. He recognizes that worth is independent of status. To be divine is not to be untouchable but to remain oneself, to remain good despite being broken or in a position where power can corrupt. This articulates the central truth of the novels: compassion is more sacred than divinity. This idea is further demonstrated by Xie Lian’s mantra, “Body in abyss, heart in paradise,” (Mo 6.226) referring to his belief that despite any outward pain, one can still remain themselves or happy. Despite his many physical and spiritual setbacks, his fall from heaven, humiliation and exile all represent how he maintained his body in an abyss, yet his heart—his unwavering belief in kindness—in a hopeful paradise.
In Heaven Official’s Blessing, Mo Xiang Tong Xiu creates a narrative in which symbols of statues, flowers, and the themes of divinity and devotion serve as narrative devices and explorations of the psychological, emotional, and spiritual dimensions of identity. Through the character of Xie Lian, the novel explores the tensions between the idealized self and the fragmented reality of identity, presenting a far-from-perfect god. Xie Lian experiences the human struggle with suffering which, although at first fractures his identity and image, it ultimately allows him to realize his true self, affirming his identity.
Statues that once reflected Xie Lian’s divine image also act as externalized projections of his fractured self, and their desecration symbolizes his internal conflict. He portrays the impossibility of living up to the expectations of divinity, showcasing how the weight of perfection can alienate one’s true self. As Xie Lian confronts these issues, he begins to understand that divinity is not about being flawless but about staying true to oneself. Flowers emerge as symbols of purity, compassion, and endurance, even amidst destruction. They represent Xie Lian’s inner struggle to preserve his sense of self in the face of overwhelming suffering. They embody the duality of purity and fragility, illustrating how Xie Lian’s compassion, while often vulnerable and misunderstood, remains at the core of his identity.
Xie Lian’s journey with these symbols mirrors his gradual acceptance of his flaws and human desires ultimately leading to his security in his true self. The novels invite the reader to reconsider the nature of worth, suggesting that it should be embraced alongside one’s flaws, ultimately communicating that compassion is far from weakness—it is the most admirable human trait.
I had to really shorten this, but let me know what you think, agreements or disagreements! :)
