As the Crows Fall | ONC 2020 Grand Winner

xi | In but a Memory

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Murder is cruel or merciful with little room between for anything else.

Mu'en thinks he understands this when he takes the title of Longtou, when he plucks the role from the fingers of a dead man and stands on his grave to take his place. He thinks he understands this when he follows Limei to the streets and she warns him, Murder is not personal. He thinks he understands this when he looks into the eyes of a young girl named Ruyue and she stares back at him with a hollow expression and says, I wish I was dead.

But he doesn't.

He doesn't understand until he meets Shiyuan.

Shiyuan, who was there when he gained the title of Longtou. Shiyuan, who knew Limei and every person she killed by name. Shiyuan, who was Ruyue's first and final friend in Luoxia, who listened to those words night after night when she whispers to him, I can't do this anymore.

One week before Ruyue dies, Shiyuan sits with Mu'en on the warehouse roof. It was still white back then, the outer walls yet unblemished by the elements.

"Do you think death is cruel or merciful?" Shiyuan asks him.

And his voice is soft. So very soft. Mu'en startles, but has no answer.

"In the West, they have something they call a mercy kill," Shiyuan continues quietly. "That is, when you kill someone because living is crueler. Some people call it immoral, but I think it is simply kindness. Let my soul be damned if that's what it must be, but if someone has suffered enough to pray for death, then how is it cruel to let them go?"

Mu'en is quiet. He looks at the river, at the way it looks so still. He knows, though, that the calm is a front and below the surface, it churns restlessly. "I think it is cruel to take their choice."

Shiyuan whips his head around to stare Mu'en in the eyes. "And if they beg for it? Is that cruel still?"

"What is this about?" Mu'en asks slowly.

Shiyuan smiles, sharp and lovely. "Answer the question."

Mu'en looks away. "That's not something I ever want to answer," he replies softly. "I'd rather die myself than have to chose."

Shiyuan lies back to stare at the stars. "Then don't."

"Why would I have to?"

"You don't, qin ai de." He closes his eyes and slips into Cantonese. "Ngo wui jou bei lei."

You don't, my love.

I will do it for you.

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Soft sunlight filters in through the windows.

Mu'en blinks agains the sudden light, disoriented. He's again in his wheelchair, sitting in a room not so different from that untouched apartment he'd stayed in just last night. The girl, Ruwei, stands with her back pressed to the wall of the room, eyes wide. Something between pain and rage dances across her face. Mu'en reaches for the gun at his waist and she whips around to face him, burning fury in her expression.

"It's no use," she snarls. "We're in a memory. Your memory."

He shakes his head. "I don't remember this."

Her eyes flash. "Then who—"

Shiyuan steps into the room.

Mu'en sucks in a sharp breath and Ruwei goes white as snow.