Jian kept his gaze fixed on the abyss where his body would soon rest. Concentrating, ignoring the cold, he stared at the rushing river below.
A faint layer of disappointment settled in his heart when he realized that not even fear—the emotion he considered most human—had appeared. Deep down, almost ashamedly, he had harbored the hope of feeling something, anything, even that.
The numbness that had claimed him so many years ago, which he had loathed, did not vanish; and so, he carried on.
The sky still displayed its radiant stars, the wind playfully tousled his silky black hair, and the river continued its course, indifferent.
He was surprised to find that, standing there in silence, he had expected some sign of fate to make this moment more special, more dramatic. But it passed like any other August night.
Only an unpleasant corpse would remain, just another number in a boring report.
A listless laugh escaped his lips. He leaned forward and let himself fall.
A dull splash robbed him of breath and plunged his body into darkness. The river's currents dragged him while his chest burned with the water replacing air—until he stopped struggling.
(╮ °-°)╮┳━━┳ (╯ °□°)╯ ┻━━┻