As the Crows Fall | ONC 2020 Grand Winner

ix | Blood Dressed in Sorrow

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Mu'en thinks himself frightening.

He thinks that the fear in the eyes of his men comes from his actions alone, and sometimes, just sometimes, it does.

But not always.

He is volatile and angry and everything he thinks a crime leader must be, but beneath it all, he is patient.

He is as patient as his men, who tolerate his fits of madness when he plays Russian roulette with their lives. He is as patient as the Angel of Death, who runs down a list of his people and kills them one by one.

He is as patient as he needs to be when he sees a girl with his blood wearing the necklace of the boy he loves.

He is nothing but blood dressed in sorrow for the things he's done, for the things he's lost, for the life he doesn't remember choosing to hate.

Sorrow blankets the deaths that follow blood spilled for reasons the righteous deem just, and he is a fool because he feels that sorrow too deeply and too desperately. He feels it more intensely than a Longtou has any right to.

Mu'en was born under Zhuque, the phoenix violently built fire and brimstone and ash, all tied together in a hurricane of a god, but if he thinks he is a predator of pursuit, he is only fooling himself.

Sometimes he wonders if, perhaps, he should have been born under Xuanwu, the tortoise. Patient. Calm. Indefinite.

Sometimes he wonders if, then, he could be happy.

And sometimes it hurts just a touch too much.

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Mu'en cups a crow in his hands and whispers, "Follow her."

His eyes trail her out of the shop, but he does not follow. Not immediately. Half the crows on the window sill take flight when she leaves, the rest shuffling in confusion at her pull.

He was doubtful before, but now he has no misgivings. There was a necklace at her throat and his eyes couldn't seem to capture it. Again and again, he looked, and again and again, he looked away.

"Earlier . . . you said that was your sister's necklace."

"Yes, it was."

He wonders if she noticed that he said your sister's necklace when she hadn't said it before. She never told him that it was her sister's necklace. She only mentioned juhua tea.

"Again? It must be your favorite."

"It was my sister's."

If she hadn't been staring out the window, she would have seen him still. She would have seen the way his hands froze and he looked at her like it was the end of the world.

Was.

That was the word that told him more than any conversation they'd had before. They are both apt at games of wit, of throwing false guises up like shields and wielding blank expressions like sabers.

But Mu'en is nothing if not a liar, and that girl is accustomed to nothing but the truth. Mu'en knows every trap to throw if he wishes to capture a person with his words.

And she fell into it.

Horrendously.

Her sister does not live two hours north of Luoxia. Her sister is buried there.