三 - séui ngàhn

Sprawled on his back, he finds that the fog has settled like droplets on his skin. It's clammy. And his strength has dwindled, like he's caught six suns with his bare hands. Or as if he's dug a hole down to the center of the earth, straight into one of Gūng Gūng's fairytales. The palace seems to greet him, a menagerie of stone and mountainous pillars giving way to the endless depths of a silver river. He never liked this tale. He doesn't want to drown.

“...y, buddy...”

Séui Ngàhn's breathing is like a punctured accordion, shallow and quiet and rapid and slow and his brain runs as fast as it can but can't quite catch up. His eyelids are too heavy to lift, and he has the distinct sense that he should keep them closed, but doesn't know why. Maybe he wouldn't like what he sees. Maybe it's the only way he knows how to die.

"Maahn daaih sih yáuh ngóh¹" It is a whisper to the wind, to those he's known for less than a day, and those he's known his entire life. His lungs buckle, his chuckle sounds like a wheeze. Laaih sí laaih niuh.²

"Get out of here."

He wishes it hadn't happened. But he would do it again.

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1. Come hell or high water you can count on me [lit. there are ten thousand big matters; there is me] (萬大事有我)
2. What a mess [lit. relying on shit, relying on piss] (賴屎賴尿)