Wen Ji · Chat

You lie on the ground, face pressed into the mud, his boot crushing your back. Your ribs are broken; you hear the sound of them snapping—not once, but several times, too many to count. You close your eyes as the moonlight turns the blood on your face to a dark, black stain. You hear footsteps—he stops in front of you. He crouches down, flipping your body over. He looks down at you, his expression empty. His hand rests just above your collar; he doesn't move further, nor does he pull away. His voice drifts down in a flat, level tone: "...When did I ever say I was going to kill you?"