Finish the Story - Week 44!

Hello, Steemit! I was on the far seas once again, solving some kraken-related stuff, but now I'm back! And what better to return than @bananafish 's #finishthestory contest!

This week's prompt was marvelous and inspired me right away! So without further ado, here's my entry! Hope you enjoy : )

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The story of Mr. Renhe Ren
by @marcoriccardi

It is said that Mr. Renhe Ren, of Daochu village, in the province of Quan Shijie, in his forty-second year of life, was seized by a great rage because of his long-standing enemy, who was constantly working to hinder and ruin any of his activities and projects. Faced with the umpteenth abuse, Mr. Renhe Ren felt that his harmony and self-control were going to be lost. He was no longer able to feel the noble sentiments worthy of a superior man.
Then he remembered the words of the wise man. "Sit down along the river bank and wait, sooner or later you will see the corpse of your enemy pass". So, he left the village of Daochu and went down to the river. He found a willow with a wide foliage that bent gently over the water, and sat down in his shadow, determined to wait until the wisdom of the ancestors had brought a solution to his problem.

He awaited for days and nights, meditating. Sun, rain, wind and fog alternated tormenting him, but neither the heat, nor the cold, nor the humidity, nor the insects distracted him from his waiting. Time passed, until one day in late autumn, the stream swollen for the rains brought a corpse to its feet, face down. Mr. Renhe Ren shook himself from his meditation and leaned towards the muddy water, his heart finally calm.

Great was his surprise when he saw…

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Great was his surprise when he saw his own clothes on the floating corpse. Mr. Ren found it unsettling for a moment, and blinked a few times, looking at himself and then the corpse. Although it was facing downwards, there was also something familiar about the shape of its head and the shoulders.

A small whirlpool formed in front of the place where Mr Ren was meditating, and kept the body from going any further down the river, as if it was waiting for him to approach it and discover an eerie truth.
The man reached with his hand, trembling and sweating while his head raced out of control. After stopping, hesitant, for an instant, Mr Ren turned the corpse around and there was, expectedly, his own contorted face, swollen with death and wetness, mouth wide open and eyes stray among the stars.

An unmesurable sadness took over Mr Ren. Not fear, not despair, not anguish, only a deep tar-like sadness. He quickly covered his face with his hands, sobbing incontrolably while tears slipped down his arms. He settled for a moment, uncovered his eyes, but the crying went on again, and he placed his hands back over his eyes.
But all tears dry eventually and Mr Ren was left red-eyed, looking at his dead self there, spinning on the calm waters. After a while his horrible death-mask started shapeshifting. Now he saw the face of his enemy, now the face of his son, now the face of his mother, now a face he didn’t know… He sat there watching and pondering, emptied of sadness or longing or frustration, or any other emotion, all washed away with his tears… Until he fell asleep.
By morning, he was woken by his eldest son. The newborn sun burned bright in the sky, and there was not a trace of the body in the river.

Mr Ren hugged his son until the boy felt awkward and struggled to get out, and then some more. Then he let go and took his hand back to the village, his heart as clear as the very morning.