It is night when they finally stop walking. Yijun dares not let his breath sound his fatigue, much less speak, else the dragon will shoo him away. The dragon steps down in the soft grass to the side to the little creak flowing by. Its crystal-clear water glistens under the moonlight passing through the canopy, revealing a bed of smooth pebbles and polished stones of various colors.

He steps into the water, and submerges himself to the waist. Throughout all this, Yijun dares not breathe a word. He stands silently in the shadows of the trees, watching the dragon settle himself in the creek. When the dragon’s breath evens out, seemingly in sleep, his limbs relax. Apparently, dragons don’t mind being wet, he says himself.

Well, dragons usually bring rain so why would they mind being wet? he thought.

 He rubs his hands together. His body feels cold and sore. He looks around him for a place to sleep and settles for a shelter of a big rock at the other side of the pool while still in view of the dragon. He sits on the ground, makes a fire from the branches and leaves nearby and huddles, his eyes on the man floating on the water.

It is difficult for him to fall asleep, with the cold and the need to watch for the dragon, and he wakes up with starts, a pounding beat in his chest as he looks for the dragon. The dragon is still at his spot, his eyes closed in sleep, more comfortable than he is. Yijun watches him a little longer, taking the opportunity to marvel at the perfection of the dragon’s side profile in the moonlight. His brows are strong yet elegant like bamboo leaves, his long lashes brushes his cheeks as soft as a butterfly’s wings, his nose straight and narrow, proud and imposing as a mountain, and his lips were soft and pink like a peony petal. His head is slightly tilted, causing his silver hair to cascade from his head to his shoulders like liquid moonlight. His long neck is as beautiful as a jade carving, and a little above his collar peeks a few small black veins. His silk robes hangs on his body like ink, and with his fair hair mixing in the water, it seems like clouds moving over a dark night.

Above the water, his wet robes clung to every curve of his body, muscled yet lithe. Yijun unconsciously trace every line then jerks as he  realizes what he is doing. He feels heat over his cheeks and his mouth go dry. He rubs his hands over his arms and looks away, fearful that he may wake up the dragon with his stare and incur his wrath.

Yet he looks again, unable to take his eyes away from the dragon for too long. He puts his knees up under his chin, settles his arms then his head on top, never taking his eyes away. Despite everything he had gone through, it seems having the dragon is the only shining light he had now and as the lids of his eyes gradually slides down. His consciousness sleeps away to dreamland, a thought unbidden sprouted in his mind:

If only I could have him for eternity

Perhaps the dragon has sleep-inducing powers, for Yijun had fallen asleep sitting up for staring at him for too long.                                                                              

The scent of broth boiling prompts Yijun to open his eyes. He is at his bed, the straw digging through the cover and into his back. His stomach rumbles and he puts his hand on his abdomen to silence the protests inside his body.

Yijun sits up. The light is already streaming through the window and he wonders where his mother is. Usually, his mother wouldn’t let him sleep in like this. Even if the sun was just peeking on the horizon, his mother would have charged into his room and beat him with her ladle for not getting up with the roosters.

Only a fool would question luck, he concludes. He yawns, stretching his limbs as he did so, then made his bed. When he finishes the task, he headed to the common area.

He parts the thin curtain that covers the door to his room. Past the wood doorway into the kitchen, he sees his mother moving in there, perhaps stirring the soup he smelled earlier. She is bent over the pot, some stray hair falling from her head. Her salt and pepper hair is tied into a bun with a piece of cloth and a wooden hairpin. She is arguing with someone in there as she cooks, and as Yijun hears her sharp words, he smiles and thinks if the harvest is good and he gets enough money reaping other people’s fields, he should go to town and buy a copper hairpin for her.

At the common area, his younger siblings chases each other around the table while their father seated at the head chides them weakly from time to time.

One of his siblings notice his presence and stops in her tracks. “Elder Brother! You’re up!” Mai exclaims and runs to him. His other siblings also stop and beam when they see him.

Yijun smiles at her as she stops in front of him. Then he flicks one of her pigtails. “Don’t be naughty in front of the dining table else Mother will scold you.”

“Mother’s busy cooking,” Mai replies. “She won’t scold this time.”

“All the same, you shouldn’t put more jobs on her. Go help her instead,” Yijun chides.

Mai pouts but she runs to the kitchen. Yijun’s father sees him and gestures to him to come with a smile on his face. “Come, Yijun. Your mother cooked your favorite food especially for today.”

His siblings chime in, inviting him to the table. Dong pulls a chair for him to sit while little Bao pulls at his hand. He lets them lead him to his chair. When they see he is seated, Dong and Bai giggles then goes to their own seats.

His mother’s voice becomes louder. He turns and sees her emerging from the kitchen doorway with a pot in hand. His sisters follow behind her, holding clay bowls and plates.

Mother beams at Yijun and puts the pot she is holding on the table. “Come, Yijun, I’ve made your favorite noodle soup. You should eat while it’s hot.” She gets a bowl, ladles the noodle soup onto it before giving it to him.

Yijun’s cheeks warms. “You don’t have to, Mother. It’s not like it’s my birthday.” He feels embarrassed being served before their father.

“Stop your fussing too and let’s eat,” his father scolds him. Yijun looks at him in shock then at his other family members.  His siblings were smiling at him.

Even though he still feels befuddled, he thanks his mother and scoops some of the broth with his spoon. The smell of sesame is already teasing his nose. He samples it and immediately, the rich pork flavor hits his taste buds. He puts down the spoon and picks up the chopsticks. He snags some of the noodle strings and noisily slurps it down.

He finishes with a satisfied sigh and smiles at his mother. “Your cooking really is the best!”

His mother smiles at him and barks at his siblings to take their own bowls and chopsticks. Despite her irritation, his siblings didn’t sulk and serves themselves. The family falls silent as chopticks fly between plates of dimsum, stir-fried vegetables and braised pork. Slurping sounds fill the tiny dining room with occasional happy sighs and burps.

When the food is all gone, the family smiles at each other with their belly filled with delicious food. “You really went all out with your cooking,” Yijun says to his mother.

“Of course. This is the only time we’ll be together,” his mother replies. “Since you’re the only one who got my cooking talent, I should show you the best I could do as my final blessing.”  

“Your mother is the best of us all,” his father says his eyes strangely watering as he looks at Yijun. “We failed as your parents. We have nothing to give you but just this memory. There is only one thing I can ask. Son, as you go along, I hope you have this memory to remember us by.”

Yijun frowns. “Dad, what are you talking about?” They’ve been acting strange  ever since he woke up. First, letting him sleep in then serving him like a guest.

Mai holds her hand to his and pats it. “Big brother, don’t be sad, okay? We tried our best.”

Yijun stands up angrily. His chair tilts and its back hits the mud packed floor with a dulll sound. “What are you talking about? What’s really happening?” he almost roars. His chest feels tight with dread. He wants to run, to scream and fight.

His family only looks at him sadly. The reason for their behavior dances in his mind and he almost grasps it when he hears it.

The sound like a thousand rocks falling.

The sound is deafening, a symphony of destruction as the water crashed against buildings and trees, tearing through everything in its wake.

Yijun remembers what happened that day and he stretches his hand to grab his parents. He could feel the vibrations reverberating through his bones. Yet he spares no thought to it, determined to get to his family this time. But the table seems to stretch away from him, while his parents and siblings only look at him with sadness in their eyes. “Run away! Go!” he screams though he does not hear it, as violent waters poured in through the windows, filling the room and sweeping everything away. In the murky light, Yijun feels intense coldness seeping in his body. He ignores it and continue flailing weightlessly as he chases after his family. Their image is already dimming. He swings his arms and legs, one stroke at a time, battling against the fury of the elements. A weight like a heavy hammer slams onto his chest, knocking his breath out, and the heavy water presses on him.

He chokes and heaves at the cold, crisp air. He finds he is not underwater, but deep in the forest and the night. His fire beside him is already out, the red coals sleeping under a blanket of ash. No animals can be heard; even the trees are standing still in the moonlight.

He feels liquid on his face. He raises his hands to his face and sees his fingers are wet with his tears. He was not beside his family that day, he was hunting, deep in the forest, far away as he does now. He found no bodies to bury after the deluge, so his family came in his dreams to bade him farewell. He curls to himself and sobs.

Then he remembers he is not alone and he quickly turns to look at the dragon. He was still asleep, lying down into the water as he saw him last,  though a knot formed between his brows. It seems even he does not have pleasant dreams.

Strangely, the sight of him in distress is comforting to Yijun, as if commiserating with him. Yijun stobs sobbing, wipes his tears away and turns to cradle himself in the dragon’s direction. It seems he would not be able to sleep, so he spent the rest of the cold night staring at the sleeping dragon.

 When streaks of light pierces through the tree-tops and the birds were singing, the dragon stirs. The skin under his eyes feel heavy but Yijun blinks away the tiredness from his sight as he see the dragon wake up. The dragon's long lashes flutter open and he gets up slowly. Beads of water fell from his hair down to the canals his wet robes made as it clings to every curve of his body. Yijun looks away in embarrassment as the dragon rises from the water. The dragon sighs and wades through the water to the opposite bank. Yijun turns his head back to when he hears the water stop splashing and watches the dragon’s clothes dry instantly. When the starts walking, Yijun rouses his stiff limbs and quietly chases after him.

It seems the dragon did not see him or mind him as they kept walking without stopping. Yijun desperately grabs any fruit they meet on the way, stuffing his mouth with them and dares not tell him to stop and rest, for fear that the dragon drives him off. His legs are starting to hurt again, and his lips feel dry and cracked as his breath labors but still he follows.

The dragon finally stops and Yijun perks up despite his fatigue. An odd stillness settles around the dragon, as if the forest itself is silenced. Yijuns eyes widens and he instinctively grabs at his robes. His fingers fortunately grabs a corner of it as the dragon speeds away. The trees blur on either side of him. Yijun swallows his scream and strengthens his grip as he holds on for his life.

The dragon instantly stops and Yijun is thrown forward. The robe rips from his fingers and he tumbles over the ground, grass and leaves flying. He yelps when his body hits the soil and groans when his body mercifully stops.

The dragon looks suprised at Yijun, who is trying to get up. “You’re still here?” he asks.

Yijun ignores the pain in his body and bows. “Yes, my Lord. Please, I beg you, allow me to accompany you,” he pleads, putting his forehead repeatedly to the ground.

The dragon frowns at his bowed head yet he does not answer. He turns away and starts walking over the edge of the forest. Yijun follows him, looking around to find out where they are. He does not recognize the trees around them and thinking about how the dragon brought him down the mountaintop earlier, they may have traveled far away from his village.

The thought makes Yijun cry internally.

When the trees parted for them, Yijun sees they are on top of a hill overlooking a plain. From some of structures in the distance and the wide stretch of crisscrossing lines, he guesses they are near a village with lots of paddy fields. He looks apprehensively at the dragon, fearing the dragon may tell him to go there to his fellow humans and leave him and start to think of ways he can cling to him.

But the dragon does not spare him a glance. He looks with no emotion in his amethyst eyes at the village in the distance. After a moment, he raises his hands in front of him and starts making hand seals.

Winds rise up around them, ruffling the grass. The branches of trees sways, and the trees’ whispers grows louder as the wind picks up in speed.  Above the village, gray clouds are gathering and the sky shows a tinge of green.

Yijun’s face contorts as a sinking feeling settles in his stomach. After a moment, he jolts and looks wide-eyed at the dragon as a suspicion passed through his mind.

“What are you doing?” the dragon asks irritably, as he looks at Yijun and then to his hand on his arm.

“Are you going to…destroy the village?” Yijun asks, his eyes wide with dread.

The dragon glares at him then resumes looking at the sky above the village, holding his hand sign.

Yijun’s breath catches at his silent confirmation. He shoots forward and starts kowtowing in front of him.

“My Lord, I beg you please have mercy. If they have offended you, I beg for their sake to spare them, Please, Lord Venerable! I promise I will let them pay proper respects to you, just let them go this once,” Yijun pleads frantically. Dirt sticks to his forehead, mixing with his blood as he utters his pleas.

“Offended me? We have no such concept,” the dragon responds, referring to his kind, “We dragons  do not care for human sentiments and have no need for human worship.”

“Then why? Why are you doing this?” he asks, his voice loud enough to be nearly a scream against the whirling wind around them.

The dragon slowly looks down at him. “I am Ender, the Harbinger of the Apocalypse,” he replies. “What did you think my name means?”