He squints as sunlight blinds his eyes. He raises his hand on his forehead and through the shade, He see a vast, sun-dappled meadow stretching out under an expansive blue sky. His feet sink in the soft and lush grass which ripples in front of him in vibrant green waves.

 In the center of the meadow, a serene lake sparkles like a bed of sapphires, its surface shimmering with reflections of the surrounding trees and the clear sky above. Water lilies adorned the edges, their delicate petals adding a touch of elegance on the tranquil water.

 He looks around him. There is no one around, only trees with birds singing on its branches. A breeze passes through and the leaves rustle. His hair floats in front of his face and he smells the sweet scent of wildflowers that dotted the meadow with splashes of vibrant colors.

 Am I in heaven? He asks.

 A few paces behind him, a man emerges. He is dressed in a robe with its sleeves cut out and his bare arms are covered with a dusty, brown fur cape. His messy black hair is tied behind him with a cloth tie. He is holding a bag over his shoulder and an ax in his hand. His gaze under his bushy brows is on the shimmering lake in front of him and from the sweat stains on his tan cheeks, it is clear what he is after.

 He calls out to him. There is no answer. The stranger continues to walk towards the lake.

 He frowns. It's impossible he did not hear it. He stretches his hand in front of him. His hand passes through.

 He stares at his ethereal hand for a few seconds before raising his eyes to the stranger. Am I dead? Is this the afterlife?

 No one answers his question so he walks to the stranger and watches him. He is bending over the water, cupping water on his hand then splashing it on his face and neck. Then he strips off his cape and vest. He stands up, puts his thumbs over the band of his pants then pulls it down.

 “What the f-” He curses as he turns his face away. He holds his head in that direction until he hears splashing sounds. He peeks from the corner of his eyes and see the man with water up his chest.

Is his punishment supposed to be watching a strange man take a bath? he asks as he is left standing on the edge of the lake while a man frolics in the water in front of him. He swims and ducks his head while occasionally rubbing at his body. After a while, he swims back to him and rests on the edge of the lake with his back to the ground. He leans his head on the grassy bank and sighs in contentment.

Then he sees in front of him a familiar head rising up the water. It is the dragon himself, his silver hair breaking from the water like wet silk being pulled. Drops cling to his lashes like pearls as he gazes at the man chilling at the edge of the lake.

 The wind blows cold, which makes the man’s face twitch. He opens his eyes and raises his head back in front of him. His eyes widen as he meets the lavender eyes of the dragon in front of him.

 “You’re in my pond,” the dragon scolds.

 The trees rustle as all the birds shoot up into the sky, startled by the man’s ear-splitting scream.

Yijun rubs his corporeal ears and turns away, giving the stranger some privacy as he scrambles to cover himself in the lake. When the splashing subsides, Yijun glances back to see the dragon gazing curiously at the flustered man, entirely unbothered by his lack of clothing. Meanwhile, the stranger stammers apologies, his hands desperately grabbing at grass and leaves in a futile attempt to cover himself.

“How did you manage to enter here?” the dragon asks, his voice calm.

“I walked?” the stranger replies, confused. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know I was trespassing in a god’s territory.”

“I guess I’m lucky, then," the man said with a chuckle. "May I know your name?”

“I am Ender, the Dragon of the Apocalypse.”

The stranger freezes, his eyes widening. The air around the lake seems to drop several degrees. “You’re serious?” he stammers.

The dragon nods, his expression innocent.

“And are you... working on an apocalypse right now?” the stranger asks, glancing nervously around.

“No,” the dragon answers, swimming closer to the shore beside the man. He rests his arms on the lake’s edge, placing his chin atop them. “It’s not yet time.”

“So... what are you doing now?”

“Waiting,” the dragon says with a puff of breath, then turns toward the stranger. “And you? What are you doing?”

“I was hunting,” the stranger explains, pointing at his abandoned pack on the shore. “But no luck. I haven’t caught a thing all day.”

He begins to recount his struggles—how he used to farm, but pests devoured his crops year after year. When fishing, no fish ever bit his hook. Now, trying his hand at hunting, animals evade his traps and arrows. The dragon listens with surprising attention as the man continues, delving into stories of his village, family, neighbors, and even the latest gossip—like how one family swapped a bride because a wealthier family came along.

The man talks until the sun sinks low on the horizon, only pausing when he sneezes from the growing chill in the air. “It’s getting cold,” he says, rubbing his arms. “Do you mind if I get dressed?”

The dragon nods, and the man rises from the water. Yijun and the man both expect the dragon to avert his gaze, but he doesn’t. He watches, not with any malice or lechery, only pure interest as if the man is a curiosity. Different from Yijun was used to, a gaze that passes through everyone as if they are worth nothing. 

After dressing, the man notices the darkening sky. “It’s getting late. I need to head home,” he says with a sigh, glancing at his empty pack. “My brother’s going to scold me for coming back with nothing. He’ll think I’ve been lazing around again.”

“Do you need fish?” the dragon asks, still lounging by the water’s edge.

“I mean... yeah, that would help,” the man says.

Without hesitation, the dragon dips his hand into the lake and flings water onto the shore. Three large carp, each as long as a forearm, flop onto the ground. The man’s face lights up. “Thank you! Thank you so much!” he exclaims, grabbing a stalk of grass to tie the fish together.

“Will you come back?” the dragon asks.

The man finishes tying his bundle. “Of course, if you want me to.”

The man smiles. “Then I will. My name is Jingwen, by the way.”

The scene shifts like water rippling, and Yijun sees fleeting images of the man returning time and time again. Each time, Jingwen sits on the shore, talking endlessly to the dragon about his village, his life, and the mundane gossip of his world. Occasionally, Jingwen asks about the dragon’s life, and the dragon responds in brief, distant tones, admitting that he does little, as only a few instances in thousands of years was his power needed, unlike his brethren who are never still for the world that constantly needs cultivating and tending.

“That sounds boring,” Jingwen comments one evening.

“Boring?” the dragon echoes.

“You know, that feeling you get when you have nothing to do for too long?”

“Is that what this feeling is called?”

“Yes. You didn’t know?”

“No. Feelings are irrelevant to our purpose,” the dragon replies, absently playing with the water.

“So what do you feel when you’re doing your job?”

“Nothing.”

Jingwen chuckles. “I have an idea. Since you’re not doing anything right now, why don’t you come with me? That way, I won’t have to hike up here every time we talk. And you can see for yourself all the things I tell you about.” He smiles brightly, hopeful. “What do you say?”

The dragon gazes up at Jingwen’s expectant face. After a moment of silence, he nods.