An Immortal Love

Awakening

The days stretch on, slow and heavy as molasses. Each morning, Yijun bursts from his hut, his heart racing with hope, only to feel it sink again when he sees the dragon lying motionless in the lake. His slumber remains unbroken, his body cradled by the water like a fragile relic.

Yijun's fingers itch to wake him, to shake him back to life, but the memory of the dragon's labored breaths at night holds him back. He often hears the faint rasp of air escaping his lips, sees his face tighten in silent agony. It's a sight that twists Yijun's heart, leaving him helpless, wishing desperately for Lord Huo's return. Yijun curses Jingwen a thousand times in his mind, wishing a torrent of pain upon him for leaving such a beautiful creature to suffer alone.

After checking the dragon's condition, ensuring he still breathes, Yijun retreats to his hut, though his thoughts remain tethered to the lake. He recalls his nightly dreams-dreams that are far too vivid, too intimate, to be mere figments of his imagination. They feel like memories. Memories of Jingwen, the dragon's husband.

Unlike the visions the dragon had shared with him at Midway, these dreams place Yijun within Jingwen's skin. He feels the world through the mortal's eyes, heart swelling with emotions not entirely his own. At first, guilt pricked his conscience, a sense of trespassing on something private. But then came the dream where Yuze-the name the dragon was given-smiled at him, the curve of his lips soft and radiant.

Yuze let him hold his hand that night, and the warmth of it chased away all hesitation. From then on, Yijun let himself be swept away, reliving memories of courtship, quiet walks in dusk, a proposal sealed with trembling hands, and, at last, a wedding.

His gaze drifts toward the lake, a faint smile tugging at his lips. He recalls Yuze entering his family compound on their wedding day, draped in red silk that shimmered like the twilight sky. The golden threads in his robes caught the light, glowing like embers, each step a celestial dance. His family compound's courtyard was decorated humbly, with red paper lanterns hanging overhead and a table covered with red cloth holding a modest amount of dishes. Their guests were their farmer neighbors, dressed in homespun cotton and the most prominent among them all was only the village chief. But Yuze's entrance made it look like they all had stepped into heaven.

Yuze stood before him, offering his hand. Yijun felt the echo of Jingwen's heart pounding, the world narrowing to that single moment, to that single touch. He could feel Jingwen's emotions surge-awe, disbelief, and the dizzying elation of becoming the consort of a god. His relatives, overwhelmed, stammered through their blessings, while the neighbors bowed their heads as if witnessing a miracle.

Then came the wedding night, where he made Yuze totally his and taught him, a god from the purest heaven, desire.

When Yijun awoke from the dream, his gaze had fallen on Yuze's slumbering form in the lake. The vision of a vibrant, loving Yuze felt like a cruel contrast to the broken, silent figure before him now. Yuze was very sweet, obedient and loving. Seeing him now, abandoned and dying, in a lake in the middle of nowhere, is an extreme injustice. He didn't deserve to end like this when all he did was love a mortal wholly.

An idea sparks in Yijun's mind, lighting a faint hope. He cannot cure Yuze, cannot lift the weight of his grief, but perhaps-just perhaps-he can offer a moment's reprieve from his suffering.

He wipes his muddy hands on a pile of leaves, leaning back with a satisfied sigh as he surveys his creation. The freshly molded oven stands damp but upright under the sun's warmth. Though simple in design, it holds a promise of meals to come, a vessel ready to transform raw ingredients into something extraordinary. For now, it must dry in the sun, its potential waiting to unfold.