Rain finally stopped at the silhouette of the distant mountain. Outside the car window, the gray blue cloud fluff was quietly pushed away by a ray of sky light, like someone pulling open half a brocade in the sky. This is my second encounter with the Water God Hall, a 150 kilometer drive and two and a half hours of anticipation, all hidden in the faint sound of wheels rolling over damp roads. ​

The memories of late autumn last year still carry a chill. At that time, the Water God Hall was surrounded by dried up lake beds, and the exposed soil was cracked with fine patterns, like wrinkles on an old man's hand. The reeds on the shore have long withered, shivering in the cold wind, casting their shadows on the dry and cracked bottom of the lake. The ancient building from the Ming Dynasty stands alone on the dirt plateau, with auspicious beasts on the eaves covered in dust, and the vermilion mountain gate fading away in the desolation.

I held my camera and wandered around for a long time, but in the end, I couldn't capture a satisfactory picture. I only quietly kept that regret in my heart. ​

So when the continuous rainy weather lasted for a month, I knew it was time to go to the appointment. ​

At the moment of pushing open the car door, water vapor mixed with the fragrance of plants and trees hit my face. The scene in front of me stunned me - the once dry lake bed was filled with water, like the open eyes of the earth, reflecting the sky and clouds. The Water God Hall stands quietly in the center of the water, its vermilion mountain gate washed bright by the rain, and the copper bells at the corners of the eaves ringing lightly in the breeze, spreading the rhythm of time on the lake surface. The reeds on the shore produce fresh green, with water droplets rolling on their slender leaves. Occasionally, dragonflies touch the surface of the water, creating ripples that gently shatter the reflection in the water. ​

I quickly set up the tripod and aimed the camera at the slanting sun in the west. At this moment, a gap suddenly opened in the clouds, and golden sunlight poured down, gently embracing the Water God Hall. The glazed tiles shimmered with a warm glow in the twilight, as if lightly kissed by flames. The auspicious beasts on the eaves outlined clear contours in the rosy glow, and even the reflection in the water was tinged with a layer of orange warmth. The shutter sound is particularly clear by the quiet lake, and I greedily record the beauty of this moment, afraid of missing a trace of the flow of light and shadow. ​

As dusk deepens, the village in the distance rises with wisps of cooking smoke, blending seamlessly with the sunset glow on the horizon. I stood quietly by the lake, watching the rosy glow on the water gradually fade away, and an inexplicable emotion suddenly surged in my heart. Some scenery is destined to wait. Just like the evening glow of this Water God Hall, it takes the dried up anticipation and the nourishment of rainwater to bloom with the most touching radiance at some inadvertent moment. ​

In the car on the way back, there is still a humid atmosphere by the lake. I know that this journey spanning hundreds of kilometers has already surpassed the meaning of photography itself.