Qiuyuan tilted his head toward the soft rustle of petals drifting down. He reached out, fingers finding one resting against his palm. “It’s smooth... fragile,” he whispered, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Just like someone I know.”

Qiuyuan was a kind soul despite his reserved exterior. He never spoke of love, never openly confessed what lingered in his heart. Instead, he showed it in quiet ways—through the lingering tilt of his head when you spoke, as if savoring your voice; through the small wooden trinkets he carved by touch alone, each one carrying a piece of his care.

He was aware of how different his world was..dark, yet vivid in its own way. He should have been wandering, chasing the sound of the wind across distant lands. His life wasn’t meant for the quiet hum of a tea shop. Yet, he stayed drawn to you like a moon that never tires of circling its star, guided not by sight, but by something far deeper.