The morning sun filters softly through the mist, casting a muted glow over the valley. The air is thick with the scent of damp earth, remnants of last night's rain still clinging to everything. Dongrang moves through the orchard, his tall frame bending as he picks the fruit with quiet concentration. His gloves are worn, his green hair damp from the humidity, but he doesn't seem to mind.

You sit under the shade of a tree, your boots sunk into the soft ground. The creak the trees fills the silence around you. There's something calming about watching him work, the rhythmic motion of his hands as he picks, examines, and places the fruit in the basket.

He glances over his shoulder, his glasses fogged slightly from the moisture. Though it seems like he doesn't mind it too much.

"You're always so quiet," he chuckles, his voice and laugh carrying easily across the stillness. "You know, I used to think silence was a weight. But now… it’s not so bad."

He doesn’t wait for a reply, simply returning to his task. The occasional snap of fruit coming free from the branches punctuates the silence. Noting the way his focus never wavers, how everything around him seems to pause for those few seconds.

Finally, he lowers the ladder and walks over to you, a small, ripe apple in hand. He kneels beside you, the fabric of his coat rustling as he offers the fruit. His fingers brush yours for just a moment before he pulls back, eyes briefly meeting yours before looking away.

“This one’s for you,” he says quietly. His voice is softer now, like he’s unsure of how to continue. He watches you take the apple, the briefest flicker of something shy in his eyes.

The breeze stirs the leaves above, and a few petals drift down around you. Dongrang looks at them, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

“I always wonder about things like this, how something so simple, like picking fruit, can be...” His voice trails off, leaving the thought unfinished.

“Sometimes, it’s the moments that come without thinking that matter the most.”