<p class="ql-block">June 20, 8:00AM</p><p class="ql-block">Beijing’s early summer mornings are blessed with gentle breezes and pleasant weather. Before the hustle and bustle of the city fully wakes up, Yongding River Park tucks away the noise, leaving behind a sanctuary of peace and quiet.</p><p class="ql-block">A stretch of the Yongding River flows along the edge of the park. The water slows down here, losing its rushing momentum and flattening out into a crystal-clear mirror that reflects the faint morning light. On the riverbank, willow branches droop toward the water, their catkins hanging like fine silk threads. When a breeze picks up, they dance gracefully in the wind with an elegant, tender charm. Meanwhile, crisp bird songs drift from the water's edge, adding a touch of lively, natural energy to the peaceful morning.</p><p class="ql-block">Visitors are scattered in small groups along the bank, either strolling leisurely or doing their morning exercises in total relaxation. The park is filled with native plants, and the paved paths are smooth and comfortable—ideal for an early walk to enjoy some quiet time alone.</p> <p class="ql-block">With summer underway, the greenery has grown dense. In the lush woods, pear and peach trees are already bearing young, green fruit. The brilliant blossoms from a few months ago have now transformed into heavy fruit on the branches, creating a vibrant scene that is incredibly uplifting. Nearby, the tall poplars have stopped shedding their annoying spring catkins. They stand tall and proud, letting wild birds fly through their branches without a care in the world.</p><p class="ql-block">The most striking sight in the park, however, is the thick patches of mulberry trees. Right now, the summer mulberries are perfectly ripe. Plump, black fruits weigh down the branches, and the overripe ones carpet the ground, drawing visitors who stoop down to pick them up.</p><p class="ql-block">The shorter mulberry trees get the worst of it. To reach the sweet fruit, many people carelessly pull and bend the branches, leaving the lower canopy scarred and ruined. Seeing this makes you reflect on life. As the saying goes, *"The tree that stands out gets cut down."* The mulberry tree never wanted to show off; it was targeted and broken simply because it produced something sweet and desirable.</p> <p class="ql-block">It makes you think of the poplars next to them. In the spring, their drifting fluff annoyed everyone, but because people couldn't do anything about it, no one dared to damage the trees. It is just like human nature: gentle, honest people are often taken advantage of, while difficult or aggressive people make others back off. The plant kingdom follows the exact same social logic. The humble mulberry tree has fed silkworms and driven China’s silk civilization for thousands of years, yet its historic contributions are rarely remembered or celebrated.</p><p class="ql-block">A tree that spends its entire life giving back is never rewarded with kindness; instead, it is mistreated because of its sweet fruit, which is heartbreaking. Yet, the mulberry is incredibly resilient. It goes through its natural cycles year after year, weathering the elements while continuing to give in silence.</p><p class="ql-block">I truly hope that visitors who love mulberries will just pick the fruit gently instead of breaking the branches. We shouldn't let a tree's sweet gifts become the reason it gets scarred. I wish these trees, which carry thousands of years of cultural history, could grow as safely and freely as poplars and pines—thriving, carefree, and standing tall in the warm sun, completely unharmed.</p>