Fruit. Flowers. Letters. Don’t forget anything.
Those were the three things Vice President of Sea Dragons Gavel Club Mingbo Dylan Guo kept reminding himself as he prepared for a visit to a social welfare center. Behind each item was a small gesture he hoped would bring warmth to seniors.
The letters were the first thing prepared. Sitting at his desk until nearly midnight, he carefully wrote each message, every one beginning with a different greeting to reflect the personal care behind each word. The messages all carried the same hope: he and his fellow club members wanted to remind the seniors that they were cared for—that the fruit, flowers, and handwritten letters might bring a little happiness to their day. Each club member added their signature, creating a colorful row of handwritten names that made every letter feel personal.
The next task was arranging the fruit. The order had been placed a day earlier, but when the shop owner told him that delivery for ten boxes would cost extra, Dylan explained that the fruit was for a welfare home and asked if there was any way to reduce the cost. He wanted to make sure that more of the support could go toward the gifts themselves, and the shop owner agreed to waive the delivery fee. The order was not small: four boxes of apples, four boxes of pears, and two boxes of kiwis. As the owner helped stack them, he looked at the pile and said, “That’s a lot for one kid.” Dylan simply nodded. He carefully loaded the fruit into the car. Stacked together, the ten boxes stood almost half a head taller than him. The driver looked over and asked, “Kid, are you sure you can handle that?” He simply nodded again.
The final item on his list was the flowers. On the way to the welfare center, Dylan stopped near the subway station and entered a small flower shop. When the owner learned that the flowers were going to a welfare home, she added a few extra carnations for free. “They’d just wilt here anyway,” she told him. “You take them.” It was a small act of kindness that echoed his own—proof that when one person decides to care, it has a way of spreading to others. Upon arriving at the Shenzhen Nanshan District Social Welfare Center, he carried the flowers and letters while the driver helped bring in the fruit. The receptionist, a woman in her thirties wearing glasses, looked surprised as she watched them bring in the many gifts. Dylan handed her the flowers. She smelled them and smiled. “They smell really nice,” she said. Then he showed her the letters one by one. She carefully looked through each envelope and read every message. When she reached the third letter, she smiled again. “You guys really put your heart into this,” she said.
The staff explained that visiting the elderly residents directly was not possible because of current visitor restrictions. Instead, the fruit would be distributed, and the letters would be delivered to seniors over the following days. Standing by the front desk, Dylan watched as the receptionist carefully placed the letters into a folder. At that moment, he felt that the late nights spent writing and the effort of hauling those heavy boxes had been worthwhile. Before leaving, he met the director of the center, who repeatedly thanked him and praised the thoughtfulness of young people, shaking his hand firmly with a palm warm and reassuring. The director’s gratitude was genuine, but the real reward wasn’t the praise—it was the quiet certainty that his small efforts would reach someone who needed them.
When Sea Dragons Gavel Club President Runfeng Bruce Yu asked how the visit went, Dylan typed a few words, deleted them, and finally replied: “It was good.” And in those two simple words, he carried everything—the late nights, the heavy boxes, the florist’s kindness, the director’s handshake, and the quiet knowledge that somewhere, seniors would soon open letters written just for them. Because sometimes, the smallest gestures leave the deepest marks.