This car worth a few tens of thousands of yuan had witnessed the spring, summer, autumn, and winter of my three years of high school, witnessed my breakdowns crying on snowy nights, witnessed me beaming with pride holding my first-place certificates, witnessed my youth.
The owner of the recycling center weighed everything on a scale.
I zoned out.
On the way back, I clutched those 186.10 yuan, the road flying past on both sides.
My youth was worth 186.10 yuan.
My nose tingled inexplicably.
I looked out the car window, and tears fell without my noticing.
What came next was the same for all of us.
Studying for our driver's licenses under the scorching sun, never quite getting the reverse parking right.
Getting scolded by the instructor during the driving test for being an idiot, too angry to talk back but not daring to snap back.
Carefully calling every university, filling out our college preferences without daring to be sloppy.
That year, University C's admission score rose quite a bit. I missed University C by about a dozen points.
Although I didn't get into the University C I'd dreamed of.
I could still attend a decent university.
The major I chose was one I really liked too.
I was already quite satisfied with this outcome.
Looking through the college entrance guidebook to fill out my preferences.
A thick book recording universities from all across the country.
I flipped to the page for University B.
A wave of bitterness still washed over me.
Even though I didn't want to let go, there was nothing I could do. We were never from the same world—we just happened to have an intersection we shouldn't have had during those three lucky years.
University B was in another province. To get to City B, you had to fly north, while University Z that I was heading to meant flying south.
I closed the admission guidebook and let out a long breath.
That summer I learned to put on makeup and started learning how to dress.
With clumsy makeup on, I pretended to be mature and went to our class reunion.
Tang Jia, who had clamored about wanting to retake the year and start over, never did go back for a retake. She went to a provincial university and studied finance.
Tian Yaqin, whose English scores were always great, who used to hide in corners and cry during senior year, ended up at a foreign languages university studying Arabic.
Hong Mei, who was always complaining about how much homework the teachers assigned and how impossibly hard it was, went on to study Chinese language and literature, planning to become a teacher.
Na Jie, who once angrily told me that a single physics multiple-choice question was worth six points and she'd never study physics again in her life, got assigned to a physics major.
My childhood friend who got criticized every day eventually surrendered to his scores and chose teaching.
Before the college entrance exam, everyone was wondering what the future would hold.
After the exam, everything unfolded in ways that were both expected and disappointing.
We passively accepted it all, as if life just went on like that.
I dressed up formally to take my ID photo.
The made-up, neatly styled version of me in the mirror made me pause for a moment. With the click of the camera shutter, it felt like I was bidding farewell to that always-grimy high school version of myself.
The day I picked up my admission letter, I held the red envelope and walked with it for a long time, passing through the familiar corner, the bubble tea shop owner smiling as she congratulated me, and I smiled and thanked her.
Everything was getting back on track, as if I'd never opened that diary.
But some things don't fade just because you stop thinking about them.
They'll come surging back on some night, stealing your tears and all your emotions, demanding to know why you couldn't be braver.
The wound scabbed over, but the scar remained.
24
It was finally time to leave for school.
On the eve of my departure, my mom silently packed my luggage.
I didn't know what my parents were feeling those days.
But I could guess.
At dinner, my mom started crying just looking at me while eating.
Seeing my mom cry, my tears came pouring out too.
We study so hard, only to leave this impoverished land.
But on this land, the people I love most remain.
The train ticket was for early the next morning.
That night, crouching by my suitcase, I carefully thought through whether I'd forgotten anything.
My mom stood in my bedroom doorway, reminding me to make sure I packed everything I needed.
I instinctively opened the drawer, searching for anything I might have missed.
And immediately saw the diary.
With my school ID badge and meal card still sitting on top of it.
I carefully pushed the cards aside and picked up the diary.
Holding my breath, I opened it again.
"November 23, 2020—Sunny—Monday"
College entrance exam countdown: 196 days.
Blanket Girl.
The first snow of the year has fallen.
I think if you knew, you'd understand what I'm trying to say.
"November 24, 2020—Sunny—Tuesday"
At the cafeteria eating.
But I saw you sitting all alone in a corner eating, not even lifting your head.
Where's that girl who always eats with you?
There was no one at your table. I took it upon myself to sit diagonally across from you.
I'll keep you company while you eat.
"November 25, 2020—Cloudy—Wednesday"
PE class too.
Why are you sitting alone on the grass?
Not playing badminton anymore?
Has something happened to you lately?
"November 26, 2020—Cloudy—Thursday"
It's been overcast lately.
Looks like it might snow.
Today I didn't see you on the balcony eating a bun.
Your expression seemed down too.
Your condition has been a bit off.
"November 27, 2020—Overcast—Friday"
Still no snow.
When morning exercises ended, I saw you collapse onto the ground.
Your face was pale as a sheet.
I was frantic with worry and instinctively ran toward you.
When I was only a few steps away from you.
Someone else helped you up.
As you turned away, I heard you say.
"Probably low blood sugar."
If you have low blood sugar, you need to eat breakfast. Keep chocolate and candy on hand.
Have you been too tired lately?
I was extremely worried.
"November 28, 2020—Heavy Snow—Saturday"
There's a monthly exam this week, so we can't go home.
I went to the fourth-floor office to deliver the exam schedule from our homeroom teacher to your teacher.
But when I got there, I found you right in front of the teacher.
I froze for a moment, not knowing whether to knock and go in or leave.
I was about to quietly back out of the office when I heard you crying.
My feet stopped. Greedily, I wanted to know what was wrong.
I stood silently at the door.
I heard you say through your tears.
"Teacher, I want to go home."
I suddenly remembered the past few days when I'd run into you—you always looked so sad and lonely.
Every time I saw you, you were alone.
Had you fought with your friend?
Just as I was thinking this, you suddenly came out of the office.
Clutching a leave form, crying so hard you could barely catch your breath, your face flushed red from crying.
I was standing right by the door. You brushed past me and ran down the stairs of the building.
I hastily placed the schedule on the table by the door and followed the direction you'd gone.
You ran down the stairs crying the whole way. I followed you down four flights, and finally you dashed out of the building toward the school gate.
Once outside, I realized the long-delayed snow was falling fiercely now.
The snow was heavy, howling north winds whipping the white flakes into hair and clothes.
Quickly, a thin layer of snow accumulated on the ground, kicked up by the wind to dance in the air, looking from a distance like a dense winter fog.
The red winter uniforms stood out starkly against the white. I watched your back, watched that red gradually shrink to a dot, until it finally disappeared into the swirling snowstorm in the night.
In that instant.
I became certain that an invisible thick barrier exists in this world.
It enclosed everyone together.
It constantly reminded me.
Those who aren't brave enough to tear through that barrier.
Can only stand in place, watching the fading silhouette grow ever more distant.
"December 5, 2020—Sunny—Friday" I'm heading to City B soon. I don't know when I'll see you next.
"December 10, 2020—Heavy Snow—Thursday"
It's snowing heavily in City B.
I watched the snow alone.
Remembering this time last year.
You were still down by the building making snowballs and playing with others.
"December 24, 2020—Cloudy—Thursday"
Not by your side.
Remember to eat apples.
Remember to stay safe.
"December 25, 2020—Sunny—Friday"
Blanket Girl.
Merry Christmas!
"December 31, 2020—Sunny—Thursday"
I was supposed to be able to go back in the next few days.
But City B had a COVID resurgence.
I'm under quarantine lockdown at a hotel.
I've been coughing a bit lately too.
I'm a little scared.
"January 1, 2021—Sunny—Friday"
Blanket Girl.
Happy New Year!
I wanted to struggle and write more for you.
But I've been running a low-grade fever recently.
I've been taking nucleic acid tests every day.
Tests in the morning, tests at night.
I need to stay alive.
So I can go back and see you.
Go back and be with you through your college entrance exam.
"January 3, 2021—Cloudy—Sunday"
I've taken nearly twenty nucleic acid tests.
The doctor said my symptoms are just a regular cold and fever.
Not COVID.
Thank goodness.
I can finally go back.
"January 5, 2021—Sunny—Tuesday"
Packing my luggage recently.
In those countless days with my days and nights turned upside down.
Those times of waking from sleep only to fall back into a daze.
As if reborn, I recognized my own heart with crystalline clarity.
Staying by your side. Being near you.
Accompanying you through these three years I stole from time.
Bea.
As long as I can be by your side.
That's enough.