"January 10, 2021—Cloudy—Sunday"
I was supposed to be able to go back in a few days.
But a bunch of things came up and I can't return yet.
Staying in the hotel reading books.
I've been reading The Storied Life of A.J. Fikry lately.
There's a passage in it.
"Because from the bottom of our hearts we fear we're not worthy of love, we go through life alone. But it's precisely because we go through life alone that we come to believe we're not worthy of love. One day—you don't know when—you'll set out on the road. One day—you don't know when—you'll meet them. You will be loved, because for the first time in your life you'll truly no longer be alone. You'll choose to no longer be alone."
Blanket Girl, in this long monologue of a crush.
More than saying I was loving you.
It's more accurate to say that you made me feel love for the first time in my life.
When I'm loving you, it's like I'm no longer just going through the motions of being alive.
You made me feel that I'm no longer alone.
"January 15, 2021—Cloudy—Friday"
In the depths of winter.
It's cold, make sure to dress warmly.
"January 20, 2021—Sunny—Wednesday"
Today is the Laba Festival.
It's also the city's first unified exam.
From faraway City B, I'm sending you all my good luck.
Hope Blanket Girl comes out on top.
"January 22, 2021—Cloudy—Friday"
Our class group chat was posting the citywide exam rankings.
But it was only the science rankings.
I asked if anyone had the liberal arts rankings.
They seemed surprised that I was speaking in the group chat.
Surprised or not, someone still sent me the liberal arts rankings.
There are a lot of liberal arts students citywide.
I didn't have to scroll far before I saw you.
You did really well.
Looks like math is going well for you now.
"January 25, 2021—Sunny—Monday"
Thinking of you day after day but not seeing you.
I'm too restless to write anything.
I still don't know when I'll be back.
"January 30, 2021—Cloudy—Saturday"
Booked my flight.
If I don't go back soon, you'll be on winter break.
I need to hurry back and see you at least once.
"January 31, 2021—Sunny—Sunday"
Finally back.
Immediately grabbed my backpack and headed to school.
"February 1, 2021—Sunny—Monday"
Lucky.
Saw you right after getting back.
"February 3, 2021—Sunny—Wednesday"
Ever since I met you, I've started to hate school breaks.
Winter break again.
Ugh!
"February 4, 2021—Light snow—Thursday"
I'm reminded of a story.
From the Shishuo Xinyu.
Sima Rui asked Sima Shao which is farther, the sun or Chang'an?
Sima Shao first said the sun was farther.
But when Sima Rui asked again later.
Sima Shao said Chang'an was farther.
Asked why.
He said.
"You can look up and see the sun, but you cannot see Chang'an."
Blanket Girl.
I look up and see the sun, but I cannot see Chang'an.
I look up and see the sun, but I cannot see Chang'an.
I look up and see the sun.
But I cannot see you.
"February 12, 2021—Cloudy—Friday"
Blanket Girl.
Happy New Year!
I released a sky lantern for you in the suburbs.
Hope everything you wish for comes true.
Hope everything goes smoothly, happily, and as you wish.
"February 21, 2021—Sunny—Sunday"
School has started again.
A bit busy.
Didn't see you.
I wonder if you're frowning again.
Wondering if you're busy copying papers again.
"February 27, 2021—Cloudy—Saturday"
The 100-day oath ceremony.
I had the honor of speaking as one of the student representatives.
Knowing I'd be standing on the stage where you might be watching me.
I specially asked Theo to give me a really cool haircut.
Wore a dress shirt I hadn't worn in years.
I don't know if you saw me.
But I kept looking in your direction.
Actually, I can't represent anyone.
Everyone has a unique youth.
If my youth were a linear regression equation.
You'd be my center point.
Only you.
And no one else.
Can represent me.
Blanket Girl.
Only a hundred days left.
Not many chances left for me to look at you like this.
"March 1, 2021—Sunny—Monday"
Morning exercises today.
Got sent by the homeroom teacher to check school ID badge compliance.
Hastily went through twenty-one classes.
Then deliberately acted serious as I made my way to Class Twenty-Two.
Only when I got closer did I realize you'd already had your braces removed.
You no longer cover your mouth when you smile.
I've always observed you from across floors with a brief, distant glance.
I rarely get the chance to be this close to you.
I realized that without my noticing, you've been getting better and better.
Blanket Girl.
Bloom boldly!
In a room full of flowers.
Don't envy others' fragrance.
Don't bow your head from insecurity.
My Blanket Girl.
Just standing there quietly.
Is the most beautiful sight of all.
"March 10, 2021—Sunny—Wednesday"
The college entrance exam doesn't mean much to me anymore.
So I've been enthusiastically studying liberal arts lately.
Other than math and geography, which I can still more or less handle.
History and politics are so strange.
ABCD all look the same to me.
You're so impressive, getting all of these right.
"March 13, 2021—Sunny—Saturday"
Blanket Girl.
Happy eighteenth birthday.
You're an adult now.
My flower has bloomed!
Bloomed beautifully.
Prettier than all the other flowers.
"March 25, 2021—Cloudy—Thursday"
College entrance exam health checkup.
I wonder if you're scared of blood draws.
You're always bouncing around.
Probably won't find any issues anyway.
"April 1, 2021—Sunny—Thursday"
I don't want to think about anything anymore.
And I don't want to think about the future either.
Since I can't control the future.
I'll seize the present.
Every day I can be with you is a day.
Being able to quietly walk through these days by your side.
Because I have more free time now.
I carry my camera everywhere every day.
Photographing flowers, grass, and trees.
Capturing every corner of the school.
Even though you're not in the photos.
Just seeing the photos reminds me of you.
"May 5, 2021—Sunny—Wednesday"
Graduation photos today. I couldn't hold back—I secretly took your picture.
You looked so pretty. Lots of people were taking photos with you.
I hesitated for a long time but still didn't go up to you.
It would've been too presumptuous of me.
In the end I held my camera from not far away.
Asked other classmates to help take photos.
Carefully calculating angles, adjusting the distance.
Finally your profile was in the photo.
You filled one half, I filled the other half.
This was our photo together.
I picked up the photo tucked inside the diary—the boy's eyes were full of affection as he looked at my profile.
I kept reading.
That camera held many photos of you that day, all stored in this QR code.
If there's a chance, I hope you can see you through my eyes. Every moment, to me, you were shining. Love can overshadow everything.
With tears streaming down my face, I used my phone to scan the QR code tucked inside the diary.
The video opened: a boy standing in the evening glow, his back resolute. An ordinary white shirt and black pants, but on him they carried a different quality.
A few seconds later, he spoke. His cool, clear voice struck my ears.
"Blanket Girl, are you ready?"
The moment the words fell, there I was, unable to stand steady at the flag-raising platform; there I was, dozing off in class; there I was, sneaking breakfast in between busy moments; there I was, dashing to the cafeteria...
Trees and grass, flowers and woods, and me lying on the balcony reading, me running at the Sports meet, me dancing, me singing... they all rushed forward, appearing before my eyes one after another.
130 MB and 14 KB—an intentional number. It was his entire youth.
The video lingered on that photo of ours—the one that barely counted as a photo together—for a long time.
I always thought, if only people had a God's-eye view.
Then maybe we could know the words left unspoken by those beside us, and hear the love that was never voiced.
But in this world, we're all living in first person, clumsily finding our way forward, missing the scenery along the road.
I felt like someone had grabbed my heart, yanking it up hard, leaving me unable to move.
It turns out that when sorrow reaches its peak, there's no sound.
"May 15, 2021—Sunny—Saturday"
I think.
True freedom isn't numbing yourself to wallow in the mire.
It's every act of breaking free from the swamp.
I keep telling myself not to think about the future.
But a future without you.
I don't want to participate in it.
But I have no choice.
"May 20, 2021—Sunny—Thursday"
People are never satisfied.
Unwilling to become just another nameless NPC in your youth.
But what else can I do!
"June 6, 2021—Sunny—Sunday"
We're setting up the exam rooms this afternoon.
We need to take everything home this morning.
There aren't many people left at school.
I haven't left yet.
I watched you carrying your bedding walking farther and farther toward the school gate.
Your back grew more and more distant from me.
I just stood there.
I wanted so badly to tell you.
Actually, the first time I saw you.
My heart started spinning out of control.
The records room was about to be locked. I went back inside the records room, picked up my pen, and wrote the last entry in this diary. My youth comes to an abrupt stop here. One last time. I want to be brave. I placed the diary on your stack of books. If you ever get to see this. If you're willing. You can call me. Anytime. I'll be here. Lucas: "155 **** 6003"
I could barely stand. Gripping the bed frame, the dizziness making me tremble uncontrollably.
Why didn't I finish reading sooner?
Why wasn't I braver back then?
He walked a hundred steps, and I didn't see any of them.
I collapsed to the floor, tears that I thought had already dried up surging forth again, my heart aching in waves.
One hand clutching the diary, I shakily entered the phone number, digit by digit. The time I missed and arrived late for was Lucas's entire trapped youth. I planted a magnificent, sprawling tree deep within his three or five years of youth.
I'm sorry. I'm truly sorry...
Ring... Ring... One second, two seconds.
My heart wouldn't stop trembling.
The call connected. The suffocating feeling in the air intensified. I didn't dare speak, afraid it wasn't real.
I said through my sobs: "Lucas."
Silence on the other end. A long silence.
Through my tears, I heard.
"Blanket Girl, I'm here."
It was 11:30 PM.
I dialed the number.
"Blanket Girl, I'm here."
Hearing his voice, I cried even harder.
I wanted to say something, but when I opened my mouth, no words came out.
What was there to say.
He'd gone to University B.
And I was about to set off for distant University C.
Our story was never supposed to have an ending.
Just like my youth, always losing and longing amid regrets.
I could actually understand why he ultimately chose to give me the diary to read. Given his personality, he surely wouldn't want his feelings to become a burden, so he left the choice to me.
He didn't let this story just fade away without resolution. Instead, he handed it to me, giving this notebook sealed with hidden feelings a possibility.
If I looked at the past three years from my perspective, all I saw were ba I couldn't stomach, endless flights of stairs, math and physics I couldn't master, the roller coaster of weekly and monthly and mid-term and final exams that tormented me.
It was the red acne on my cheeks that kept flaring up, the braces that showed whenever I smiled, the haircut that got me mocked for looking like a turtle—my grimy, unappealing high school self.
I used to think there was nothing worth missing about high school. My youth was as bland as a glass of plain water, with a faint bitterness. But Lucas's diary suddenly made me realize that the days I saw as tasteless as plain water were, in his eyes, as sweet as honey.
It was as if someone parted the layers of thin mist in the darkness, bringing a golden, shimmering light. He smiled and told me:
"Bea, you are enough."
I buried my face in the diary, sobbing softly.
Lucas, I understand now.
The phone number was right there.
And I chose to dial it with trembling hands.
We were both cowards.
But you can't be a coward in love.
We both need to be like warriors, wielding our swords amid sincerity and every imperfect story, cutting through thorns to find our own roses.
He traveled through hardship and stood before me.
Why should I push him away?
I took a deep breath and spoke slowly.
"Lucas, hello. I'm Bea from Class Twenty-Two, senior year, 2021. Could you give me a chance to get to know you again?"
I started crying again as I spoke.
The low male voice on the other end of the phone slowly replied.
"Bea, hello. I'm Lucas from Class One, senior year, 2021. I'm honored to meet you."
I felt so embarrassed.
Crying and crying, wanting to stop but unable to.
"Blanket Girl, I know this is sudden, but would you be willing to come downstairs? I'm outside your building."
I rushed to the window.
A tall, slender figure stood beneath the bus stop sign.
Just like so long ago, he was standing there, watching to see if I would come.
I stumbled downstairs, and as I ran out, our eyes met as he turned around.
He smiled when he saw me.
Eyes bright and clear. Maybe he'd been in a rush—his hair was even a bit messy.
This time it was no longer the distant gaze from the first floor to the fourth.
No longer separated by the distance of a thousand ranking places.
No longer a back view from across the hall.
No longer a casual glance pretending not to look in the corridor.
No longer a photograph misaligned by half a person.
No longer the fill-in circles erased and re-erased on a scantron.
No longer the regret of brushing past each other.
No longer a face glimpsed through the gaps of a bookshelf.
No longer the school uniform left un-draped at the bus stop.
No longer a code name in a diary.
The muggy summer breeze lifted the girl's skirt, tugging at the hem of the boy's dress shirt.
The moon finally closed its eyes with satisfaction, and the stars beside it seemed to be blowing trumpets in celebration.
"Blanket Girl, this time, can you tell me your QQ?"
I'm a crier. Hearing him say that, I couldn't hold back again, but I was so, so happy.
Thank goodness I didn't miss it.
I was smiling even harder than I was crying—my mouth was turned up, but tears kept streaming from my eyes.
The wind carried my words to his ears.
"It would be my honor."