"February 14, 2019—Sunny—Thursday"
Recently I've seen so many couples around school.
Not holding hands, but with an aura that outsiders simply can't penetrate.
Today is Valentine's Day.
Theo gathered his courage.
And confessed to the senior girl he liked.
He left the classroom with a smile.
And came back in tears.
I sat silently beside him.
Ryan handed him tissues.
I patted his shoulder.
Wanted to comfort him.
But felt like I was even worse off than him.
I don't even have the courage to ask for your QQ.
"February 19, 2019—Sunny—Tuesday"
The school didn't give us the Lantern Festival off. I don't know if Blanket Girl had tangyuan. Our homeroom teacher brought each of us a bowl.
Not many, but very sweet—homemade by the teacher's family. If only you could have some too.
"February 20, 2019—Sunny—Wednesday"
The school organized a winter cross-country race.
When I signed up, I happened to be in a competition.
At the finish line, I saw you cheering and shouting for someone else.
I suddenly regretted why I didn't participate.
At least then, there might have been a chance you'd see me.
"February 23, 2019—Cloudy—Saturday"
The homeroom teacher asked me to organize student records. I took the liberty of organizing Class 22's too. Your birthday is March 13th.
Counting it.
Is your birthday coming up soon?
My birthday is indeed March 13th. It must have been on my ID card. So he organized our entire class's records just to find my birthday?
My eyes grew increasingly stinging. The diary was such a slight,thin medium of expression, yet it brought me such profound feelings—that heavy, weighty love I had never once noticed.
"February 28, 2019—Sunny—Thursday"
Saw you during morning exercises today.
You were in the last row.
Surrounded by people taller than you.
Bouncing up and down among them.
Be careful, don't trip.
I didn't like squeezing into the front row for exercises. I liked hiding in the last row to slack off.
Running in the last row, with the cover of tall classmates, no one could see that I wasn't following the chant.
It was actually quite comfortable running back there. Plus, I don't know why, but the front row always seemed to run faster and faster while I was back there struggling like a half-dead ghost, mouth crooked and eyes askew, completely unable to keep up.
To make things worse, the two adjacent classes were packed close together, so shuffling along at a slow pace in the back row made it easy to bump into the flag-bearer of the class behind us. So I had no choice but to keep pace with that ridiculous speed.
When I really couldn't run anymore, I'd wait until the homeroom teacher wasn't looking, then sneak out of the formation to pretend-tie my shoe and rest.
I always thought my slacking method was the best in the world. My friend Tian Yaqin was even fiercer—every time we had to run, she'd slip into the bathroom after half a lap and come back for the other half. Tang Jia would get a stomachache every time the exercise bell rang, scheming to stay in the classroom instead of going down.
Tian Yaqin and I would sing songs while running during our brief exercise time. Sometimes we'd run and complain about the school's unreasonable exercise policy at the same time.
I remember when we first started high school, the school leadership said they wanted to make morning exercises a signature feature of Sycamore City High.
I thought at the time that they were insane. Training students like special forces—what were they trying to achieve? They wanted us to excel academically and athletically.
They euphemistically called it "stress relief." I remember cursing while running, getting madder the more I thought about it.
Then one morning in our senior year, it suddenly made sense to me. Maybe in a certain sense, the old man wasn't wrong. Prisons gave inmates outdoor time—and that was similar to our high school morning exercises.
By senior year, I'd come to love that half-dead state. It made me feel like I was suddenly pulled out of intense studying.
"March 4, 2019—Sunny—Monday"
Ran into Blanket Girl at the cafeteria. How come you're eating so little?
You're still growing. You should eat properly.
"March 5, 2019—Sunny—Tuesday"
First period of evening study was math.
Right before class started.
The sun had just set.
Day after day.
I was struck by the sunset glow pouring down.
Blanket Girl.
Can my love ever see the sun?
"March 13, 2019—Sunny—Wednesday"
Happy 16th birthday.
I hope one day I can tell you in person.
"March 14, 2019—Sunny—Thursday"
Midterm exams.
This time the exam rooms were randomly assigned.
We happened to be in the same room.
Both in our class.
I calculated your seat position.
Based on the exam office's seating arrangement.
When setting up the exam room.
I casually placed my desk at your position.
When sticking on the exam number tags.
I wrote "Good luck" in pencil behind your exam number.
Though you'd most likely never see it.
"March 15, 2019—Cloudy—Friday"
The test wasn't hard.
I finished early.
After finishing, I looked toward your seat in the exam room.
You were two aisles away from me.
Head down, brow furrowed.
Writing, then pausing, then writing again.
In two hours, I checked my paper three times.
And looked at you six times.
I still didn't want to leave the exam room.
"March 20, 2019—Cloudy—Wednesday"
The honor roll downstairs posts photos of the top three in each class.
Our class has too many talented people.
Getting into the top three is pretty hard.
But I still hope that one day when you pass by.
You might have a chance to see me.
So this midterm, I made it in.
Will you notice me?
Our high school's academic building had a bulletin board at the bottom that posted photos and names and classes of students with good grades after every exam.
With his grades, he must have been a regular on the honor roll.
I thought of something, and flipped back to find where he mentioned his name in his diary.
"Lucas: 13th in the grade"
I traced the name on the paper with my fingers—this name that shouldn't have been forgotten by me.
In my hazy memories, I suddenly recalled a conversation.
One day, my friend Tang Jia and I were passing by the academic building. Bored, we went to look at the honor roll.
Tang Jia pointed at someone on the board and said, "Wow, look at him—he's so smart! And he's pretty handsome too."
I followed her finger to a clean-cut boy wearing black-framed glasses, with a scholarly air about him, looking mild-tempered.
He stood out among the sea of straight-A faces.
I nodded vigorously in agreement. In my heart, there was only envy—I didn't think much beyond that.
In my mind, someone this godlike wouldn't have any intersection with me.
One of us was on the fourth floor, the other on the first floor.
Our scores were nearly a thousand places apart.
That was an unbridgeable gulf.
A distance I could never dream of crossing.
A face that should have been etched in my memory was now recalled.
My heart pounded, my face grew inexplicably hot. I wiped my tears and kept reading.
In the deep night, hearing tales of youth, dreaming and weeping with red cheeks.
"April 1, 2019—Sunny—Monday"
Today is April Fools' Day.
The Chinese teacher taught a word called "xuanxiang" (distant longing).
In ancient times, a husband far from home would yearn for his wife.
He would write of clouds and mountains, and of his wife yearning for him just as wildly.
It's like.
I miss you.
I won't say I miss you.
But I will say you miss me.
Yes, you miss me.
"April 8, 2019—Sunny—Monday"
It seems there's a sports meet in early May.
The arts teacher will select many people to prepare for the opening ceremony performance.
I saw that you were selected to dance.
Don't skip meals just because you have to dance.
"April 10, 2019—Cloudy—Wednesday"
You have rehearsals every day during dinner time.
What about you, going hungry—what will you do?
You must remember to eat.
The opening ceremony needs flag-bearers.
It seems like I can rehearse with you every afternoon.
I hesitated again and again, but still signed up.
"April 11, 2019—Sunny—Thursday"
I signed up. The teacher had me walk a couple of steps as a formality. She approved. See you tomorrow afternoon.
My Blanket Girl.
"April 12, 2019—Sunny—Friday"
You dance so beautifully. I was just staring at you and accidentally stepped on the guy in front of me.
"April 28, 2019—Cloudy—Sunday"
The opening ceremony was moved up.
I wore a military uniform.
The guy in front of me said I looked incredibly handsome.
I don't know if you noticed me.
I saw you.
You had makeup on.
Wearing your performance dress.
So beautiful—how do I tell you how dazzling you were?
I tried to act calm, clumsily pretending to just happen to be passing by.
As our paths crossed, I heard.
You ask your classmate in a low voice which class the tallest boy was from.
The person next to you replied that it was the boy on the honor roll.
Discovering that you'd noticed me, my heart blossomed in that instant.
Grateful that in the process of becoming better, the crowd pushed me toward you again and again.
It will leave traces, won't it? In three years of high school, the person with the best grades is called Lucas. The tallest person is called Lucas. The one who likes Blanket Girl the most is also called Lucas.
"April 29, 2019—Sunny—Monday"
Today is the sports meet.
I remember when I went to the teacher's office to check.
You hadn't signed up.
Why did you suddenly join the relay?
I saw you preparing at our class's tent.
Hurriedly borrowed a camera.
Pretended to be a photographer and accompanied you through the whole race.
Forgive me for not being able to.
Run openly beside you like others.
I could only pretend to take photos.
My tears, which I had just wiped dry, burst forth again in that instant. I couldn't stop them no matter how hard I tried, crying until I was an absolute mess.
It was him again.