The plaque for Senior Year Class 22 was still hanging there. In a few months, it would be replaced and become Freshman Class 22.
Standing in the hallway, I suddenly remembered when I first arrived three years ago—the previous class's plaque hadn't been taken down yet. Back then, we'd check every day to see if it had been swapped for the new first-year plaque.
Three years gone in the blink of an eye.
In a flash.
I took one last look through the small window of the back door at the classroom.
People say that once a house is empty, it ages quickly.
It seemed the same for classrooms. Every desk used to have a book bag hanging beside it, and stacks of books permanently piled on top, blocking the teacher's view.
Even with desk drawers stuffed full, there were still books that couldn't fit, so my desk mate and I would put an extra stool between us just to hold books.
Then there were the trash bags—meticulous people would stick a hook on the desk leg, while those rougher fellows would wedge a pen refill into the gap and hang a trash bag from it. Every time it came time for taking out the trash, someone would have to play rock-paper-scissors.
Tang Jia, who sat across the aisle from me, slept like the dead every day. Tian Yaqin, sitting in the other group, used the CD from the back of her politics textbook to check her acne. My desk mate would stuff a huge mouthful of snacks the moment the teacher wasn't looking. The boys in the last row would get restless, and the second the teacher left, they'd rush to the big screen at the front of the classroom to watch football matches...
The classroom used to be packed with people, filled with laughter and chatter. Now there was only a thin layer of dust on the desks.
As if no one could prove we ever existed here either.
I used to not understand the emotions in classical poetry. Li Qingzhao wrote in "Late Spring at Wuling": "The things remain, the people have changed, all is at an end. Before I can speak, tears flow."
Though what I faced was different from Li Qingzhao's situation, I understood something of what she felt in this moment.
Nothing had actually changed. Only the people in this classroom were no longer us, and they never would be again.
Looking toward the podium, I could almost still see our homeroom teacher droning on and on. The ten-minute break between classes was still her battlefield—running over class time was the norm.
I turned and left. This was the last time I'd leave this school.
Walking to the school gate, I looked back one final time.
Just like when I first arrived at this school three years ago, I carefully and earnestly reacquainted myself with it all over again.
The protagonist of youth had quietly changed hands without anyone noticing.
I stood at the familiar bus stop, waiting beneath a dim streetlight, and opened the diary.
"November 1, 2018—Sunny—Thursday"
Last night, right after the lights went out.
Theo poked his head out from under the covers.
And mysteriously asked Ryan and me if we'd ever had romantic experiences.
What a boring topic.
I closed my eyes silently, not wanting to engage.
But Ryan sat up straight, suddenly looking grave and serious.
He looked at the two of us and said he might have someone he likes.
Theo immediately sat up, excitedly asking question after question.
Long and short questions, one after another tumbling out.
But Ryan didn't continue, just went off to do his own thing.
Theo called Ryan a party-pooping broomstick—lighting a fire but never setting off the firecrackers.
I lay there with my eyes closed, wondering where on earth Theo learned his colorful metaphorical language.
Theo, having nothing more to dig out of Ryan, turned to question me.
I closed my eyes and said I'd never had romantic experience.
Theo curiously asked if I'd never liked any girl.
I fell silent, thinking about it.
It seemed like all these years, I'd been busy grinding through practice problems every day.
Either on the path to competitions or on the path to more problems.
Sometimes I played basketball. When there was nothing to do, I listened to music or went out to eat with friends.
My life was as flat and routine as an elderly person's—methodical and uneventful.
As if I'd never stopped for anyone.
Reaching this thought, I paused. A silhouette suddenly appeared in my mind.
A girl with twin braids, singing nervously, standing perfectly straight, not daring to glance around, just staring ahead and focusing on singing, her red dress swaying, like feathers tickling at the heart.
It was Blanket Girl.
I froze, pulled the covers over my head, and went to sleep.
Theo had to give up.
In the dead of night, I experienced insomnia for the first time.
Why?
Why was I always watching her?
Why was she always the only one I could see in a crowd?
The answer was on the tip of my tongue, but I dared not believe it.
"November 2, 2018—Cloudy—Friday"
It seems like when you deliberately try to avoid a person.
Or try to escape certain thoughts.
You end up seeing her even more.
I've forgotten what law this is called. In my world, I'll name it the Blanket Girl Law.
Things I never deliberately tried to remember kept reminding me anyway.
She would secretly eat breakfast on the balcony during morning reading every day.
When I recited texts in the corridor, I always couldn't help looking up at her.
I never consciously memorized anything.
But somehow, I inexplicably remembered all her habits.
She liked to eat at the east cafeteria, and she always ordered the same thing.
Every time Theo and Ryan asked what to eat after school.
I'd unconsciously walk toward the east side.
I could clearly see the changes happening within myself.
So, what should I do?
"November 3, 2018—Sunny—Saturday"
Theo, this weirdo.
Lately he's been staring at me with a strange expression.
I ask him.
He puts on this half-smile, half-smirk face.
In the morning, I was reciting texts in the corridor as usual.
He came over and suddenly asked me.
He asked why I didn't recite in the classroom where it's comfortable.
Why insist on standing in the corridor.
I think there's something wrong with him.
Always snooping into my life when he has nothing better to do.
I ignore him.
He suddenly patted my shoulder.
And said in a deeply earnest tone.
"Lucas, you're done for, buddy."
That weirdo Theo.
Always saying things that don't connect from beginning to end, completely off the mark.
So bizarre.
I've decided to stay away from him, before he rubs off on me.
"November 4, 2018—Light snow—Sunday"
This afternoon, returning to school. I arrived a bit late.
While walking, I caught a glimpse via the glass of a roadside shop.
Saw Blanket Girl walking just behind me and to the side.
Both of us heading in the direction of school.
I unconsciously slowed my pace.
My steps grew a bit unsteady.
Even my back.
Seemed to stiffen a little.
"November 5, 2018—Sunny—Monday"
Blanket Girl came to our class.
I clearly saw that she was just passing by when our teacher stopped her for an errand.
She delivered the attendance sheet to our class.
I quietly rose from my seat.
And moved to the desk at the back of the classroom.
At just the right angle for her to see me.
"November 6, 2018—Sunny—Tuesday"
In the cafeteria, I saw two teachers' kids watching Ultraman.
I inexplicably paused for a moment.
Cartoons were somewhat foreign to me.
They almost never appeared in my life. They actually seemed pretty interesting.
Just like her.
"November 7, 2018—Cloudy—Wednesday"
There's a club activity today.
I joined the basketball club.
Ryan did too.
Theo went to some poetry recitation club.
I carefully considered Theo's usual word-choice skills.
He really does need more cultivation, to avoid harming innocent people.
Ryan said Theo had been acting suspicious lately too.
Seemed like something was going on with him.
I hadn't noticed. Didn't know.
Speaking of Ryan.
I gave him a thoughtful glance.
I went to bed a bit late last night.
I heard Ryan laughing in his sleep.
It was kind of creepy.
Wonder what he was dreaming about.
"November 8, 2018—Sunny—Thursday"
Lately there's a bizarre, baseless game going around.
They all say it's really accurate.
One, two, three, four, five, six, seven.
If the initials of two people's names strung together form a meaningful sentence, you have fate.
Lk, gxb.
"Just announced departure, having departed from the Northwest."
A very logical sentence.
I couldn't explain why, but my instinct told me it simply made sense.
"November 9, 2018—Sunny—Friday"
See.
Don't see.
Look.
Don't look.
Look.
Don't want to.
Want to.
"November 10, 2018—Sunny—Saturday"
It's a holiday. I'm sitting on bus number 15.
Blanket Girl is on the bus too.
I looked out the window.
But my mind had long wandered elsewhere.
In my peripheral vision, her tiny silhouette.
I didn't dare make any big movements.
It was as if there was one more absent-minded person on the bus.
"November 15, 2018—Light snow—Thursday"
Like.
Don't like.
Like.
Don't like.
Like.
"November 19, 2018—Sunny—Monday"
Saw her at the flag-raising ceremony. Don't know what she was spacing out about.
Motionless.
"November 20, 2018—Sunny—Tuesday"
Didn't see her. "November 21, 2018—Cloudy—Wednesday" Final exams on Friday. I wonder how her review is going.
Should be okay!
"November 22, 2018—Sunny—Thursday"
Just found out she's actually in the choir club.
No wonder she sings so well.
She must really love singing!
"November 23, 2018—Sunny—Friday"
Final exams began.
The test papers were handed out. Pretty easy. Blanket Girl.