diary

When Mu Han pushed open the villa's front door, he happened to see the cleaning lady wiping the ornaments in the entrance hall. Seeing him, the cleaning lady paused with the rag in her hand, a look of concern on her face. "Mr. Mu, you're back. How's Mr. Lu...now?"

Mu Han pinched the cold doorknob with his fingertips, trying to make his voice sound calmer: "Azhi...it will take some time for him to wake up."

"Oh, you've suffered so much." Auntie sighed and said quickly, "Don't be too hard on yourself. Your health is more important."

Mu Han nodded, said nothing more, and went straight upstairs. The room remained the same as when he left. His unfinished book lay on the bedside table. Sunlight filtered through the gauze curtains onto the carpet. It was so quiet that he could hear his own breathing. But this silence felt like a heavy net, strangling him so hard that he couldn't breathe. Every inch of the air here was soaked with Lu Zhizhi's scent, and now he was alone, even breathing felt empty.

Before he had even stayed for ten minutes, Mu Han grabbed his coat and hurried away, driving to the hospital.

When he pushed open the door to the ward, Ji Xingyuan was sitting by the window answering the phone. When he saw him come in, he said to the other end of the phone, "That's it for now," and hung up. He greeted him calmly, "I'm here."

Mu Han hummed, walked to the bedside, and looked at Lu Zhizhi's sleeping face. After a long while, he spoke, his voice so soft as if he was afraid of disturbing anyone: "Mr. Ji, I'll ask you to take care of the company. I'll take care of Ah Zhi here."

Ji Xingyuan looked at the bloodshot eyes, was silent for a moment, and suddenly asked: "Do you... really like Ah Zhi?"

Mu Han didn't answer immediately. He simply reached out and gently stroked Lu Zhizhi's bandaged forehead, his fingertips feeling slightly cool. His eyes were gentle enough to shed tears, but his tone was devoid of emotion, as if stating a long-held fact: "I like you. I've liked you for a long, long time."

Ji Xingyuan's eyes flickered between the two of them, as if recalling something. He spoke slowly, "Azhi said exactly the same thing. Five years ago, he suddenly woke from a coma. He kept muttering your name and searched frantically for you, but there was no news. During that time, he was completely devastated."

"I remember it very clearly. That day I went to his house. When I opened the door, I saw him slumped on the sofa. His beard was unshaven, his eyes were bloodshot, and he was holding an old photo of you in his hand, repeating 'Mu Han' over and over. I asked him if he had fallen in love with someone."

"He was stunned for a moment and asked me, 'What does it feel like to like someone?' I said, liking someone means thinking of him when I'm daydreaming, wanting to share my happiness with him, and wanting to be by his side when I'm sad. I'm also worried that he'll be wronged, sick, or unhappy, and I can't wait to see him every minute of every day."

"Guess what he said?" Ji Xingyuan lowered his voice. "He looked at me with a startlingly bright look in his eyes and said, 'Then I must have liked him, and I've liked him for a long, long time.' But at that time, you clearly hadn't even met."

He paused and added, "Azhi has the habit of writing a diary. The notebook should be in the bottom drawer of the desk in the study. You... can go and take a look when you have time."

Mu Han was stunned when he heard this, his fingertips lingering on Lu Zhizhi's cheek, trembling slightly. So, in those years that he didn't know about, Lu Zhizhi had also been thinking about him in this clumsy and persistent way?

Ji Xingyuan had left at some point, leaving only him and the sleeping Lu Zhizhi in the ward. Mu Han held that cold hand and sat for a long, long time, until the sky outside the window darkened completely. Only then did he get up and go home, feeling dejected.

As soon as the car stopped, he headed straight for the study. Pushing open the door, the familiar scent of cedar hit him. Lu Zhizhi's usual fountain pen was still on the desk, next to a few open files. Mu Han walked to his desk, squatted down, and opened the bottom drawer. Sure enough, he saw a gray-covered diary, its edges frayed from rubbing.

He carefully opened it. The first page was slightly wrinkled, with a light yellow tint around the edges, as if it had been soaked in water and then dried—traces of tears. The handwriting was a little sloppy, as if it had been written in a hurry, or as if his hand was shaking.

"Today is the seventh day since I was reborn. In three days, we will meet for the first time. I must dress nicely this time so that Hanhan will remember me at first sight and like me more than in my previous life. But...what if he still doesn't like me? What if he thinks I'm annoying?"

"Why? Today is the day we should meet. I've been waiting in the gallery all day, from dawn to dusk, but I can't find you. Hanhan, where have you been? I regret so much why I didn't find you earlier in my previous life... I miss you."

Mu Han's tears fell onto the paper with a "plop", blurring the ink. He sniffed and tremblingly turned to the next page.

"Another day where I can't find you. They all say they've never seen a painter named Mu Han, and the gallery owner said you resigned a long time ago. Hanhan, where are you? Don't you want to see me?"

As I turned the pages, the handwriting changed from the initial anxiety, to the subsequent loss, and then to the rekindled hope, and his name was everywhere between the lines.

"Today I heard that Hanhan was going back to China, so I went to the airport and waited for three hours. It's been five years, Hanhan, I missed you so much. I finally saw you, but the way you looked at me was so unfamiliar, as if you were looking at a passerby..."

"Hanhan talked to me today! Although his tone was cold and distant, I was still very happy. I secretly rejoiced for a long time. He must still be angry with me. It doesn't matter. I will slowly comfort him."

"Hanhan said he couldn't cook, and I believed him. But today I saw Han Yi's Moments post, and Hanhan was making braised pork in his kitchen, smiling so happily. It turns out it's not that he can't cook, he just doesn't want to cook for me... My heart aches a little."

"Today, that psychiatrist named Qin actually dared to kiss Hanhan. I couldn't help it and beat him up. He's now in the hospital receiving treatment. But it doesn't matter. Hanhan came to take care of me and even peeled an apple for me. Although it was a little bumpy, I was so happy!"

…

Turning to the last few pages, the handwriting becomes particularly forceful, and you can even see the traces of the pen tip scratching the paper:

"Ahhh! Hanhan and I got our marriage certificate today! The little red notebook in my pocket feels so hot it feels like the sun! Hanhan, I love you! I really love you!"

Mu Han covered his mouth, but the suppressed sobs still escaped through his fingers. It turned out he wasn't alone in his clumsy approach; it turned out Lu Zhizhi had also been walking this path for so long. He should have known this long ago, should have understood this long ago.

The next morning, Mu Han went to the hospital again. He stood quietly by, watching the nurse examine Lu Zhizhi. The doctor gently said that all the indicators were stable and asked him not to worry too much.

After the doctor left, Mu Han sat by the bed, took Lu Zhizhi's hand and put it on his face, his voice choked with sobs: "Azhi, I know all your little secrets. Wake up soon, okay? I'll make you braised pork and your favorite sweet and sour spare ribs, and I can make them for the rest of my life."

He paused, his eyes red again: "Look at you, you say you love me, but now you leave me here alone, how irresponsible."

From that day on, Mu Han took even better care of Lu Zhizhi. Every morning, he would come to wipe his body and give him a massage, at noon, he would read the newspaper to him, and at night, he would sit by his bedside and chatter about daily trivialities.

But gradually, he spoke less and less, spending more time sitting at his sketchpad, drawing Lu Zhizhi stroke by stroke. He drew him sleeping, frowning, and even as he seemed about to smile in his dreams. As time passed, thick sheets of drawing paper piled up in the corner of the ward, and he couldn't count how many sheets he had drawn.

Because his right hand was still not very flexible due to the burn, he practiced painting with his left hand. At first, the lines were crooked, but later he became more proficient. The Lu Zhizhi he painted with his left hand actually had a more inexplicable tenderness than the ones he painted with his right hand.

That afternoon, Han Yi came, and Mu Han and he walked to the window at the end of the corridor.

"Mu Han," Han Yi said, his voice a little dry as he looked at the buildings in the distance, "You...really won't consider me? Even if it's just for a try."

Mu Han turned his head and saw the disappointment in his eyes. He shook his head gently and said in a gentle but firm tone: "Xiao Yi, you deserve a better person, someone who can only think of you."

Han Yi forced a smile: "I understand." He paused, then said, "I wish you all the best. I have something else to do at the company, so I'll be leaving first."

After saying that, he turned and walked away, his steps a little fast. Mu Han watched his back disappear around the corner of the corridor, and then he sighed softly. When he returned to the ward, he saw Han Yi standing downstairs through the window, his shoulders slightly shaking, as if he was crying.

Mu Han knew that letting go was difficult, but some people were destined not to belong to him from the beginning.

A few days later, Ji Lu was brought by Ji Xingyuan to visit Lu Zhizhi. The little guy looked at Mu Han, who had become much more haggard, and tugged at his clothes distressedly: "Sister-in-law, go lie down for a while, I will help you look after your brother."

Mu Han was indeed tired, so he nodded and leaned on the accompanying bed next to him, and fell asleep unknowingly. When he woke up, the sky outside the window was full of stars. Ji Lu fell asleep on the side of the bed, holding a candy that he had peeled for Lu Zhizhi in his hand.

Days passed like this, and Lu Zhizhi showed no signs of waking up. Only once, when Mu Han was wiping his hands, he clearly felt his fingers move slightly. He was so excited that he immediately called a doctor. After checking, the doctor said that this was a good sign, indicating that his nerves were recovering. But after a long time, Lu Zhizhi still did not wake up.

Mu Han didn't give up. He continued to draw for Lu Zhizhi and talk to him every day, firmly believing in Ji Xingyuan's words, "There will be a miracle." He believed that his Lu Zhizhi was so stubborn and loved him so much that he would definitely wake up.

Just like believing that spring will always come as promised.