Faded Diary
On the first day of her winter break, Lin Weixi was tidying up her bookcase when the dark green diary slipped from the top shelf. The brass lock on the cover hit the floor with a crisp sound. She bent down to pick it up and found that the lock had loosened, as if inviting her to reopen those thoughts that had been sealed away by time.
The afternoon sun shone obliquely into the room, and fine dust particles drifted in the air. She sat cross-legged on the wooden floor and gently opened her diary. The first page was dated September three years ago, and the handwriting was still childish: "Today I became his deskmate. I'm so nervous I can't speak."
The ink had faded, as if gently washed away by time. She flipped through the pages, and the details that once made her heart race now felt a gentle, unfamiliar quality. The one from her sophomore year sports meet, where she'd meticulously recorded the tense lines of Chen Wang's back muscles as he high-jumped, now seemed overly detailed.
When she turned to the chapter titled "Anonymous Paper Cranes," she noticed a water stain at the corner, smearing the ink. She traced the stain with her fingertips, then remembered it was a tear she'd accidentally shed while writing in her diary late one night. She'd felt deeply wronged at the time, but now she couldn't even remember the reason.
What moved her most was the diary entries from her senior year. Densely written, it recorded the comparisons of her mock exam scores, with red markers next to them: "32 points away" and "Distance reduced to 28 points." Those numbers, now viewed, seemed both naive and persistent. She even drew a line chart to analyze whether her progress would allow her to catch up with him before the college entrance exam.
In the drawer, there was a stack of movie ticket stubs, all from films Chen Wang had casually mentioned as good. She had seen every one of them, and afterward, she'd write her reflections in a notebook, pretending they were for herself. Now, when she picked up the tickets, the writing was blurry, like those afternoons spent alone at the movies, gradually fading into a faint shadow.
In the evening, she discovered a ginkgo leaf bookmark tucked into the last page of her diary. It had been placed inside the book Chen Wang had lent her. The veins of the leaf had become brittle, and it would break with the slightest pressure. She carefully moved it to the specimen booklet and wrote the date and the word "youth" on the label.
When her mother knocked on the door, calling her for dinner, she was staring blankly at the souvenirs scattered across the floor. Three years of high school were crystallized into these trivial objects: a half-used eraser, an empty pen refill, a gymnasium ticket... Each one evoked a clear image, but the throbbing sensation had become distant.
After dinner, Shen Siyu video-called. Her bestie, with her hair cut short, was making dumplings at her boyfriend's house. "Wei Xi, guess who I ran into today? Zhou Xu! He said Chen Wang is busy with a project in the lab and might not be back for the New Year."
She stirred the glutinous rice balls in the bowl and hummed softly. The rice balls floated in the syrup, reflecting her current mood.
Late at night, she opened her diary again. On the latest page, she wrote today's date:
"Rereading my old diary is like visiting my past self. Those vivid joys and sorrows have faded, but I remain grateful to the girl I once loved. She made me who I am today."
The pen paused for a moment and added:
"Perhaps the most beautiful ending of a secret love isn't being together, but rather shining in each other's own worlds. Just like parallel lines, they don't need to intersect, as long as they've been infinitely close, that's all that matters."
When she closed the diary, the latch finally came undone. Instead of repairing it, she found a wooden box and neatly stored the diary and the mementos. She taped a note to the lid: "To the memories of the past."
Fireworks blared outside her window; New Year's Eve had arrived. She took a picture of the fireworks and posted it to her WeChat Moments. Chen Wang liked it and commented, "Happy New Year."
She stared at those four simple words for a long time. Then she put down her phone and began organizing her notes from her university photography class. On the notebook were a subway map of City B and a schedule of photography club activities. A whole new life was unfolding before her eyes.
As the clock struck midnight, she received a blessing text message from an unfamiliar number. After replying "Thank you," the other party said, "I'm Li Zhe, and Siyu gave me the number."
She looked at the dialog box and suddenly smiled. It turns out that the world is big and the road ahead is long.
The old diary was tucked away deep in the cabinet, like a solemn farewell. And those faded ink marks would forever remind her: having once loved someone so purely was itself the most precious gift of youth.
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