The beginning of university
In September, City B still lingered with the warmth of late summer. Lin Weixi stood at the university gate, dragging her suitcase, looking up at the imposing gate. Amid the bustling crowd of freshmen, she suddenly felt dazed - there was no longer that familiar figure to be found here.
The Journalism Department's orientation center was located along Wutong Avenue. Her hands trembled as she filled out the form, and she solemnly wrote "Photography" under "Hobbies." A senior student took the form and said with a smile, "Our department has the best darkroom in the city. Students who enjoy photography are in luck."
The dorm was a four-person room, facing south, with a view of the basketball court from the window. As she was making her bed, she heard the clatter of sneakers scraping against the floor downstairs, and her heartbeat quickened. She opened the window and saw a group of unfamiliar boys playing basketball on the court. The man wearing jersey number 7 was nowhere to be seen.
The first week of school was freshman orientation. She sat in the auditorium, surrounded by faces from all over the country. While the counselor explained school rules, she unconsciously sketched circuit diagrams in her notebook—the first problem-solving method Chen Wang had taught her.
"Classmate, are you also in the physics department?" the boy with glasses next to me asked curiously.
She hurriedly closed the notebook: "No, the journalism department."
At the first class meeting, the instructor asked everyone to introduce themselves. When it was Lin Weixi's turn, she stood up and said softly, "I like to use the camera to record stories." After saying this, she was stunned for a moment - this tone was very similar to the one Chen Wang used when he described his ideals.
What she found most difficult to adapt to was university classes. There were no fixed seats, so she had to find a new one every time. She always chose the corner by the window, just like in high school. But there was no one to pass her notes or whisper explanations when she didn't understand something.
In mid-September, the photography club was looking for new members. As she hesitated at the booth, the club president enthusiastically handed her a flyer: "Are you interested in joining? We often have outdoor photo shoots."
The application form required her to write "your most satisfying work." She hesitated for a long time before finally writing "Campus Basketball Court Series." When she submitted the form, the president's eyes lit up: "That's professional quality! Were you on the school photography team?"
She shook her head and didn't say where the photos came from.
The weekends were when she felt truly alone. The local students had all gone home, and the dorms were mostly empty. She wandered around campus with her camera and unknowingly made her way to the gym. Through the glass windows, she could see the school team practicing, and the sound of basketballs hitting the ground reminded her of a certain afternoon.
Her phone rang at that moment, and a message popped up in the class group chat. Zhou Xu had posted a photo of the dinner party, and among the smiling faces, she spotted Chen Wang immediately. He was wearing a dark blue sweatshirt, looking down at his phone, his profile clearly visible under the light.
She enlarged the photo and found that he had a book called "Basic Photography Tutorial" next to him.
This discovery kept her uneasy all night. Late at night, she turned on her computer and searched for information about the A University Photography Club. She found Chen Wang's name on the membership list. He had joined the club on the second day of school.
In early October, the Journalism Department organized a visit to the Municipal Museum. While pausing at the bronzeware exhibition area, she received a text message from an unfamiliar number: "How are you adjusting to City B?"
Her heart skipped a beat. She replied, "Who are you?"
The other party quickly sent a photo: a ginkgo tree outside the window of the A University Library, with the caption: "The number Zhou Xu gave me."
It turned out to be Zhou Xu. She couldn't tell whether she was disappointed or relieved.
But ten minutes later, another text message came in: "This is Chen Wang. I heard you're in the journalism department?"
The phone nearly slipped from her hand. She leaned against the display case and typed slowly: "Well, how about you?"
"Physics Department. The courses are harder than I expected." He replied, followed by a wry smile.
That afternoon, she took a lot of photos of the museum and carefully selected a few to post on her WeChat Moments. When setting permissions, she lingered on "Partially Visible" for a long time, ultimately only selecting Chen Wang.
Two hours later, he clicked "like".
During the National Day holiday, she was alone in her dorm. While sorting through photos late at night, she stumbled upon a picture she'd taken accidentally: a blurry figure reflected in the museum's glass display case, looking at her phone—exactly how she'd looked when she replied to a text message.
She saved the photo in a separate folder named "September." Also in the folder were: a photo of the campus scenery from University A's official website, a screenshot of the train schedule, and a photo of a ginkgo leaf bookmark.
On the last day of the holiday, the class organized a barbecue. She sat in a corner, scrolling through her phone, when a "memories" popped up in her photo album: "One year ago today, the art festival rehearsal."
In the photo, Chen Wang was adjusting the sound system, his profile focused under the stage lights. She zoomed in on the picture and realized she was secretly photographing him in the corner.
"Junior, don't you want to eat something?" The president handed over the skewers.
She hurriedly locked the screen: "Thank you."
That night, she dreamed of a high school classroom. Chen Wang was solving a problem at the podium, the sound of chalk scratching across the blackboard remarkably clear. When she woke, it was three in the morning. The moonlight was just right outside her dormitory window, and she could hear the distant train passing by.
She opened her phone and found that Chen Wang had updated his Moments half an hour ago: a photo of the A University Observatory with the caption "Night Stargazing." The location showed a distance of 237 kilometers from her.
She clicked on the dialog box, typed and deleted, and finally sent only one sentence: "Good night."
Five minutes later, I received a reply: "Good night, Weixi."
This was the first time he called her name in three years.
In the early morning light, she wrote in her diary:
"It turns out that distance doesn't make certain things disappear, it only makes them grow in a different way. It's like a lighthouse seen across the sea; although the light is dim, it is enough to illuminate the way forward."
As I closed my diary, I heard birdsong outside the window. The first chapter of college life had just begun, and their story seemed to have also turned a new page.
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