Moonlight gradually swallows the faint chill of early morning; on the marble-paved path newly lit by the breaking day, the dawn breeze pierces my exhausted body.
My body has swallowed the length of an entire night.
This is not a good piece of writing. Because what I am about to write is the present, not the past.
I don’t know how much of my literary flair remains after being eroded by time. Yet time has given me a new tone; I only hope I can still tell you the story clearly.
HJJ was my class monitor in high school.
She was very thin. We were in the same class in tenth grade, and fortunately, even after the classes were divided by tracks, we remained in the same class. Even though it seems I didn’t talk to her much in high school?—or perhaps it’s just that I didn’t talk to any of my high school classmates much—if I were to write about her, the first thing that comes to mind is still that I always ranked first in the class and she always ranked second, time and time again. I remember that except for one exam very close to the Gaokao, it seemed to be like this throughout the latter half of eleventh grade and all of twelfth grade.
Speaking of that exam, I was actually quite unhappy. I still remember walking out of the school gate and down that slope that afternoon, my heart full of resentment and complaints toward Teacher Huang. I remember thinking at the time, why did I do so poorly in math, and then I didn’t perform well in other subjects either, and so I got surpassed by her.
HJJ, of course, was overjoyed.
However, so many grades, such tiny differences in rankings, so many certificates of merit, so many people below the stage, so many gazes, so many honors—looking back through time, what is left? Only the joy of that moment, and the glory of bygone days.
I once thought solving problems was everything. To solve problems others couldn’t was to have everything. Until the morning self-study session on June 8th, the morning after the math exam, when for the first time I clearly understood what powerlessness meant. The math papers I had unfolded over the past hundred or so mornings had lost their meaning. I lay face down on the desk, filled with emptiness and sorrow. Only then did I clearly realize that I had poured too much emotion into something that was bound to end.
Another moment I still remember was right after learning about the class placements. I remember HJJ standing in front of me, happily telling me that we would be going to the same class again, though I can’t remember the exact words. As for the other few classmates who ended up in the same new class with us, I don’t seem to remember a single one of them—only her.
I feel like there has actually been more between HJJ and me after starting university. Through relevant admission policies, she also came to the same university as me.
I’m not sure if I factored in the possibility of being at the same school as her when I applied to this university. Of course, even if I did, it was a very negligible factor.
After all, I barely had a choice; not choosing physics as an exam subject meant I was left with nothing but trash majors, so other factors ended up being much more important to me.
We went to visit West Lake together. That was in 2023, not long after the semester started. The breeze brushed past the willow causeway, strands of green swaying; the lake water was in the distance, the mountains were further away, and the blue sky was even further still.
Strictly speaking, we went to the Zhejiang Provincial Museum on West Lake. What was inside? I can’t remember. I only remember being quite happy at the time.
And then it was '24. It should have been January of '24. I can no longer remember what kind of feelings I had for her back then. I still keep the photo I took with her at the time. She was dressed so beautifully. So beautifully. So beautifully. Beneath the night sky, she was even more beautiful. We had a meal together.
And what about me? What about me. I am just too terrible at doing these things.
I don’t know why. My emotions aren’t as rich as they were in high school. It’s probably an adverse side effect of emotional stability.
Sigh.
2025.7.1
On the first day of the second half of the year, as the sunlight hung low and fell from the canopy of the sky, memories suddenly surged into my barren heart, my restless heart, my uneasy heart.
I thought of the things that happened after the 2023 Gaokao. A pity only two years have passed; it’s not suitable to write about yet.
2025.7.3
Searching and seeking. Many, many contradictory thoughts are colliding and battling in my mind. It’s exhausting.
Can I really trust my own wisdom, and how should I attain happiness? Wisdom and happiness seem to be at odds.
I wish to pursue happiness, yet wisdom tells me that the way to attain happiness is not to pursue it. This would be the sinking of free will. It is really so hard for me to grasp the balance in between.
I wish to pursue happiness, yet I seem unable to use my own wisdom. This is the contradiction the book has given me.
相信自己的智慧，确信自己值得拥有幸福，这是自尊的本质。
To trust one’s mind and to know that one is worthy of happiness is the essence of self-esteem.
I feel myself sinking bit by bit, uncontrollably, into the abyss, and I don’t know what lies below.
The original word for “wisdom” here is mind, which in the English context seems to carry the meaning of “thought” to a certain extent. My stomach hurts so much. The original word for “essence” is essence. worthy of, on the other hand, has a relatively passive voice, carrying a lighter emotional coloring compared to “possess”.
The difference between wisdom and thought? I’m afraid there really is a huge difference. Although the author certainly tried their best to find suitable Chinese words, one really needs to read the original English text to understand the subtle deviations within.
I get it now! mind doesn’t just refer to wisdom! Because mind includes those irrational things! Fundamentally, this is deeply different from wisdom!
The more I read, the more I realize nothing is worthy of complete trust. How many schools of thought oppose one another.
2025.7.8
Back then, she also gave me a graduation gift. It was also the only graduation gift I received from a classmate. It was an elegant wooden music box shaped like a gramophone, playing a segment of Für Elise. Simple notes drifted before my desk, a red wooden box with a golden phonograph horn. I wonder what this meant? Für Elise can certainly be considered a universally beloved piece.
What happened during those few days of graduation? We went to pick up the guidebooks for filling out college applications; the wrinkled pages were covered in dense numbers and obscure names of majors I had never read before. The future was just as obscure and unclear, at least to me at the time.
Flipping through my photos, the graduation ceremony took place on June 12th. I have the complete audio recording of Principal Ju Zheming’s speech from that time, as well as a video of a dance performance, Love SOS, from the graduation ceremony.
And then, the only photos left are documents of the admission cutoff scores from eight days later. I want to cry so badly. Why was nothing left behind at all. Those few days. I want to cry so badly.
I found a photo from June 25th, of that gramophone. In a few days, I’m going to meet her again. I’ve been so nervous these past few days. I keep thinking about how I should polish my image. What I should say when we meet. What she will be like when we meet. Having not seen her for a year, how will she have changed?
Come to think of it, I’m actually more satisfied with my current hairstyle with bangs; for one, there’s just too much acne on my forehead, and covering it up really makes it unnoticeable at a glance, and for another, it really does provide better proportions.
Great, in the photos from June 27th, a video of this gramophone showed up. I really need to buy a music box as a return gift. Should I give it to her at the beginning or at the end?
The melody is much livelier than I imagined. Is she also much more beautiful than I imagine.
Speaking of which, she actually asked me to pick it out myself back then. Perhaps it’s less prone to mistakes that way, but perhaps it lacks a sense of surprise?
I still somewhat regret my mom meddling in my college application back then, though calling it “meddling” isn’t really accurate. Still, I really didn’t want any interference from her whatsoever. Because in this regard, she was definitely no wiser than me.
Laughable, truly laughable—back then, just to ensure I could transfer majors, I even wanted to waste dozens of points to apply for majors at Zhejiang Sci-Tech University. If you ask the current me, applying to this school, aside from satisfying a need for nostalgia and Zhejiang’s superior living environment, really isn’t good in any other way. But not having to leave my homeland behind is also very nice.
At the time, a very close online friend named Rikka strongly recommended that I apply to Hainan University; at least it’s a 211 university, and she was also at Hainan University. With my score, I was guaranteed to get in—majoring in Biotechnology. However, I’m afraid it was still the distance on the map that terrified me.
Here I attach The Road Not Taken
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
Speaking of which, I recently read MrNobody233’s blog and found that he wrote a lot about himself.
And I couldn’t be bothered to read it at all.
So I reckon nobody will actually waste their time reading the things I write either.
Then I might as well truly write whatever my heart desires.
Where was I?
Lately, I’ve been bitterly bogged down in all sorts of interpersonal relationships. And Coach Hou still hasn’t arranged a specific training camp schedule, so I don’t know how I should arrange my own itinerary either.
Looking at her photos, infinite beauty wells up in my heart. Infinite memories surge within me. I don’t know what she thinks. This is truly something difficult to describe in words, difficult to comprehend with rationality. Looking at her face in the photo, I can faintly match it to the silhouette in my memory. Although it’s a portrait photoshoot, she is so beautiful.
I think I finally understand what “I have never had this feeling before” means. This is truly a feeling no one else could ever bring.
She is truly a creation of God.
But what if she is no longer beautiful? What if, when we meet, she is far from what I imagined? Yet I really don’t worry at all. Just from talking over those few days, I am already certain of the beauty of her heart. It is a kind of beauty that grows day by day with the passage of time.
I’m really not sure what she thinks of me. But perhaps it can still be inferred: I’m still relatively confident. Optimistically, we’ll be able to meet on 7.12. Which is four days from now. God, that’s really so fast. The busy past month made me completely forget about these things, and now that I have free time, I suddenly realize that moment has drawn so close.
Looking back through our chat history, she has always been trying to talk me through things in various ways. I think I have indeed been talked through them. As for letting go: I obviously won’t ask her to do anything anymore. When we meet, perhaps I will simply express my deep and mellow feelings for her—this feeling is truly not something I could possibly abandon or change—without asking her to accept it. Nor will I rashly barge into her life to do anything for her.
Her existence is already enough.
I really don’t know what it will be like when we meet. I really don’t know if there will be a chance to meet on 7.12. As long as Hou doesn’t schedule training for us on the day of 7.12, I will definitely rush back, even if I have to rush back here the very same day, even if it’s really only for a few short hours at most. Wouldn’t that still be wonderful?
I’m not sure if I have changed enough.
However, I recently finally mustered the courage to seriously examine myself in the mirror. Acknowledgment and acceptance are the first steps toward change. I also finally picked up a toothbrush and toothpaste, which I hadn’t used in over a decade. A pity—I should find some time to go get my teeth cleaned.
She should already be back in Changshan by now. Imagining her location on the map. As long as she exists in the world, this world suddenly becomes so wonderful.
She makes the whole world wonderful.
For her, I will make myself a better person; I will change. For her—how wonderful she is, making my heart tremble.
It’s quite alright. Wouldn’t it also be good to meet once and have the rose-tinted filter shattered? But reading between the lines, I don’t think anything that shatters the filter too much will happen—those who believe themselves to be lacking are often not lacking at all.
When we meet, I must not look at my phone. I want to look properly into her eyes.
Let me put my emotions into words after all:
She said what I like is not her, but a more beautiful construct of memory that I built based on my memories.
Yet how is any emotion in this world not like this?
What a pity.
What a pity.
What a pity.
What a regret.
What a regret.
What a regret.
I still have to keep myself busy. It’s still caused by thinking that my current work isn’t important enough to me.