This is a private diary written for three full years.
I wrote this in the summer of 2021. I was 22 years old and had just graduated from college. I carried 8,600 yuan in my pocket, my girlfriend of three years, and two old suitcases with peeling paint, and plunged into this old southwest city full of butter aroma.
At that time, I thought that with my passion, I could take root in this foggy city all year round.
But the reality is that after staying up all night at the print shop, Party A revised the manuscript more than a dozen times, and was poked in the back by someone saying "I want to plan even with a college degree." In addition, after four years of squeezing into a rental house, I finally lost out because I couldn't make up the down payment.
In the fall of 2023, I was 24 years old, unemployed, broke up, homeless, and with only 7,200 yuan in my pocket, I moved into the second bedroom of 302 of the old family home in Yingmenkou.
Here, I met Su Xiao.
She is my landlord and a freelance illustrator. She doesn't talk much, and there is always some acrylic paint on her nails that cannot be washed off. She will leave me a light in the hallway and a bowl of warm porridge in the pot late at night when I stay up late to submit my resume.
Later I realized that when people hit rock bottom, they will really encounter a ray of light.
The last entry in the diary is on New Year's Eve in 2024.
I held her, who was pregnant, sitting in our home, with fireworks filling the window and her favorite tomato and beef brisket soup simmering in the pot.
It turns out that the best days are never about being rich and wealthy, but about having someone to accompany you through the troughs, and to accompany you to turn ordinary fireworks into a family.
