That night eight years ago, Jian Xu sat at a desk covered with math papers and opened a new diary.
The cover is light blue and has a slightly cheap scent. She unscrewed the cap of her pen and wrote two words on the title page——
Lin Yao.
One stroke, one stroke, twelve strokes.
She didn't know at that time that these twelve strokes would become the most colorful strokes in her long youth. Little did she know that the name written on the paper would entangle with her in the future, become the source of all her inferiority and courage, and become the most painful and tender footnote in the first half of her life.
If I had known then——
If she had known at that time that she would love someone so deeply in the future, she would have said softly to herself the moment she put pen to paper:
Don't be afraid, love yourself well and love him well.
Don't feel inferior, don't be entangled, and don't make yourself too small. You deserve to be loved as much as you deserve to be named.
But she didn't understand at that time.
She just wrote those two words carefully, then closed the diary and continued to work on the next math paper. The night outside the window is very quiet, and the sixteen-year-old wind has not yet learned to hurt people.
It took a long time for her to understand——
Loving him in this life is not the greatest salvation for myself.
Because she loved him, she learned to love the humble, huddled, and afraid-to-speak-out version of herself.
Intention: Because she loved him, she learned to love the humble, huddled, and afraid-to-speak-out self!