Shen Zhinian has the habit of keeping a diary.
From the day she first met Lu Cishen, she filled three notebooks with notes. He wrote about him teaching her to count sheep when she had insomnia, about him saying "Let me take care of you" on a rainy night, about the bottle of sleeping pills hidden under his pillow, about the apartment they lived in together, the cats they raised together, and the Iceland they didn't have time to go to.
She also writes about Gu Yanzhou. Write about his breakfast every day for ten years, the name engraved on his scalpel, and his last smile before becoming a vegetative state.
Write Su Wantang. Write about the arc of her collapse on the red carpet at the wedding, and the words in her suicide note, "Finally, I don't have to act anymore."
She stopped writing on page 187 of the last notebook.
There was only one line on that page: "If the last page is blank, does it mean the story is not over yet?"
Below is her mother's handwriting, trembling and late: "Nian Nian, Mom has finished writing for you."
Next, there are Lu Cishen's words, scrawled and later: "I can't find her last page."
Below that, there is a blank space.
Really blank. No one writes anymore.
Because the people who wrote it, the people who read it, and the people who looked for it are all dead.
Intention: Love without getting it