Once We Lived in Nanjing

He stared at the characters on the exam paper, his heart suddenly moved slightly, having taken Chinese exams for so many years, there had never been a time like today, after finishing the composition, he still wanted to write something more.

What did he want to write?

He wanted to write about how powerful time really is, what can resist the passing of time and the erosion of the years? It's like hiding a capsule at the bottom of the lake, letting this fragile little paper boat drift along the raging river of time, enduring hardships, and finally docking precisely in someone's hands—

On the cracked mudflat, the girl found the cylindrical object she had thrown away.

The object still lay quietly in its original place, wrapped in multiple layers of mud-soaked plastic cloth. Ban Xia held it in her arms, using her fingers, a dagger, and teeth to peel off the dried plastic cloth layer by layer, finally revealing a rusty metal time capsule.

The girl's hands began to tremble, trembling so much she couldn't hold onto the handle of the knife.

Ban Xia forced herself to calm down and slowly cleaned the rust off the bolts with a small knife.

After being soaked in water for over twenty years, the capsule had long rusted shut. The stainless steel used to make the time capsule could not withstand such a long time and harsh conditions. It took a lot of effort for Ban Xia to unscrew the first bolt.

There were eight bolts on the capsule lid, and unscrewing all of them would allow Ban Xia to open the lid.

The time capsule, sealed for twenty-one years, was about to see the light of day again.

The bolts were rotten, but fortunately, the rubber seals were still functioning; no water had entered the capsule. The originally white rubber had turned brownish-yellow, crumbled upon touch. Ban Xia poured out everything inside the capsule: a bag of medicine, a small wooden photo frame, and a piece of letter paper.

The slightly yellowed letter paper.

Ban Xia spread the letter paper on the grass, the handwriting still very clear.

"Dear Miss BG4MSR:

By the time you read this letter, I have already died."

He really had died.

Ban Xia knew he was really dead.

"This is a letter from the deceased, it has traveled through twenty years of time to reach you. When I wrote this letter, you might not have been born yet, and when you receive this letter, I am no longer in this world.

What is a world of one person like? A Confucius Temple, Xinjiekou, South Airline High School, and Crescent Lake Park without people, a Nanjing without people, surely there will be no college entrance exam, no math test papers, and no 'Small Questions Frenzy.'

Also, I really want to know how I died, if you receive this letter, I hope you can tell me my cause of death, and that of others if you know."

I certainly don't know how you died.

Even if I did, I might not tell you—

I absolutely won't tell you how you died.

I absolutely absolutely won't tell you how you died!

Absolutely…

I won't tell you…

Why did you die?

Large tears fell on the letter paper, Ban Xia subconsciously touched her cheek, only to realize tears had covered her face; when had she started crying?

Why did you die?

"Of course, if my cause of death is too cruel, I hope you consider carefully, not to tell me too bluntly, to avoid causing me too much mental pressure, twenty years later I'm still not yet forty years old, the thought that the world would lose such a young and promising individual truly pains me."

Pfft!

The girl cried and then burst into laughter.

Pfft pfft pfft pfft!

"I wish you good health, may you never forget to bring an umbrella when it rains, may you never encounter raw ginger when eating braised chicken, 73."

The final signature:

"At this moment, contacting you, from twenty years ago, BG4MXH."

On the back of the slightly yellowed letter paper, a big smile.

That night, Bai Yang took off his headphones, sat in his chair for a long time, his mind a complete blank. He didn't even know what he was thinking, didn't know how he was feeling—confused? Surprised? Nervous? Panicked? Fearful? Perhaps all of these, or perhaps none. Finally, Bai Yang left his room and forcefully knocked on his parents' bedroom door.

"Dad! Wake up! Something terrible has happened—!"