I don't like my hometown… simply because it reminds me of her.
The moment I decided to attend Tsinghua University was also the moment I made up my mind to escape the painful memories of home. Back then, I didn't have any dreams or clear goals. I simply wanted to run away. That's why I applied to Tsinghua—a university far, far away. When I received my acceptance letter, I didn't hesitate. I found a cheap rental near the campus, paid the tuition immediately, and left home with barely any luggage.
Truth is, my hometown isn't some remote or rural place. It only takes a few hours by train to reach the city. Still, once I stepped into the city, I didn't want to go back. Not because I hated my hometown or was chasing something new—no, the real reason was that I was running away. If I stayed, I'd keep remembering her...
My parents often called, asking me to come home during summer breaks or holidays like the Lunar New Year, but I was stubborn and never listened. So from the day I entered college until now—well into my second winter—I haven't returned home even once.
Just the other day, I received an email from my hometown about the Autumn Festival. The next morning, I woke up to a message from my childhood friend, Chu Nian:"Are you coming back for the festival? Everyone misses you."
Chu Nian and I had been friends since childhood—we went to the same schools from elementary all the way through high school. Of course, if it were just that one message, I wouldn't have returned. But then, another message came that stopped me cold:"You should come light incense for Thanh Thao."
Reading that, I felt an overwhelming guilt. Last year, I missed her memorial day. Worse, I had never even lit incense for her—not once. Chu Nian's words filled me with anxiety.
So, in that January—after two long years—I finally set foot back in my hometown. After the festival ended, Chu Nian and I sat down and talked. He grinned and said:"City life suits you. You really look grown-up now—like someone who left the countryside and stepped into a whole new world."
Before I could reply, he continued,"Thanh Thao was truly beautiful. Like one of those tragic beauties that stepped straight out of a painting."
Just hearing her name made my heart tighten, my whole body tremble.
Back then, I was just a high school junior. She was two years older, but only one grade ahead—in her final year. Her hair was long, her skin as pale as snow, and her limbs were so slender that it seemed even a light breeze could carry her away. She was so petite that when I first met her, I thought she was a freshman.
She was my first love—my first true emotion, the budding of my youth. Back in middle school, I didn't understand love at all. It seemed vague, like something that only existed in books. I thought of love as just ROM—Read Only Memory—something you read about but never really experienced.
So when I first met her and realized I liked her, it was the first time I truly understood what my classmates in middle school used to talk about. People might say it was just a silly high school crush, but to me, loving someone like that only happens once in a lifetime.
Later, Chu Nian reminded me again:"Don't forget to light incense for Thao Thao, or it'll be too late."
Of course, even if he hadn't reminded me, I would've remembered. That was the very reason I came back.
I stopped by a small convenience shop to pick up a few offerings before heading to her house. As I passed the train station, I noticed a row of old storage lockers, covered in dust and mostly broken. No one used them anymore, so no one cared. I paused in front of locker number 21. Its door was strangely bent—so much so that even a key couldn't open it. That locker brought back a flood of memories. Number 21 had been a part of my past.
Then I arrived at the house with the nameplate: "Lieu Thanh Family." I rang the bell. A woman in an apron answered—it was Thanh Thao's mother, Aunt Thanh Thu. It had been two years since I last saw her. She looked thinner, more fragile than before. After losing two loved ones in just four years, the grief must've been too much to bear. Before I could even speak, she said:"Oh my, is that you, Nhut Nam? It's been so long! You've lost weight, haven't you? I heard you're studying in the city. I've been worried about you. Come in, come in. Thanh Thao would've been so happy to see you."
"I'm sorry, Aunt. I'm doing well. You… you look thinner too."
Back when I was dating Thanh Thao, I'd been to her house a few times. She always ran late, so I often ended up waiting for her. Eventually, I got used to seeing her mother too.
As I stepped inside, I passed by the living room. On the altar were two framed photos, facing us: one of Thanh Thao, the other of her grandmother, Thanh Yen.
My heart was torn once again. For the past two years, I had tried not to look at any photos of her. When she died, I deleted every single picture of her on my phone. The few I kept were locked away in a drawer, as if burying her memory would help me forget. But sometimes, I still couldn't stop thinking about her—the way she moved, the way she smiled…
I took a deep breath and lit the incense with all the sincerity I could muster. Aunt Thanh Thu said softly:"Now that you're here, Thanh Thao must be really happy."
As I was about to leave, she called out:"You should go into Thanh Thao's room. I've kept it exactly the way it was. I don't know which things I'm allowed to move and which I'm not… but maybe you would."
Her voice was full of meaning. I replied,"I'm… not sure either."
I stepped into Thanh Thao's room. Just as she said, it had been preserved exactly—frozen in time. But because no one had touched it for years, the air felt stuffy and suffocating. On the bookshelf were stacks of shoujo manga and fantasy novels. Of course—she had always been a dreamy, romantic girl.
No one had slept in that bed for years. On that bed… we had shared our second kiss.
Suddenly, I noticed a B5-sized notebook. I picked it up and wiped away the thick layer of dust on its cover… and froze when I saw the title:
"Exchange Diary"
In that moment, my memories came rushing back. Everything I had tried to bury shattered in an instant.