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墨書 Inktalez
Time did not pause for my suffering. The world around me continued to move at its own steady rhythm. Yet I remained firmly anchored in place.
Occasionally, I would encounter familiar neighbors in the community, and their eyes would flicker with avoidance when they saw me. In the past, we would greet each other warmly and chat about trivial matters, but now most of them merely nodded hurriedly before turning away. I knew what they were whispering behind my back. They were probably saying that Old Lin's daughter had passed away at such a young age, that Old Lin had been devastated and was now a shell of his former self. Perhaps there were even harsher words about how I had treated my daughter in the past.
One day, my brother, Lin Jianjun, called me. He was my only direct relative left in this city. His voice was hesitant as he asked how I had been lately, if my health was alright, and whether he should come over to stay with me for a few days.
"No need," I replied hoarsely, "I'm fine."
"Brother," he paused, "once someone dies, they can't come back. You... you need to take care of yourself. Wan Wan wouldn't want to see you like this."
Wan Wan in heaven? What would she want from me? I didn't know. All I knew was that I didn't have the right to be "fine" or to "take care of myself." What I owed her could never be repaid in this lifetime.
There was silence on the other end of the line, probably because he didn't know what else to say. Finally, he sighed, "Just take care of yourself. Call me if you need anything."
I knew he had likely heard some rumors from the neighbors as well. He might have felt sympathy for me or perhaps had other thoughts. But our relationship had never been particularly close. He had his own family and life; my tragedy was merely a distant fire for him.
Once, while handling some business at the bank, I spotted Fang Hui from a distance—Lin Wan's best friend. She was walking with another woman, both laughing and chatting together under the sun. The sunlight illuminated her youthful face, brimming with vitality.
I instinctively stopped in my tracks and hid behind a tree. Watching them laugh and walk away felt like something was choking me inside. If Wan Wan were still alive, wouldn’t she be doing the same? Shopping with friends, chatting, enjoying the sunshine and joy that comes with youth? Instead of being alone in a cold room, silently enduring pain and dying in despair.
It was all my fault. If only I had noticed sooner; if only I had treated her better...
I recalled the part-time Western restaurant mentioned in Wan Wan's diary. One day, unable to control myself, I walked over there. The restaurant was still open; through the glass window, I could see busy waitstaff inside. They wore uniforms similar to those described in Wan Wan's diary, weaving through customers with plates in hand.
Wan Wan had once been one of them. While I remained oblivious, she stood there for hours just to buy me a gift that I would casually toss aside. She must have endured hardships there and encountered unreasonable customers as well—yet I knew nothing about it.
I lacked the courage to go inside. I stood outside for a while like a voyeur before turning away silently.
I wandered near the small room where Wan Wan used to live. The place had long been rented out to someone else. The owner of the grocery store downstairs mentioned having some impression of Wan Wan: "Oh, that little girl? Quite quiet and reserved. Just always seemed... burdened by something."
Burdened by something—something even a stranger could see; yet as her father, I remained blind to it.
It seemed that the world was telling me in its own way: Lin Wan is gone; life goes on. Her friends would carry their memories of her while continuing their lives; relatives and neighbors would return to their routines after brief moments of sorrow and gossip; even the traces she left behind were being covered by new lives.
Only I remained forever trapped in the past—in her silent accusations and my regrets. Everyone else’s life moved forward while my clock remained eternally frozen at the moment she left.
And all of this was my own doing.
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