Those Innocent Days

This article was extracted from my early NetEase blog. NetEase Blog is no longer operating, but looking back, these words are still quite interesting, so I decided to move them over as intact as possible. Mainly as a record; after all, it was a long time ago, so the quality of the writing, images, and links may all be affected.

This article was originally published on August 3, 2009. I was about 20 years old then and was in university.

By chance, I found an old diary. The time column clearly recorded a certain day in a certain month of the year 2000. Counting on my fingers, this diary had already lain in my desk for a full 9 years. Looking at that childish handwriting and recalling the 11-year-old me, many scenes from that time had already been forgotten. I even could not help asking myself when I turned to a certain page: did I really do something like this?

I read page after page. The wrong characters everywhere, punctuation marks placed in the wrong places, and those difficult characters replaced with pinyin instantly made me laugh. But why was my mood still so heavy? I slowed down as I turned the pages, as if time were slipping away from the palm of my hand in this careless moment. Most of the very good friends from primary school had lost contact. Time is really a strange thing. It can make you forget all the unpleasant things, but at the same time it can slowly tear apart friendships one after another, and it does so in such an unnoticed way.

Running, laughter, games, the eternal themes of childhood, instantly pulled me back to childhood again. I vaguely remembered the primary school campus, the place where I lived for 6 years, seeming to become so clear. Laughter drifted into my ears, and I looked at that group of young people playing drop-the-handkerchief… A dream! This must be a dream! A dream that once existed but can never exist again!

Looking back now, primary school was the most enjoyable period in life. Food and clothing were plentiful, and schoolwork was not very heavy. That place was simply paradise. But why can people only feel its preciousness when it has truly passed away? Maybe regret and remembrance are also a wonderful part of life!

Childhood! Goodbye!