The days following his encounter with the woman felt like a fever dream, each moment blending together in a haze of confusion and anticipation. Liang Zhi couldn't escape the feeling that something—someone—was drawing him closer to an inevitable truth, one that had been buried in the corners of his mind for far too long. Yet, as much as he tried to focus on the present, every thought seemed to circle back to her.
The woman from the park. The way she had looked at him with such familiarity, as though their paths had crossed in a different lifetime, in a different world. It was both unsettling and comforting, like being pulled into a memory that was just out of reach.
You will remember everything.
Her words echoed in his mind, haunting him with their promise. But what did they mean? What was there to remember? He had already lost so much. He couldn't imagine there being anything left of his past that could change the course of his life now.
Still, the pull to search for answers only grew stronger. Each time he closed his eyes, he saw her face again, as if she were waiting for him to take the next step.
It had been two weeks since their last meeting, and Liang Zhi found himself walking back to the park once more. His heart beat erratically as he approached the familiar path that led to the bench. His thoughts were scattered, torn between his grief and the mysterious force that seemed to guide him toward this woman who had now become the center of his every waking thought.
He paused at the edge of the park, his gaze sweeping across the area. There was no sign of her yet, but he couldn't shake the feeling that she was close, somewhere just beyond his reach. He took a deep breath, bracing himself for whatever was to come. Today, he had made up his mind—he would find out the truth.
He walked slowly toward the bench, his footsteps barely making a sound on the damp earth. The park was almost empty, save for a few scattered people in the distance. As he neared the bench, something unexpected happened.
His foot caught on a loose stone, and he stumbled, nearly falling forward. His heart lurched in surprise, but as he regained his balance, his eyes fell upon something that made him freeze. There, lying on the ground next to the bench, was a small, worn-out notebook.
It wasn't just any notebook—it was a leather-bound journal, its edges frayed from years of use. His breath caught in his throat as he reached down to pick it up, his fingers trembling slightly as he turned it over. The worn, familiar texture of the cover sent a chill through him. It was as if this notebook had been waiting for him all this time.
Without thinking, he opened it, and his eyes immediately landed on the first page. The handwriting was elegant, flowing, yet there was a rawness to it, an emotion that seemed to seep through the ink. And then, the words caught him off guard:
"To you, wherever you are. I don't know if I'll ever see you again. But if I do, I'll remember everything. I'll remember us. I'll remember how it felt to love you."
Liang Zhi's heart stopped as the world around him seemed to fade away. The words felt like a punch to the chest, like they were meant for him, written by someone who had known his heart in a way that no one else could. He read the lines again, and again, unable to shake the feeling that they were not just words—they were a message.
He turned the page, his hands moving almost automatically, as though he had seen this before. The next few pages were filled with more writing, the ink still fresh, though the paper was aged. And as he read, the memories that had been locked away in the deepest recesses of his mind began to stir.
"I remember the first time I saw you. You were standing by the river, your back to the world. The wind was blowing, and for a moment, it felt like you were the only person in the universe. I wanted to go to you, to speak to you, but I couldn't. You were too beautiful, too perfect, and I was afraid."
The words felt like a slap in the face, stirring something inside him that he had tried to bury. His hands shook as he turned the page once more, but the words there were even more familiar, more painful than the last.
"I remember when you told me you were leaving. It felt like the world was falling apart, like the ground beneath me was crumbling away. I begged you to stay, but you just smiled that sad smile of yours, the one that said you already knew what I couldn't admit to myself. That it was time for us to part ways. I'll never forget how you looked that day. The way your eyes seemed to hold all the answers I would never have the courage to ask for."
Liang Zhi could feel his breath quicken as the memories rushed back, flooding his mind like a dam had broken. His hands gripped the journal tighter, his knuckles turning white.
"But even now, even though you're gone, I know I'll never forget you. I'll never forget how it felt to hold you in my arms, how it felt to love you so completely that I lost myself in it. No matter where you go, no matter what happens, you'll always be with me. And when the time comes, I'll find you again. I'll remember everything."
The final words were written in a delicate script, but the meaning was clear. It was a promise, a promise that seemed both impossible and inevitable.
Tears stung at the corners of Liang Zhi's eyes as he sat down on the bench, clutching the journal to his chest. His heart ached, not just with grief, but with a sense of recognition that he couldn't explain. The words, the memories, the love—they all felt too real, too familiar. It was as if someone had reached into his soul and pulled out pieces of himself that he had long forgotten.
He couldn't explain it. How could this notebook exist? How could these words be written by someone who seemed to know him so well?
But one thing was certain: the woman in the park had known more than she had let on. The journal was proof of that. She had been the one to write this, hadn't she? The handwriting, the words—they all pointed to her.
Liang Zhi sat there for what felt like hours, the weight of the journal pressing heavily against his chest. The world around him seemed to disappear, leaving only the words on the pages, the memories they evoked, and the undeniable truth that something greater than his grief was unfolding before him.
Later That Evening:
Liang Zhi found himself standing outside his apartment, staring at the door as if it held the answers he had been searching for. The journal still clutched in his hand, its pages now stained with his tears, he felt the overwhelming urge to understand—no, to know.
The woman had spoken about remembering. But what if this was it? What if this journal held the answers he needed? What if this was the first piece of the puzzle he had been missing?
He couldn't ignore it any longer. He needed to confront the past, the memories, and whatever else was tied to that notebook.
He took a deep breath and pushed open the door.
But as soon as he stepped inside, something felt off. The air was thick with an unfamiliar tension, like something had shifted in the very fabric of his life. He couldn't place it, but the feeling gnawed at him.
The truth was close. He could feel it.
And no matter how much it scared him, he was ready to face it.