The following afternoon, she returned to the library earlier than usual. Her steps were quick, almost impatient, as if every second wasted would cause the diary to disappear.
She headed straight for the corner where the notebook was kept. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw it lying there, untouched yet somehow different—its cover slightly shifted, as though someone had already opened it.
Her fingers trembled a little as she flipped it open.
Inside, beneath her own words, was a neat line of handwriting—calm, steady, and strangely reassuring.
"You're welcome. I wasn't expecting a reply, but your words surprised me. Perhaps leaving the diary here was my way of asking questions I couldn't voice aloud. Since you've picked it up… maybe that's the answer I was looking for."
She blinked at the page, reading it over and over. Her lips curled into an involuntary smile.
Someone had answered her.
For the first time, the corner of the library felt less lonely.
Carefully, she uncapped her pen again. This time, her reply came quicker, her words flowing with an eagerness she couldn't hide:
"Then let's keep this going. A secret place where only words can reach. I don't know your name, and maybe that's fine. But… since you've chosen to write, does that mean you want someone to listen?"
She closed the diary again, sliding it back to the exact spot where she had found it.
As she left, the faint sunlight streamed in through the tall windows, painting quiet patterns on the library floor.
From behind the shelves, Lin Qiran watched silently, his gaze following her retreating figure. The corner of his lips curved once more, though his eyes held a depth that was unreadable—like a secret he had no intention of revealing.