Dear L,

Please forgive me for not addressing you as Mrs. L. That sounds like I’m addressing someone far away and there’s no reason for me to remind myself of the presence of distance now, be it in vivo or in vitro. Also, please forgive me for not contacting you in the past three years since I was afraid that my abrupt words would diminish the chemistry between us before. You may treat this letter as the farewell letter I should have given you upon graduation, but I am a serious procrastinator who always postpones saying thank you, sorry, and goodbye.

Tenth of July, 2016. In a millisecond, the thin piece of the transcript of the high school entrance exam set us apart from junior high, locking the memories of 1095 days in another dimension. Seeing the disappointing result of my scores and hearing the poignant sighs of my parents, I knew I had to comply with the prestigious international high school I was accepted to before, not entering the public high schools like my peers.

But how could the ambitious girl easily accept the denouement where all of her efforts are cast to the winds? In the past three years, I intentionally practiced handwriting, reciting extra poetry lines, and accumulating composition material just to get the best grade in Chinese to make you proud of me; I tried hard to reach out and stay more positive after seeing your comments below my article, that ‘hope to see your brighter smiles’; I carefully recorded in a diary your witty words and our meaningful encounters, including the time you whispered to me that ‘learning isn’t just listening but is also speaking out in a class to encourage me in a way that preserved my dignity. But it suddenly occurred to me that they wouldn’t be worth a penny in the international school bristled with English, competitions, and smokey make-up.

Upon entering high school, I was almost led astray by my depressive thoughts, despite my tranquil exterior. I sat in the back of all my classes, refusing to engage in discussions, even in Chinese class, to avoid an excess of sentiments. That is probably why my new Chinese teacher joked to my parents that ‘the girl is good at make-up’ instead of ‘she has a great potential in literature,’ as you commented before. I pretended to use laughter as armor to shield the judgments while keeping the gate of my heart tightly closed so that not many people could be let in. I had proudly thought that my misery was something that distinguished me from the people laughing carelessly in the halls, while couldn’t help bursting into tears when I was alone. Sometimes depression is addictive.

Last year, as a watery scent of ink wafted through my nostrils, I found myself in the booking hall already holding a calligraphy pen. Forgetting the time, I started to embrace the forbidden emotions — confusion, regret, frustration, disappointment — as I tearfully stroked the thin piece of paper. I felt lighter and brighter when writing as if some heavy parts of me were dripping from my body. Bustling people went back and forth browsing for goods, and I finished a pair of poetic couplets in a fleeting hour.

The epiphany that the past will live on in the present was founded at that time. I could laugh sincerely in my liberal international institution while appreciating my heritage and yearning for literature. I could keep my habit of recording lines in poetry, articles, or my own thoughts in diaries while immersing in the English-prioritized environment. I could mentally set myself free and simultaneously reach out to friends and engage in diverse activities.

Right now, every time I was overwhelmed with responsibilities, I’d pick up that writing brush and compose my couplets to slow my pace down in the crowd. I no longer complain or drown myself in meaningless nostalgia, but I appreciate that lost girl who strived to developed a better version of herself. On the surface, she got almost the top of her grade in Chinese on the IGCSE exam. In a deeper sense, not reading for tests anymore, she delved deeper into western literature, specifically into Margaret’s motto of ‘only connect’ in <Howards End>, thus able to diffuse the extremes in herself and connect the incompatible others.

Hence, if anyone asks me the reasons behind my transformation, I would say that it is in part because of you, L, but not for the sake of you. Therefore, we can conclude that although there isn’t time for you to be too proud of me now, there is later. I have progressed a lot, and there is a lot to be progressed.

Last but not least, I wish you to have the courage to walk through dark nights and the freedom to enjoy the bright days. I wish you to press forward with an indomitable will but not to the extent that you forget us. I wish you to have friends along the way.

I wish you the best.

Sincerely,

Your student M.