Along the way, his mood was complicated and heavy, filled with both fear of the unknown and nostalgia for the past.
By the time he arrived at the town, it was already noon. The town still looked as he remembered it—peaceful and beautiful. The little river was still clear, the willow tree still lush, as though nothing had changed.
Lin Taichu slowly walked along the path by the river, trying to recall every detail of his childhood. He remembered often playing by this river with his friends, catching little fish and playing hide-and-seek. Those carefree days felt as though they had been just yesterday.
He came beneath the willow tree and looked at the old tree that had witnessed his growth, an inexplicable emotion surging within him. He reached out and gently stroked the trunk, feeling the traces left behind by time.
Just then, he noticed that the soil beneath the willow tree seemed somewhat unusual. He crouched down and dug with his hands, only to discover a small hole buried beneath the dirt. Carefully clearing away the soil inside, he revealed a rusty iron box.
Lin Taichu's heart began to race. He had a powerful premonition that this iron box might contain the truth he had been searching for. He opened it and found several old items inside: a worn diary, some photographs, and a map.
Lin Taichu carefully picked up the diary. Its cover was thick with dust, clearly showing its age. He gently blew away the dust, opened to the first page, and saw a name written there in childish handwriting—"Lin Hao."
Lin Taichu's heart jolted. The name was not unfamiliar to him; it had been his name during childhood. He continued reading the diary, page after page recording fragments of his childhood—joyful laughter as well as