風結ぶ言葉たち

On May 6, 2024, it was announced that the "Healthy Shandong Service Account" would be discontinued. This account had served as a platform for the dissemination of information on the COVID-19 pandemic and the operation of Shandong Province's electronic health code.

Those lost three years, just like this account, were wiped away with a single government document or even a verbal notice.

They have no memory, but I do.

I will not forget the memories of those three years.

In early 2020, during the winter break of my first year of high school, between the end of the final exams and the official start of the winter break, I had already completed all the tasks for the break. However, as the campus reopened in May, those assignments were no longer mentioned.

On the eve of the Spring Festival, during a family gathering, people were discussing the raging epidemic in Wuhan. No one would believe that this epidemic would spiral out of control under the great, glorious, and correct leadership of the government. But even with doubts about its extent, my mother firmly prevented me from taking the high-speed train to travel to neighboring cities. She knew well that although our local area was unaffected, precautionary measures were indispensable.

In a slight state of anxiety, we spent the Spring Festival. Family members returned home from Hong Kong, Beijing, and other places, and we had a big family dinner together before immediately returning to their respective places. A well-informed elder pointed out that "special epidemic prevention measures" would be implemented next, and if we didn't return immediately, we might be trapped here.

On the second day of the lunar new year, the planned chemistry Olympiad training camp was abruptly canceled due to epidemic prevention policies. On the fourth day, while discussing possible policy adjustments in an online group chat, the school suddenly issued an announcement asking us to "prepare for temporary online classes." Subsequently, the textbooks for the second semester were delivered in bulk to our homes. I set up my study room and prepared for the upcoming "online classes" that I had never experienced before.

On February 2nd, the first appearance of online classes seemed somewhat primitive. At that time, the school had not yet fully adopted modern tools like DingTalk or Tencent Meeting, so the teachers could only host classes using "QQ group live streaming" and "QQ group voice chat."

"QQ group live streaming" is a live streaming feature within a group, similar to other platforms' live streaming. The list of viewers is not fully displayed, and viewers can send gifts to the "host" (i.e., the teacher). Faced with familiar teachers and unfamiliar platforms, most students were particularly excited and kept sending cheap gifts to the teachers—I wonder how much income the teachers made from the live streaming. After about a week of online classes, "QQ group classrooms" were hastily launched, removing the gift feature and retaining only the live streaming. "QQ group voice chat" is similar to the voice chat feature on other platforms and has nothing special.

Since Tencent Meeting had not been introduced yet, we enjoyed a certain degree of privacy during online classes. We didn't need to turn on the camera and only needed to turn on the microphone when asked a question, creating a relaxed atmosphere in the classroom. During class, we enthusiastically communicated in our respective class and grade groups, as if having private discussions in a real classroom. I posted a message in the group saying, "We have successfully imitated the lively whispers in class," and received reposts from half of the classmates.

One day, while browsing "Island City's Old Eight" short videos, I was unexpectedly called upon to answer a question. In that moment of unpreparedness, I quickly grabbed the microphone of my computer to prepare to respond, but accidentally forgot to pause the video playing on my phone. As a result, all the online classmates unintentionally shared the phrase "No worries about three meals a day, just eat Old Eight's special mini burgers."

Our assignments were given and submitted online. Due to the involvement of simplified Chinese internet "sensitive content" in the political assignments, QQ prompted "security check failed" and prohibited downloading. In addition, some students became lazy and copied segments from others' assignments in an attempt to pass off as their own. However, in their haste, they neglected to remove the name tags, and the teachers reported these behaviors in the large group.

During this period, although epidemic prevention measures were continuously tightened, we still had a relatively free range of movement. In the early hours of March 10th, before the faint light of dawn had faded, we witnessed an astronomical spectacle—the supermoon. With a close friend from elementary school who lived in the same neighborhood as me, we eagerly climbed to the rooftop to capture the bright and radiant moon, as if holding onto the beauty of the night sky with its deep purple hue.

The next day, my girlfriend at the time and I broke up after a quarrel. Fortunately, this cloud of gloom gradually dissipated with the mediation of our four close friends. After much contemplation and emotional communication, we eventually reconciled. However, the QQ symbol that lit up through daily interactions was extinguished midway due to this argument.

During this time, my girlfriend and I changed our couple avatars multiple times during online classes. Initially, it was a cartoon image of a hamster, and later we changed it to a selfie with each other's hair tied in a bun—many teachers discovered our relationship at this time and privately messaged us, gossiping about it. Most of them expressed their approval of us as a couple (using today's terms, "shipping us"), but hoped that we wouldn't neglect our studies due to excessive flirting. After watching the anime series "ID: INVADED" together, we even changed our avatars to screenshots of "Hole Brother" from the series.

At this time, there was no supervision during our classes, so we could freely engage in activities we loved. My girlfriend and I used the streaming platform to catch up on a large number of anime series (according to Bilibili's 2020 annual report, I surpassed 99.7% of users). This included "Initial D" and "JoJo's Bizarre Adventure," among others. At the same time, we immersed ourselves in watching classic films, completing all the films directed by Alfred Hitchcock and Stanley Kubrick, as well as many of Charlie Chaplin's films and numerous masterpieces from the IMDb Top 250 list.

Feeling bored at home, I started trying my hand at running a personal media account. The Zhihu account and the main Bilibili account I managed each gained 10k followers and 23k subscribers, respectively—both were subsequently banned due to touching on "sensitive topics." On my Bilibili account, which was mainly used for watching videos, I uploaded some music-related articles and videos, and the number of followers reached around 1k. However, due to long periods of inactivity, it has now declined to around 700.

In April, the school switched to using Tencent Meeting for online classes. We were required to turn on our cameras, but this still didn't affect our ability to slack off during class. At this time, rumors spread that we would soon return to school, but we immediately received a rumor-dispelling notice from the school, announcing that online monthly exams would be held at the end of April. Many students cheated extensively during this exam, and the school rankings were particularly exaggerated. Students who were originally at the bottom suddenly jumped into the top 10%, sparking intense discussions among us. Afterwards, I participated in the THUSSAT organized by Tsinghua University and achieved a top ten score, still unaffected by any decline in academic performance due to psychological issues.

In May, Bilibili released a video titled "The Next Wave," which sparked heated discussions online. On May 6th, I reposted a comment from the internet: "You liked 'The Next Wave,' and I promoted 'Entering the Gate.' He filmed 'Non-Wave.' We are all promising young people of the new era." Thinking back to the time since the epidemic, the once widely acclaimed "Entering the Gate" now seemed completely lifeless, which couldn't help but feel ridiculous.

On the day before the start of the new semester, I broke up with my girlfriend at the time, which became the catalyst for my ongoing psychological problems.

Attached to the article is a short poem by Jiang Ruijin:

"I Know You Have Nowhere to Rely On"#

Jiang Ruijin



I know you have nowhere to rely on

Like a tree in the wilderness

Swaying in the storm

Like a fish in the scorching sun

Flipping and jumping in the riverbed

No one knows

When the flood will come

Today won't

Growing in the forest of yesterday

Bathing in the morning sun

Suddenly seeing a fish from yesterday

The river is full

Leaping upwards

Beautiful things that easily lead people astray

Before the future of tomorrow arrives

This article is also updated synchronously to xLog by Mix Space. The original link is https://nishikori.tech/notes/37