Dad brought home strawberry cake last night, and the children's encyclopedia I'd wanted. Home is always so warm. I'm grateful my parents love me so much.

Life is wonderful. Happy every day~

After club, Songsong and I visited the gift shop by school. Such pretty little things! I loved a house-shaped stamp, but it cost 25 yuan. I don't have that much money ┭┮﹏┭┮

Songsong liked a doll with bendable arms and legs. Its white lace princess dress was beautiful. It cost 129 yuan. She said she'd bring her mum tomorrow to buy it. How nice~

While shopping, we talked about Anqi. She had family things to do and couldn't come. Songsong said Anqi was wonderful, but sometimes seemed a little strange.

She quickly said she wasn't gossiping. I know! I feel the same. We three girls sat together from the first day and became close friends. Anqi has helped me so much this year. She's great at computers, always top of the class, and Mr. Wu thinks highly of her. She often fixes our code.

But there's something strange. Sometimes she isn't quite as easygoing and warm as she seems. After thinking about it, I realized: she's like a computer. I've hardly ever seen her very happy or very upset. She's always the same.

Especially after hearing that her mum tore up her certificate at the school gate and she showed no expression. We know her parents divorced. Her mum rarely visits, but that time she was furious and shredded Anqi's Little Programmer certificate. They say Anqi returned to class with orange scraps still in her hair.

I secretly read Anqi's locked diary. She says she's a blue giant. Isn't that too much? A yellow dwarf like the Sun is enough. That's what lets life grow.

I want to be a gentle yellow dwarf, burning slowly and giving off yellow-white light. Not a blue star, too hot and too short-lived. That's frightening.

As my parents say, moderation is best. Not too turbulent, not too still. Not without feelings, just able to process them. Then you can live happily and make others happy too.

By the way, do you know the Sun's temperature?

Something seems to have happened in Computer Club. I like everyone, but don't join every activity. I'm class monitor, so I often stay in my classroom. On weekends I read or watch films with my parents. I first noticed something wrong in the atmosphere.

I won't name names; I don't want to upset anyone. They keep passing notes and laughing instead of paying attention. Mr. Wu got furious and made Zheng Siyao cry. The lesson ended like that.

After class, I found a note they'd hidden under a keyboard. It was full of insults. Someone had said bad things about Li Heng, and he'd found out. They mocked that person for not knowing his place. No name, but I could guess. The usually quiet boy was restless, picking his thumb raw, watching the other boys.

After school I found Songsong and Anqi. I wanted us to ask what was happening and tell a teacher if anything was wrong.

Songsong seemed unwilling to discuss it. She kept shaking her head, saying she knew nothing and didn't want to ask. Then she took her bag and left.

Anqi and I found the boy. He said it was just a joke between friends and not to worry.

We agreed to tell a teacher if anything else happened. But things went wrong so quickly.

On the fifth, I met him at the stairwell on my way home. He walked slowly, head down.

His mouth was bleeding. His uniform was dusty and his hand badly bruised. He looked hurt and was trembling. Loud laughter came from the roof.

I went after him to ask if he was all right, but Songsong ran downstairs and grabbed me:

"If you help him, they'll do it to you too. Don't go."

I was surprised, then almost amused. I wasn't afraid at all.

I told Songsong I would tell a teacher and go upstairs to see who'd done it. She looked terrified. As I went up, she ran out of school.

Only one person remained on the roof, sitting on the ground. I asked why they'd hit him. He sneered and pulled a black notebook with half its cover torn off from his bag.

I hesitantly opened it. It was the beaten boy's diary. Dense black handwriting pressed almost through the paper. Obscene insults about all eight of us, and disturbing drawings.

"Liu Shu is so fake. It makes me sick. Pretending she's so nice. Why doesn't she die?"

I was shocked. His pale, quiet face twisted into something different in my mind.

"He's a twisted freak. He holds grudges and insults us behind our backs. We were just teaching him a lesson for everyone."

At home, I couldn't stop thinking of that twisted handwriting and those evasive eyes.

So there was a reason he didn't dare say anything after being beaten.

Even so, hitting someone is wrong. The next day I went to Mr. Wu.

I took the note from under the keyboard and knocked on his office door. I told him about the blood on the boy's mouth and dust on his uniform.

He only looked up from his screen, frowned, and impatiently interrupted me.

"Boys push each other around. It's normal. I've already told them off."

If I hadn't read the diary, perhaps I'd have argued. But I said nothing and left.

Another week passed. In the corridor, the boys pushed him into a corner. His clothes were still dirty, his hands covered in fresh injuries. Through a gap between them, his eyes met mine.

I didn't sleep well. So I wrote something about everyone getting along in my artwork submission.

I'm sorry. I hope that message tells him someone in this world still doesn't hate him.