Chinese New Year

There's no news about who's that.

In the past, when I wrote my journal, I had a routine of putting a news article at the beginning. This was because the story I was about to tell was closely related to that news article. Sometimes it was a secret behind the news article, and sometimes it was an event that the news article triggered. In short, it was helpful for everyone to see the news article at the beginning so that they could understand the story that followed. In addition, it also let everyone know that what I was telling, although it seemed unbelievable, was not made up.

But this time it wasn't used; it was an exception.

What I want to talk about today is the origin of Na Duo's journal. Without this incident, perhaps you wouldn't be reading these journal entries. This incident wasn't caused by any news. Although to clarify this matter, I would have to cite some real news stories at certain times, but not now.

This whole affair began in early July 2001. The reason I'm only writing this now is simple: I've only just figured out what actually happened. No matter how good someone's communication skills are, they still need to understand what they want to say before they can tell others.

The summer of 2001 in Shanghai was scorching. For reporters who were often out on the front lines, the heat was more unbearable than the cold. Often, after a summer of reporting, they were like completely different people, as if they had shed a layer of skin. Of course, seasoned veterans were an exception. At that time, I was certainly not a seasoned veteran; on the contrary, I was a complete novice in the field of journalism. Because I had just signed a "contract" with the Morning Star, becoming a formal reporter, and I hadn't even received my press card yet. I had to go out to interviews with my work ID and business cards, but fortunately, most of the time, business cards were enough.

At that time, although I was just a newly signed newcomer, I considered myself somewhat experienced. After all, I had been interning at the Morning Star since my junior year, spending far more time reporting news there than at school, not to mention my senior year. I had become a familiar face to all the reporters and editors at the newspaper, and my writing skills were no longer those of a clueless novice. In fact, regardless of my initial status, the income of a good intern reporter at the Morning Star wasn't much different from that of a full-time reporter, because the largest part of the income came from article fees. The Morning Star and other emerging metropolitan newspapers were quite good at rewarding hard work. For me, the biggest benefit of becoming a full-time employee was that I had my own territory.

Back when I was writing news reports after an interview, I had to wait for the reporters to have a break, see which computer was available, and quickly greet them with a smile, asking to borrow it. After finishing the article, I had to ask them to upload it to the newspaper's internal interview network. To avoid making others impatient, I often wrote it on paper first and then typed it into the computer as quickly as possible. Sometimes I had to "move around" halfway through writing; it was incredibly frustrating.

After I become a full-time employee, I will have a proper desk, a small space enclosed by partitions, a swivel chair, a movable cabinet, and most importantly, a computer on the desk that is exclusively for my use.

I was lucky; the newspaper was purchasing a new batch of office equipment, so everything from the computers to the mobile cabinets was brand new, which made my colleagues quite envious. However, I wasn't so lucky when it came to assigning the wardrobes. I found my own wardrobe, opened it, and while the clothes rack was okay, the adjacent compartments were a mess, piled with belongings of unknown owners. Xiao Wu from the general affairs department, who assigned me the wardrobe, said that it hadn't been used for a while, the previous owner had long since left, so I could do whatever I wanted with the things inside.

What to do? Of course, keep the good stuff and throw everything else away. But smelling the slight musty odor coming from inside, I doubt I can still find something I want inside.

Yes, the reason you can see so many of my notes here is because of this compilation.

By then, I had already had some experiences different from most people. During my intermittent year-long internship as a reporter, although I hadn't encountered any earth-shattering events, there were still a couple of experiences that were enough to garner casual conversation and leave most people puzzled. I don't know why, but once I became a reporter, I naturally noticed many details that others wouldn't pay attention to. Or perhaps trouble was just destined to stumble upon me, and I wasn't used to avoiding it. After a few such incidents, like some veteran reporters, I became increasingly distrustful of appearances. Who knows what lay beneath the surface of this seemingly orderly social machine?

However, having strange experiences doesn't mean I have to write them down and tell others. Of course, I have the urge to write them down, but I'm already tired from writing news all day, so why add new pressure to myself? Most importantly, how many people will believe me if I write it down?

Between the hesitation of writing and not writing, perhaps just adding a little weight could immediately change the situation. But what happened to me next was not as simple as just adding a little weight.

Because I actually saw a template.

The cabinet had three compartments from top to bottom, each one a mess. Some boxes looked quite nice, but when you opened them, they were all artificial crystal ornaments given away by some company when it opened. They were the most useless kind of gifts, with shapes ranging from a building to Shanghai's iconic Oriental Pearl Tower and several bridges. They were usually carried back to the newspaper office with great care and then left aside. If they were displayed solemnly on a table, they would definitely be secretly ridiculed.

Besides the useless gifts, there were some rather technical books, such as customs tax forms and books on appearance regulations. It's easy to imagine that this senior colleague must have handled these kinds of matters in the past, but they were completely useless to me, so I swept them into the trash without hesitation. I did keep some blank stationery and envelopes, though. When I got to the last compartment, I found a hardcover notebook.

It was a black hardcover notebook, which I casually flipped open.

I happen to need an interview notebook like this. If this notebook hasn't been used before, I'll keep it for myself without hesitation.

It had been used. It was almost completely filled. I flipped through it from back to front, all the way to the first page, and instinctively closed the notebook. But then I jerked it open again. Because just moments before, I'd seen my own name.

If you search for "Na Duo" on Google, you'll find a lot of results like "Na Duo is great," because these two characters have so many combinations besides being used in names. So, while I was a little surprised, I wasn't too astonished. However, I still felt a little curious to take another look.

When I turned back to the first page and saw the first few words, my brows furrowed involuntarily.

"The Lost Night in the Notebook of Na Duo".

I believe many people will be very surprised to see this. To be honest, I wasn't too surprised at the time, because I hadn't started writing Na Duo's notes yet, so seeing this title didn't evoke any particular feeling other than the name Na Duo.

However, such a title was enough to keep me reading.

The fluent writing, the fantastical story, and the growing doubts in my mind compelled me to stand by the wardrobe and read through this less than 10,000-word journal in one go. By the time I finally looked up, my neck was incredibly sore.

The following is the full text of this journal entry. I am now certain that there will be no copyright issues with publishing the full text, and this journal entry is definitely attractive enough to keep you reading it in one go.

Na Duo's Notes: A Lost Night Unveils the Mystery of the Thousand-Year-Old Underground Palace. In the early hours of March 11th, Xizhao Mountain in Hangzhou was unusually restless. What treasures are hidden within the underground palace of the thousand-year-old Leifeng Pagoda? A mystery sealed for a thousand years awaits to be revealed.

The excavation work began at 9:00 a.m. Nearly a hundred news media outlets from the province and from all over the country, including Beijing, Shanghai, Jinan, and Zhengzhou, focused their cameras on the entrance to the underground palace of this famous Buddhist pagoda.

The Wu-Yue Underground Palace has withstood over 1000 years of weathering. Measurements show the palace is 2.6 meters below the ground level of the first level of the pagoda. The entrance was sealed with a square stone slab, upon which rested a 750-kilogram boulder. Today, the boulder was lifted using the most primitive method: iron chains and ropes. Amidst the clanging of the chains, the millennia-old boulder slowly awoke. As it rose gently, the palace, its entrance firmly sealed by the red earth of Xizhao Mountain, opened.

The millennium-old underground palace was finally within reach, but the stone slab covering the entrance was a thousand years old. Opening it from either side risked shattering the stone. So the experts decided to first pry away the small pieces that were originally cracked, and then lift the whole slab.

At 11:18 AM, the stone slab was successfully opened. The veil of a thousand years was finally lifted, revealing a rusty iron box and a Buddha statue, exciting everyone present. However, because the underground palace had been flooded, the buried artifacts were scattered and stuck in the mud, making them impossible to move. People regretfully couldn't sell them on the spot; what exactly was inside this iron box, hidden for a thousand years?

Zhejiang Daily, March 12, 2001

Having spent four years of university idly, and not even graduating with a journalism degree, I was quite surprised to be hired by this well-known Shanghai newspaper. Before applying, I didn't have high hopes, after all, it was rumored to be dominated by Fudan University graduates; to stay in the news department without exceptional talent, one needed connections. Perhaps this is just fate; in any case, I'm now a reporter.

Since all the departments were already full (I've always wondered why they were hiring when there were no departments to fill), I had no fixed sources of news leads, and I became a wanderer. Any breaking news or major event was assigned to me to report on—a huge burden, definitely a thankless job. However, my colorful and eventful journalistic career began from there.

With the 80th anniversary of the founding of the Communist Party of China approaching, as a mainstream media outlet in Shanghai, we began preparing related reports well in advance, according to convention and requirements from higher authorities. My assigned task this time was to conduct an interview with Feng Lide.

Feng Lide, 48 years old this year, is in his p

……