I was a rookie reporter in the 00s

Zhang Wanqing sat by the window in her study, gently caressing the mysterious diary. The leather cover had softened with age. Sunlight filtered through the slits in the curtains, dappling the diary like the fingerprints of time. She was filled with curiosity about the diary's owner: a soul who, with a similar yearning to travel through time, had left behind these words, only to vanish into the river of history.

Zhang Wanqing opened the diary and carefully read through it, page by page, searching for any clues to the author's identity. The handwriting was firm and powerful, and every stroke revealed the author's emotion and personality. She noticed the repeated mention of a place—Cuiwei Pavilion—and a time—Guyu.

"These words are the outpouring of the diary's owner's soul. They must contain secrets about his identity. Cuiwei Pavilion, Grain Rain, are these the keys to unlocking the diary's owner's identity?"

She began searching for these two keywords in ancient books and on the internet, hoping to find relevant information. Her eyes were focused and serious, and her fingers were tapping quickly on the keyboard, as if she was racing against time.

After some effort, she finally found some records about "Cuiwei Pavilion", which was an ancient pavilion located in a mountain forest outside the ancient Chang'an City. Grain Rain is the last solar term in spring, symbolizing the end of spring and the beginning of summer.

Armed with her diary and some simple equipment, Zhang Wanqing embarked on a journey to Cuiwei Pavilion. She passed through a bustling city, crossed rolling mountains, and ultimately arrived at a lush forest. The air was fresh and moist, and sunlight filtered through the leaves, illuminating the winding paths.

She followed the path and eventually found the remains of Cuiwei Pavilion in an open field. The pavilion was dilapidated, with only a few stone pillars and a stone tablet with faint inscriptions remaining. Her inner monologue was filled with awe: "This is where the diary's owner once visited."

She began carefully examining the inscription on the stele, hoping to find information that matched the diary. She discovered a poem inscribed on the stele, and the mood of the poem was strikingly similar to some of the descriptions in the diary. She decided to wait a few days, until the day of Grain Rain arrived, to perform the ceremony again.

As the Grain Rain solar term approaches, Zhang Wanqing decides to hold a ceremony at Cuiwei Pavilion, hoping to establish some kind of connection with the diary owner's soul through this ceremony.

"Grain Rain marks the end of spring and the beginning of summer. It is a turning point. Perhaps at this moment, I can meet the soul of the diary owner."

She began to prepare the items needed for the ceremony, including incense burners, candlesticks, paper and pen, etc. Her eyes were focused, and her fingers gently placed the items, as if she could feel the sacredness of the ceremony.

On the day of Grain Rain, a gentle drizzle fell, like the whispers of spirits between heaven and earth. Standing in the ruins of Cuiwei Pavilion, Zhang Wanqing lit an incense burner, illuminated a candlestick, and began to recite verses from her diary. Her voice echoed in the rain, and she could sense a strange power coursing through the air.

"Diary owner, if your soul is still there, please show yourself!"

However, just as she was about to complete the ceremony, a strong wind blew over, knocking over the incense burner and candlestick. The flame struggled in the rain for a few times and finally went out.

"Why? Why did the ritual fail again? Diary owner, are you really unwilling to show up?"

Zhang Wanqing sat in Cuiwei Pavilion, tears mixed with rain streaming down her cheeks. Her heart was filled with resentment. Her plan to travel through time had failed again.

At this moment, she heard a faint voice, as if coming from a distant time and space. She listened carefully and found that the voice was actually the poems in the diary, whispering on the wind.

She began to re-examine the poems in her diary, trying to find new clues. She discovered that there was a secret map hidden in the poems, pointing to an unknown location.

As she was about to leave Cuiwei Pavilion, she looked back at the ruins, her heart filled with gratitude. She knew that no matter what the road ahead held, she would bravely continue on.

Back home, Zhang Wanqing sat on a rattan chair in her study, gently stroking the cover of the mysterious diary. Her thoughts drifted like the drizzle outside the window, unending. The shadow of her failed time travel still hung heavy over her, but she knew she had to find a new direction. Just then, her father, Professor Zhang, gently knocked on the study door.

Professor Zhang walked into the study, holding a cup of hot milk in his hand and placed it on Zhang Wanqing's desk. His eyes fell on the diary in his daughter's hand, and a complex emotion flashed in his eyes.

"Wanqing, you have been studying this diary for a long time." Professor Zhang's voice was gentle and full of concern.

Zhang Wanqing looked up, a trace of confusion in her eyes: "Dad, you are an expert in ancient Chinese, you should understand this, right?"

Professor Zhang let out a long sigh and slowly said, "Wanqing, there are some things I have never told you. This diary is actually related to your family's history."

A hint of surprise flashed in Zhang Wanqing's eyes: "Family history? Is there some secret hidden in the family?"

Professor Zhang began to recount his family's past, from its ancestral glory to its decline. Each story, like a pearl, strung together the family's history. His voice was heavy, "Wanqing, some of your ancestors also attempted time travel, and they left behind many clues and warnings."

Zhang Wanqing listened intently, her heart filled with shock and curiosity: "What do my ancestors' attempts and family secrets have to do with my time travel plan?"

As Professor Zhang continued his story, Zhang Wanqing's family history gradually unfolded before her eyes. She discovered that not only had someone in her family attempted time travel, but they had also left behind some relics that might be related to time travel.

Professor Zhang took an ancient wooden box from the bookshelf and handed it to Zhang Wanqing: "This is left by your great-grandfather. He was a famous historian with in-depth research on time travel."

Zhang Wanqing took the box and gently touched the carvings on it, feeling the traces of time. Her inner monologue was filled with awe: "This wooden box hides the secrets of our family and carries the wisdom of our ancestors."

She opened the wooden box, revealing some ancient documents and a strange jade pendant that was almost identical to the one she had obtained earlier. "Could this jade pendant be the key to traveling through time and space?"

Zhang Wanqing began to study the documents in the wooden box, which recorded the ancestors' understanding and attempts at time travel. She found that the ancestors believed that time travel required not only specific items but also specific knowledge and rituals.

She began to compare her ancestors' records with her own time travel experience, trying to find the reason for her failure. She found that her ancestors mentioned an important concept - "balance of time and space". Time travel requires maintaining the balance of time and space, otherwise it will lead to unpredictable consequences.

She was filled with epiphany: "The balance of time and space, is this why I failed? Did I break this balance?"

As her research deepened, Zhang Wanqing gradually realized the wisdom of her ancestors and began to re-examine her time travel plan. She realized that time travel is not just a technology, but also a profound understanding and respect for time and space.

"The wisdom of our ancestors may be able to guide me in a new direction. I need to learn from them and understand the balance of time and space in order to find the right way to travel through time."

She began to make new plans. She knew it would be a long journey, but she was ready.