Hedgehog's Belly - Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Jiang Yan covered her mouth and giggled, “You two have such a great relationship.”

Luo Mu: “It’s not.”

Yan Qingzhu: “It is.”

The two answers seemed to ring out at the exact same time.

“Alright, alright, alright,” Jiang Yan composed herself. “I probably need to practice a bit longer. Would you seniors like to stay?”

“No, I’m taking your Sister Muzi out for a stroll.” Yan Qingzhu had no intention of removing her arm from Luo Mu’s shoulder. She looked down at the girl in her arms and signaled toward the door. “Sister Muzi, shall we go?”

“You’re squashing my hair,” Luo Mu winced, pinching Yan Qingzhu’s arm in mock disgust. “Fine, fine, fine, let’s go, let’s go.”

Watching Yan Qingzhu lead Luo Mu out like that, Jiang Yan smiled and naturally picked up her phone to snap a photo. In the screen, the two looked like a pair of bickering rivals, yet the scene was full of comedic charm. Jiang Yan casually forwarded it to her sisters’ group chat with a voice message: “Sisters, I’m shipping this.”

Once they were a distance away from the auditorium, reaching the lakeside of the school grounds, Yan Qingzhu finally slowly lowered her arm. She curiously brought up last year’s Foreign Language Festival. “Back then, I couldn’t understand what those lyrics you sang meant, but I just thought it sounded beautiful. I was even humming along in the audience.”

Yan Qingzhu hummed a short segment softly. Luo Mu was somewhat surprised she could still remember it. Yan Qingzhu smiled and asked, “So, what does this part mean?”

Luo Mu was thoroughly amused by this fool. Following the melody, she recalled the meaning of the lyrics.

“The late autumn seeps in, staining the body with seven colors.”

She cleared her throat. “But in winter, it turns into a bird, beginning to search for the breath of spring.”

Gazing calmly by the roadside, watching the brilliance follow the changes, seeing the rain follow the arrival of spring.

“Just so that one day, I can nestle in your arms.” Luo Mu gazed at the person opposite her. The look in her eyes was like melting ice and snow, revealing a hint of spring. “I am willing to chant here, that song of a hundred loves.”

Luo Mu admitted that life is always shrouded in ego, pain, and bravado. But that was all—it wasn’t important, because she worked hard to embrace everything in life and wanted to shout out for it.

Only books, music, and love made her feel alive.

Eventually, someone would cause her withered heart to recite their name repeatedly, without end.

“So that’s what it means.” Yan Qingzhu was stunned for a moment before shifting the conversation. “Why did you choose that song back then?”

Luo Mu answered naturally and frankly, “I heard it by chance in a video edit and chose it.”

She then added, “Time was tight back then. The teacher told me to just show my face up there, so I didn’t think too much about it.”

Luo Mu never expected that the dress she wore was also hurriedly borrowed from Qin Jiahuai the day before the performance. With zero stage experience, Luo Mu had never felt the spotlight of so many eyes.

Fortunately, being overly exhausted made her forget her fear. At the time, she only thought about finishing the song so she could take a nap. Furthermore, she knew very well that no one was there specifically for her. If she embarrassed herself, so be it; she didn’t care.

Because there were no expectations, there was no worry.

“But you performed very well.” Yan Qingzhu looked at her with sincere eyes, her casual tone masking the tremble in her voice. “I always talk to Jiang Yan about your performance last year.”

Luo Mu wanted to laugh and teased her: “Didn’t you say you didn’t remember?”

Yan Qingzhu lowered her eyes, appearing gentle and restrained. “Just short-term memory loss. I only remember that you were indeed stunning back then.”

“And then you remembered the song I sang for a whole year?” Luo Mu pretended not to care, but she couldn’t help but needle the girl in front of her. “Actually, if you hadn’t brought it up, I would have forgotten how to sing it.”

“In that case, sing it again?”

Luo Mu shot her a glance and answered quickly: “No.”

“So heartless?” Yan Qingzhu smiled faintly, her eyes peaceful. Seeing that the other person wouldn’t speak, she sighed and said casually, “Fine, if you won’t sing it, then…”

Before she could finish, Luo Mu pulled out her phone and started the accompaniment, humming along softly while looking at the lyrics on the screen.

As the familiar background music played, Luo Mu slowly found the rhythm.

Yan Qingzhu looked back at her, the scene of last year’s Foreign Language Festival surfacing in her mind. She never thought she would reminisce about it again.

Back then, before the Grade 10 activities had started, in the dim and noisy audience seats where the spotlights hadn’t yet converged, Yan Qingzhu truly couldn’t sit still.

She fidgeted back and forth until she was scolded by Ye Nanqiao: “What’s wrong? Is the seat eating people?”

Yan Qingzhu looked dissatisfied and muttered, “I’m saying, the big screen has no subtitles, and the performances are just the same old things. Is there any point to this?”

“Why didn’t I see you at the foreign language drama next door?” Ye Nanqiao scoffed.

“I know the difference between four minutes and fourteen minutes,” Yan Qingzhu grinned foolishly, then propped up her chin and waited blankly. “Wait, why is the English group performing so late?”

“The order was drawn by lots,” Ye Nanqiao figured this girl hadn’t brought her brain. “You want to finish early so badly just to go back to Manager Lin’s self-study session?”

Yan Qingzhu pressed her temples and frowned helplessly. “Not that badly.”

“A-Qing, you really went heavy-handed, didn’t you? Did you smear red brick dust on your face?” Ye Nanqiao touched Yan Qingzhu’s eyeshadow. “You sure you don’t need a club? People would think a local thug is out on the streets.”

“I’m a Good Youth of the New Era,” Yan Qingzhu rolled her eyes. “Dai’er did this makeup. I didn’t have a mirror back then, so how was I supposed to know what it looked like?”

“No, no, no, it suits you.” Ye Nanqiao suppressed a laugh and whispered in Yan Qingzhu’s ear: “This outfit makes you look so different from the girl next to you. Are you sure you’re both here for the same stage?”

Yan Qingzhu looked at Ye Nanqiao with disdain, but she followed her gaze anyway. By a few glimmers of light, Yan Qingzhu saw clearly: that girl looked sleepy and dazed, but her light makeup made her appear even more vivid. She seemed naturally soft; one feared a light touch might scatter her like mist. The pearl necklace around her neck complemented her white gauze gown, simple and pure.

Pure. That was the first word that popped into Yan Qingzhu’s mind.

So delicate.

After staring blankly for a while, Yan Qingzhu realized something was wrong and pinched Ye Nanqiao’s arm. “Why are you staring at the girl so much?”

After several acts, Yan Qingzhu still couldn’t sit still and talked to herself: “The Japanese songs are sung well, but I really can’t understand them. Is it that hard to show some subtitles?”

Ye Nanqiao felt she was being too loud. “Aren’t we just listening for the atmosphere? Are you really going to correct every single word?”

Yan Qingzhu replied, “Yes, yes, yes, I’m just an uncultured person.”

A warm background track filled the air. Yan Qingzhu slowly adjusted to the atmosphere of the venue. She had intended to give up—since she couldn’t understand, she’d just let it be—until a delicate voice came from beside her.

“Even though our hands are empty, because of that, we can hold each other tightly.” The girl next to her rubbed her sleepy eyes. “Even when you’re alone, don’t be lost.”

“Because I will never let go of your hand.” Yan Qingzhu gazed at the girl beside her, quietly watching as she calmly translated those words.

It was as if a white feather had drifted by her ear and was blown by the wind onto a calm, shallow pond, startling ripples into circular layers.

A hint of a smile appeared at the corners of Yan Qingzhu’s mouth. The Japanese class, no wonder. She looked lazy, yet clear as a spring. A girl this soft would probably be liked by many.

However, the dry and warm woody fragrance, while not aggressive, made one hesitate to approach.

It was like… Yan Qingzhu paused, frowning, and fell into deep thought for a long time. Like what?

The unique pity emanating from a deserted, secluded valley in the mountains.

As if no one in the world had ever met her; she always chose solitude, waiting for someone’s appreciation.

Before the performer on stage had finished, someone whispered to the girl. she slowly lifted her long eyelashes, nodded, and stood up gracefully.

Yan Qingzhu tilted her head and rested her chin on her hand. Just as she was about to joke with Ye Nanqiao again, the spotlights dimmed once more.

When the spotlight hit again, that person was standing in the center of the stage, the focus of countless gazes. The white gauze cast subtle shadows on her skin under the light. As the slow accompaniment began, her ethereal voice seemed to intertwine with the moonlight, dense and soft. If it couldn’t reach the moonlight, it was melancholy and sorrowful.

Yan Qingzhu recalled the uniquely scented woody fragrance from earlier; it truly carried a trace of dreamlike intoxication. The obscure language appeared even more ambiguous and hazy on her, like a girl who had entered the mortal world and could no longer find her way back to that sacred temple.

It even gave Yan Qingzhu the illusion that there were shadows behind her, and that this deep night would remain silent.

This scene reminded Yan Qingzhu of a quote she had read in Gitanjali.

“Those who love me in the world try their best to hold me fast. Your love is greater and nobler than theirs; You let me keep my dignity and freedom.”

Yan Qingzhu’s gaze trembled, and a faint sound rose from the bottom of her heart.

What kind of person will a girl this clear have a future with?

And now, the person in front of Yan Qingzhu was singing this song just for her. Indeed, she had listened to this song countless times over the past year and read the explanation of the lyrics countless times. But why? Why was the feeling presented by the person in front of her different from anyone else’s?

Why was there an indescribable sense of pity?

Luo Mu was looking at the lyrics trying to keep up with the tune when she suddenly felt a hand stroking the back of her head, and was then pulled into the other’s embrace by a surge of force. Luo Mu instinctively struggled, but the person opposite locked her in her arms, making it impossible to move. As Yan Qingzhu closed her eyes and accepted the rushing scent of the woody fragrance, she realized she had long since fallen into the quiet, gentle cycle of this atmosphere, unable to extricate herself.

At this moment, she felt the other’s heart pressed close, vibrating continuously.

Yan Qingzhu’s eyes were dark and deep. She finally experienced an unprecedented sense of happiness.

But is happiness luck? Is it like winning the lottery?

Could it be?

Luo Mu was pressed against the person in front of her. To put it piteously, so this was the temperature of an embrace—burning yet restrained.

So close she could hear the other’s heartbeat. Luo Mu’s pupils shook slightly; she was at a loss. The rich orange scent mingled and merged with the woody fragrance, like passing through the scent of damp earth to peek at a grand orange grove after a rare rain, washing away the sweltering heat and irritability.

Luo Mu tried to push her away. “Yan Qingzhu, I can’t breathe.”

Only then did the person in front slowly let go.

Luo Mu slowly regained her composure and looked at the fool in front of her. “If you want to murder me, just say so. Have you already decided on the color of the sack?”

Yan Qingzhu had wanted to find a good reason to apologize, but she was amused by the other’s words. She clutched her stomach and turned away to laugh secretly.

“What’s so funny? Do I look like a joke to you?” Luo Mu was completely bewildered. “No, you doing this makes me…” Before she could finish, Yan Qingzhu’s foolish laughter became contagious. Luo Mu blurted out a laugh, laughing until she was out of breath. “No… like this… I really have no dignity left…”

They laughed like crazy.

Truly crazy.

“Seriously, why is your laughter coming in bursts? Are you imitating a duck?” Luo Mu couldn’t take it. After calming her emotions for a long time, she was finally able to speak a normal sentence.

“I’ve never heard a duck. You do one.” Yan Qingzhu trapped her with her words again.

Luo Mu couldn’t stand it: “Why are you always trapping me?”

Once their emotions stabilized, Luo Mu stared at the cover of the song she hadn’t finished singing and murmured calmly, “It’s true that I’m not as glamorous as you say. Compared to me, Jiang Yan is as outstanding as you describe.”

Yan Qingzhu’s lips moved as if she wanted to say something, but she swallowed it back.

“Even though I’m always hitting walls, I’ve never run away. I accept it all.” Luo Mu put her arms behind her back, her expression indifferent. Looking at the bright stars in the sky, she seemed relieved.

I am not glamorous at all.

“I’m back.” Luo Mu pushed open the door to her home. Something felt off at the entrance. Walking into the living room and seeing several large red gift bags on the coffee table made her even more alert. She stole a glance—sure enough, sea cucumbers, bird’s nests, fish maw, and all sorts of random supplements. Luo Mu muttered to herself; whoever sent these clearly didn’t know the family well.

Ji Rongshu was playing a game. He glanced up and said indifferently, “You’re back?”

“Which relative sent these?” Luo Mu casually poked at a few bags, frowning.

“Dad is back.” Ji Rongshu didn’t have much of a reaction.

Luo Zhicheng?

Luo Mu glanced over, froze for a moment, then retracted her hand.

Luo Mu sneered with disdain: “It’s not even a special occasion. Why go to the trouble for nothing?”

“Coming home is coming home. What does time have to do with it?” Once the victory sound effect played on the screen, Ji Rongshu lazily tossed his phone on the table, his gaze filled with contempt.

Do you really see him as your father?

Or are you content being someone’s free son?

Luo Mu let out a cold laugh, then looked around. “Where is he?”

Ji Rongshu didn’t look her in the eye. “He went out.”

“You don’t know him yet? Don’t you know what kind of person he is?” Luo Mu knew what she was saying. With her arms folded, she sat frankly on the sofa and scoffed: “You don’t really think he’s raising you as a son, do you?”

“Regardless, this house will belong to me in the end. You don’t need to fight for it, and you can’t.” Ji Rongshu’s state was unusually calm, as if stating an undeniable fact.

“You think you’ve benefited? Letting you keep this surname is already the height of his benevolence.” Luo Mu’s words hit Ji Rongshu right where it hurt. This posture made her stubborn, her words more resolute, and perhaps more obstinate. She was constantly wondering whether it was life’s fault or hers.

“Luo Mu, you know these words don’t affect me,” Ji Rongshu said frankly.

Does it really not affect you?

Ji Rongshu knew, of course, that once Luo Zhicheng was mentioned, Luo Mu would definitely have a bad temper. However, Ji Rongshu understood very well that Luo Zhicheng had never made things difficult for him or his mother. As for his biological daughter Luo Mu’s view of her father—that was their grievance.

Life is never fair, nor is it a smooth road. it can make people twisted, shallow, and mediocre.

Yet sometimes, it is Luo Mu herself who actively seeks out the pain.