Hedgehog's Belly - Chapter 13

Chapter 13

The two faced each other, the atmosphere reaching a fever pitch.

Perhaps prejudice and misunderstanding are destined to be inherent attributes of language, lurking like hidden blades within the most trivial words.

“Are you still worried about whether his family tree has your name on it?” Luo Mu’s words were thick with mockery. She let out a cold snort: “Do you really want to be someone’s son that badly?”

Yes, Luo Mu simply did not understand why her father had favored this son, to whom he had no blood relation, even to the point of abandoning his true biological daughter alone in that broken-down village.

Ji Rongshu’s fists were clenched and trembling violently, the veins on his arms bulging. He was forcibly suppressing his emotions, his gaze like that of a predator ready to tear apart the prey in front of him at any moment.

Luo Mu narrowed her eyes, glancing at the tiny red light in the distance. Suddenly, her attitude flipped; she relaxed her posture and asked in a cautious, hushed whisper: “Is it off?”

Ji Rongshu glanced at the router and responded in an equally low voice: “Say a few more lines.”

“Will you just run off with anyone as long as they’re rich?” Luo Mu continued, her voice sharp and unnerving. “People like you, why don’t you just go—”

Ji Rongshu stood up and walked toward Luo Mu, grabbing her front collar and slamming her hard against the wall next to the television. He roared with every bit of strength in his body, “Who the hell are you trying to disgust?”

In an instant, the impact made Luo Mu’s mind go blank, jolting all her senses.

The sound of the heavy collision was deafening. Luo Mu gritted her teeth; the distinct sensation of pain, like an electric shock, spread from her spine to her brain like an exploding firework.

D*mn, that was a hard hit, Luo Mu cursed silently.

In a daze, Luo Mu reached out behind her toward the router and quickly yanked out the power plug. Ji Rongshu lowered his head and asked worriedly in a low voice: “Is the red light out?”

Luo Mu tilted her head with difficulty to glance at the surveillance camera. Noticing that the camera’s infrared light had died, she finally breathed a slow sigh of relief. She then told Ji Rongshu to let go and rubbed the spot on her back where she had hit the wall, complaining: “You really took the ‘acting’ part too far, that hurt like hell.”

Ji Rongshu pulled two cans of ice-cold Coke from the freezer and teased her back: “You’re the master performer here.”

Luo Mu sat back on the sofa, took the cold Coke, and raised it in the air for a brief toast. “We’re even.”

She didn’t know what Luo Zhicheng was thinking, installing a surveillance camera in the living room, but it had trampled all over the siblings’ bottom line of tolerance. When the camera was first installed years ago, Luo Mu had pulled the main power, and Ji Rongshu had cut the internal wiring. It was never reinstalled after that. However, curiously, Luo Zhicheng had put it back up upon his return this time. As for what he wanted to know, Luo Mu could guess eight or nine times out of ten.

Like father, like son, Luo Mu sneered.

Luo Mu took a swig of the cold Coke and slumped onto the sofa: “Do you think Luo Zhicheng is an idiot? Doesn’t he know this crappy camera needs internet?”

Ji Rongshu popped the tab on his can: “If you drank alcohol that fast, we’d have to have a real contest sometime.”

Luo Mu looked at him with disgust: “Get lost, I hate smelling like alcohol.”

“Do you know what goes best with ice-cold Coke?” Ji Rongshu glanced at Luo Mu proudly, as if waiting for the perfect answer.

Luo Mu’s eyes lit up.

“Cold-tossed fish skin!” The two shouted excitedly in unison.

As expected.

It hit the mark.

Luo Mu beamed with joy and nudged the person in front of her: “Ji Rongshu, we really are ‘brothers’ from different parents.”

“Let me tell you, when I came back from school and stopped by Aunt Wang’s salad shop, she was just about to close.” Ji Rongshu took a takeout box out of the freezer and placed it on the coffee table. “I was going to ask her for extra peanuts, but she gave me everything that was left and didn’t charge extra.”

Luo Mu: “I love Aunt Wang.”

“I really don’t get why people are so resistant to fish skin,” Ji Rongshu said, slurping a piece of fish skin with his chopsticks. “I want to replace every cold dish in the world with fish skin.”

In the entire house, only Luo Mu and Ji Rongshu could accept this cold dish.

Luo Mu joked: “Then I want the whole world planted with cherry tomatoes.”

Ji Rongshu: “You dare? I’ll set them all on fire.”

Luo Mu watched the fool in front of her happily and took a sip of her Coke. Looking up, she caught sight of the eyesore that was the surveillance camera; she understood Luo Zhicheng’s thoughts all too well. He finally had a son who had come to his door, and he was cradling him like a treasure in the palm of his hand. So precious that he delusionally wanted to monitor him every second, or…

Luo Mu paused, staring at Ji Rongshu in shock.

Or perhaps he was afraid that the “crazy woman’s” daughter would be jealous of this child.

What Ji Rongshu said wasn’t wrong; this house would eventually belong to that mother and son, so there was no point in fighting for it.

If her own mother were still alive today, the name on this property deed should have included her mother’s share.

Luo Mu picked up a peanut and popped it into her mouth. But how was that possible? Her mother had been timid and fearful, choosing suicide when her child was only seven months old. What kind of mindset does one have when facing the fear of death like that?

Luo Mu took a sharp breath—forget it.

Sometimes, when one person evades pain, someone else must bear it. It’s like a tug-of-war, like a game, like an unsolvable dead knot.

“How come I haven’t heard you mention news about Little Song?” Luo Mu brought the topic up casually, not realizing the person in front of her had suddenly turned beet red behind the ears.

“We’re not in the same class, what news could there be?” Ji Rongshu gulped down his Coke to hide his unease. “You’re in the same class as her, aren’t you the one who knows best?”

“I’m not very close with her.” Luo Mu used her chopsticks to pick up a small piece of fish skin, murmuring: “Isn’t Yan Qingzhu very familiar with that kind of thing? Why don’t you get on her good side?”

When Luo Mu spoke those words, Ji Rongshu frowned and stared at her, his eyes full of confusion. Luo Mu mistakenly thought she had said something illogical or incomprehensible.

“Yan Qingzhu?” Ji Rongshu repeated, his expression complex. He paused for a few seconds before speaking: “When I used to sit by the window, there were always a few girls who admired her and liked to peek at her through the glass.”

“It’s not that I cared, it’s just that those girls spoke too loudly; it was noisy.” Ji Rongshu stretched on the sofa and said nonchalantly: “Back then, it always made me think she was a Le—”

Luo Mu: “Hm?”

“No, are you stupid?” Seeing that the idiot in front of him hadn’t caught on, Ji Rongshu stood up and instinctively expressed his disdain before spitting out a few more words: “Just… likes girls… I guess.”

Luo Mu’s brows furrowed tightly, the hand holding the Coke trembling slightly.

Likes girls?

“But I discarded that thought later.” Ji Rongshu didn’t notice the expression on the person in front of him and continued, “At the time, I even thought Little Song was too, but ever since I saw that the videos she likes are all of men, I. Can. Rest. Easy.” He paused deliberately on the last few words, giving a skin-deep smile as the aluminum can in his hand became visibly deformed under his grip.

Luo Mu: “Why do you think Yan Qingzhu isn’t?”

Ji Rongshu hadn’t expected her to ask that: “There doesn’t have to be a ‘why’.”

He stared at her in confusion and answered as if it were the most natural thing in the world: “Because she’s been in a relationship.”

Been in a relationship?

Luo Mu’s breath hitched, her throat full of words that were suddenly swallowed by a rising tide, her expression slowly sinking.

Ji Rongshu added, “And with a guy.”

Even Luo Mu’s gaze was trembling. She couldn’t find the words to describe her feelings; it was like a massive, ancient boulder—perhaps far more painful than a boulder—an unbearable weight pressing down on her chest. A trace of jealousy lurked in the fragile corners of her heart, making it hard to breathe.

“But according to Little Song, it fell through later. As for how long it lasted, I’m not sure.” Ji Rongshu didn’t originally care about such things, but he had overheard it while trying to chat more with Song Chenxi.

Luo Mu was stunned for a brief moment, then nodded slowly to indicate she understood.

How strange—everything seemed to come to a grinding halt, even her breathing.

“Mom is asking if you still need incense sticks and incense seal powder, or if you want to consider other shops?” Ji Rongshu asked directly after seeing a new message from his mother.

Luo Mu paused for a moment, only reacting after he called her name a second time. She replied: “No need to restock, just keep it the same as usual.”

“You really are an old fogey.”

“I won’t be able to sleep without the original scent.”

“You remind me of the pork back in the old village; it was smoked the same way. You’re more well-marinated than the pork now.” Ji Rongshu burst out laughing.

Luo Mu smiled faintly: “Then I’ll bring Little Sister Ashuang back to the old village to smoke pork together.”

Indeed, she hadn’t seen Ji Rongshu’s distant cousin, Qiu Shuangyi, in a long time. When she was little, she was always sweet-talked, following behind step by step, calling her “Sister.”

“Alright, I’m tired.” Perhaps because she had sat too long, Luo Mu’s vision went dark for a moment when she stood up. Combined with the vicious impact from Ji Rongshu earlier, she felt like she’d been shaken up. “I’ll leave the cleanup of the table to you.”

“Oh, right,” Luo Mu suddenly remembered something. She turned back and waved to Ji Rongshu: “Remember to plug the router back in.”

Luo Mu collapsed onto her bed, staring at the wisp of smoke rising from the burning incense. The primitive sandalwood scent merged perfectly with the light jasmine—mellow, thick, and warm.

She knew exactly what she was doing.

She was atoning.

It wasn’t glamorous at all.

When the incense burned down to the last small section, Luo Mu got up to clear the ashes. Her gaze accidentally swept across the photo frame on the desk; she stared at it, unable to make a sound.

Her fingertip brushed the person’s face in the photo, but she hesitated for a moment.

What kind of person could actually catch her eye?

And what kind of ability would one need to be compared to her?

Luo Mu looked up and covered her eyes, mocking herself.

Some people were always blaming her, saying she was arrogant and conceited, saying her virtue didn’t match her position. And Luo Mu believed them; she felt their blame was perfectly reasonable.

But that person surfaced in her mind—that person was different from them. The words that person had said to her were unforgettable.

“Yan Qingzhu, Luo Mu isn’t glamorous at all.” That’s what she had told that person.

But that person had hugged her from behind and said many things. Luo Mu only felt the lingering warmth against her back—the most vivid temperature.

That person had rested her chin on Luo Mu’s head, her arms draped lightly over Luo Mu’s shoulders, her expression doting and her gaze deep.

With a hint of raspiness, that person murmured: “But Luo Mu, I’ve caught a glimpse of the light.”

Caught a glimpse of the light.

It was just that at the time, Luo Mu thought the person was afraid she would wither and fade, afraid she would fall into the mundane world.

She was allowed to be idle for this moment, staying by that person’s side.

She could laugh out loud without restraint; she could kneel and weep under her gaze.

In her mind, she replayed Yan Qingzhu’s appearance—the sharp line of her jaw appearing as she turned, always telling jokes that were either funny or not. Always laughing about liking to bully people, yet appearing every time help was needed. Sometimes they were truly noisy and bickering, sometimes embarrassed and afraid of awkwardness. Those troubles and those releases were all created by her.

Luo Mu hesitated. If she isn’t, then am I?

The kind of person Ji Rongshu spoke of.

Luo Mu shook her head dizzily. Her thoughts were like a churning sea, and a persistent headache made the world go dark; it hadn’t eased until now.

Luo Mu cursed under her breath, her head throbbing with dizziness. She propped up her head with her hand and slowly rubbed her temples.

Unable to take the dizziness anymore, she dove back into the covers. Luo Mu closed her eyes, hearing the ringing in her ears buzzing like electronic waves.

Truly, not glamorous at all.

“Muzi, you’re finally back, I’m dying of sleepiness.” As soon as she heard the bell ending class, Qin Jiahui rested her head on her hands and slumped over the desk, staring blankly as Luo Mu returned from the Japanese class.

Luo Mu habitually placed her books on the desk. “Was there a listening test in English class?”

“Yeah, listening tests first thing in the morning… it’s deadly.” Qin Jiahui closed her eyes and murmured: “From now on, if I have insomnia, I’m just going to listen to English tapes.”

Luo Mu: “Don’t sleep. What’s the next class?”

Qin Jiahui glanced at the schedule and slumped back down. “Appreciation of Early Human Presentation Slides.”

Luo Mu: “Speak human.”

“Chinese class.” Qin Jiahui said with disgust: “Can you believe those PowerPoints are from years ago? The whole class is just her reading the slides, specifically looking for the parts with the most text. I even saw her copy-pasting directly using our class computer once.”

If she wasn’t reading the slides herself, she was calling students up to read them. After the reading, there were no explanations; she was always rushing to the next slide. As for question analysis, the answer was always D—because A, B, and C didn’t fit the question.

Luo Mu chuckled softly: “I know. The ‘Nanyang Navy’.”

Hearing the term ‘Nanyang Navy’, Qin Jiahui laughed uncontrollably and snapped her fingers: “That’s the perfect image.”

Luo Mu: “Alright, remember to take out the workbook first, or the ‘Nanyang Navy’ will call on you again.”

“Luo Mu,” Qin Jiahui looked left and right, then leaned close to Luo Mu’s ear. “I think I mentioned this to you before—my friend’s older sister. She was with her partner for over four years, but she’s gay. She came out to her parents a few years ago.”

Luo Mu frowned slightly, not quite understanding why she was bringing this up.

“That girl is getting married next month. But it’s to a blind-date partner she’s known for four months, introduced by her family.” Qin Jiahui said cautiously, “The family spent a lot of time pushing for this to happen.”

“Even so, I still think it’s a shame,” Qin Jiahui murmured.

Luo Mu: “Indeed. That path is quite difficult.”

But love… it can’t just be love.

If you cannot love me, my lover, forgive my pain.

“Jiahui, let me ask you something.” Luo Mu hesitated as she stared at the person in front of her. “How do you judge someone’s orientation?”

“The most direct way is to see if they’ve been in a relationship, right?” Seeing that something was off, Qin Jiahui quickly asked: “Why are you asking all of a sudden?”

Luo Mu was still puzzled: “What if that girl was dating a guy?”

Qin Jiahui thought she was being very strange: “Do you want to listen to what you’re saying?”

The two looked at each other, stunned for a few seconds.

Luo Mu knew what she meant; instead, her question made her look like an innocent fool. She waved her hand, “Never mind.”

“I probably haven’t thought as much as you, and I don’t really understand this stuff,” Qin Jiahui flicked Luo Mu’s forehead and joked: “I only know ‘like’ and ‘dislike’.”

Luo Mu rubbed her reddened forehead. In truth, some things were clear to her; she just desperately wanted someone to tell her a correct path that would lead to happiness.

But because it was love, it possessed boundless joy and pain, infinite scarcity and wealth.

Qin Jiahui paused and added: “After all, my brain isn’t big enough, Hahahaha.”