Hedgehog's Belly - Chapter 21

Chapter 21

A few days after the midterm results were released, Luo Mu deliberately chose the quiet of the lunch break to check the rankings. The Physics and History tracks were ranked separately but announced together on the “Top 100” board.

Staring at the red characters reading “History Track Grade Ranking: Top 100,” Luo Mu’s expression froze. Her eyes habitually scanned the second vertical column. She never dared to look at the History Top 50; to her, that was a luxury. It was only in the third column that she found her name.

Luo Mu’s brow furrowed instantly. She closed her eyes and took a long, slow breath.

— “If you don’t get into a good school, just find someone to marry and be done with it.”

Luo Zhicheng’s past words were like poisonous needles pricking her auditory nerves, the toxins spreading through her blood to every corner of her body.

For Luo Mu, it was nothing less than a slow death.

Since then, she had studied feverishly. She once thought being in the top ten of her class was enough. Later, she realized it was far from sufficient; she thought reaching the History Top 100 would be enough.

And now, she felt that only reaching the History Top 50 would suffice.

Luo Mu asked herself in the silence of countless late nights: Is this ambition?

Is the meaning of studying merely to escape the shackles of marriage?

She let out a chuckle, mocking herself. So, for me, it actually comes down to this.

Pausing for a few seconds, her gaze drifted to the adjacent Physics track board. A few female students were pointing at their positions, shouting excitedly, “Look! I finally made it into the Top 100!”

— “Zhou Shulei is still second. When will he overtake first place?”

— “Isn’t Class 3 a regular class? How do they have four people in the top ten?”

— “Could they be ‘off-track’ members of the Excellence Class?”

— “I seriously suspect they forgot to bring pens to the placement exams, otherwise how could they end up in a regular class?”

Once the crowd dispersed, Luo Mu let her gaze fall naturally on the grade’s Physics ranking.

2nd: Zhou Shulei, Grade 11 Class 3

Her eyes gradually moved down.

7th: Yan Qingzhu, Grade 11 Class 3

Luo Mu froze for a moment, then couldn’t help but marvel. She should be there.

9th: Ji Rongshu, Class 3; 10th: Luo Daier, Class 3; 15th: Ye Nanqiao, Class 3.

Those girls were right—if you didn’t know them, you really would believe they had forgotten their pens during the placement exams.

Luo Mu looked up, staring at that familiar name.

Yan Qingzhu, how much do I really know about you?

And how much do you want to know about me?

“Yan Qingzhu,” Luo Mu lowered her eyes, her voice deep as she talked to herself. “What kind of person are you, really…?”

Free and elegant like the wind blowing through a mountain valley, as if the hardships of the world could never catch her.

But Luo Mu couldn’t keep her, couldn’t grasp her.

She didn’t like this feeling.

As a child, she had cried and screamed while chasing her father’s car as it drove toward the city, her small body running like mad. Back then, how could she have known she would never outrun a car or her father’s determination to leave? Her father hadn’t even looked back at her one last time before he disappeared.

— “Papa, I’m scared! Papa, don’t leave me here!”

— “Papa… there’s no one to protect me anymore…”

The young version of herself had crouched by the rural roadside, dust mixing with the wind, stinging her face. A child’s wails rang out, but when she was exhausted from crying, she went home and sat by the door, smiling happily as she waited for her father to come back and look at her just once more.

Don’t cry, don’t cry. Papa said he likes obedient children.

Why hasn’t Papa come back? Maybe Papa forgot the way home.

Papa is such a muddlehead.

In the days that followed, the sunset would dye the sky red. She would race the setting sun, waiting for her father to come home, fantasizing about enjoying the day’s most beautiful scenery with him.

She waited for six years.

Then, when she was nine, bathed in sunlight, the red peppers planted in the yard looked glossy.

She released a mantis she had just caught, waving her hand for it to go home, murmuring innocently: “You must remember the way home.”

She stood up, brushed the dust off her pants, washed her hands with well water, and wiped the tears from the corners of her eyes.

She laughed and shouted wantonly: “Papa! I’m not waiting for you anymore!”

That was when the man finally returned.

Luo Mu took a sharp breath, forcing herself to face reality.

“What kind of person do you want me to be?” Suddenly, a familiar voice sounded from behind. Luo Mu started in fright, and in her panic, she turned around and bumped right into Yan Qingzhu’s arms.

“Miss me that much? Throwing yourself into my arms?” Yan Qingzhu looked down at her, her hands encircling her back.

The scent of light citrus mingled with woody agarwood—mysterious with a hint of sweetness. But after a moment, Luo Mu struggled and broke free from the embrace.

“I did not,” Luo Mu insisted stubbornly, not yet recovered from the shock. “Let’s not overthink things.”

“Did my sister say anything to you the other day?” Yan Qingzhu stared at the Physics Top 50, her gaze scanning the top of the list.

Luo Mu twisted her wrist. “Did Yan Yu not tell you?”

Yan Qingzhu: “That kid is tight-lipped. You can’t pry anything out of her.”

Luo Mu recalled the hazy night when the child, with melancholy eyes, had slowly asked: “Sister Muzi, do you hate my sister very much?”

Luo Mu had looked back at her, arms crossed, and replied with a gentle, calm gaze: “What do you think of me?”

Yan Yu hadn’t hesitated: “You are indeed like her in some ways.”

“Then do you think I hate her?”

Yan Yu paused, then shook her head. “Goodnight, Sister Muzi.”

Luo Mu still didn’t know why she had responded that way, but she marveled at the child’s perceptiveness.

Luo Mu said calmly, “She asked if I hated you.”

“And do you?” Yan Qingzhu asked back, her gaze tossing her emotions amidst the waves before letting them sink to the seabed.

Luo Mu was unwilling to meet her eyes, but she remained expressionless, feigning composure. “You are very suitable as a friend.”

Yan Qingzhu offered a shallow smile. A friend. She could only be a friend.

You only want to look at me from a distance.

Yan Qingzhu replied, “Suitable as a friend… that means you don’t hate me, right?”

“I suppose.” Luo Mu looked up back at the Top 50, her eyes somewhat dazed. “Yan Qingzhu.”

Yan Qingzhu nodded. “Mm.”

Luo Mu turned to gaze at her; their eyes met. Yan Qingzhu leaned down slightly to hear her clearly.

“Qingzhu, you’ve taught Yan Yu very well.”

Yan Qingzhu’s eyes instantly moistened, and the corners of her mouth trembled slightly. Since she was small, she felt she owed Yan Yu a complete home.

If not for her, Yan Yu would surely have been like Yan Qingzhu herself before the age of ten—valued by her parents and surrounded by love her whole life. These past few years, she had given everything to her sister, only hoping she would grow into something beyond her own ideals.

“Yan Yu is also very lucky.” Luo Mu’s lashes fluttered, a hint of relief in her tone. “Her sister is very outstanding.”

Luo Mu often fantasized: if someone had told her the hard truths of the world when she was young, would she have taken fewer detours? Would there have been fewer instances of literal crawling and struggling? Would the hardships she endured before learning her lessons have vanished?

But there were no “ifs.”

Luo Mu couldn’t escape a single mistake she was meant to make.

She simply wished someone could have told her confused self which path was the right one to follow toward happiness.

Yan Qingzhu wiped the moisture from the corner of her eye when Luo Mu wasn’t looking and said with a silly grin, “Next week is Foreign Language Festival. Don’t forget.”

Luo Mu was startled. “Do I need to prepare anything?”

Yan Qingzhu: “Just don’t fall asleep again.”

“What happened? How did Brother Tree separate my Green Plum Squad?!” Ye Nanqiao stamped her feet in anger, muttering as she looked at the paper ranking list.

She had planned to cut out the neat, complete row of the Green Plum Squad from the class rankings to show off, but that plan was ruined.

“Did your essay go off-topic this time?” Yan Qingzhu pressed her face against the desk, covering one ear with her hand in annoyance.

Whenever Ye Nanqiao shouted, only Yan Qingzhu could tolerate it.

Ye Nanqiao: “No way!”

Luo Daier: “How much did you miss it by?”

“Not by much…” Ye Nanqiao answered instinctively, but once she saw the score gap, she lost her spirit. “12 points.”

“You’re too used to copying English reading comprehension answers,” Yan Qingzhu didn’t miss the chance to fan the flames, teasing with a hidden laugh. “How many did you get wrong in the reading section?”

Ye Nanqiao: “Not telling!”

Yan Qingzhu stared at her silly look; she had her ways. She smiled and signaled to Luo Daier with her eyes, saying lazily, “Practice time?”

“Practice it is.” Luo Daier sighed and handed a new midterm exam paper to Ye Nanqiao. “This is an extra copy. Redo the reading comprehension. Draw out the evidence with your pen and show it to me after school.”

Ye Nanqiao made a miserable face. She knew Sister Daier pampered her most, but she also knew Daier’s personality too well—she never went back on her word.

She had no choice but to turn back to her seat and write in silence.

“Work hard, President Ye. I’ll be copying yours from now on,” Yan Qingzhu said happily, resting her head on her arm.

Turning her head, she saw Luo Daier using a ruler to measure the handwriting on the ranking list before tearing the paper into strips. Yan Qingzhu knew that only an idiot like Ye Nanqiao cared about the “Green Plum Squad” alignment. The person in front of her tore off the two familiar names together and pasted them onto a new page of her diary.

November 12th.

Yan Qingzhu propped up her chin, calmly watching her every move, and asked with partial understanding, “Do you write in it every day?”

“Every time something concerns her, I write once.” Luo Daier’s voice was hushed, her gaze restrained. “If she says she loves me once, I record it once.”

The noise of the classroom filled their ears—laughter mixed with shouting. Yan Qingzhu had to lean in very close to catch what she was saying.

Yan Qingzhu knew that the person in front of her was placing a bet—betting that Ye Nanqiao wouldn’t hear.

Luo Daier simply opened her hand to show Yan Qingzhu the last page of the diary.

September 25th: Nanqiao said, ‘Love Daier.’ October 10th: Nanqiao said, ‘Luo-Luo loves you.’ … November 1st: Nanqiao said, ‘I do.’

And next to the words “I do,” a line of clear, small characters was written in red ink: I do, too.

Yan Qingzhu froze, filled with worry. The corner of her mouth trembled slightly, but she hesitated. She closed the last page of the diary.

She looked up at Luo Daier, but the person before her was remarkably steadfast. Luo Daier just gave a shallow smile and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

She put the diary back in her bag, zipped it up, and pulled out a math exercise book from her drawer. Her movements were natural and practiced; she had clearly done this many times.

Yan Qingzhu scrutinized her, her eyes full of doubt.

“Because I don’t want to forget.” Luo Daier drew a 3D figure on her scratch paper, setting up the system and coordinates in one smooth motion.

As she was calculating the normal vector, she paused for a few seconds, her voice trembling slightly: “At least on the day she doesn’t remember me, I can still talk to her about the past.”

At least in that moment, she would tell her:

In the countless instants of my life, I have loved you without reservation.