Hedgehog's Belly - Chapter 22

Chapter 22

The final day of the week following the midterms was the Foreign Language Festival, a signature event of Tianzhong High School.

A few days prior, Yan Qingzhu and Ye Nanqiao had made another bet.

“Sister Luo-Luo definitely won’t go. If she does, I’ll personally make cream puffs for you to eat.” Ye Nanqiao toyed with the ends of her hair, her tone humorous and her confidence in victory absolute. “If I lose, I’ll call you ‘Yan Pig’ for a whole week.”

“Ooh, to eat cream puffs made by President Ye’s own hands—what a stroke of luck for this humble Yan.” The cool corridor breeze blew against Yan Qingzhu’s face as she teased back: “Then you’d better not drag Sister Luo-Luo there just to stop her from going.”

“Even if I drove a forklift to force Sister Daier to watch, she still wouldn’t go.” Ye Nanqiao leaned her hands against the railing, a trace of regret appearing. “I understand her too well.”

Tianzhong had an unwritten rule: students not participating in the activities were to remain in their classrooms for self-study. As it happened, Luo Daier never liked activities of any kind; she preferred staying in the classroom solving exercises for various subjects, humming along to indie music playing through her headphones.

Ye Nanqiao turned around to lean her back against the railing, pulling up the zipper of her school jacket. “But I’m definitely going to see the vocal music group.”

Yan Qingzhu gave a faint smile. Being naturally passionate was exactly Ye Nanqiao’s style.

The Foreign Language Festival was followed by a small one-and-a-half-day holiday, which had every student incredibly excited. However, except for the student union cadres, everyone else had normal classes in the morning.

Seeing the empty seat beside her, Luo Mu felt uneasy. Having Qin Jiahui around being noisy usually made her feel strangely at peace.

After History class ended, Luo Mu compared Qin Jiahui’s textbook with her own, helping that idiot mark the key points. Out of everyone skipping class all morning, only Qin Jiahui would be laughing about it.

Luo Mu shook her head and drew a pig’s head in the margin of the textbook, deliberately writing three words: Qin Jia Hui.

Suddenly, there was a familiar tap on the window. Yan Qingzhu handed over a badge. Luo Mu examined it carefully and asked tentatively, “A staff badge?”

“You won’t need a ticket to enter this afternoon.” Yan Qingzhu leaned one hand against the window frame. She had rareley tied her hair into a high ponytail today; the sunlight reflected off the silver rose stud on her ear cartilage, making her look clean and dashing.

“You’re wearing the earrings?” Luo Mu tucked the badge away and shared a smile with her, her tone carrying a hint of teasing.

“Today I am the Super Invincible Universal Thunderbolt War God,” Yan Qingzhu raised the corner of her mouth, proudly patting her chest before calming down: “There will be a lot of people this afternoon. Don’t get lost in the crowd.”

“After all, the crowd is here,” Yan Qingzhu gestured to a certain height in the air, then dropped her hand significantly lower, “and you’re down here.”

“I’m done with you.” Luo Mu burst into laughter while mock-scolding her.

Although Luo Mu was long used to people making jokes about her height, this person’s tone didn’t make her feel uncomfortable. It was like close friends who always share the world’s most boring inside jokes that only the two of them understand.

Sometimes those jokes aren’t actually funny. But at a certain moment, just for that one second, they can inexplicably feel hilarious, allowing one to laugh wantonly. It was a complete release of emotion without restraint. In the days to come, that familiar joke would pull them back to their youth, telling them they hadn’t grown old.

No longer young, yet forever young.

Before the vocal group’s opening, Luo Mu sat in the meeting room wearing her staff badge, flipping through the performance schedule and pushing up her glasses to check the attendance status.

Suddenly, a bottle of Coke was placed on her head.

“Jiang Yan said you were the boss of the kindergarten; she wasn’t wrong.” Without looking up, Luo Mu raised her hand above her head to take the Coke.

The Kindergarten War God.

Yan Qingzhu tilted her head, looking at the list while taking a sip of canned Coke. She murmured, “You should leave these things to the student union.”

Luo Mu said calmly, “They were drafted to move equipment.”

Yan Qingzhu nodded thoughtfully. “Coolie labor, I get it.”

Luo Mu gave a slow smile; that was indeed the case.

Afterward, as Luo Mu verified the personnel list, Yan Qingzhu watched from the side, no longer disturbing her.

The two sat at the same table. Yan Qingzhu rested her head on her arms. Once the person in front of her became serious, all the noise in the world seemed irrelevant to her; she was immersed in her own dense, rich thoughts. Yan Qingzhu blinked slowly, certain she had never misjudged this person.

At that moment, only the two of them were in the meeting room. Sunlight streamed through the large floor-to-ceiling windows. The trees trembled and swayed in the wind, making a rustling sound. Withered leaves rose and fell with the breeze, carrying pining and devotion to old friends thousands of miles away—circling back and forth, eventually returning home.

Autumn was coming to an end.

“Sister Muzi, you’re so serious in everything you do.” Yan Qingzhu’s gaze as she watched her carried a hint of a hazy, drunken feeling.

“I’m not as amazing as Sister Yan.” Luo Mu organized the remaining materials and stapled them together. “Anyone can get to know Yan Qingzhu.”

Anyone can get to know Yan Qingzhu.

She didn’t use fawning smiles to please the world, nor did she need to compromise with any power. Whether it was pain or joy, she could accept them both readily. Good or bad, she could live through it all.

Luo Mu couldn’t.

Unsure if the road ahead was a grand thoroughfare or a bottomless abyss, she was destined to push forward with grit. But when she realized she might never reach the deepest part of life’s journey—perhaps not even halfway down the abyss—she felt like turning back into the darkness.

“But Yan Qingzhu really wants to know Luo Mu.”

Yan Qingzhu took off the latest pair of silver rose earrings from her cartilage, placed them in the pocket of Luo Mu’s school jacket, and helped her zip it up.

Luo Mu stared at her in shock, holding the materials in her hands, at a loss.

“I have a habit: when I make a friend, I have to give a meeting gift.” Yan Qingzhu propped up her chin, the corner of her mouth lifting in a relaxed tone: “Keep these for now; I’ll get you something else later.”

Luo Mu felt the two studs through the fabric of her jacket. Her thumb traced the uneven texture of the earrings, marvelling at the delicate craftsmanship. Her emotions were complex, but she stopped herself from speaking.

Yan Qingzhu said with a smile, “Don’t worry, Ye Nanqiao received a meeting gift back then, too.”

Luo Mu was puzzled: “What did you give her?”

Yan Qingzhu recalled her first meeting with Ye Nanqiao and immediately buried her head in her arms to laugh: “I gave her several punches.”

It was quite embarrassing. Early in their second year, someone had accidentally placed Ye Nanqiao’s physical novel on Yan Qingzhu’s desk. When Yan Qingzhu tried to pull out an exercise book, the novel fell to the floor, just as Ye Nanqiao was passing by. The two of them inexplicably started fighting then and there.

Ye Nanqiao had been fuming, her voice trembling with grievance: “Your ‘treasure’ fell on the floor and you don’t even feel bad for it?”

Yan Qingzhu had taken a punch to the waist and felt the person in front of her was being unreasonable, shouting back: “So you decided to put your ‘treasure’ on my desk?!”

To outsiders, it was a bizarre beginning.

Luo Mu finished tidying the files, curious about the rest of the story: “And then? Who won?”

“No one won; we were both called to the office.” Yan Qingzhu stretched, speaking nonchalantly.

But no one could have guessed that Ye Nanqiao’s emotions came and went so quickly. One moment she was sulking in the office, and the next she was chasing Yan Qingzhu, begging for English reading comprehension answers.

Sometimes, fate truly is wondrous.

Inside the auditorium, just as Luo Mu found a seat and was about to sit down, a familiar voice rang out from behind.

“Sister Muzi!” The familiar girl, holding up her navy blue formal dress, ran over and hugged Luo Mu. Luo Mu placed her hand on the girl’s slender waist. “You have to watch my performance later!”

“Of course.” Luo Mu caught the scent of raspberry on Jiang Yan and instantly felt at peace. “Give it your best.”

Jiang Yan: “If Yan Qingzhu gives me the lowest score, you have to help me beat her up!”

Beside them, Yan Qingzhu’s expression shifted, filled with confusion: “Jiang Shikai, why am I the only one called by my full name? Where are your manners?”

She pinched Jiang Yan’s arm, though not hard.

Jiang Shikai, we haven’t seen each other for a few days—how did the double standard start already?

Jiang Yan made a face and stuck out her tongue like a playful five-year-old before trotting back to the prep seats.

And Jiang Yan did not disappoint. Under the spotlight, she moved the entire audience in the most exquisite way.

Her ethereal voice was melodious and lingering, like a grand and lingering dream. Under the warm lights, the navy dress looked as if ten thousand bluebirds were carrying branches upon her; from then on, the mountains and rivers were magnificent, and the spring breeze softened the world. Luo Mu gazed at this proud princess; that exquisite swan neck would never bow.

Elegant yet strong.

The ethereal vocals were like mist in a vanished ancient forest, quiet and lingering. People trapped in the labyrinth couldn’t find their way back.

The singing stopped abruptly; the lights dimmed instantly.

The entire hall fell silent.

Luo Mu felt her heart skip a beat, suppressed by a powerful force, making it hard to breathe.

A few seconds later, the music suddenly exploded, like an awakening and rebirth after a fall into decadence. The drumbeats in the background were as strong and powerful as a heartbeat, invigorating the soul. Behind Jiang Yan stood ten thousand horses; she was like a god of thunder and lightning, indestructible.

The arduous journey tore through all decay, emptiness, and despair, rebelling against the oppressive and archaic powers.

And we, live towards death.

The audience erupted, echoing Jiang Yan’s song with screams and shouts.

The whole place boiled over, everyone waving glow sticks. It was like starlight trying desperately to shine in a hopeless dark night, and those points of light formed a sea of stars of varying brightness. The screams and cheers resounded; everyone seized this fleeting opportunity to release the true emotions they kept hidden deep inside.

Faced with the injustice of fate, what should one do?

Live towards death.

All pain, despair, and decaying wreckage were cast aside in this moment.

At this moment, one word described it: Shocking.

“You must always be yourself! And as for the rest—to hell with it!”

After singing the final lyric, Jiang Yan used her last bit of strength to roar this sentence. The applause of the entire audience hit like a tidal wave, ending the performance with cheers and shouts.

— “To hell with the rest of it!”

— “I’m going to get into a good university! Who the hell is going to stop me!”

— “Bullshit math! I don’t believe I can’t get a full score!”

When Yan Qingzhu handed her a tissue, Luo Mu realized a tear was hanging on her cheek. The powerful aura was unavoidable. Luo Mu was very happy for Jiang Yan; in the face of any gossip or rumors, she had her own strength to smash them one by one.

“It was a bit different from the last time she sang.” Yan Qingzhu wrote down her score, watching Luo Mu beside her busy wiping tears. “This adaptation was very successful for her.”

“She’s amazing,” Luo Mu replied.

After all the performances ended, the student union president invited everyone for a group photo. In the chaotic scene of dozens of people, Jiang Yan pulled on Luo Mu’s arm, a small dimple appearing as she smiled. “Sister Muzi, can I stand next to you?”

Yan Qingzhu directly cut off their connection, forcibly separating the two. “Stand according to seniority; don’t be disrespectful.”

“And you—giving me the lowest score!” Jiang Yan got angry just thinking about it, slapping Yan Qingzhu hard on the back. “There are ten people in the student judging panel, and you gave me the lowest!”

“Is 9.8 really low? How was I supposed to know they’d all give you full marks?” Yan Qingzhu winced, hiding behind Luo Mu to dodge Jiang Yan’s next punch.

Luo Mu wondered if Yan Qingzhu and Jiang Yan had been in the same kindergarten, who would have really been the “boss.”

“Come, come, come! Everyone look at the camera!” A student holding a camera called out with a beaming smile. “On ‘three-two-one,’ we’ll all shout that phrase!”

“Ready! Three, two, one!”

Luo Mu had been standing still, but in a blur, her wrist was suddenly pulled, causing her to fall towards someone. Yan Qingzhu’s arm was suddenly draped over Luo Mu’s shoulder. Yan Qingzhu bent her waist and crouched her knees; their faces were forced into very close proximity. Yet in the chaotic, grand scene, no one heard the feverish beating of a heart.

“Look at the camera,” Yan Qingzhu’s soft voice murmured in her ear.

Instantly, the two of them looked into the camera lens together as a burst of white light flashed.

At that moment, the entire hall shouted that phrase:

“You must always be yourself! And as for the rest—to hell with it!”