Hedgehog's Belly - Chapter 24

Chapter 24

Yan Qingzhu stood in the restroom, staring blankly at her reflection in the mirror. Her fingertips rubbed her earlobe where her stud used to be; it felt exceptionally empty. It was like a void in her heart that no amount of filling could satisfy.

Her mind was a chaotic mess. She closed her eyes, tilted her head back, and inhaled sharply.

D*mn it.

Suddenly, she burst into laughter—a convulsive, shoulder-shaking laugh. Her stomach churned violently, and she stumbled into a stall, dry-heaving. Her shoulder slammed hard against the wooden partition, and her strength failed her, forcing her into a crouch. She carefully moved her pale fingertips as cold sweat dripped from her forehead into her collar. Physiological tears welled up in her eyes.

It was so incredibly suffocating.

After a few minutes of recovery, Yan Qingzhu leaned her head against the wooden wall, sitting paralyzed on the floor.

She covered her forehead with her arm to block out the overhead light: “How am I so d*mn stupid?”

Suddenly, her phone rang. Yan Qingzhu struggled to pull it out and glanced at it.

Ye Nanqiao.

As soon as she connected, Yan Qingzhu braced herself for a “Yan-Pig-Yan-Pig” bombardment from the other end.

Ye Nanqiao, that idiot, must have won her bet and come to gloat.

But the voice on the other end only asked one thing: “Yan Qingzhu, what flavor of cream puff do you want?”

“What did you say?” Yan Qingzhu’s voice was raspy and cracked. She flinched instinctively, her bones aching from the impact earlier; she didn’t dare move too much.

She frowned. Did Ye Nanqiao lose the bet? Did Luo Daier actually go?

She wanted to ask how Ye Nanqiao managed to use a “forklift” to drag that stubborn mule Luo Daier to the Foreign Language Festival, but her throat was dry and powerless.

“What’s wrong with your voice? Have you been drinking?” Ye Nanqiao sounded suspicious. She knew well that even if Yan Qingzhu were drunk, she wouldn’t sound this weak. After a long pause, she asked hesitantly, “Is it because of that matter?”

Yan Qingzhu tilted her head, pressing her temples to try and clear her mind. Her head was a fog, but luckily her consciousness remained somewhat lucid.

“Get to the point,” she said, a trace of exhaustion in her tone.

“Sister Daier did go,” Ye Nanqiao said, drying her freshly washed hair with a towel, her eyes scanning a physical copy of a novel she had just repackaged with heat-shrink film. “But she came back.”

Things were too messy; even Ye Nanqiao hadn’t fully figured it out yet. Feeling like she couldn’t explain it clearly, she gave a “tsk” and acted a bit bratty: “Anyway, just tell me what flavor. I need to prepare so I can bring them to your school later.”

Yan Qingzhu lowered her eyes and took a sharp breath: “Something not sweet.”

“What kind of answer is that?” Ye Nanqiao suspected the person on the other end was a fool; how could a dessert not be sweet? After a long pause, she asked patiently: “If it can’t be sweet… how about Matcha?”

“That works.” Yan Qingzhu hummed in agreement and hung up.

She slowly stood up and washed her face, feeling slightly better.

When she returned to her original spot, she found that the person was already asleep on the sofa. Yan Qingzhu sighed, asked Chen Ju for a blanket, and gently draped it over Luo Mu.

It was just like when she used to cover Yan Yu when she fell asleep as a child. Except Yan Yu was a restless sleeper who always kicked off the blankets in the middle of the night and liked to leave her hands outside. She would wake up to a long lecture from Yan Qingzhu, only to repeat the same habit the next night.

Yan Qingzhu sat cross-legged on the floor, quietly observing the other girl’s sleeping posture. Her legs were curled up, her back slightly arched, and her head buried in the blanket like a startled hedgehog. Her eyelashes were slightly curled, twitching rhythmically with her faint breathing.

Usually, her tongue was sharp, saying things that made others feel awkward. She was incredibly stubborn, yet sometimes she spoke like a child who hadn’t grown up.

Yan Qingzhu paused, an involuntary smile appearing on her face.

Yet sometimes, she could see through the meaning behind words in a single glance, leaving Yan Qingzhu nowhere to hide.

— “Yan Qingzhu, are you trying to bait me into talking?”

— “Yan Qingzhu, you’re talking nonsense.”

— “Do you enjoy talking nonsense so much?”

Yan Qingzhu propped her chin on her hand, the corners of her mouth lifting slightly. She had watched Yan Yu grow up since childhood, but sometimes she wished she would never be in a hurry to grow up.

Now, she hoped the person in front of her wouldn’t be in a hurry to grow up either.

Yet, she also hoped she could endure the hardships and stand strong amidst the wind and rain.

To become the person she wanted to be.

You see, humans are such contradictory creatures.

Yan Qingzhu slowly stretched her back to loosen her muscles, using her hand to push off the sofa to stand up. Suddenly, Luo Mu flinched and let out a low moan, saying lazily and drowzily: “You’re pressing on my hair.”

Startled, Yan Qingzhu instantly fell back into her original spot, her tailbone hitting the corner of the sofa painfully. She suppressed her voice, though physiological tears leaked out.

Luo Mu didn’t sit up immediately, maintaining her curled position. She only pulled the blanket up to cover half her face, her voice trembling with a hint of grievance: “Did you… cry too?”

Only then did Yan Qingzhu notice the corners of the other girl’s eyes were red, lengthening the obvious tear stains.

“Did I wake you?” Yan Qingzhu brushed a stray hair away from Luo Mu’s face, staring at the hideous scar on her forehead, asking carefully.

“It’s too noisy here; I was just drifting in and out,” Luo Mu explained slowly, using her hand to partially block the light while half-opening her eyes.

Yan Qingzhu smiled faintly and gently rubbed her head, her tone tender: “They’ll be playing until very late. If you’re tired, we can head back first—”

Before she could finish, Luo Mu shook her head. She wasn’t fully awake, as if she didn’t want to pull herself out of her dream. Her voice was weak: “I dreamed of my A-ma.”

Yan Qingzhu was stunned, her fingertip stopping at the corner of Luo Mu’s eye. Facing this “tearful person,” Yan Qingzhu felt at a loss.

“I thought that because I stole the offerings from someone else’s house, she had been angry with me and hadn’t come to see me all these years.” Luo Mu’s voice choked up as she tremblingly placed her hand over Yan Qingzhu’s. Yan Qingzhu instantly felt a chill. “I just saw her.”

“Qingzhu, A-ma told me that she was the one who placed that bowl of red rice cake on the offering table.”

Yan Qingzhu felt Luo Mu’s hand trembling violently. Tears hung in Luo Mu’s eyes but refused to fall. “I saw her standing by the table, talking to that bowl of red rice cake.”

Luo Mu trembled all over, hugging Yan Qingzhu tightly and weeping uncontrollably on her shoulder.

In the dream, A-ma stared at the bowl of red rice cake, pacing around anxiously and muttering to herself.

— “My A-mu, why hasn’t she come to eat the red rice cake yet?”

— “A-mu, don’t just eat one piece. Eat more so you can grow tall.”

— “A-mu, is the red rice cake I made not good? Why won’t you eat a few more pieces?”

Luo Mu, once you’ve eaten the red rice cake, you’re an adult. You can’t be a crybaby anymore.

But she had only eaten one piece; by the time she wanted to eat more, the rest had gone bad. By the time she wanted to grow tall, she had already missed the bone growth period.

And when she missed the person she loved most, they could never meet again.

But it’s okay. When you want to be a crybaby, go find someone who will wipe your tears for you; she will tolerate you.

Just like A-ma.

Yan Qingzhu used her knuckles to wipe the tears from Luo Mu’s cheeks. Luo Mu leaned dazed on Yan Qingzhu’s shoulder, her gaze vacant. The faint orange scent on Yan Qingzhu calmed her emotions. But it would be better if it were mixed with the scent of sunshine, Luo Mu thought.

If it were mixed with the scent of sunshine, it would be like picking oranges with A-ma in the summer as a child. Luo Mu naively believed that if she planted orange seeds in the ground, there would be many, many oranges to eat the following year. So, she saved a whole box of orange seeds during the summer to plant in the best soil.

But A-ma laughed at her: “You silly child, oranges grow on trees.”

“Orange seeds will grow into orange trees. My name is Luo Mu (Wood/Tree), so when I grow up, I will become a great tree that touches the sky!” Little Luo Mu had shouted in her high-pitched voice, waving her hands and singing the nursery rhymes she had learned.

“My A-mu will cut through the brambles and become the tallest tree.”

Yan Qingzhu and Luo Mu didn’t stay until the end of the party with the others; they said goodbye to Chen Ju and left.

The party house wasn’t far from Nanming University, and the two were silent for a while on the way. The cool breeze carried a hint of chill, making their swollen, tearful eyes sting.

Yan Qingzhu walked ahead of Luo Mu, turning back with a grin. “Small fry, I’ll stand in front and block the wind for you.”

Luo Mu’s eyes were painful and heavy with exhaustion. Her tone was flat but sincere: “Thank you.”

The two walked like that, one in front of the other, all the way home.

Along that path, there were lights, a destination, and the company of a confidant.

So later, when someone asked what kind of person Yan Qingzhu was, Luo Mu would always smile and answer:

— She helped me untie the biggest knot in my heart from my youth. So, in the memories of my youth, I give her a perfect score.

“Sister Muzi, do you like Matcha flavor?” Yan Qingzhu didn’t look back; she just tilted her head back slightly.

Luo Mu answered with a smile: “I like it very much.”

The corners of Yan Qingzhu’s mouth quirked up. She nodded and said nothing more.

When they reached the main gate of Nanming, Yan Qingzhu finally turned around, her tone brisk: “I’ll leave you here.”

I’ll leave you here. But don’t worry. On the road ahead, we will walk together.

Luo Mu looked up, her gaze earnest: “I still need to thank you.”

“Thank you, Jiang Yan; thank you… and thank you to so many people…”

Luo Mu intended to list them but was suddenly choked up, unable to find the words to describe it for a moment.

“Sister Muzi,” Yan Qingzhu called to her.

“Yes,” Luo Mu responded.

Yan Qingzhu walked away in the opposite direction, waving her hand like a peerless hero finally vanishing back into the deep mountains. Her voice was loud: “Goodnight!”

At that moment, Luo Mu couldn’t hold it back. Trembling, large tears rolled down her cheeks. At this moment, she could finally wail aloud.

Growing up is never an easy thing. You have to fight monsters, cross bridges, and overcome countless darknesses and despairs that threaten to swallow you. The pain of growth is being forced to say goodbye to your former self over and over again, tearing your cognition into fragments and reassembling them.

Growth is never a happy process.

But precisely because one craves that sliver of warm light, one is willing to become strong to fight against the oncoming hardships. At least when the black curtain falls and the stars twinkle, we can still say to each other, “Goodnight.”

Goodnight, Yan Qingzhu. We will both have good dreams.

Goodnight, Luo Mu. We will both dream of the people we want to see.