Hedgehog's Belly - Chapter 26

Chapter 26

When Luo Mu arrived in the classroom early in the morning, she caught sight of a gift box sitting on her desk.

“Cream puffs—?” Luo Mu untied the green ribbon. Four oversized cream puffs lay nestled inside the box.

Yan Qingzhu had already sent word ahead of time, saying they were made by Ye Nanqiao during her free time, and that she was merely letting Luo Mu act as a guinea pig.

Luo Mu smiled faintly. Though she complained with her words, a warmth welled up in her heart.

At least someone was thinking of her, and that was enough.

She had never been particularly sensitive to sweets, so she naturally placed the gift box on Qin Jiahui’s desk.

It was always like this; whether it was a small piece of mung bean cake, she would wait for Qin Jiahui to return before sharing it. There was a period when the family nanny would steam eggs for Luo Mu to take to school, but Luo Mu didn’t like the taste of the yolks. During that time, she would always wait for Qin Jiahui to return to school; Luo Mu would eat the whites, and Qin Jiahui would eat the yolks.

One person never understood why the other disliked yolks, while the other wondered why the first disliked whites.

A single egg had brought the two of them closer together.

Qin Jiahui would often tease her: “Eating along with you, I’ve already gained three pounds.”

Luo Mu would always smile and nod, never making a sound.

What Qin Jiahui didn’t know was that Luo Mu cherished every opportunity to share food. Since A-ma passed away, she rarely dined with others.

Even when her father brought her to the new house, she would hide in the furthest corner by herself, clutching a small bowl and swallowing quietly. As a child, Luo Mu had named the small stool she frequently sat on “Fan-Fan” (Food-Food). Back then, Luo Mu always felt that it wasn’t just an ordinary stool; it was her friend “Fan-Fan” who accompanied her through meals.

She would use brushes to paint small flowers on the stool. When she missed A-ma, she would flip the stool over and write messages to her on the back.

So, when Qin Jiahui wasn’t paying attention, Luo Mu would occasionally call her “Fan-Fan” in a low voice.

Qin Jiahui didn’t mind, letting her use the nickname as she pleased.

When Qin Jiahui returned to the classroom and pried open the gift box, she caught sight of the brand logo on the box. Her surprise was tinged with delight. “It’s from A-Zhi’s! Mumu, how did you manage to buy this?!”

“A friend gave it to me.” Luo Mu organized her books, tidying her practice papers with an unhurried tone. Although she didn’t know why Qin Jiahui reacted that way, she could guess that the shop was likely quite special.

“It’s A-Zhi’s! Last time I waited in line for three hours and still couldn’t get anything!”

Qin Jiahui examined the logo repeatedly. Once she was certain, she picked up a cream puff and gestured toward Luo Mu. Luo Mu, assuming she wanted to eat, nodded.

A-Zhi’s was a famous dessert and bakery brand in Chujiang, located near Jingguan Garden. Luo Mu had indeed heard topics regarding how difficult it was to make reservations and such, but she hadn’t expected it to be as exaggerated as Qin Jiahui described.

Luo Mu flicked her hand dismissively, her tone indifferent: “I was planning to save them for you anyway.”

She observed the logo on the box, having no intention of taking them back.

She understood very well that value is something bestowed by people.

Using a single price point to define so-called value was indeed too one-sided.

“Here, for you.” Qin Jiahui handed the first cream puff to Luo Mu with a smile. “I don’t know if it suits your taste, but you can’t go wrong with A-Zhi’s!”

The corners of Luo Mu’s mouth lifted slightly as she took it naturally. She took a small bite; the matcha flavor was rich, carrying a unique slight bitterness, yet it was mellow and fragrant.

“Hey, this friend of yours is really wicked—why send something so bitter?” Qin Jiahui took a bite, her expression twisting slightly. “Is the highest realm of desserts actually bitterness?”

Luo Mu was amused by the person in front of her and pulled out a tissue, gesturing for her to wipe the cream from the corner of her mouth.

If it were truly as Yan Qingzhu said—that Ye Nanqiao made them by hand—then there was no telling what kind of massive corporate backing stood behind her friend. Luo Mu didn’t know her at all, nor did she know her friends.

She didn’t know A-Zhi’s; she didn’t know why the highest realm of desserts was bitterness; she didn’t know why some people liked eating egg yolks. Rather than saying she kept to herself, it was more accurate to say she was ignorant of everything except her studies.

A dark, damp room without a sliver of light.

A lifetime of dampness.

In this corner where the sun never reached, Luo Mu had never imagined that the rusted iron door would stand wide open.

It was just that Luo Mu didn’t want to walk out.

Once the midterm exams passed, time hit the fast-forward button. The December chill froze knuckles until they turned pale, making people shiver involuntarily. Luo Mu used transparent tape to reseal the fraying creases of her well-worn history timeline outline.

Qin Jiahui often teased her: “Mend it and fix it for another three years.”

“Don’t say ‘another three years.’ High school life isn’t meant for humans.” Luo Mu stretched her back and lightly rubbed her shoulders; her long-term poor posture had left her with a host of minor ailments. Leaning against the back of her chair, she looked up at the fluorescent lights on the ceiling. Blurry halos of light flickered in her eyes, and she couldn’t help but close them.

She constantly asked herself: where exactly is the future?

Yet she had read in a book: Not knowing what destiny is—that is destiny.

Luo Mu didn’t understand the sentence, laughing at her own shallow learning; she was nothing but a “life idiot.”

“Once I leave this campus, I’m a life idiot.” Luo Mu closed her exercise book and took a refill for her pen out of the drawer, her tone indifferent yet tinged with self-deprecation. She removed the empty ink cartridge and replaced it with a new one. “I don’t know what the ‘Five Insurances and One Fund’ are, and I don’t know how to reject a courier if it’s sent to the wrong address.”

“I don’t know how to prove my innocence if I’m framed, and I don’t know how to decline an invitation I don’t want to attend.” Luo Mu muttered to herself, but these words weren’t really meant for Qin Jiahui; instead, they seemed like doubts rooted deep in her heart.

It felt as though these problems would suddenly become clear once she grew up.

But, what exactly counts as growth?

And what is the price of growth?

“Mumu, if you’re framed, you don’t need to prove your innocence. If you don’t want to go to an appointment, you don’t have to go.”

Qin Jiahui snatched Luo Mu’s math exercise book and flipped to the final “bottleneck” problem she had just finished. Although the handwriting wasn’t very beautiful, as deskmates who hadn’t been separated by the homeroom teacher despite changing seats three times, she could see the steps clearly.

Complex mathematical diagrams—some people see two or three solutions at a glance, some rack their brains only to find one, and some still can’t solve it even after hearing the explanation.

But there was no shame in that.

“As for the Five Insurances and One Fund and the courier stuff, I don’t know either, hahahaha.” The corners of Qin Jiahui’s mouth lifted as she followed Luo Mu’s steps, sketching with her pen tip, and then substituted the derivative into the formula.

“Hey, but I bet Yan Qingzhu wouldn’t understand either, hahahaha.” Qin Jiahui wrote out the final step on her scratch paper. Seeing it matched the answer in Luo Mu’s book, she let out an excited gasp. “Yeah! I finally figured it out.”

Luo Mu looked back at the problem; the maximum value of K was 3.

When the twenty-seven-year-old Luo Mu opened her high school graduation album, she would recall how back then, Qin Jiahui could be happy for an entire day because she solved a math bottleneck problem, or brag on her social media because she ate a dessert she liked.

But now, things had changed and people were different. The twenty-seven-year-old Luo Mu couldn’t bear to tell the seventeen-year-old Qin Jiahui that she would study a major she disliked in university, and more so, at the age for marriage, she would compromise because of her parents and spend the rest of her life with someone she didn’t love.

In the end, it became a lifelong knot in her heart.

The last time she saw Qin Jiahui was at her wedding.

She remembered during their university years, Jiahui would always show off her newly bought jars and bottles of skincare. In Luo Mu’s memory, nothing was more precious to Qin Jiahui than that face. Yet as a new bride, her makeup was heavy and thick, while her eyes were bloodshot. All emotions became worthless at that moment.

The mermaid-style wedding dress accentuated her waistline; the light’s reflection made it look solemn and elegant. That was the first time Luo Mu witnessed the solemnity and sanctity of a wedding.

Amidst the noisy clamor, she stood blankly beside the groom, slowly forcing a smile. Luo Mu, however, hid in a corner. She hadn’t become the “chief bridesmaid” as Qin Jiahui had promised in university; instead, she became just another ordinary guest among the crowd.

But Luo Mu’s gaze fell on Qin Jiahui’s slightly trembling fingertips, witnessing her helplessness and bitterness.

She was as helpless as a child who had accidentally stumbled into the adult world.

It was no longer like the travels of youth.

“Fan-Fan.” Luo Mu buried her head in her arms, lying on her desk.

“What?” Qin Jiahui responded. The wind kissed the girl’s hair; her gaze was bright and clear.

“I hope you are always this happy.” Luo Mu’s tone was faint, her eyelashes trembling, curving into a beautiful arc.

My dear friend, I hope you are happy.

That is all.

Not knowing what destiny is—that is destiny.

The sudden sentiment left Qin Jiahui momentarily dazed, but when her eyes met the other girl’s, they were like a still pond without a single ripple. She knew something wasn’t quite right with the person in front of her, but she pretended it was nothing, revealing a smile and saying confidently: “Of course.”

“I don’t like compromising for others.”

Qin Jiahui looked happily at the steps she had successfully calculated, examining them with pride, the corners of her mouth curling upward: “And no one can make me compromise.”

No one can make me compromise.

The arrogance of youth knows no bounds, harboring a heroic spirit that believes all things are for one’s own use. Even if there are no shortage of rugged peaks, they still believe their lives will be intense and burning hot.

Luo Mu watched her, a trace of a smile spreading across her features. Yet, what was hidden beneath her trembling eyelashes was a look of pity.

She only feared that the spirit of youth would vanish much faster than imagined.

After a few classes had passed, upon inadvertently hearing a few familiar dates, Qin Jiahui’s eyes flashed. She tilted her head toward Luo Mu, who was taking notes, her eyes sparkling. “Mumu, I heard from the class next door that the tenth-grade classrooms are being borrowed as an examination hall, right during Christmas. We’ll have a three-day long weekend—do you want to spend it with me?”

“I promised a relative earlier that I’d go to Lingyang City, so I can’t accompany you.”

Before Luo Mu could finish, Qin Jiahui threw an arm around her shoulders, her voice low and carrying a mischievous intent, her other hand pinning Luo Mu down so she couldn’t move.

Her movements were swift; no matter how many times Qin Jiahui did it, Luo Mu could never react in time.

“Can the Great Chujiang not accommodate our Luo Mu for Christmas?” Qin Jiahui teased with a laugh. Suddenly she paused, then lightly bumped her head against Luo Mu’s. “Hey, I just thought—doesn’t Lingyang have a Christmas light show? Are you going to see it with some ‘babe’?”

“Give it a rest. I’m going to see a distant cousin. That child has been making a fuss since summer break, so I’m just getting ready to go see her.” Luo Mu finally broke free from the other’s restraint and pinched Qin Jiahui’s arm before slowly explaining.

Thinking back to that child, it was true that Luo Mu had been too cold-hearted. Her cousin, Qiu Shuangyi, had adored her older sister since she was small, willing to follow behind Luo Mu no matter how much Luo Mu scolded or hit her. As a child, Luo Mu envied the perfection of that child’s family, but the envy of a child is unutterable; she could only alleviate the imbalance in her heart by making the child in front of her suffer a bit of pain.

During the height of summer in their childhood, when kids were playing in the water, Luo Mu had led Qiu Shuangyi to the edge of a shallow pond. Actually, the pond only reached Luo Mu’s waist, but Luo Mu didn’t know how to swim. It just so happened that Qiu Shuangyi had only recently learned; Luo Mu claimed she had accidentally dropped her necklace into the pond and, being unable to swim, requested Qiu Shuangyi’s help.

Luo Mu took her hand, crying out in grievance: “Shuangyi, my necklace accidentally fell into the water. You can swim—can you help me find it?”

At that time, Qiu Shuangyi was wearing a new dress. Her small hands rubbed together, her brow furrowed. How could she have known that her usually respected cousin had other intentions? “This is my new dress; I can’t go into the water.”

“But that was the only thing my mother left for me.” Luo Mu’s eyes turned red, and a tear suddenly welled up, sliding down her cheek and leaving a tear stain.

Though she was young, Qiu Shuangyi understood that Luo Mu’s current mother was not her real mother.

In the words of the adults, her sister’s mother had died a long time ago.

Qiu Shuangyi couldn’t bear it and went into the water. Despite it being midsummer, the chill of the pond water made her shiver involuntarily. Qiu Shuangyi held her breath and dipped her head down, clutching a branch on the bank to avoid slipping.

She soaked like that for nearly an hour.

Meanwhile, Luo Mu squatted on the bank, propping her head on her hand, watching the whole scene with a giggle.

She didn’t want to admit it, but she truly envied Qiu Shuangyi.

And she was jealous of Qiu Shuangyi.

It happened that Qiu’s mother, searching for her daughter, saw them. She turned pale with shock and hauled Qiu Shuangyi out of the pond, using a handkerchief to wipe the water droplets from her daughter’s cheeks, all while whispering anxiously to check for injuries.

Qiu’s mother’s first words weren’t of blame toward her daughter, but an observation of her condition. After confirming repeatedly, she breathed a sigh of relief, her tone soft:

“Why did you go into the water?”

“Sister Luo’s necklace fell into the pond; her mother gave it to her. Sister Luo can’t swim, so I went in to help her find it.” Qiu Shuangyi didn’t think it was a prank; instead, her tone carried a trace of urgency, tears swirling in her eyes.

Qiu’s mother caught sight of Luo Mu nearby, her gaze instantly transforming like a wild beast protecting its cub. The strong aggression of an adult was strangely familiar to ten-year-old Luo Mu. Luo Mu looked at Qiu’s mother indifferently, her eyes clear and pure, but Qiu’s mother saw that the child was not harboring good intentions.

“Her mother died before she could even speak; she left nothing behind. How could there be a necklace?” Qiu’s mother’s brow furrowed tightly as she draped the towel she had just taken out over Qiu Shuangyi, complaining, “Even so, you shouldn’t go into the water alone. That’s really too dangerous!”

Qiu Shuangyi didn’t understand why the two of them said different things. She stared blankly at her cousin, but Luo Mu wouldn’t look her in the eye.

Later, Qiu Shuangyi caught a cold and fell seriously ill. After that, she never saw her cousin again.

Just as Qiu’s mother had said, after her mother died, she left nothing for Luo Mu.

Not even a single photograph.

Luo Mu looked up, watching Qin Jiahui beside her, and couldn’t help but smile.

Counting it up, seven years had already passed.