Hedgehog's Belly - Chapter 33

Chapter 33

Taking advantage of the weekend, Luo Mu returned once again to the Buddhist temple she had visited before in Chujiang. That ancient locust tree still stood tall through the years. Luo Mu circled it several times, desperately hoping to find that unfamiliar wooden plaque from before—the one that looked like a work of art.

It must be her. Luo Mu’s heart suddenly tightened with pain.

However, after more than half a year, the old plaques had been cleared away, leaving only the prayer plaques from the past few months. Countless sincere beliefs fluttered in the wind, the plaques colliding and rubbing against each other to create a clear, crisp sound.

Luo Mu’s legs felt weak. She crouched on the ground, painfully recalling the handwriting on that plaque and comparing it in her mind to the handwriting in that person’s biology book.

She lied to me.

A heart-wrenching sensation swept over her like a tidal wave, and a cold sweat broke out on Luo Mu’s back. Her fingertips trembled uncontrollably. A massive sense of dread swallowed her whole, yet she had no strength to fight back.

Even if destiny is rugged and painful, I would kneel before the gods until my head bleeds to pray for a smooth path for your life.

Recalling that sentence felt like the twist of a knife; it was a pain akin to witnessing a festering wound on one’s own heart.

She had clearly been here before, yet she had pretended to be a beginner, clumsily learning how to pray. She didn’t believe in ethereal spirits, yet she prayed that Luo Mu could have a smooth path and a life free of worries.

In a daze, Luo Mu could almost see it: that person holding the wooden plaque, the wind blowing through her hair to reveal her fair neck. A lifetime of defiance finally surrendering to tenderness. Yan Qingzhu looking up, gazing at the ancient locust tree covered in prayer plaques, a faint smile on her face and compassion in her eyes.

Please, let us meet in a dignified way.

After a long while, Luo Mu’s vision blurred. She sat blankly on a stone bench. At the end of winter, there weren’t as many pilgrims as in other seasons; most of those who came were seeking divine mercy due to misfortunes or illness.

Once a person reaches the end of their rope, they need a faith to hold onto and a spiritual pillar to lean on.

“Is that A-Mu?” An elderly voice rang out.

Luo Mu looked up abruptly. An old man with a hunched back and a weathered face stood before her, holding a kettle, watching her with squinted eyes.

She recognized him. It was the old gentleman from before; half a year ago, he was the one who told Luo Mu she would meet a benefactor.

Luo Mu came to the temple in Chujiang every year, and this fortune teller saw her every year.

“A-Mu has something on her mind.” The gentleman sat with Luo Mu on the long stone bench. The tea set on the round stone table was simple, but sufficient to brew a cup of fragrant tea.

Luo Mu lowered her eyes, carrying a trace of exhaustion. “No.”

The gentleman smiled faintly and did not expose her lie.

“Sir, do the prayer plaques hung on the ancient locust tree really come true?” After a long silence, Luo Mu finally spoke, her voice carrying a slight tremor.

The gentleman brewed the tea, smiling with squinted eyes, his face peaceful. He did not say much.

Luo Mu fell into silence again. Several times she opened her mouth slightly, only to close it again.

“Sir, is the ‘benefactor’ you mentioned before real?” Luo Mu stammered, her brow furrowed, unsure of how to organize her words. “What if… I don’t need that benefactor? What would happen?”

The gentleman chuckled, placing the brewed tea in front of Luo Mu.

“That benefactor is here to repay a debt of gratitude; that is her fate. Whether you accept it or not—that is your fate.”

“In your past life, you saved that life, but you met an unhappy end. In this life, that person has come to repay you.”

Luo Mu frowned, unable to understand the gentleman’s words.

“In your previous life, you died because of rumors. You had no father or mother; no one cried out for your grievances, no one cleared your name.” The gentleman looked up and said unhurriedly, “But you saved a cat when you were alive. That child understood gratitude; it kept watch over your coffin and finally followed you in death.”

The scent of tea permeated the air, and the prayer plaques rattled against the locust leaves. Luo Mu felt as if a heavy boulder were pressing against her chest, painful and desperate.

She tilted her head back and closed her eyes to concentrate. After a long time, her expression became shaky.

“Will she suffer?”

“Suffering is inevitable.” The gentleman’s tone was leisurely. He refilled Luo Mu’s teacup, even letting it overflow slightly.

If someone avoids pain, someone else must bear it. It is like a tug-of-war, a gamble, a dead knot that cannot be untied.

Luo Mu stared at the overflowing cup, knowing it was the traditional signal for a guest to leave. She stood up slowly and bowed to the gentleman.

Looking back at the ancient locust tree covered in prayers, the wind rose, creating a rustling sound. Only then did Luo Mu recall that her own plaque back then only had two words left on it:

Be loved.

Just after finishing the organization of some old history essay questions, Luo Mu leaned back against her chair, her eyes vacant. Suddenly, Qin Jiahui tapped urgently on the window. Luo Mu couldn’t hear what she was shouting until Qin Jiahui rushed back through the back door of the classroom, saying frantically: “A girl from Class 3 fell down the stairs!”

Luo Mu gasped, her breath hitching in an instant.

“And then… then I saw Yan Qingzhu and a few others taking her to the infirmary,” Qin Jiahui was still visibly shaken; having witnessed the whole thing, her shoulders were trembling. “It just… happened so suddenly!”

Luo Mu hadn’t fully processed it yet. She kept blinking, terrified and confused. Class 3 was a pure science class with very few girls. Thinking back to when she peeked through the back door to borrow a book, Luo Mu wondered if it was one of Yan Qingzhu’s friends.

The incident caused a stir, leading the class advisor to call an emergency class meeting. He urged the students to pay attention to their health and, with the weather getting colder, to keep warm—reminding them that health comes first.

When the last class ended, Luo Mu ran to Class 3 and happened to lock eyes with Yan Qingzhu. The girl was deathly pale, her lips white. Only when she saw Luo Mu did a spark of light gradually return to her eyes.

After Yan Qingzhu tidied the books on her desk, she slung her bag over one shoulder and walked slowly toward Luo Mu.

At that moment, Luo Mu clearly felt that she wasn’t the only one who had been frightened. No matter how strong Yan Qingzhu’s inner world was, that heart only carried the weight of seventeen years. Facing a friend’s sudden accident, helplessness and confusion were bound to exist.

Yan Qingzhu took a breath and forced a smile: “The test results will be out in a bit, and I have to go to the city hospital. Will you go with me?”

Luo Mu looked up at her. The other girl’s gaze was shallow, like an endless abyss where the bottom couldn’t be seen, yet she was testing the waters cautiously.

Luo Mu’s eyelashes flickered. Just as she was about to speak, Yan Qingzhu let out another soft sigh. “Stay with me.”

Her tone was light, like someone drowning and struggling, reaching out repeatedly but catching nothing, only wanting to grab onto a final piece of driftwood.

At the city hospital, Yan Qingzhu’s pace quickened so much that Luo Mu could barely keep up. People were coming and going; it was easy to fall behind and be swallowed by the crowd.

“Take my hand, don’t get lost.” Yan Qingzhu didn’t look back, habitually reaching her right hand behind her. Luo Mu quickly took it, her eyes catching the familiar red string bracelet.

The girl led her through the crowd, and Luo Mu clearly felt Yan Qingzhu’s knuckles trembling involuntarily.

That was the first time Luo Mu witnessed Yan Qingzhu’s agitation and panic.

Seeing Ye Nanqiao leaning against the wall outside the ward, Yan Qingzhu asked quickly: “How is she? Did you tell the class advisor?”

“It’s nothing major. A mild concussion, a fractured left wrist, and some skin injuries. Mainly, the fever caused by her cold hasn’t gone down yet, and she hasn’t been eating well.” Ye Nanqiao propped her head up. It seemed that only after seeing Yan Qingzhu did the tense string in her heart finally snap. She said weakly: “I’ve already told the advisor, and he said he knows.”

Ye Nanqiao held back tears, slowly crouching down against the wall. She kept murmuring to herself, constantly blaming herself: “If only I had looked after her, it wouldn’t have…”

“Enough. Have you contacted her family?” Yan Qingzhu pulled her up, retaining a sliver of logic.

“Auntie is inside…” As Ye Nanqiao spoke, Luo Daier’s mother opened the door. Her expression was somewhat solemn, but she forced a smile and signaled to the girls: “Daier is awake. You can go in. I’m going downstairs to buy some porridge for her.”

Luo Mu looked up and released Yan Qingzhu’s hand, her tone turning flat: “You guys go ahead. I’ll wait out here.”

Yan Qingzhu looked at her with some worry at first, but was then pulled into the room by Ye Nanqiao to gather around Luo Daier’s bed.

Through the small window in the door, Luo Mu saw the girl with bandages wrapped around her head, yet she still had the energy to laugh and talk with her friends.

Luo Mu felt a pang of envy. Even in the most dangerous moments, she still had two or three close friends by her side, their emotions intertwined. From then on, life was no longer defined by the word “lonely.”

Luo Mu sat on the chair outside the ward, swinging her feet. After an unknown amount of time, the door clicked open. Ye Nanqiao was being dragged out by Yan Qingzhu.

“Aaaah, I’m not leaving! I want to stay with my Sister Daier!” Ye Nanqiao screamed, shifting her entire weight downward, being completely hauled along by Yan Qingzhu.

Yan Qingzhu lost her patience: “If you don’t rest, Sister Luo needs to rest too!”

“I need to get this thing downstairs first; I’m afraid she’ll roll down the stairs too.” Yan Qingzhu signaled to Luo Mu, and Luo Mu nodded quickly.

Luo Mu watched Yan Qingzhu drag the girl to the end of the hallway. She looked back toward the open ward. Luo Daier was lying on the bed, her complexion much better. Her shimmering gaze landed on Luo Mu, and the two locked eyes.

“Come in, it’s quite cold outside.” Luo Daier beckoned her. Luo Mu walked in and asked in a low voice: “How are you feeling now, Student Luo?”

“I’m very good now.” Luo Daier was momentarily amused by her politeness. She waved her right hand and said, “Luo Mu, just call me Daier.”

Luo Mu was also made to smile: “You guys are so special. It’s like everyone knows me.”

Luo Mu lowered her eyes.

Whether it was Ye Nanqiao or Luo Daier, they could both recognize Luo Mu at first glance.

Even when she first met Yan Qingzhu, the girl could call out her name instantly.

It was as if it were destined.

But she had never thought about it before.

Luo Daier smiled faintly and did not reveal the reason.

“Is Luo Mu from Chujiang?” Luo Daier sighed softly.

Luo Mu thought it was just casual small talk and nodded.

“Then…” Luo Daier’s tone slowed and lengthened as she gazed at Luo Mu. She said, word by word, “Do you believe there are gods three feet above our heads?”

“What?” Luo Mu immediately felt something was off. The person before her had a gentle gaze, but the question she asked was clearly purposeful.

Seeing this, the girl explained with a smile: “Worshipping gods and Buddhas is a local characteristic of Chujiang. I was thinking that since we are both from Chujiang, would Luo Mu have this habit?”

Luo Mu said nothing, her fingertips curling slightly as she gripped her clothes.

“Daier, if you have something to say, just say it directly.”

Luo Daier was taken aback, then laughed softly: “Yan Qingzhu and Ye Nanqiao aren’t from Chujiang; naturally, their families don’t have the habit of worshipping gods.”

“So I was thinking, that red string on Yan Qingzhu’s wrist should be something you gave her.” Luo Daier’s smile gradually faded, leaving only a look of pity.

“The red string indeed carries the meaning of warding off disaster, but it actually has another meaning.”

Luo Daier’s expression was complex. “That is to ward off disaster on behalf of another.”

When a senior gives the string, it is meant to ward off disaster.

But when a peer gives the string, there is an underlying meaning: to bear the disaster for them.

Luo Mu was suddenly stunned, her mind going blank as she stared back at Luo Daier. Her eyes turned sharp, like a wild beast facing a predator ready to bite its prey.

Gradually, Luo Mu withdrew her sharpness. It was somewhat ironic. Finally, she let a smile form on the corner of her mouth: “Does Daier mean… that I am using her?”