Hedgehog's Belly - Chapter 34

Chapter 34

“D*mmit, Yan Qingzhu, let go of me!” Ye Nanqiao’s wrist hurt from being pulled; she clawed with her other hand, trying to break free, her fingernails leaving deep red marks on Yan Qingzhu’s right arm.

The two remained in a deadlock, constantly confronting one another. Ye Nanqiao was making a scene, shifting her center of gravity downward and letting Yan Qingzhu drag her along.

“Sister Daier doesn’t even want to scold you, but you haven’t rested since this afternoon—do you want to collapse too?!” Frustrated by the noise, Yan Qingzhu let go of Ye Nanqiao with a sharp fling. In an instant, her emotions ignited, and she roared: “Fine, fine, fine! None of you care about your lives, do you?!”

Ye Nanqiao was stunned into silence. Trembling, she crouched down. She buried her head in her arms and began to sob alone.

Normally, if Yan Qingzhu confronted her in such a tone, she would definitely have lunged forward to give her a punch. But now, Ye Nanqiao was frightened by Yan Qingzhu’s shouting; her eyes were bloodshot. Words were stuck in her throat, and she couldn’t say a thing.

Yan Qingzhu was right. From the moment Luo Daier had her accident until nightfall, Ye Nanqiao had spent those hours running around for test reports and fees by herself.

A girl who had lived a life of luxury since childhood had blindly and clumsily been forced to be independent and strong for the sake of a friend. Yan Qingzhu could guess that before this, she certainly didn’t know how to register or pay fees, or how to hold back tears when her best friend was seriously injured.

No one faces life without tripping.

Ye Nanqiao sat blankly in the lobby seat until the Ye family car stopped at the entrance. Only after Yan Qingzhu personally saw her into the car did she let out a breath of relief.

Before leaving, Ye Nanqiao rolled down the window and said in a weak, cautious voice: “This is the first time I’ve learned that you have to wait in line to pay fees.”

After sending Ye Nanqiao off, Yan Qingzhu returned to the lobby, where the heavy smell of hospital disinfectant hung in the air. In a daze, as her final nerve relaxed, Yan Qingzhu’s head suddenly spun, and her shoulder slammed hard against the wall. A brief buzzing rang in her ears, and her head felt like it was splitting. She forced herself back to a seat in the lobby and collapsed into it.

Motherfucker.

Yan Qingzhu lowered her head and cursed under her breath, constantly reminding herself to stay conscious. But an inexplicable sense of dread washed over her, pulling her back toward that torn and painful scene.

An intense pressure dragged her back into the deep sea, where no light could be glimpsed.

“Qingzhu?” Luo Mu suddenly placed both hands on the other’s shoulders. Her pupils trembled slightly as her gaze scanned her, her tone laced with panic: “What’s wrong?”

Her head spun, but her blurred vision gradually cleared.

Yan Qingzhu saw her clearly now, her brow furrowed: “Where’s Daier?”

“Her mother went up to stay with her; I came down first.” Luo Mu’s breathing was hitching, somewhat stagnant: “Are you too tired?”

Yan Qingzhu said nothing; she simply couldn’t speak.

“Let’s go home.” Luo Mu brushed aside the stray hairs covering Yan Qingzhu’s eyes, her tone gentle.

Yan Qingzhu nodded slowly.

The road back to the city was congested, a constant cycle of stopping and starting. Yan Qingzhu pressed the window button; facing the wind, the stray hairs on her forehead fluttered in its direction.

“Roll the window up a bit, don’t catch a cold.” Luo Mu sat on the other side, propping her head up with her hand as she turned to watch her.

Seeing that she didn’t move, Luo Mu leaned over her to raise the window. Just then, they reached a crossroad and the car braked suddenly; Luo Mu lurched forward, but luckily Yan Qingzhu’s hand blocked her, preventing a collision.

“Driver, go to Nanming.” Yan Qingzhu leaned back and closed her eyes; the dizziness still hadn’t disappeared. She figured going straight to Nanming would allow Luo Mu to go home and rest first.

“The shortcut from Nanming to Yueshi has been under renovation these past few days.” Luo Mu turned her head, her tone witty: “Are you… trying to come home with me?”

Yan Qingzhu didn’t open her eyes, but the corner of her mouth twitched, and her expression improved slightly.

“Take Zijin Road, driver. Go to Yueshi first, then please stop at Nanming.” Luo Mu didn’t hesitate to signal a different route to the driver. Zijin Road required a detour on the main highway, taking about half an hour longer than the usual route.

“Little girl, a detour means extra fare,” the driver reminded her.

“It’s fine, just go.” Luo Mu casually paid the extra amount. Yan Qingzhu smiled when she wasn’t looking, then sat up and put on a mock-aggrieved expression.

Yan Qingzhu’s voice was soft: “Is Sister Muzi not going to pick me up and take me home this time?”

“What would I pick you up for? To sell you for money?” Luo Mu stared in the direction the driver was heading, her tone flat, devoid of extra emotion.

She knew Yan Qingzhu always told unfunny jokes, yet Luo Mu always played along. For every word she said, Luo Mu had a comeback.

“You would never do that.” Yan Qingzhu grinned foolishly, her breathing shallow. The deep sandalwood scent of the other girl was now mixed with fresh jasmine; Yan Qingzhu only just realized she had changed her perfume.

But Luo Mu didn’t respond to her, not even sparing her a direct look.

“Luo Daier… did she say anything to you?” After a long while, Yan Qingzhu leaned in, probing cautiously, her tone a bit stumbling.

“She spoke ill of you,” Luo Mu responded very quickly.

“How come everyone I’m with speaks ill of me?” Yan Qingzhu felt gloomy, her right hand suddenly grabbing the other’s wrist.

She had heard the same rhetoric in her previous conversation with Jiang Yan.

As her wrist was pulled by the sudden force, Luo Mu reacted sharply, instinctively looking at her wrist.

As her gaze shifted, Luo Mu’s face darkened instantly. Her hair covered her eyes, so Yan Qingzhu couldn’t see her expression clearly.

Luo Mu’s voice was very low, her pupils trembling. No sound, no tone—an intense sense of emptiness left her mind instantly numb.

“The red string—is it broken?”

Only then did Yan Qingzhu realize something was wrong; the person before her looked terrified, her face turning deathly pale in an instant.

It was as if she were waiting, desperately, for an answer.

Yan Qingzhu pulled the broken red string bracelet from her other coat pocket, carefully placing it in her left hand and holding it out to Luo Mu.

“Sorry, I snapped it while trying to pull that idiot Ye Nanqiao back…” Yan Qingzhu lowered her eyes, staring at the marks where the red string had been strained and broken, her eyes full of guilt: “I’ll go sew it later…”

“No need.” Luo Mu was dazed, and as if devoid of emotional fluctuation, she coldly spat out those two words.

“I’ll do it when I get back today…” Yan Qingzhu explained anxiously.

“No need.” Luo Mu’s voice rose slightly, and Yan Qingzhu heard it clearly.

Luo Mu paused for a moment, her eyelashes trembling.

She hesitated, the words caught in her throat.

Then, Luo Mu said softly: “The red string is just for safety; if it’s broken, let it be.”

“It’s fine as long as you’re okay.”

Yan Qingzhu’s brow furrowed; she clearly felt an intense sense of distance from the person before her. Like a controlled puppet—no crying, no anger—she let this sentence dismiss her.

It was as if, in the next second, she would hear the sound of glass shattering.

“Luo Mu,” Yan Qingzhu sat up, her tone like a light white feather that could be crumpled in an instant: “Why do you always hope I’m okay?”

Yan Qingzhu leaned closer, her breath inches away. Luo Mu couldn’t help but shrink back, not daring to look her in the eye.

“Even if something happens to me, what of it?” Yan Qingzhu was filled with confusion.

What of it?

“Luo Mu.”

Yan Qingzhu’s voice was very low and deep, her fluctuating emotions suppressed by a certain force, resisting the urge to be impulsive.

Luo Mu gazed at Yan Qingzhu. Naturally, she didn’t know how to explain her thoughts to her; she didn’t want to transfer her pain onto another person.

“Even if something really happens to me, you must not be the first to step forward.” Yan Qingzhu leaned closer, resting her head near Luo Mu’s neck. Her slight breaths rose and fell, and her tone carried a trace of a shiver.

“You must not.”

If something really happens to me, you must stay away. Whether I live or die, just be yourself; don’t wade into this filthy, muddled water.

You must focus on yourself; don’t let me become the reason for your mixed joy and sorrow. If you believe in karma, then don’t let karma bind you.

I have always faced life’s challenges with dignity; I don’t need your worry.

This is my persistence.

When the car finally stopped near Yueshi, Yan Qingzhu got out and looked back at her. Luo Mu twitched the corner of her mouth, blinked calmly, and murmured softly: “Go back and rest well; today has been too exhausting.”

Yan Qingzhu lowered her eyes and nodded slowly.

Yan Qingzhu: “Message me when you get there.”

Luo Mu: “Okay.”

Their eyes met, yet neither could say the word “goodbye.” Luo Mu then signaled the driver, and the car slowly turned the corner.

Luo Mu gazed at the figure. When had they ever looked at each other from such a distance without a soft farewell?

After the car left Yueshi, Luo Mu’s fingertip rubbed the phone screen constantly, switching through interfaces. Complex emotions swirled like a giant wave; in this moment, she hated her own helplessness.

Her memory was filled entirely with what Luo Daier had said.

Luo Daier had been lying on the hospital bed, an IV drip in her hand, making it impossible for her to move easily. Her eyes trembled, her gaze turning into a shallow pool filled with clearly visible compassion.

—”But Yan Qingzhu cherishes you very much.”

She cherishes you.

In her weak breath, the end of the sentence carried a quiver.

Luo Mu was stunned and instinctively gripped the hem of her clothes.

“Not just the kind of cherishing between friends,” Luo Daier continued to explain.

Luo Mu was silent for a long time, a lump in her throat. How could she explain that none of this was what she wanted, that everything had spiraled out of her control?

The corners of Luo Daier’s mouth lifted slightly into a brilliant smile.

—”You won’t hurt her, will you?”

Luo Daier’s gaze fell on her, her eyelashes drooping low. Luo Daier knew very well that both Luo Mu and Yan Qingzhu knew exactly what they were doing and could bear the consequences.

Luo Mu remained silent, finding it difficult even to breathe. Then, she slowly uttered two words.

“I’m sorry.”

The voice was low, like a breeze dissipating in the ward.

Those two words felt as if they were going to shatter Luo Mu.

In the ensuing silence, Luo Daier calmly lowered her eyes, as if she had known the ending of the story all along. She watched, witnessing the other person say the words that most betrayed her own heart.

That sentence wasn’t actually meant for Luo Daier’s ears; instead, it was like a clear mirror, reflecting Luo Mu’s own most unsightly side.

At that moment, all of Luo Mu’s pride was obliterated.

In the moment she turned around, in the moment she faced herself alone—apathy, selfishness, and a heart full of schemes finally surfaced.

Like a rock tempered by the years, eventually turning into tiny pebbles, mixing with the mud after the rain, noticed by no one. Those mottled, turbulent traces were no longer the reason for her pain.