Hedgehog's Belly - Chapter 46

Chapter 46

While Yan Yu was resting, Yan Qingzhu prepared to put her sister’s clothes in the washing machine, only to find a knit cardigan she had never seen before. The stitching was neat, the texture comfortable, and it emanated a profound sense of gentleness.

Yan Qingzhu’s brow furrowed slightly. She usually helped buy all of her sister’s clothing, yet she had no memory of this particular jacket. She brought it close to her nose and caught the scent of beef tallow spicy hotpot.

A ripple of emotion surfaced on her otherwise expressionless face.

The corners of her mouth curled up unconsciously. She found the chat box for that person on her phone screen and typed, character by character.

Q: Thank you on behalf of Yan Yu.

Q: I’ll return the jacket to you after I wash it.

Yan Qingzhu stared at the screen for a long time, but no message came from the other side. Beneath her expectant gaze, her sparse eyelashes trembled softly; she felt a sense of loss, as if waiting for a hollow delusion.

Eventually, Yan Qingzhu sighed and put her phone back in her pocket. The disappointment that had flashed across her features vanished without a trace under the weight of her logic.

She truly had many questions to ask, but as time passed, it seemed those questions that once tormented her became less important. At this moment, she simply wanted to see her again—even if it was just a distant glimpse.

Yan Qingzhu set the washing machine cycle and stared through the floor-to-ceiling window at the city of Lingyang. The neon lights and worldly prosperity were nothing more than this.

Back then, she had been dead set on coming here.

Whenever Ye Nanqiao talked about high school in their group chat and brought up Luo Mu, she would always ask: “Are you two still in touch?”

Yan Qingzhu didn’t want to deal with her at first, but finally, annoyed by the persistence, she replied with two words.

“We aren’t.”

Ye Nanqiao was always shocked: “Why?! Weren’t you two really close?!”

Yan Qingzhu never replied again.

Why.

Yan Qingzhu pressed her temples; she knew the answer better than anyone.

Perhaps for Luo Mu, some of the hardships and problems of reality were too difficult to explain clearly. After seeking answers within herself to no avail, she had turned to the protection of the divine. Seeking a sense of openness within the void, she let her drifting soul find a place to belong.

To others, it looked like a joke or ignorance.

But Yan Qingzhu understood that it was Luo Mu’s own way of saving herself.

Some people simply need a bit of faith to survive.

Although Yan Qingzhu didn’t know what Luo Mu’s faith had told her when they went to the temple in Lingyang together during their sophomore year, Luo Mu had become more guarded afterward—like a frightened hedgehog, moving with extreme caution.

Luo Mu had never told Yan Qingzhu any of this.

But Yan Qingzhu had basically guessed it all.

Luo Mu was right.

Perhaps they were incompatible.

Or perhaps it was because they were too compatible.

Too compatible—knowing exactly where the other’s scars were, able to dismantle the other’s dignity with a single look without even trying. The process of tearing, decomposing, and restructuring in front of each other was destined to be a painful experience. Like a sudden autumn rain, it hammered their respective lives into fragments, like a grand and damp homeland. And that homeland was a deep-seated confusion, numbness, and void that never saw the light of day.

Sister Muzi, is that what you think?

After a moment, the phone in her pocket vibrated with a notification for a new message.

lomo: Just keep it for now. I’ll come get it when I have time.

Yan Qingzhu replied quickly, only seconds apart.

Q: If it’s inconvenient for you, I can bring it back to you.

Afterward, the person on the other side didn’t reply again. Yan Qingzhu stared blankly at the screen. These few minutes were agonizing; even her breathing slowed down.

lomo: I’m very busy lately. Just leave it there for now.

Yan Qingzhu froze, her eyes scanning the sentence on the screen.

She’s busy. She doesn’t have time to deal with this.

She could have chosen not to care about any of this.

Yan Qingzhu frowned. An instant intertwining of guilt and emptiness caused a sharp pain in her heart.

Her fingertips slowly tapped out two words.

Q: Sorry.

Luo Mu finally finished organizing the materials she needed to submit for this stage, binding them and placing them in a file bag. She finally let out a sigh and stretched against the back of her chair. When she turned her screen back on, she saw Yan Qingzhu’s new message.

From thirty minutes ago.

Luo Mu stared at the two words sent by that person and paused for a long time.

That person said: Sorry.

A sense of tragic heroism that was hard to conceal instantly occupied her mind. Luo Mu’s fingertips trembled as they hovered over those two words. She bit her lip, trying her best to control the tears suspended in her eyes so they wouldn’t fall.

Who was the one who should say sorry?

Who was the guilty one?

Perhaps language is destined to lead to friction and misunderstanding. Even if Luo Mu wanted to explain, she was pulled back to reality by her stubbornness. But those words lurked in her language like sharp blades.

“Sorry… I’m the one who should be sorry…” Luo Mu’s voice trailed off with a tremor, her body wrapped in repentance.

But an explanation—how could she explain?

Luo Mu put her phone back on the desk and lay on the bed, covering her head with the quilt, listening to the sound of her heartbeat.

Would Yan Qingzhu understand?

An atoning believer struggling against a predestined path—the insights she once had regarding the soul in the midst of suffering had now become the barb Luo Mu least wanted to touch.

The path told her that the person would block all uncertainties for her. And Luo Mu naively believed that only by staying away—further and further away—until the name “Luo Mu” was no longer a memory in her life, would Luo Mu’s karma cease to affect that person’s journey.

If she told her, would she understand this kind of bitterness?

But seeing Yan Qingzhu again, Luo Mu’s heart softened; she was unwilling to walk in the opposite direction. In that moment, if Yan Qingzhu were willing to take her away, she would definitely choose to go with her.

She really wanted to take a gamble.

But… was she allowed to?

After the school documents for the autumn exchange students were released, Luo Mu didn’t need to be overly anxious anymore. Once the matters between school and life were settled, Luo Mu calculated her tutoring fees, researching whether she could scrape together enough for living expenses abroad.

Food, communication, and various other costs added up—it might still be difficult.

Luo Mu couldn’t help but sigh, crossing out the fee analysis she had calculated countless times on her scratch paper. Just when she thought she had sorted out the loose ends of her life, it turned out that behind one mountain was another. Her previously stable part-time tutoring job had also come to an end.

A while back, she had tutored a student taking the Japanese Gaokao, but the girl suffered from severe bipolar disorder. Luo Mu witnessed her despairing and painful struggle, yet found herself powerless to help.

—”Teacher Luo, why won’t my parents ever accept it? I’ve told them many times, this isn’t a disease…”

—”Why… why is liking a girl considered disgusting? They always think it’s my problem…”

—”Teacher Luo, is it really wrong to like a girl?”

Luo Mu had gazed at this girl—she had excellent grades, a wealthy family, and outstanding looks. To others, such a “favored child of heaven” didn’t deserve to have troubles. Yet it was this very girl who now viewed Luo Mu as her only lifeline, her eyes showing a devout light, desperately seeking a sliver of solace from her.

Luo Mu could only hold the trembling child, stroking her head gently, her tone soft: “Of course it isn’t.”

Of course it isn’t.

The pupils beneath Luo Mu’s drooping lashes were dark and bright. She could no longer tell if these words were meant for the child or if they were just a bit of self-consolation for herself.

“Teacher Luo, you won’t understand this feeling…” The girl gave up on herself, assuming Luo Mu was simply offering empty comfort, believing that people cannot truly empathize.

The girl wiped the tears from the corner of her eyes and continued: “You won’t understand the feeling of a girl falling for a girl…”

Luo Mu didn’t immediately refute her. Her gaze simply landed on the desk lamp. The warm light cast a hazy and elegant halo, and an image of a certain someone couldn’t help but surface in Luo Mu’s mind. The person whose arm was covered in scribbled math steps, waiting with a grin for her to go home together.

—”Then I’ll also give a part of my love to Sister Muzi.”

—”I told the divine that Luo Mu must always love herself.”

—”Then, in Sister Muzi’s wishes, is there no Yan Qingzhu?”

Luo Mu’s nose stung. After a long while, she finally forced out a sentence: “I understand.”

Luo Mu used a red pen to mark the girl’s mistakes again, her tone low yet firm: “Because the person I love is also a girl.”

This was the first time Luo Mu had given such a definitive answer.

The black box hidden deep in the young girl’s heart was opened once more. The girl’s emotions surged instantly, while the twenty-year-old Luo Mu could only watch as the child wailed loudly.

Luo Mu suddenly recalled her after-class conversation with Qin Jiahui at seventeen. She wondered if the girl Qin Jiahui had mentioned—the one who gave up four years of youth with a same-sex lover only to marry a blind date four months later—was happy now.

Because love cannot just be love.

Luo Mu didn’t have much knowledge of educational psychology, and the middle schools near the Lingyang universities all practiced high-pressure education. In every tutoring session, she encountered many problems she was powerless to solve. Finally, after repeatedly confirming that the education industry wasn’t for her, she chose the direction of economics and trade.

After class, Luo Mu dialed a familiar number. It wasn’t until she heard the other person’s “Hello” that she felt a sense of relief.

“Sister Qiyun, I have good news. My exchange student project was approved.” Luo Mu’s tone was flat, as if the dust had settled, celebrating with a friend.

“Really?! That’s great!” Lin Qiyun laughed excitedly on the other end: “Congratulations, little sister Luo Mu!”

“It’s just, Sister Qiyun, I’ve run into some things, and I want to…” Luo Mu’s words came to an abrupt halt, and Lin Qiyun sensed her abnormality.

“Little Luo, you can tell me anything. Don’t worry about money or anything else.” Lin Qiyun comforted her. Having finally secured the exchange student project, it would be a true pity to stop halfway because of an issue.

And Luo Mu was waiting for those words.

“Sister Qiyun, I might need some money for this year as an exchange student.” Luo Mu gradually pushed forward, telling her her financial requirements: “I can write an IOU, with a monthly interest rate of three percent.”

“Three percent monthly interest? You’re still a student; won’t that be a bit difficult for you?” Lin Qiyun paused and then asked carefully: “How much are you planning to borrow?”

“One hundred thousand.” Luo Mu answered succinctly.

There was silence on the other end. Then, Lin Qiyun reminded her again: “Principal plus interest—the amount you return in the end won’t be just one hundred thousand.”

“Sister, I trust you, so don’t you distrust me.” Luo Mu let out a chuckle and watched a bird in the distance fly away, never to return. She was afraid she was going to follow this path to the very end.

“There’s a foreign trade contract in July or August. If it goes through, I’ll get a commission, and I’ll lend it to you then.” Lin Qiyun sighed, thinking this child was quite bold. A sophomore who hadn’t even entered society yet was already calculating life with the tone of a seasoned adult.

“Okay, thank you, Sister Qiyun.” Luo Mu smiled and hung up the phone.

Afterward, she slumped onto a wooden bench near the teaching building. The greenery was well-watered, and students who had just finished class passed by nearby.

“Lin Qiyun,” Luo Mu said to herself.

This senior was a mainstay in her father’s company and understood social networking very well. What Luo Mu wanted to do was simply maintain a good relationship with this senior so that even if her father left the company to Ji Rongshu in the future, Luo Mu could still get a bit of inside information.

In fact, Luo Mu didn’t lack that hundred thousand; she only did it to calculate the value and profit created behind a single deal made by that person. Without Lin Qiyun, Luo Mu wouldn’t have many chances to come into contact with her father’s company, let alone its future direction.

Luo Mu suddenly felt like a hedgehog whose spines were covered in filth and poison.

After everything was handled, Luo Mu habitually left the student street and walked into a small alley. Puddles still remained on the stone road after the light rain. She pushed open a door to an old-fashioned dessert shop.

“Uncle Wu, the usual, red bean milk ice.” As soon as she entered, Luo Mu greeted the owner.

“Oh, A-Luo is here.” The owner said politely: “No sugar, I know.”

Few people came to this street. Aside from the permanent old residents and students who found their way here, generally no one noticed it.

Luo Mu smiled politely and moved her gaze to an empty seat. Suddenly, she noticed a familiar figure who had been watching her since she entered.

Luo Mu was surprised: “Yan Yu?!”