Hedgehog's Belly - Chapter 50

Chapter 50

The May heat in Lingyang was parching; the incessant drone of cicadas and the summer breeze—clogged with heat—roared willfully, making people feel restless and irritable.

The café was in a secluded spot, and few people frequented it in the afternoon. Inside, Qin Jiahui observed the constant vibration of message notifications on Luo Mu’s phone. Meanwhile, Luo Mu held her pen, entirely absorbed in reflecting on the knowledge points in her book.

“I see those messages have been ringing for ages. Are you sure you don’t want to check them?” Qin Jiahui raised an eyebrow with difficulty, asking probingly.

“No rush.” Luo Mu turned a page, her tone exceptionally calm.

“I feel like the person on the other end is going crazy with anxiety.” Qin Jiahui couldn’t take it anymore and flipped Luo Mu’s book shut. Imitating a child’s tone, she shook her shoulders: “Just one look, sister, take just one look.”

Luo Mu couldn’t win against her. Under Qin Jiahui’s urging, she checked the messages. She then pursed her lips, a hint of crimson rising to her cheeks as she let out an involuntary soft laugh.

Qin Jiahui frowned, witnessing the entire rise and fall of her emotions; even a fool could see a clue.

“Are you in a relationship?” Qin Jiahui asked without hesitation.

Luo Mu froze suddenly, her gaze scattering. She quickly shifted her eyes back to the professional textbook, flusteredly smoothing the stray hairs on her forehead.

Luo Mu’s voice was airy as she replied: “No, it’s Yan Qingzhu.”

Qin Jiahui didn’t react immediately, simply surprised that the two had remained in contact since high school. But if they were just ordinary friends, why was she smiling like that?

Sunlight shone through the glass onto the table. A cold frost formed on the walls of the iced coffee cup, breaking into water droplets. Only then did Qin Jiahui notice that Luo Mu’s textbook wasn’t a specialized Japanese book, but rather economics.

“Does a foreign language major offer this course?” Qin Jiahui propped up her chin, wondering why there would be such a fundamental major course in the linguistics department.

“I borrowed it from a senior in the School of Economics and Management earlier,” Luo Mu smiled faintly, spreading out her notes. Dense handwriting filled the pages. The handwriting of the seemingly well-behaved and shy girl was somewhat scribbled and messy, but the key knowledge points were clear at a glance.

“Language is just a tool. If you truly want to stand out from the crowd, you must broaden your reach into another field,” Luo Mu summarized simply. She showed Qin Jiahui the Japanese economic journals on her tablet, which were also covered in notes and circles.

After countless analyses, Luo Mu realized that it would be difficult to succeed by solely following the path of a foreign language major; the career choices were too limited and not the optimal selection. Minoring in another field was perhaps the best thing Luo Mu could do right now.

“Fair enough, you’ve thought it through,” Qin Jiahui laughed, nodding with relief. She then wiped the cream from the corner of her lips: “How is that exchange student thing going?”

Luo Mu’s emotion remained indifferent: “It’s going quite smoothly.”

“Are you sure there are no problems?” Qin Jiahui teased, though a trace of anxiety inexplicably rose in her heart: “What if someone actually blocks you?”

“No one can stop me, and no one will stop me.” Luo Mu brushed it off; this was a question Qin Jiahui had asked repeatedly. She used the side of her fork to slice a piece of the matcha mousse on her plate and put it in her mouth.

Luo Mu’s gentle tone made Qin Jiahui even more uneasy.

Qin Jiahui frowned and leaned slightly toward Luo Mu, controlling her emotions and speaking in a suppressed voice: “What if it was—Yan Qingzhu? Would you stay for her?”

Luo Mu froze instantly. She hadn’t expected Qin Jiahui to ask that.

If Yan Qingzhu wanted to stop her?

If someone were to stop her, and that person happened to be Yan Qingzhu?

Would she compromise?

“No, I wouldn’t compromise.” Luo Mu looked down at the book filled with notes. Every single stroke was a road she had paved for her own future. Her eyelashes trembled slightly, her voice rhythmic.

Luo Mu was so certain: “I have never needed the pity of others.”

Regarding the path she wanted to take, Luo Mu never hesitated for a moment.

“That’s good then.” Qin Jiahui seemed to get the definitive answer she wanted and finally let out a long sigh.

For a long while, Qin Jiahui didn’t focus on studying. Instead, she watched Luo Mu’s posture, finding it stranger the more she thought about it.

“Mumu, how come I’ve never heard about you liking anyone?” Qin Jiahui propped up her head, her gaze studying Luo Mu. Luo Mu’s heart skipped a beat, yet she didn’t know how to answer.

“Is it that there isn’t anyone, or you just don’t want to say?” Qin Jiahui probed carefully: “There should be someone, right?”

Luo Mu’s breathing hitched. She slowly lowered her gaze, her slightly upturned eyelashes trembling with her breath.

She always lived alone on her own planet. When she cast aside all trivial matters and barriers, she could hear a faint prayer for love and hope in the darkness.

It wasn’t that she hadn’t thought about being held tightly in someone’s arms, cherished like a treasure.

And that familiar figure occupied her entire youth memory; a wild and free wind blew through the most fragile part of her heart. She thought the wind would pass and never return, yet it seemed to stop only for her, causing her to delay her pursuit of death.

It was just that year, when the wisps of sunset clouds gathered together, blending into the light and shadow of an early autumn dusk. Luo Mu’s lips curled as she described Yan Qingzhu: “A girl reflected in the sunset can be endowed with the right to be loved.”

It was just meeting an old friend in a foreign land, sharing a grand feast of human fireworks. Beneath the blooming lights, Yan Qingzhu had said without reservation that she wanted to leave a part of her love for Luo Mu.

It was just that year, amidst the curling cigarette smoke and the rhythmic sounds of temple bells, when Yan Qingzhu had—like a fool—sincerely told Luo Mu to always be true to herself.

The answer had perhaps already existed during Luo Mu’s moment of silence.

Luo Mu looked at Qin Jiahui’s puzzled face and smiled softly. It was just that the “like” of a twenty-year-old was still too immature for Luo Mu; without going through the tempering of life, it was hard for Luo Mu to define what that person was thinking.

And this feeling brought Luo Mu an unprecedented, intense anxiety and unease.

But ultimately, it wasn’t that she didn’t believe in Yan Qingzhu, but that she didn’t believe in herself.

Luo Mu truly wanted to lean a bit closer to Yan Qingzhu, but she gradually discovered that this emotion was far from being as simple as just being friends. It trembled in her heart like a feather; it was the urge to open her soul to her the moment she saw Yan Qingzhu’s eyes. Luo Mu chose to cast the divine instructions behind her, defying the so-called prophecy to once again stand honorably by Yan Qingzhu’s side.

Luo Mu paused, her right hand covering her beating heart, asking repeatedly: Is this love?

Perhaps it was.

“Luo Mu?” Qin Jiahui stared at her; it was one of the few times she had seen Luo Mu dazed.

Luo Mu snapped out of it, looking up at Qin Jiahui. As the wind passed, her hair emitted a faint woody scent that extended into the tenderness of midsummer jasmine.

“I do have someone I have liked… for a long time.” Luo Mu’s cheeks flushed slightly, the corners of her mouth lifting unconsciously.

Qin Jiahui was curious: “Are you together?”

Luo Mu scratched her head awkwardly: “It’s… a crush.”

Qin Jiahui’s school wasn’t far from the café. After Luo Mu saw her back to school, she walked alone along the streets of Lingyang. Luo Mu had to admit that the dusk in Lingyang had a unique aesthetic; the streetlights gradually flickered on, and the crowds began to flow and grow noisy. The unique atmosphere of the city was half poetry and half life.

She didn’t know how long she had been walking before the clamor of voices made her realize she was currently on the most prosperous street in Lingyang. Familiar warm streetlights, eye-catching advertising slogans. Luo Mu realized the last time she was here was during her sophomore year, leaving a trace of memory with Yan Qingzhu in this noisy and passionate place.

She intended to take another step but stopped abruptly. Luo Mu looked toward those layers of fiery clouds, which looked like an exquisite scroll left in the human world by immortals.

Luo Mu lowered her gaze, all her nerves relaxing in the evening breeze.

It felt as though she could finally put down all her worries and choose to be herself again. She could make the choices she wanted to make; she could fall in love again with…

“Sister Muzi!” A familiar voice broke all her thoughts. Luo Mu turned her head quickly, instinctively looking toward the source of the voice. Her ears buzzed, stripping away her logic.

Luo Mu’s pupils trembled.

She could fall in love again with the person who made her look forward to life.

The person who was willing to let Luo Mu shelve her thoughts of death.

At this moment, Luo Mu no longer found the cicadas noisy or the summer wind scorching.

She gazed at Yan Qingzhu in the distance. The gentle, enveloping sunset cast its light over Yan Qingzhu, and the world’s intoxication seemed crushed and injected into her eyes. Fortunately, the crowds were bustling; only the evening wind could hear the intense sound of Luo Mu’s heartbeat.

In a daze, the memories of being seventeen overlapped with this moment. The girl whose arm Luo Mu had covered in scribbles was now standing before her again in Luo Mu’s twenty-year-old life.

Luo Mu’s eyes grew moist. She so hoped that time could be a little more generous to the person before her.

“You messaged saying you were here again. Did Yan Yu cause trouble?” Luo Mu let out a laugh, her eyes clear as she teased Yan Qingzhu.

“Just visiting family.” Yan Qingzhu’s lips curled upward; the answer was simple.

Luo Mu mockingly taunted her: “You used the same excuse when you came to Lingyang in high school.”

Luo Mu did her best to control her emotions, but her heartbeat told her that her feigned composure was all a bluff. Luo Mu wondered if this was a reason Yan Qingzhu had made up on the spot just to see her.

Yan Qingzhu was nonchalant: “It’s real this time—oh, it was real before, too.”

Luo Mu lowered her gaze, suddenly feeling a bit lonely, her face darkening instantly. Just as she was preparing to dismiss her with a few cross words, Yan Qingzhu smoothly revealed a crimson rose she had been hiding behind her back. The rose looked as if it had just bloomed, its petals adorned with water droplets and accented by baby’s breath.

Luo Mu was shocked, reminded of the bouquet Jiang Yan had given during the Hundred-Day Oath.

“It’s my turn this time,” Yan Qingzhu handed the bouquet into Luo Mu’s arms. Her sharply defined jaw tilted slightly as she looked toward the distant, layered fiery clouds, which were glowing and hot.

She imitated the wish Luo Mu had made amidst the brilliant fireworks of Lingyang during their sophomore year. Yan Qingzhu’s voice was low and raspy, but it was enough to bring tears to Luo Mu’s eyes.

“May we both have the courage to love and be loved.”

Luo Mu looked down at the bouquet. The single-corner wrapping looked simple, yet it highlighted a delicate conciseness. Whenever she saw beautiful things, the tenderness touched deep in Luo Mu’s heart would slowly surface.

Luo Mu teased inadvertently, glancing at Yan Qingzhu: “You didn’t learn it well at all.”

“You’re giving flowers so out of the blue,” Luo Mu smiled faintly, continuing to tease, unaware of the implications of her words: “If someone didn’t know better, they’d think you were trying to—”

Think she was trying to what?

Luo Mu froze instantly, her blood racing as her heart gave a violent thud.

What was Yan Qingzhu trying to do?

Con… fess?

The dusk cicadas weren’t as noisy as at noon, the wind was no longer scorching, and countless fragments of fire were crushed into the distant clouds.

In a daze, it seemed Luo Mu heard her own answer.