Hedgehog's Belly - Chapter 58

Yan Qingzhu’s gaze was lingering and enchanting, as if her prepared plan had been seen through in an instant, yet she offered a faint smile: “My good sister, did you find out after all?”

“Do you really not want to say it?”

Luo Mu asked her back, her fingertips twining through Yan Qingzhu’s hair. Her delicate breathing drew a surge of pity and love from the person before her. Under normal circumstances, she certainly wouldn’t want Yan Qingzhu to tear open a healed scar in front of her again.

But this time was different.

This time was different.

Yan Qingzhu had made the first move; while Luo Mu was feigning drunkenness, she had actually used Ji Rongshu as a catalyst to test Luo Mu’s bottom line.

This was something Luo Mu hadn’t expected.

Perhaps, the sentimentalist wanted to stir up a hatred rooted in many years of resentment within the prey, using it to lean solely on the weight of power, finally allowing the prey to stay by her side willingly.

Only this time, Yan Qingzhu hadn’t bet correctly. Toward the younger brother who shared no biological relation to her, Luo Mu harbored no hate in her heart.

“Kiss me again, and I’ll tell you.” Yan Qingzhu’s eyes were innocent yet carried a hint of cunning, like a child demanding equal stakes for a trade.

Luo Mu’s eyelashes trembled as she placed a light kiss on the corner of Yan Qingzhu’s lips.

“In the next second, are you thinking of taking advantage of me?” Luo Mu sat up and returned to the sofa. She tucked a throw pillow into her arms, curling up in a corner of the couch.

“If Sister is unwilling, I wouldn’t dare.”

Yan Qingzhu pressed close to her side, her delicate and bewitching voice fanning the flames in Luo Mu’s ear, searing her with an itch in her heart.

“Don’t call me ‘Sister’ with every breath,” Luo Mu pinched her cheek, only now realizing the person before her had thinned down quite a bit. “If the one who truly ought to call you ‘Sister’ saw this, wouldn’t it scare the soul right out of you?”

“Muzi-jie is humorous,” Yan Qingzhu leaned against her shoulder, murmuring with her eyes closed: “We’ll all have to meet eventually. Let Yan Yu get used to it early, then she won’t find it strange anymore.”

Suddenly, thunder rumbled. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, a flash of lightning was reflected in their less-than-clear eyes.

Luo Mu nuzzled Yan Qingzhu’s head: “I thought it was cloudy tonight.”

“Weather forecasts are as unpredictable as human hearts.” Yan Qingzhu kept her eyes closed, her breathing steady.

Luo Mu nodded: “True.”

Thunder and rain joined forces outside while emotions grew secretly within the room. Luo Mu found it difficult to admit how happy she was at this moment; she feared that if Fate heard her, it would take back her few scraps of happiness and joy.

Every step was like walking on thin ice.

Fingers intertwined, the warmth in their palms felt like a beating heart. Snuggling together under the gentle warm light, they were like those who had once guarded a bitter loneliness, finally waiting for the appreciation of that one person.

“Luo Mu.” Yan Qingzhu called her name softly.

Luo Mu didn’t speak. What she could control even less than the alcohol was the intense exhaustion and drowsiness. She closed her eyes, her eyelashes rising and falling with her breath, like a completely defenseless hedgehog.

“I was originally illegitimate and without status, yet everyone regards me as the eldest daughter of the Yan family.” Yan Qingzhu’s tone was calm—calmer than the storm outside—like jumping into the scenery of a late autumn mountain: solemn, quiet, and difficult to fathom.

“Since I was a child, my mother taught me to be submissive, using old-fashioned literature to discipline me. If I made a single mistake in my recitations or transcriptions, I would receive severe punishment.”

Recalling how she was locked alone in a room by her mother as a child, facing brushes, ink, paper, and inkstones, Yan Qingzhu never resisted.

She understood too well that her mother wanted an excellent child, to the point that she was willing to tear herself apart and stitch the pieces together into the shape her mother loved. She didn’t know what so-called rebellion meant; what use was there in resisting authority?

She only wanted her mother to look at her once more; that was enough to satisfy her.

One day, in the courtyard after the rain, Yan Qingzhu found a stray cat. Its fur was dull, but its deep blue eyes were as brilliant as deep-sea jewels. Sacred yet dazzling, it filled Yan Qingzhu’s heart with awe.

“Come home with me.”

The young Yan Qingzhu reached out her hand. The cat approached cautiously, lightly nuzzling her fingertips.

That was the first time she had ever touched a soft, living being.

Except the cat was disobedient and unwilling to stay close to Yan Qingzhu at all times. Whenever Yan Qingzhu prepared a large basin of water to help wash the “dirty child,” the cat was nowhere to be found.

Later, she finally caught the cat. She wanted to wash it cleaner, but after a bout of struggle, Yan Qingzhu realized the “child” was actually a gray cat.

But that cat never returned. It wasn’t that Yan Qingzhu gave up; it was that the “child” didn’t want her anymore. She calmly watched the gray cat walk into a rainy alley, and she no longer pursued it.

That cat had the freedom to choose, but Yan Qingzhu did not.

“Don’t let your father find out!”

On the day the family nanny told her mother about the matter, Yan Qingzhu bore dozens of hideous whip marks on her legs, dripping with blood.

The long period of kneeling had long since robbed her of sensation. She kept her head down, her lips bitten so hard she could clearly taste the blood, yet she didn’t utter a sound of resistance. Bloodshot lines filled her eyes, yet her heart was secretly glad—thankfully, she hadn’t kept that furry child by her side.

“In a few days it’s your birthday. If your father asks what you want, say you want to write the inscriptions for his paintings.”

The woman’s face was distorted, the whip in her hand like a scepter of authority. She lifted Yan Qingzhu’s chin, her piercing gaze offering not a shred of warmth.

Through her mother’s pupils, Yan Qingzhu saw her own worthless humility reflected. Sadness and emptiness intertwined repeatedly as she slowly murmured: “I don’t like it.”

“What?” Wang Ranping questioned her again.

Yan Qingzhu lowered her eyes: “I don’t like it.”

In a daze, Wang Ranping flew into a rage, shoving the kneeling child to the ground and roaring like a madwoman: “Yan Qingzhu, don’t be so selfish!”

Whenever Wang Ranping said those words, Yan Qingzhu’s pupils would dilate slightly, and all speech would freeze at her trembling lips.

Those old rules and precepts she learned as a child would ultimately weigh her down like shackles, making it impossible to breathe.

At the birthday banquet, Yan Changde pulled his daughter to his side, smoothing the hair that covered the corner of her eye.

“A-Qing, what is your birthday wish?”

Yan Changde’s tone was gentle. Yan Qingzhu was very willing to talk to him about daily life; after all, her father had never hit her.

But under the gaze of another pair of eyes, Yan Qingzhu followed the script her mother had instructed step by step. At that moment, she felt strongly that she was nothing more than a stiff puppet.

“I want to write the inscriptions for Father’s paintings.”

“Father knows traditional painting, and I know calligraphy. Father will paint, and I will write the inscriptions.”

Afterward, as expected, she was met with a flurry of flattery and praise. The eyes in the corner gradually withdrew their sharpness, appearing gentle and dignified again when facing the guests.

Yan Qingzhu finally knew what she was doing.

She was merely a prop for fame and fortune, cheap yet indispensable.

When the banquet ended, she finally summoned the courage to carefully tug at her father’s sleeve. After looking around for her mother’s silhouette, she whispered into her father’s ear: “I want to raise a little pet.”

“So that was A-Qing’s wish all along.”

Yan Changde let out a long sigh of relief, as if finally hearing the correct answer. He crouched down in front of Yan Qingzhu so his daughter wouldn’t have to keep looking up at him.

“But Mama is allergic to animal fur. When I come back from this business trip, I will definitely bring a little pet back for you.”

Yan Qingzhu was instantly disappointed. Adults’ lies were always like this.

But soon after, Yan Qingzhu received an exquisite gift box. Upon opening it, she found it was a pet cage; a curled-up little hedgehog was fast asleep. Throwing all caution to the wind, its pink, fuzzy belly inspired a surge of affection.

Yan Qingzhu then remembered she had once complained to her father about cockleburs and anything with thorns. But at this moment, facing this little thing whose breath rose and fell, she was willing to keep it by her side.

This feeling was so strange.

“Do you know what a hedgehog’s belly is like?”

This was a question her father often asked her.

At that time, the young Yan Qingzhu also naively thought that everything was as happy as it was in that moment.

Outside the window, the rain was torrential. Luo Mu slowly rested her head on Yan Qingzhu’s lap, her sleepiness hazy. A faint woody scent lingered, blending perfectly with the bitter orange leaf.

Yan Qingzhu covered Luo Mu’s lower abdomen with a small blanket and leaned down to whisper tenderly in her ear: “If you’re tired, go back to the room and rest.”

Luo Mu kept her eyes closed and shook her head with difficulty: “I’m listening…”

Yan Qingzhu smiled faintly, indulging Luo Mu’s spoiled behavior while her fingertips lightly stroked her lover’s hair. She looked back out the window at the unrestrained rain; the night rain when she first learned she was an outsider had been just as fierce as it was now.

“I only found out later that the father who was always so proud of me was not my biological father, but Yan Yu’s father.”

Yan Qingzhu leaned calmly against the pillow, while Luo Mu sensed a force compelling Yan Qingzhu to speak the words that stung her.

“I understood then that the lessons my mother taught me were just so I would please my father. So that when she faced moral condemnation, my father would remember old ties and let me go.”

She let out a sigh. Every word she spoke felt like she was forcibly stripping her few remaining shreds of dignity from her flesh.

“But I still feel I’ve wronged Yan Yu.”

“The day the truth came out, they began gathering divorce documents. Yan Yu was only seven then.”

“But Yan Yu is a silly child; she stayed with me alone in Chujiang for many years. Yet she never reproached me for stealing her life.”

It wasn’t until she grew older that she realized the opportunities to navigate social circles and the environment filled with flattery were things that originally belonged to her sister. Even so, this child still regarded her respected elder sister as the sun, as the harbor of home.

The floor lamp emitted a weak and hazy glow. Luo Mu sat up to look Yan Qingzhu in the eye.

Their clear and deep eyes no longer looked innocent at this moment. The push and pull of their proximity made the atmosphere even more ambiguous. In the darkness, they listened to each other’s lingering breaths, carefully collecting every inch of joy and sorrow.

“Muzi-jie, I have never let her down, yet I can never make it up to her…” Yan Qingzhu’s tone didn’t shift; there was no inflection.

She slowly brought her lips close to the corner of her lover’s mouth, like a startled beast seeking a trace of mercy from a believer.

But language is destined to carry bias and doubt, and Yan Qingzhu was unwilling to guess how the person before her viewed her.

Two lonely souls snuggled together; the lightness of skin against skin elicited a murmur from the throat.

“Of course I understand.” In a daze, the nerves spread and her mind grew dizzy, causing tears to form at the corners of Luo Mu’s eyes as she allowed this love to run wild.

How could she not understand?

Luo Mu tilted her head, lightly biting Yan Qingzhu’s lower lip. She was then pressed down onto the sofa by Yan Qingzhu; after a few feigned struggles, she finally let her have her way. Her hands were pinned above her head, yet her pupils, in the dim warm light, reflected their mutual greed like a clear mirror.

“How could I not understand?” Luo Mu knew full well. Word by word, her voice was soft as silk.

“Because I, too, am someone whose life was stolen.”