Hedgehog's Belly - Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Saturday afternoon dismissal is the carnival of high school; on the journey home, even the autumn wind carries a hint of sweetness. Successive bursts of laughter and clamor gradually dissolve into the mist of memory, accompanying a path home bathed in the romantic afterglow of the sunset, racing to catch a bowl of hot soup from one’s mother.

“Are you taking this way too?” Once away from the school gate, Luo Mu saw that person advancing in the same direction. Inwardly, she felt more or less delighted.

In one’s youth, having someone to walk home with is an unspoken stroke of luck.

It turns out that the happiness of youth is truly that simple.

“Walk another ten minutes down this road, take a turn, and then it’s about twenty minutes to South Road before you’re almost there.” Yan Qingzhu personally disliked squeezing onto buses; even on foot, the journey took half an hour. But perhaps she enjoyed admiring the scenery along the way, crossing pedestrian paths to observe the hustle and bustle of the world.

Even though Luo Mu was a “road-blind” with a terrible sense of direction, having lived here for so many years, she naturally knew the general location of the residential area where the other lived.

Yueshi.

That was the villa district for the city’s wealthy.

“North Road, about ten minutes,” Luo Mu smiled.

One road, two forks—the forks leading home. Luo Mu knew very well that they were also the forks of two different lives.

“What’s usually the first thing you do when you get home?” Luo Mu had encountered this question quite often, but facing this unfathomable person, she really wanted to hear her answer.

“Buy groceries, cook, do the cleaning.” Yan Qingzhu flipped through the activity manual and murmured, “Only my sister and I are at home; we rarely order takeout. I’m not a great cook, so my sister just eats whatever I make.”

What she said was different from Luo Mu’s impression. During the time before they knew each other, she would often hear Qin Jiahui mention this person in her daily ramblings. Luo Mu only knew her as a rich heiress from an elite background living in a high-end neighborhood. But the person before her, who seemed like a playboy/socialite type, was vastly different from her stereotype.

“What about your parents?” Luo Mu followed up naturally.

Yan Qingzhu paused, momentarily lost for words, before finally squeezing out a few: “My mom is abroad.”

Since childhood, Luo Mu had been skilled at capturing changes in people’s expressions. She saw the other’s brow furrow and the corners of her lips twitch involuntarily. There was a touch of coldness in her gaze, as if she were unwilling to bring it up.

Luo Mu knew she had asked the wrong thing: “Sorry.”

“I’m used to it. Anyway, my sister is very well-behaved. It’s the same whether they’re there or not—it’s just a matter of an extra pair of chopsticks.” Yan Qingzhu unzipped her backpack and tucked the manual inside.

The gaze in Yan Qingzhu’s eyes turned gentle: “When you have time, come over and hang out. We live quite close anyway, otherwise the two of us at home are pretty lonely/cold.”

“You’ve probably said that to a lot of people, haven’t you?” Luo Mu tilted her head playfully, observing the other with a teasing, joking tone.

She imagined those cynical profligates inviting groups of fair-weather friends to lose themselves in material desires filled with wealth and fame. Honestly, it was hard to place those scenes onto the girl in front of her.

“You caught me.”

Actually, Luo Mu didn’t know that this was the first time Yan Qingzhu had invited anyone to her home.

The two walked slowly along a red-walled path by the side of the road. Green plants peeked out from inside the red walls, covering the small railings—retro yet full of green life. But the sunset glow carried a tragic sense of life fading out.

At the end of the red wall was the fork in the road.

“Turn here, walk another ten-plus minutes, and you’re at my house.” Luo Mu pointed to the North Road path, introducing it to Yan Qingzhu.

“Nanming?” Yan Qingzhu deduced the destination neighborhood and couldn’t help but let out a sigh. “That’s not exactly a place for ordinary people to live, either.”

Nanming was much less famous than Yueshi, but it was still the go-to choice for many upper-middle-class families who took a step back.

Luo Mu, sensitive by nature, didn’t know if she was overthinking, but she felt there were hidden meanings in the other’s words—an indescribable sense of pressure.

“The village was demolished for redevelopment when I was a kid; I just caught a bit of luck.” Luo Mu gave a casual explanation to brush it off.

But Luo Mu understood perfectly well: if she hadn’t caught that luck, she wouldn’t know where she would be displaced. This journey had been bitter all the way; she had never tasted much sweetness.

As a child, she didn’t even have cheap candy to eat on Children’s Day. If she stole white sugar from the kitchen, she would be beaten and left to kneel outside the door for a day and a night. To the point that in the days that followed, she felt an inexpressible fear and loathing toward the taste of sweetness.

“Then I’ll be going first.” Just as Luo Mu was about to turn, she paused and stopped. She turned to look at the other, her gaze as delicate as water without a trace of impurity. Her voice trembled slightly, but Yan Qingzhu heard it clearly.

She said: “You’re different from the way I imagined you to be.”

Truly different.

“You too.” Yan Qingzhu’s expression was calm, devoid of any burden. Yet she carried the weathered feeling of an old friend meeting again after a long time, only to find that things have changed.

Yan Qingzhu waved goodbye, watching the child’s retreating back, and shouted: “Remember to text me when you get home!”

“Okay!” Luo Mu didn’t stop her pace, waving one hand in the air, but this time she didn’t look back.

The child’s figure drifted further and further away, while Yan Qingzhu remained standing in place.

Listening to the honking of passing cars, the laughter of students heading home, the cries of roadside vendors, and the rustle of wind through the leaves all interweaving, the world seemed exceptionally lively.

Yan Qingzhu lowered her head, silent for a moment, and saw those “ghost-talisman” math steps on her arm again.

Smack.

A loud sound.

She dealt herself a vicious slap to the face.

She hadn’t expected her own hand to be so strong; the slap made her head spin, and she swayed, leaning against the red wall.

She lowered her head very deep and cursed in a suppressed voice: “Can’t fucking talk worth a damn.”

“What a useless piece of trash.”

Luo Mu kicked a pebble on the side of the road and fished an access card out of her school jacket pocket. It showed different patterns under different lighting—this exquisite transparent card was custom-made by her father, seemingly a privilege enjoyed only by high-end housing. Staring at the card for a long time, she felt the word “Nanming” was particularly eyesore.

It always reminded her that her identity was out of place here.

Yet, she truly belonged here.

Luo Mu tapped the access card at the entrance; the grand automatic glass doors lit up with the words “Welcome Home.” The butler on duty bowed to acknowledge her return. Small speakers hidden among the greenery everywhere automatically played pure music.

Even the waiting room provided dozens of expensive teas for free. The security post always had people on guard; people here joked that three places in this city were the safest: first the banks, second Yueshi, and third Nanming.

How ironic.

Thinking back to her childhood, the iron gate at home never needed to be locked, because even the year-round thieves knew that among the Luo family’s things, not a single one was valuable.

Whether it was objects or people, they were devoid of value—worthless. A “trash” father who always wanted to make big money and his “crazy” daughter who begged for food every day—to the villagers, it truly was “like father, like daughter.”

They were like spit coughed up from the throat; outsiders would only sneer at the sight of them. The Luo Mu of that time was like rotting meat covered in maggots, leftovers fished out of swill—only ever fit to stand in the darkest, dampest corners.

How ridiculous.

“It’s Little Luo, coming home from school, right?” A familiar voice pierced her eardrums, and Luo Mu looked up. A middle-aged man in a white shirt greeted her. His middle-aged weight gain made him look exceptionally greasy and nauseating. Luo Mu took a rough look; no need to guess, he had the air of someone about to go drink and talk business with a client.

“Hello, Uncle Xu. I’m home from school.” Luo Mu politely greeted the man.

The man was from the same village as before; Luo Mu wouldn’t forget.

Ever since she could remember, he always instigated his idiot son to steal the black-boned chickens her grandma raised when she was alive. Later, her father went to reason with him to get the chickens back, only to be cursed at by the man—called a “poverty-stricken dog” and a “son of a bitch”—before being pinned to the ground and beaten senseless. That time, her father was covered in bruises, his face swollen. Later, rumors spread that the Xu family even stole from the Luos; the man flew into a rage out of shame and, in a fit of anger, had his younger son go and do something.

That night, all seven chicks that Grandma had meticulously cared for for three months were poisoned to death.

Luo Mu still remembered that it happened three days before her birthday.

Three months prior, Grandma had promised to make black-boned chicken soup for her birthday. This promise had filled Luo Mu with anticipation for three months. On her birthday, Luo Mu ate plain blanched noodles with two boiled eggs in the bowl that Grandma had gone to plead for. That day, she didn’t dare mention the black-boned chicken from beginning to end. She also never told Grandma that she really, really wanted to drink a mouthful of chicken soup.

“Education is good. Uncle Xu has to go get busy; you should get home early.” The man waved to Luo Mu as he left. Luo Mu also waved respectfully.

Luo Mu smiled faintly: “Goodbye, Uncle Xu.”

Only when she saw the man depart in a luxury brand car worth over a million did Luo Mu’s expression return to normal.

She knew very well that the people living here were either rich or noble. This man had also caught the wave of a business boom; it was said a certain relative of his was an official who only contacted him after he’d made a large sum of money. As for his current corporate achievements—whether they involved “connections”—there was no need to say more.

Here, it was merely a symbol of status and wealth. And for “nouveaux riches” like the Luo family who became so through demolition compensation—if not for that stroke of fate, they would never be able to join the ranks of high society. A lifetime of struggle wouldn’t net them even a thousandth of the life they had now.

She knew this in her heart.

Before she could even enter the house, a woman who looked frail in a thin jacket pushed open the door.

“Muzi, you’re back,” the woman helped Luo Mu take the backpack off her shoulder. “Where’s Rongshu? Out playing ball again?”

Luo Mu held the backpack, declining the woman’s kindness, but still helped her onto the sofa: “He went to play ball; he’ll be back later.”

“Little Mom, don’t worry.” Luo Mu comforted her.

The woman was Ji Rongshu’s mother, and also Luo Mu’s stepmother.

“The season is changing; Little Mom, remember to take your medicine.” Luo Mu lightly patted the woman’s hand to reassure her, then took out several pill organizers from the coffee table drawer. On each small compartment, Luo Mu had handwritten the drug’s effects.

“Has Little Mom eaten yet?” Luo Mu picked out a few cold medicine tablets and placed them on a small designated saucer, asking again.

“I had the nanny cook some millet porridge; I really don’t feel like eating anything.” The woman spoke in a raspy voice; her cold seemed quite heavy.

Luo Mu pondered for a moment: “Then I’ll brew some chicken soup for you tomorrow morning. When I was sick as a kid, Grandma would always brew chicken soup for me.”

The woman didn’t say anything, only smiled slightly.

It ended with the phrase: “Luo Mu is so sensible.”

When Luo Mu returned to her room, she was swaying, her head feeling very heavy.

She pressed herself against the door and slowly crouched down.

Grandma’s greatest talent in life was raising black-boned chickens. Every time Luo Mu had a severe high fever, after taking her medicine, she loved drinking a bowl of fresh, sweet black-boned chicken soup. One not-too-fat old black-boned chicken could truly provide the Luo family with their best meals for a week.

But after Grandma passed away, she never tasted that flavor again. Later, every time she went to the market, she found that old black-boned chickens were not cheap. Some villagers who raised poultry also said this breed was hard to raise and died easily. Later, Luo Mu tried to clumsily learn to brew chicken soup like Grandma used to, but it never had the flavor she imagined.

No chance to taste it again.

Luo Mu curled up by the door, burying her head inside her arms, sobbing silently.

The various events of the past and this unrealistic reality were interwoven—offering hypocritical devotions to outsiders, testing friends without leaving any leeway, and the unreachable longing for family. These current propositions were harder for seventeen-year-old Luo Mu than any “boss” problem on a practice test.

Many years later, Luo Mu finally understood.

The reason life is harder than the Gaokao (college entrance exam) is that the Gaokao will always have a standard answer, but life does not.

In life, “why” often does not exist.

When Luo Mu had composed herself, she realized she should pick up her phone; a WeChat notification had popped up.

Ji Rongshu: Are you home? I won’t be back for dinner; tell the nanny not to cook my portion.

Luo Mu was used to it and replied smoothly: Okay.

Just as she was about to exit WeChat, a friend request popped up.

“Q” requested to add you as a friend.

Luo Mu naturally knew who this was. After the request was accepted, she pretended not to know and messaged her.

Lomo: Hello, please provide your name for the contact note.

For a while, no reply.

Luo Mu picked up her water glass and took a few sips when a message popped up.

Q: The Universe’s Super Invincible Thunderbolt War God.

The water she hadn’t swallowed yet was coughed right out; it took a fit of coughing to recover.

She never thought that person would have such a “chuunibyou” (cringey/middle-schooler) side; she really had misjudged her.

Poor choice of acquaintance.

Lomo: No one says things like that unless they’ve had a brain clot for ten years.

Yan Qingzhu looked at that message and couldn’t stop laughing. Leaning against the kitchen island, she replied with feigned composure.

Q: Thank you for the compliment.

After a while, seeing the other hadn’t replied, Yan Qingzhu opened the chat box again.

Q: Have you eaten?

Lomo: Not yet.

Q: Why don’t you come to my house for dinner? I’m cooking.

Lomo: What about your sister? Don’t you need to pick her up?

Q: It’s Saturday; she’s out playing. When she’s tired, she’ll naturally roll back home.

Luo Mu then realized that it seemed only high schoolers had Saturday make-up classes.

Q: Are you really not coming? I made Cola Chicken Wings.

Lomo: I thank you for your kindness on behalf of the chicken wings.

What a cold joke.

After reading the message, Yan Qingzhu placed her phone face down on the table. She plated the Cola Chicken Wings from the pot, took a small container of white sesame seeds from the cupboard, and sprinkled a few over the wings. Then she carefully observed the plate.

She muttered to herself: “Luo Mu says thank you on your behalf.”

Yan Qingzhu paused, then smiled with pressed lips.

How silly.

After making a few more dishes, she heard the sound of the front door opening.

“Sister, I’m back.” Yan Yu changed into slippers at the entrance and disinfected with alcohol spray before slowly walking over to Yan Qingzhu.

“Wash your hands, then go get the rice.” Yan Qingzhu was tidying up the kitchen scraps. She turned to look at Yan Yu, her tone suddenly turning cold and heavy.

“I said, this shirt of yours is almost fading from washing. Why don’t you change into that dress Aunt Chu sent you?”

Yan Qingzhu observed her sister’s messy appearance. Other middle-school peers in the same eighth-grade puberty stage as Yan Yu were all pursuing an open and pretty look, wishing they could line their dressing tables with jars of cosmetics.

But Yan Yu was not like that; she didn’t like wearing dresses, didn’t like cute things, and wouldn’t force herself to blend into circles she wasn’t interested in.

These lifestyle habits were exactly like Yan Qingzhu’s.

But Yan Qingzhu really didn’t want her to become a second version of herself.

Before Yan Qingzhu could finish, Yan Yu spoke softly.

“Sister, what’s wrong with your arm?”

The sentence was filled with heartache.

Yan Qingzhu saw the faint glint in the child’s eyes; she had rarely seen her look so aggrieved. A tear slid down her cheek. The child’s gaze was fixed on the “ghost-talisman” math arm, refusing to look away. A kid who hadn’t flinched during the recovery process of a bone fracture was now scared to tears by the dark marks on her sister’s arm.

She knew her sister hated marks on her body; it must have been some kind of psychological pressure that triggered this.

Yan Qingzhu helplessly walked over to her, squatted down to wipe away her tears, showed her the arm, and explained:

“I’m fine. These are just math answers, look closely.”

“310… 61017,” Yan Yu stammered. “Why would Sister write on her hand?”

Yan Qingzhu’s tone was flat: “I didn’t write it; my friend did.”

Yan Yu had rarely heard Yan Qingzhu talk about her friends.

What was Sister’s friend like?

What kind of friend could be worthy of her sister?

Seeing her pensive look, Yan Qingzhu vigorously rubbed Yan Yu’s head: “Stop guessing. Wash your hands and eat.”

During the meal, there was an unwritten house rule in the Yan family: no electronic devices at the dining table.

But today, Yan Yu watched with wide eyes as Yan Qingzhu ate while looking at her phone screen, snickering from time to time.

Lomo: Remember to wash your arm clean with hand soap.

Q: What if it doesn’t come off?

Lomo: Then have your sister go to the neighborhood flower bed, pick up a stone, and scrub you clean.

This time she really couldn’t hold it in; Yan Qingzhu leaned over the table and laughed out loud.

Q: I’ll say thank you on behalf of the stone.

“Sister, what is it?”

Yan Yu had never seen her most respected sister lose her composure, but the person before her, clutching her phone and laughing like a three-hundred-pound idiot, was indeed her sister, Yan Qingzhu. She was worried, but she still couldn’t bring herself to ask.

Yan Qingzhu, however, didn’t snap out of it and tried to deflect: “Nothing. Hey, try this curry beef I just learned; see if it’s good.”

Yan Yu wanted to say more, but seeing her sister so happy was rare, so she let it go.

After dinner, Yan Yu obediently placed the tableware neatly into the dishwasher, operating it step-by-step as usual. From time to time, she stole glances at what her sister was doing. Yan Yu pursed her lips silently, a hint of a bad premonition in her eyes.

Yan Qingzhu was lying on the sofa, her phone never leaving her hand, held right in front of her face. The smile on her face hadn’t faded once. She had never seen her sister this happy. Normally, her sister came home with a straight face and watched the evening news or foreign movies alone—this was completely different.

“Yan Yu.” Yan Qingzhu suddenly called out to her.

“I’m here,” Yan Yu answered quickly.

“When someone pretends to be calm and doesn’t change their expression, yet their eyes keep darting away… do you know what that means?”

Yan Yu didn’t understand the meaning, filled with confusion: “What does it mean?”

“It means she has already been seen through by me.”