Hedgehog's Belly - Chapter 61

Chapter 61

“Why do you and your brother talk exactly the same way sometimes?”

Yan Qingzhu suddenly found it amusing and couldn’t help but snicker. These two siblings always tried to use reverse psychology to get the answers they wanted to hear; it was a childish stubbornness that Yan Qingzhu saw through instantly.

Having grown up in such an environment since childhood, this kind of juvenile taunting was, to her, nothing more than a minor scratch on the skin.

Perhaps not even a scratch.

However, Yan Qingzhu hadn’t expected that a joke from their high school days would be taken as truth by the person before her. Her fingertips slowly tapped on the marble tabletop, producing a crisp sound.

Even though the truth of the matter was indeed just that.

“I’m certainly not here to exchange pleasantries. Name your price.” On the other end of the line, Ji Rongshu didn’t want to beat around the bush any longer. “Take good care of my sister. Don’t let her suffer any grievances.”

Yan Qingzhu raised her eyes slightly, the warm light from the relief lampshade reflecting off the side of her silhouette. She frowned instantly, carefully weighing the sentence—it was nothing more than a hypocritical, beautiful illusion.

Don’t let her suffer.

Yet clearly, back in Chujiang, the people who had caused Luo Mu grievance and resentment, the ones who had forced her to constantly tear herself apart from beginning to end, were none other than the “family” who claimed they wouldn’t let her suffer.

Her youth had been too painful, which was why Luo Mu threw all her faith into what others saw as an illusion.

Yan Qingzhu’s eyelashes flickered as she maintained her basic composure. The second hand of the old-fashioned wall clock moved with every passing moment, tearing this peace to shreds as her blood flowed.

But Luo Mu, why don’t you hate them?

Yan Qingzhu sat on the sofa, lazily draping one arm over the backrest before leaning forward, waiting for the negotiation with the other end of the line: “Did Stone-ge not tell you? I have never been short of money.”

That was the only absolute certainty Yan Qingzhu could find within herself.

Ji Rongshu was silent for a few seconds. A “tsk” came from the other side of the phone, followed by a question: “What do you want?”

What do I want.

Yan Qingzhu’s gaze grew heavy as she stared at the ticking second hand of the clock. It was like the calm surface of the sea as dusk falls—the undercurrents had long been surging.

A plain, silent bitterness spread like a tide; the silence in the air was hazy yet devoid of any cover.

“Brother-in-law, grant me this.”

Yan Qingzhu brought the phone close to her lips, a hint of cunning flickering in her eyes, yet she was exceptionally solemn.

Perhaps it was a trace of resentment, or a trace of jealousy.

A little more than a “trace,” lurking like a predator in the wild grass.

She was boldly declaring her sovereignty.

A sharp dagger, piercing through mercy, slicing open the soft secrets hidden deep within the shell.

“I want her.”

There was no hesitation in her tone; it carried the decisiveness of someone licking a blade.

Yet Yan Qingzhu admitted that at this very second, she was profoundly grateful. This power pushed her forward, gradually coalescing.

It was the sweetness she had finally tasted, soft and delicate, cradled carefully in the palm of her hand.

“What did you say—”

The other end of the line exploded like a fuse being lit. In the next second, Yan Qingzhu pressed the end-call button, and a peaceful atmosphere returned to the living room.

Yan Qingzhu didn’t want to look deeply into the chaos of the outside world. This wasn’t Chujiang; she would never allow the authority of blood to crush Luo Mu’s spine here.

The city of Lingyang was much like its people, maintaining absolute rationality from start to finish. This high-end bystander attitude was what made life more orderly and efficient.

Indifferent, yet compassionate.

Yan Qingzhu warmed the milk and stood outside the guest room holding the mug. She knocked three times with her knuckles, but no one answered from inside.

“Luo Mu?” Yan Qingzhu called softly.

She cautiously placed her hand on the doorknob and slowly pushed it open.

The room was empty.

The bed was neatly made without a single wrinkle. A single rose leaned quietly against a dark green porcelain vase covered in relief patterns, placed at the corner of the bedside table.

Yan Qingzhu paused, and then a subtle smile inadvertently touched the corners of her mouth.

She turned and walked toward her own room.

The door was ajar, unlocked. High up in the glass display case, various trophies and medals were embedded; one had to look up to realize the extent of this fame and success. Like a supreme glory, they wordlessly narrated the young girl’s talent and brilliance.

A soft white silk nightgown clung to her body, and a thin shirt was draped over the girl’s shoulders. As she looked up, her swan-like neck was elegant, with a few silvery droplets of water still unwiped. She looked like a budding flower, inspiring pity and inviting harvest. Her slender fingertips drifted across the glass, yet her gaze refused to move elsewhere.

She seemed to be looking for a name, an answer, yet it seemed it was not to be as she wished.

Luo Mu’s long lashes were half-closed, lost in thought for a long time.

These honors belonged solely to one other person: Yan Yu.

Luo Mu was momentarily surprised, but there was no sense of loss in her expression.

Her lover had ultimately become a waning moon in a quiet valley—cold and elegant. That beauty was mixed with a few hints of desolation; Luo Mu preferred to believe it was a peerless, tragic radiance.

At least in front of her own sister, Yan Qingzhu was willing to crouch and look up, dimming her own light to push her sister toward the blazing sun.

This was completely different from the Yan Qingzhu Luo Mu had known at seventeen.

She paced slowly, not yet realizing the person behind her was in the swaying light and shadows, cautiously biding her time with a face that bore an untamable wildness.

And an imperceptible pity.

“Luo Mu, do you want to see something different?”

Yan Qingzhu approached, handing her the mug of warm milk, a faint smile on her lips.

Luo Mu held it with both hands; the temperature wasn’t scalding, just enough to temper the air conditioning in the room. She stood still and watched as Yan Qingzhu took a key from a drawer and unlocked the inner side of the display case. A red string, flawless in its simplicity, held a gold bead chain that shimmered under the warm yellow lampshade.

If she hadn’t been reminded, Luo Mu would have almost forgotten.

“I didn’t expect you to still have it.” Luo Mu was somewhat speechless. Back then, she had felt she owed her something and had tied her most precious red string around Yan Qingzhu’s wrist.

In hindsight, the current Luo Mu found it a bit childish.

“I had a master craftsman repair it a long time ago,” Yan Qingzhu replied simply.

“Muzi, you must have known very early on that this was real gold, right?”

Yan Qingzhu asked the question she already knew the answer to, handing the red string bracelet to Luo Mu, their fingertips and palms touching with a slight warmth.

She wrapped her arms around Luo Mu’s slender waist from behind. Her chin rested lightly on the corner of Luo Mu’s shoulder. The shirt fabric was thin; the lingering sensation between their skin seeped into her body, finally taking up permanent residence in her heart.

The scent of jasmine after a bath was rich, but not cloyingly sweet.

It felt like a challenge to the boundaries of reason, an attempt to cover up what was obvious.

Yan Qingzhu held her slightly tighter, closing her eyes and indulging in the splendor that felt better than a lie, quietly forgetting the wretchedness of reality.

Luo Mu’s eyelashes flickered; it seemed life had finally shown mercy to her extremes.

“Mm.”

The breath from Yan Qingzhu’s lips caused a slight itch on Luo Mu’s fair neck: “Such a precious item—how could you bear to give it to me back then?”

Luo Mu’s fingertip slowly traced the character for “Fortune” (Fu) carved into the gold bead. Among the few heirlooms her grandmother had left her, this was the most valuable. But back then, Luo Mu hadn’t known the true value of this “gold stone.”

She only knew that this gold stone brought peace of mind.

“When I was little, I heard the adults say that gold protects one’s life.” Luo Mu recalled how the grandfathers and grandmothers in the village would sit together on summer nights, chatting about family matters, while she would sit by her grandmother’s side, listening intently, trying hard to join the so-called “adult” world.

As for when exactly she had remembered it, Luo Mu wasn’t sure.

Yan Qingzhu asked curiously: “Is there such a saying?”

“I didn’t understand it before, but I learned later.”

Later, the village lost its sense of community. Luo Mu noticed that “red affairs” (weddings) became fewer, and “white affairs” (funerals) became more frequent.

Seeing a girl wearing gold meant it was a “red affair.”

When the gold stone was present, it brought peace of mind.

“But it has many meanings. For instance, before a girl gets married, the elders in the family will tuck gold into her pouch. If she ever suffers at her in-laws’ house, she can pawn the gold for a ticket home.”

But Luo Mu was still young then when her grandmother had braided the gold stone into a red string bracelet for her.

Only later did Luo Mu realize that this gold stone didn’t just signify marriage.

It was true life-protection.

That stumbling old woman knew she wouldn’t live past New Year’s Eve, so she tucked the valuable items into the pouch. She instructed Luo Mu that if she ever went hungry, she should take them to the neighbors to trade for food.

She told her more than once: You must survive New Year’s Eve. You must wait for your father to take you home.

“But if something is given away, regardless of its value, there’s no reason to take it back,” Luo Mu smiled faintly, her knuckle curving to lightly graze Yan Qingzhu’s nose. “Grandmother said so.”

Yan Qingzhu tilted her head slightly and joked: “Weren’t you afraid I’d pawn it?”

Luo Mu laughed in spite of herself; considering Yan Qingzhu’s rebellious streak, that was indeed something she might do.

“You’re not short of money.”

But Luo Mu was certain—Yan Qingzhu definitely wouldn’t.

“How do you know if I’m short of money or not?” Yan Qingzhu followed the topic, her childish side showing through completely.

“A three-hundred-square-meter school-district apartment in Lingyang No. 1 High School… even if I sold myself, I couldn’t afford one bathroom.” Luo Mu mocked herself; she had indeed researched real estate in Lingyang.

She had no specific goal; she had just found out by chance while looking for a rental near the school.

The place she could only learn about through the praise of online platform information was the place where Yan Qingzhu could stay unscathed, taking root and sprouting.

“But if you want to pawn it, then pawn it.” Luo Mu let out a long breath. Turning her head slightly, her warm lips brushed against the thin skin of the other’s neck, creating an indescribable flush: “Also, keep your hands to yourself.”

Yan Qingzhu chuckled. One hand was already around her lover’s waist, while the other was prepared to undo the second button of Luo Mu’s draped shirt.

Tearing away the haziness directly would be too embarrassing, yet the gaze rippling under the light of the display case glass was filled with a watery obsession, gradually melting and penetrating.

A sudden, passionate kiss was like a surging tide, swallowing all emotions, as if wishing to drown in the deep sea. Yan Qingzhu pinned her against the wall, her fingertips tangling messily with Luo Mu’s hair.

“Is this inappropriate?” Luo Mu’s voice was raspy, mixed with slight breaths, yet it held a teasing tone.

She was blowing a whistle that only Yan Qingzhu could understand.

Luo Mu bit a faint red tooth mark into Yan Qingzhu’s neck, her gaze full of affection: “However, half an ounce of gold for a beauty—it’s well worth it.”

“Then is the lady guest willing to take me in?” Yan Qingzhu asked unrepentantly, accepting the provocation.

Luo Mu’s knuckle hooked her chin, her expression dazed: “Depends on your performance.”

Before the thick, ambiguous voice even landed, their lips and tongues were grinding together, like waves pounding against a rocky shore, with brilliant fireworks blooming in the distance.

The light shifted to form shadows. Luo Mu surrendered, having long been prepared to be torn apart. She was naturally willing to overturn her comfort and become the black piece on the chessboard that could lose its “breath” at any moment.

At two in the morning, a single warm lamp was still lit in the empty living room. Yan Yu, who had just returned home, threw her lab notebook onto the floor, not forgetting to curse the “brain-dead” operations of her teammates in the lab.

She looked up at the wall clock. Two in the morning—they should be asleep by now.

She lazily intended to pour a glass of water, until her gaze fell upon several roses with broken heads on the marble tabletop. Yan Yu froze instantly.

The cracks in the stems were jagged; one could tell at a glance they had been broken on purpose. Under the warm yellow light, the crimson petals scattered across the table looked like clotted blood mixed with a metallic tang.

In the middle of the night at 2:00 AM, it was indeed a bit eerie.

Yan Yu flinched in fright, her arm quickly pulling back. Unexpectedly, she bumped into a chair and grabbed it suddenly. She hadn’t realized a tote bag was sitting on the chair; in the blur of the moment, the unsealed bag flipped over onto the floor.

Yan Yu immediately realized it was the style Luo Mu often carried. She quickly leaned down to pick it up. The documents inside had scattered across the floor. Yan Yu’s pupils dilated—a passport, various paper notices—and her gaze landed on the heading of one of them.

Certificate of Enrollment

Yan Yu skimmed through it and realized these were materials for an exchange student.

She carefully organized them and put them back in the bag, but an involuntary, bone-chilling coldness rose behind her.

She had never heard Muzi-jie mention this. What about her sister?

Did her sister know about this?

Perhaps it was the weariness of the night or her clouded vision. Yan Yu didn’t want to speculate too much, but when she suddenly looked up, she met the eyes of the girl in the soft white silk nightgown. Unlike before, there were several obvious red bruises on her swan-like neck.

Luo Mu had her arms wrapped in front of her, her eyes slightly narrowed. The passion had long since faded, leaving only a barren, chillingly calm gaze.

She didn’t look like a shameful person who had been caught with a secret; rather, she looked like a gambler who had planned this long ago, waiting for the prey to take the bait.

This time, she had bet correctly.

“Mu… Muzi-jie.” Yan Yu hurriedly stood up and placed the tote bag back on the chair.

“Is there nothing you want to ask?” Luo Mu asked softly.

Yan Yu had received a high-quality education since childhood and naturally knew the importance of one’s future.

But she remained silent for a moment: “Muzi-jie, does my sister know about this?”

“Yan Yu.”

Luo Mu approached slowly and whispered into her ear, without a trace of pity.

“To live—that is the most important thing.”

On the tiny chessboard, the black piece had been placed first.