Hedgehog's Belly - Chapter 67

Chapter 67

Luo Mu closed the door carefully and walked a few steps toward the living room before noticing a light was still on in the kitchen.

“Yan Yu?” Luo Mu walked closer and saw the girl’s delicate profile, looking distressed as she faced a steamer.

“Muzi-jie?” Yan Yu turned around suddenly, a smile instantly spreading across her face. “I’m steaming egg custard. Do you want some?”

Luo Mu shook her head and leaned against the wall, arms crossed, looking somewhat weary.

“Is Eldest Sister asleep?” Yan Yu wiped the water stains off the stove with a rag, her tone unusually calm and gentle. “She told me you went to see Father.”

“She was feeling a bit unwell, so she’s resting.” Seeing Yan Yu about to lift the lid of the steaming pot, Luo Mu stepped forward first and used a bowl gripper to place the porcelain bowl of egg custard onto a tray.

Yan Yu moved the tray to the dining table, where two spoons happened to be laid out.

“Are you sure you won’t eat? It’s just a matter of an extra spoon.” Yan Yu clinked the two spoons together and handed one to her with a shallow smile.

Luo Mu finally yielded and nodded: “We did meet Uncle Yan.”

The egg custard had a unique milky fragrance, with a well-balanced sweetness. Luo Mu had always thought egg custard could only be savory.

As expected, even after all these years, this child’s taste hadn’t changed.

“It’s sweet.” Yan Yu seemed to read her mind as she scooped a spoonful into her mouth.

She then rested the spoon on a small porcelain saucer. “Actually, I know Eldest Sister prefers it savory.”

Luo Mu was momentarily stunned; the spoon and bowl vibrated against each other, producing a sharp clink.

“I’ve always known.”

As eyes lowered, the air returned to silence.

Eldest Sister’s unspeakable secrets, what she had sacrificed for her—as the younger sister, Yan Yu knew it all.

Sometimes it made her heart ache, but other times, she detested this telepathy.

The trials of fate were destined to crash down upon the younger sister, forcing her rebellion and arrogance to be postponed.

When she imagined herself walking as an independent person, she looked down only to see a shadow that was a replica of her sister.

She was becoming less and less like herself.

Yan Yu’s eyes were clear: “Muzi-jie, is it for one year?”

Luo Mu felt as if she had been wound up like a mechanical toy, pulled into the rhythm of the girl before her, unable to move.

Every word seemed worth dissecting, yet after chewing them over, nothing remained.

It wasn’t scary, but it was very uncomfortable.

Realizing she was asking about the exchange program, Luo Mu nodded and answered calmly: “Yes.”

“And after that? How do you plan to develop?” Yan Yu tilted her head, the youthfulness between her brows unable to mask the sharpness of her words. She probed: “Will you still stay in Lingyang or Chujiang?”

Luo Mu fell silent.

The topic was being gnawed on relentlessly; blades grinding against each other will one day become sharp enough to pierce a person’s most fatal weakness.

The sister before her was merely seeking an answer. And the answer she wanted was one Luo Mu certainly could not satisfy.

Luo Mu knew all too well that once she stepped out, there was no possibility of turning back. One year, five years, or even longer. What she wanted was her father’s industry and the recognition of everyone.

The one thing she could not do was stay in a certain city forever, playing house with someone.

Sometimes, silence is the best reply.

“Muzi-jie, if you’ve decided to leave, don’t tell her.” Yan Yu scooped another spoonful of egg custard and stuffed it into her mouth.

Don’t tell her.

If you’re going to leave and never return, then don’t tell her.

Like a storm—no matter how torrential or unrestrained it is, there will always be a morning sun.

“Are you… trying to team up with me to lie to her?” Luo Mu tapped the porcelain bowl, her gaze regaining some of its shrewdness.

As Yan Qingzhu’s only blood relative, Luo Mu had never expected Yan Yu to be so resolute.

But it wasn’t resoluteness; it was because she was the sister, and she wanted to leave a way out for her sister.

A path that would be agonizingly painful, but one on which she could certainly survive.

“I can’t keep secrets in front of Eldest Sister.”

Yan Yu stuffed the last bite of egg custard into her mouth. The milky sweetness stimulated her taste buds, enough to cover the bitterness in her heart.

“Eldest Sister is someone who dwells on things. What she dislikes most are things that are uncertain.”

“The more uncertain something is, the more Eldest Sister will let her thoughts run wild.”

For Yan Qingzhu, all pain had been like a sharp knife cutting through a tangled mess; it never gave her a moment of hesitation or time to cry.

Whether it was learning she wasn’t biological, or the divorce of her parents—nothing was something she could prepare for before it struck her.

Yet precisely because of such extremes, the festering wounds could heal into scabs faster.

It was just a hundred times, a thousand times more painful.

Yan Yu’s voice was quiet and shallow as she stood up to clear the bowl and spoon. A stray hair fell along her profile in a beautiful curve.

“But Muzi-jie, you are different. You want to go far away, and you are unwilling to look back.”

“But even so, with Eldest Sister’s personality, she won’t blame you.”

Yan Qingzhu won’t blame you.

You don’t need to feel guilty.

As Yan Yu turned away for a moment, Luo Mu stared at the ticking old English wall clock, each second feeling like a wait for life to slip away.

“Yan Yu,” Luo Mu called softly.

Yan Yu paused and looked back at her.

“The steamed egg you made was very delicious.” A smile appeared on Luo Mu’s lips, cozy and sincere.

Yan Yu was somewhat surprised, then responded with a smile: “Muzi-jie, I’ll make it for you again next time.”

The hands of the clock ticked on, but both time and people must move forward.

“If… there is a next time.”

Midsummer cicadas chirped noisily; Lingyang was hotter than usual.

When she received the call from Qin Jiahui, Luo Mu had returned to her rental apartment near the school to pack.

On the other end of the phone, Qin Jiahui was eating a popsicle: “After you come back, what then? Are you going to continue your studies in Japan?”

“Something like that.” Luo Mu placed the original edition books that usually sat on her nightstand into a cardboard box. Domestic or foreign classics—Luo Mu read everything.

During the better part of the summer break, she would always come back for a few days to clean the place, fearing it would gather dust. The landlady, Auntie Dong, was a kind-hearted woman who felt for her traveling back and forth. Occasionally, she would keep an eye on the apartment for her and watch for anything left behind.

“Does your family know? What did your brother and your mom say?” The tone of the phone call carried a hint of stubbornness that refused to show pity, resulting in aimless questions.

“I went back to Chujiang a while ago. Ji Rongshu pressed a card into my hand. A few days ago, I messaged him to come clean about this.” Luo Mu admitted that when she hit the send button, her fingertip wouldn’t stop trembling.

But Ji Rongshu seemed to have no particular attitude and never expressed any obvious emotion.

He only sent a short voice message telling her: “Stay safe. And, don’t let me see you on some ‘Overseas Student Circle’ drama PDF.”

Luo Mu couldn’t help but laugh out loud.

“How much money did he give you?” A bit of static crackled over the line.

Luo Mu was unusually calm: “Three hundred thousand.”

“Huh?! How much did you say?” Qin Jiahui’s voice instantly tore through the static, making Luo Mu’s ear ache; she almost dropped her phone.

As expected, still too naive.

“Daben, there are some types of money that can’t be spent.” Luo Mu peeled off the vocabulary sticky notes stuck to the wall one by one—from the greenness of when she first stuck them up as a freshman to the familiarity of tearing them all down now, there was a disorienting sense of time passing.

Three hundred thousand—Luo Mu understood. It wasn’t the cruelty of being shut out. Rather, it was a stake for her eventual return home—it was the confidence to come back.

Her brother’s personality took after his mother; no matter how much his heart ached, he would never say it out loud. The stepmother would always avoid Luo Mu and tell him to save the allowance money Luo Zhicheng had left behind—that it wasn’t his, and he certainly couldn’t have it.

And while she was a student, Luo Mu had never received a single cent of allowance from her biological father.

Three hundred thousand—paving the road for Luo Mu to return home.

But of this money, Luo Mu couldn’t spend a single cent.

“Fine, fine, you understand.” Qin Jiahui stopped dwelling on that specific issue and then murmured: “A word of advice: don’t always live such a twisted, conflicted life.”

Luo Mu mocked herself: “I’m the type of person who doesn’t hate completely and doesn’t love completely. I deserve to suffer.”

After a few laughs on the other end, the phone went quiet for a moment before she finally said what she wanted to say.

“Does Yan Qingzhu know?”

Qin Jiahui’s tone was full of cautious probing, for fear of making Luo Mu uncomfortable.

The silence at this moment became absurdly ridiculous; a moment’s hesitation would have seemed exceptionally desolate.

In some self-deceptive dreams, pretending to be too happy for too long creates the illusion that it’s true.

“Does it matter? Things have already come to this.”

Luo Mu kept her voice low, some unknown force compelling her to speak words full of irony. The stinging pain of cutting into herself felt like blood flowing backward, pressing against her heart.

The end of her sentence faded into silence, leaving only the slight touch of her lips.

Exactly when did she become like this?

Luo Mu didn’t know.

The other end of the phone let out a laugh: “Luo Mu, you truly are cold-hearted.”

Luo Mu was speechless; she didn’t refute her, only giving a simple “Mm.”

If she were truly cold-hearted, she would have left long ago.

But it still hurt—even the sound of her own shallow breathing felt noisy.

Qin Jiahui sighed over the phone and explained for her: “Yes, yes, yes. Yan Qingzhu is number one in your feelings, but you aren’t a person who puts feelings in the number one spot.”

“I know.” Qin Jiahui’s tone became soft. She naturally knew that Luo Mu had expended a great deal of courage and effort to reach this step.

If one gave up their future for the sake of feelings, that would be the truest fool.

When she hung up the phone and was about to clear the remaining books, Luo Mu heard a distinct knock on the door. As soon as she opened it, the woman before her instantly shoved a whole bag of watermelon into Luo Mu’s hands.

Luo Mu smiled politely: “Auntie Dong, you’re really being too kind. You’re always so warm, it makes me feel quite embarrassed.”

Auntie Dong was the landlady living next door—a Northerner who had married into Lingyang. The innate frankness and free-spirited nature in her bones hadn’t changed a bit despite being in Lingyang.

Lingyang would have all kinds of blood flowing into it, forever keeping it fresh.

“You silly child, why are you being so formal with me?” Auntie Dong made a face of feigned disgust and slapped Luo Mu on the shoulder with plenty of strength. “Knowing you like watermelon, I bought this specifically for you.”

She then asked with concern: “When will you come back to Lingyang? I’ll make you dumplings—chive filling.”

Auntie Dong’s children lived abroad permanently. As a mother, she knew the bitterness of living away from home wasn’t easy. She treated her student tenants like her own children and often invited Luo Mu to eat at her home.

“Auntie Dong, I might not be coming back.” Luo Mu’s brow furrowed slightly as she gave a pained smile.

“Aiyo, didn’t you say ‘might’? If you do come back, just give me a call.” Auntie Dong took the words in stride. Luo Mu nodded and said no more.

Finally, having organized her luggage, as she took her last step out of the rental, Luo Mu looked back at the small apartment that wasn’t very spacious but where she had endured many days and nights alone. A faint smile appeared on her lips.

Everything is an end; everything will be a beginning.

The remaining books and large items were temporarily stored with Auntie Dong. When she returned a keychain with a little hedgehog plush to Auntie Dong, the older woman asked with heartache and reluctance: “Are you really not coming back?”

Luo Mu hesitated, but suddenly, as she lifted her eyes, she saw a familiar figure. The woman’s short-sleeved shirt was exquisitely tailored, the clear lines of her collarbone extending backward in a smooth, sharp curve. The silver stud in her ear cartilage glinted in the reflection. Her hair was tied up high, looking both elegant and sharp.

She would. She would.

“I will be back.” Luo Mu’s eyes were clear as she answered sincerely.

After bidding farewell to Auntie Dong, the two sat in the car. The scenery outside the window moved rapidly like a movie rewinding.

The city of Lingyang was cruel enough to ensure those who recognize each other never meet again.

Yet it was also tender enough to let those who yearn for each other stand side by side once more.

Luo Mu watched Yan Qingzhu for a long time, then poked her cheek with a fingertip.

“Azhu, in your understanding, what does ‘confidant’ mean?”