Hedgehog's Belly - Chapter 69

Chapter 69

It was as if this question had always existed, destined to surface eventually. It was only a matter of time.

Sooner or later.

Yan Qingzhu looked out the window, watching a white bird circle in the sky with its wings spread. She answered thoughtfully: “If she wants to leave, then let her go.”

If she can fly, then let her fly away.

“Won’t you be sad?” Luo Mu lowered her head, her lips hovering over the skin of Yan Qingzhu’s neck, her fingertips tracing the ridge of her ear.

When the question landed, Yan Qingzhu was in no hurry to give an answer. Instead, she kissed Luo Mu’s forehead as a lingering, ambiguous atmosphere diffused through the air.

At this moment, it felt as if silence was the only correct answer; silence could reach places that language never could.

Luo Mu looked up. The light caught the smooth lines of Yan Qingzhu’s profile—gentle and restrained. In the chaotic interplay of light and shadow, her deep-seated emotions kept her secrets hidden.

“One cannot remain a child forever.”

Yan Qingzhu’s voice was like a mumble in a dream, hazy and unpredictable.

The barrier of language seemed fated.

Yan Qingzhu did not explain the subtext of that sentence.

But Luo Mu understood. Yan Qingzhu meant: For an adult, whether one is sad or not isn’t actually that important.

As long as you keep living, that is enough.

The end of love, it turned out, was compromise.

Luo Mu was once again amused and exasperated, but she didn’t press the matter further.

Night rain lashed against the French windows, and the trees outside swayed violently. The noise was incessant; the typhoon had arrived earlier than the weather forecast predicted.

After dinner, Yan Qingzhu was tidying the kitchen island when she began to feel that something was wrong.

Suddenly, a terrifying crack of thunder severed all thoughts, and every light in the house instantly cut out.

“Azhu!” Luo Mu’s voice shrieked, followed by the sound of something heavy hitting the floor.

Gloom descended as darkness swallowed their vision. Yan Qingzhu rushed toward the living room. Before her heart could even settle, she felt her waist gripped tightly by the other woman.

Luo Mu’s vision was a blur. Her hands clutched at Yan Qingzhu like a drowning person grasping at a straw, her shoulders trembling violently. On the floor, a tablet screen was still lit, displaying documents and literature.

She buried her face in Yan Qingzhu’s chest, her knuckles white as she gripped Yan Qingzhu’s clothes with all her might.

Yan Qingzhu locked her arms around Luo Mu’s shoulders, rubbing the back of her head with one hand.

“It’s okay, I’m here.” Yan Qingzhu, at a loss, kept repeating the same words. Her gaze was warm and heavy as she slowly and gently patted Luo Mu’s back.

“Don’t leave me!” Luo Mu’s sobs were distinct, echoing through the night.

Don’t go. Don’t leave me alone in this endless night. Don’t say goodbye. I don’t want to hear the wail of the suona. Don’t leave me behind in the old house.

The empty old red-brick house… a hearse parked outside. They said they were taking Grandma away. Those bad people wanted to snatch away her last photograph, leaving Luo Mu with nothing to remember her by.

Luo Mu wanted to take her home, but neither of them had a home anymore.

A dampness like a giant tidal wave surged from within her heart. Since that rainy day, everything had been waiting for a clear sky that never came.

“Luo Mu.” Yan Qingzhu whispered, her body heat slowly sealing away Luo Mu’s frantic emotions. “I’m here.”

Luo Mu held back the tears at the corners of her eyes, unwilling to recall the memories that once stung her so badly.

After an unknown amount of time, Yan Qingzhu felt the person in her arms stop sobbing. Once Luo Mu’s breathing leveled out, Yan Qingzhu slowly led her to the sofa to sit down.

Relying on her memory of the layout, Yan Qingzhu felt her way through the darkness to take a candle from a drawer. She lit the wick, and a small flame illuminated the immediate area.

On the sofa, Luo Mu sat curled in a corner hugging a cushion, her gaze vacant and cautious.

Yan Qingzhu chose the most suitable corner to place the candle, then poured a glass of warm water and handed it to Luo Mu. “Are you afraid of the thunder, or the dark?”

When Yan Qingzhu touched Luo Mu’s icy fingertips, her eyes showed deep concern in the flickering light.

Luo Mu took the glass and took a few sips. Her tensed nerves slowly lowered their guard.

“Actually, I’m not really afraid of either.” Luo Mu was dazed by the dual shock of the past and the present. “I just thought of some bad memories.”

For her, the dark was nothing more than a long-standing loneliness and desolation.

She really wasn’t afraid of it.

Soft insects, sharp-toothed rats, black snakes—she had seen plenty in the village as a child and had grown used to them.

But memories were different. They were far more terrifying than physical things. They grew like wild vines, occupying her remaining sanity, their thorns cutting into her heart.

Luo Mu stood up and quickly wrapped her arms around Yan Qingzhu’s neck. Her warm, hurried breath made the other woman’s ears turn crimson. The night was too silent; it seemed to have swallowed all other sounds.

“Hold me…” Luo Mu’s voice softened. In the darkness, it felt as if she could set aside all her cheap pride and surrender herself to the person before her.

Skin touched skin. The light scent of woody jasmine surged, intermingling with bitter orange leaf in that small space.

The dark night made love bold. Years of disciplined etiquette were swallowed by the gloom, leaving no trace behind.

Yan Qingzhu supported her waist. A distinct sense of restraint and longing jumped through the gaps in her speech: “Luo Mu, I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

She gradually held her breath; years of instilled manners forbade any impulse.

Yan Qingzhu spoke word for word, articulating as clearly as possible.

“You only have to say that you are willing.”

Before the words could even land—before they had even finished diffusing into the air—Luo Mu leaned in and blocked her lips with a frantic kiss.

She gave Yan Qingzhu no time to buffer or hesitate. Like a surging tide, a sudden ringing in her ears drowned out the sound of her heartbeat and the rain outside.

Neither of them could see the tiny reddish-yellow flame anymore.

At this moment, the two of them were hotter and more irrational than the fire.

The intense sense of suffocation made their breathing lose its rhythm again. The two of them collapsed onto the sofa. Luo Mu’s cold fingertips touched the other’s skin, which was burning hot.

It seemed they had both gone mad.

That was how it should be. It shouldn’t be only her losing control.

Love can be compromising and restrained.

But can it also be possessive and obsessive?

“Not in the living room…” Luo Mu forced a sentence out of her throat. To anyone listening closely, it was already shattered.

Yan Qingzhu’s lips moved along Luo Mu’s neck, eventually leaving a light bite mark on her shoulder: “Yan Yu is at training camp. she won’t be back for a few days.”

Luo Mu repeated: “Not in the living room…”

Yan Qingzhu paused for a moment, regaining half her sanity. She then carried Luo Mu bridal-style into her own room. Luo Mu felt the softness of the mattress. In the darkness, Yan Qingzhu lit a small candle.

The candle was shaped like a rose, its petals looking as though they had been meticulously carved. As it burned, it released a faint floral scent.

Luo Mu stared at the tiny flame, gradually realizing something was off.

Yan Qingzhu placed the candle on the nightstand, the light reflecting off her exquisite features. Then came the sound of a drawer opening. A black box with gold embossing was placed on the table. She leaned down and kissed the corner of Luo Mu’s eye: “A new ‘friend’ I bought. Want to try?”

“Aren’t you on your period?” Luo Mu mocked. Then, seeing the curve of Yan Qingzhu’s lips, she realized the subtext.

It turned out the one walking straight into the blade was herself.

Outside, the wind and rain were loud, breaking tree branches, as if the order of the world was being overturned and reshuffled. She was like a long-sealed letter, waiting for someone with a heart in the river of time.

Finally, the envelope was opened. The words and the heart floated on the paper; she had, for the most part, been seen through.

Time was severed, and boundaries were lost.

Fortunately, after waiting for a long, long time, she had finally found the recipient who would hold her carefully in her arms.

It was like a firework rising constantly, yet held back by some force, waiting for the moment of explosion that never quite came. Or like water kept at a scalding temperature, yet prevented from reaching a boil at the final second.

Luo Mu’s face was flushed, and tears shimmered in the corners of her eyes. She cursed in a small voice, saying Yan Qingzhu was too despicable.

A drop of warmth landed on her shoulder; the candle wax filmed over quickly. Under the faint warm glow of the flame, Yan Qingzhu was breathtakingly beautiful. She leaned down and kissed away Luo Mu’s tears.

“Don’t be afraid.”

Yan Qingzhu’s tone was gentle—softer than it had ever been—as if she might melt away along with the candle in the next instant.

Luo Mu cursed under her breath. She was truly defeated.

After an unknown amount of time, the lights in the living room flickered back on, and the wind and rain outside found a moment of peace. The world outside was pitch black, filled with an unknown silence.

Luo Mu mentioned she was hungry, so Yan Qingzhu simply boiled a bowl of noodles with a soft-boiled egg.

Luo Mu lifted her chopsticks and blew gently on the steam rising from the bowl.

“Is it hot?” Yan Qingzhu asked.

Luo Mu thought she was asking about the noodles. After chewing for a bit, she answered slowly: “No, it’s not hot.”

“I wasn’t talking about the noodles.” Yan Qingzhu’s ears turned crimson. She crouched by the table and asked cautiously.

Luo Mu paused. As her exhaustion faded, she began to analyze the meaning behind Yan Qingzhu’s words.

Suddenly, her face turned red. She knew exactly what Yan Qingzhu was asking about.

It really was the low-temperature candle she had thought it was.

Luo Mu held out her hand and said with a serious face: “Where did you buy it?”

“Hmm?”

“What? You’re allowed to play like that, but I’m not allowed to strike back the same way?” Luo Mu said unyieldingly, taking another bite of the egg.

“I didn’t expect you to have this interest…” Luo Mu grumbled. She couldn’t exactly ask outright what else she didn’t know.

Yan Qingzhu didn’t intend to answer directly. Instead, she joked with a smile: “You didn’t like it?”

Deliberate. It was definitely deliberate.

No matter how Luo Mu answered, she wouldn’t be able to win this round back.

Luo Mu fell silent and ignored her.

“Luo Mu.” Yan Qingzhu called softly. Her thumb moved from the corner of Luo Mu’s lips down to her jaw. Her voice trembled slightly: “Back then… how many stitches did you get?”

Luo Mu hadn’t lied to her; the wound hadn’t left a scar.

That scar had remained on Yan Qingzhu’s heart from the very beginning.

Luo Mu had thought those impulsive, foolish memories of seventeen were best left unmentioned.

Since the scar was gone, it didn’t matter if the incident was forgotten. But seeing the pity and pain in the other woman’s eyes, Luo Mu put down her chopsticks and answered truthfully: “Two stitches.”

Yan Qingzhu’s gaze dimmed. Like a cat with drooping ears that had done something wrong, she leaned against Luo Mu’s knee. She buried her head, her voice piteously low: “I’m sorry.”

“That must have hurt so much.”

Unable to escape, unable to tell anyone—it had been like an eternal stone weighing on Yan Qingzhu’s heart for all these years. Until this moment, the issue finally surfaced.

One person had long since forgotten, while the other held it in her heart—like a poisoned needle, pricking her so she could never be at peace.

Luo Mu finally understood what Yan Qingzhu meant by: I’m not afraid of suffering; I’m afraid of not being happy.

“Then you have to be good to me.” Luo Mu looked down, unsure of what else to say.

Yan Qingzhu replied: “Mm.”

“Don’t bully me.”

“Mm.”

Then, Luo Mu hardened her heart and said: “If the day ever comes where I leave of my own free will, do not try to hold me back.”

At that moment, Yan Qingzhu went silent.