Hedgehog's Belly - Chapter 8

Chapter 8

On Sunday morning, Luo Mu placed the dried soup ingredients and the black-boned chicken into a stewing pot, adjusting it to the proper heat. A specialized electric stew pot naturally produced a better flavor than the large iron pots of her childhood, yet even though the spices were clearly identical, Luo Mu always felt the taste was either too salty or too bland. The texture of the meat wasn’t as good as before, falling far short of her expectations.

Once everything was mostly handled, she let out a soft sigh: “Remember to remind her to drink it at noon. Before serving the soup, you must skim off the floating oil.” Luo Mu instructed the nanny; the daily three meals were usually managed by the helper.

“Remind her to eat the morel mushrooms too.”

Luo Mu didn’t know how to cook other dishes, but when it came to brewing chicken soup, she always took charge of the kitchen personally.

Luo Mu turned the nearby millet porridge to low heat: “Let Ji Rongshu have some for breakfast as well.”

The nanny pursed her lips, appearing as if she had words she couldn’t say.

Luo Mu’s gaze was sharp, and she understood quickly: “If he insists on eating those fried things first thing in the morning, tell him to talk to me. He won’t make things difficult for you.”

“A-Mu, aren’t you coming back for lunch?” the nanny asked, her eyes filled with heartache for this child who was so young yet so well-versed in the ways of the world. “It’s not easy to have one day of rest a week, and you have to go back to school in the afternoon. Can’t you stay home and have a nice meal with your family?”

“Your father is coming back this afternoon. Why do you have to avoid him?” the nanny continued.

Luo Mu didn’t give her a direct answer, saying nonchalantly: “Then remember to remind him to drink the chicken soup too.”

Luo Mu carelessly wiped away water stains with a rag.

Whether her father was there or not had long since ceased to matter to her over these years.

Luo Mu took off her apron and hung it on a hook: “There are some school activities I need to handle. I’ll just eat at the school cafeteria then.”

She looked up at the wall clock: 8:30 AM.

During the weekend, the classroom doors would be locked, and besides, Luo Mu didn’t have a key.

Fine, to escape this place, I really can make up any lie.

Luo Mu hadn’t thought clearly about what she would do or where she would go after leaving. She just wanted to escape—anywhere would do. Habitually, Luo Mu changed into her school uniform, grabbed her bag, and hurried out.

“Auntie Gu, tell Ji Rongshu I’m leaving first.” Luo Mu greeted the nanny and bolted out the door.

But where could she run to?

Luo Mu let out a self-deprecating laugh. Deluding herself into thinking she could escape the shackles of family was just self-deception; eventually, one learns to stop struggling. Her hurried pace gradually slowed, and that sense of aimless confusion struck again. Far from the residential area, her vision blurred as she looked at her surroundings; the joy of the passing pedestrians did not reach her.

A rustling sound came from the bushes—a stray cat scurrying through. Luo Mu knew that kind-hearted passersby would eventually feed it.

Those free creatures were pursuing a temple they could never reach.

Luo Mu stared at the cat. The white cat’s fur was dull after the hardships of time, but its pupils were sharp and calm, reflecting an innate pride. Luo Mu gave a faint smile and squatted down to look at the cat. She hadn’t seen such proud eyes in a long time, and she felt a sense of determination coming from, of all things, a cat.

It was a bit funny.

“What troubles could you have? You’re just a free cat,” Luo Mu laughed to herself.

Doing what you want to do, going where you want to go.

The white cat didn’t flee; it just licked its front paw.

“What would you be afraid of?” Luo Mu gazed at it calmly, unable to help sighing. “You aren’t afraid of anything.”

All that feigned strength and heroism were merely covers for her inner cowardice and incompetence, naively thinking she could avoid being caught by the encroaching fear of helplessness. Unfortunately, there is no such thing as “toughing it out”—in the end, everything falls apart.

All pride is gradually dismantled by endless, trivial matters.

From an ignored girl in a poor home to a “nouveau riche” envied by others; from a left-behind child in a single-parent home to a member of a reconstituted family.

Not a single choice had been made with her consent. A strong sense of unreality gave birth to an indescribable feeling of brokenness. Life spread out in emptiness, yet she seemed trapped by that very void.

The white cat, licking its paw, heard an unusual sound and dove into the bushes. Luo Mu subconsciously turned her head to follow the sound.

A person stood there looking embarrassed, holding a phone foolishly while carrying a bag of fresh vegetables from the market on her arm.

Seeing that silly kid, Luo Mu lowered her head to stifle a laugh: “Next time, remember to turn off the flash.”

Yan Qingzhu reached out to pull the squatting Luo Mu up, helped her brush the dust off her back, and smiled slightly: “Does Student Luo love studying this much?”

Luo Mu rolled her eyes and said nonchalantly: “The classroom isn’t open; I can’t get in.”

“Is that so? What a pity.” Yan Qingzhu gave a mischievous grin and gestured with the large bag of vegetables: “Then does Student Luo want to come to my house to study? The kind where meals are provided?”

“If Student Yan is the one cooking, I suppose it’s not out of the question.”

Luo Mu went along with her, thinking to herself that since she had nowhere else to go, she might as well let someone else “take her in.”

This small path was often frequented by wild cats, but they were all gentle and loved by the children in the nearby neighborhood; there was even a volunteer organization specifically for their rescue. Luo Mu looked at the furry creatures and then turned back.

“Do you like cats?” Yan Qingzhu tested.

“Not really,” Luo Mu lowered her gaze and shook her head. “But I always see them on the way home.”

Yan Qingzhu looked down to observe her expression, appearing quite casual: “I’ve seen those people organizing adoption events.”

“I’m not really one to adopt these kids. Even if I don’t, some kind person will.” Luo Mu was calm, but a cold residue lingered in her eyes.

Luo Mu always felt that a new life meant her own life would be severed. Whether before or after, being forced to say goodbye to her former life meant love, with its mysterious and unpredictable power, would be dispersed—no longer belonging to just one person.

She couldn’t bear to think about how to face the arrival of a life, nor how to face its withered end.

Luo Mu looked up and met Yan Qingzhu’s eyes, trying to resist her spiraling emotions by staying sober.

“I have no desire to be a savior.”

Luo Mu didn’t want to be a savior; she was born solitary and indifferent, never believing in the heroism advocated by the mundane world. Attempting to evade and dodge was a primal, true fear from within.

She couldn’t do it.

Yan Qingzhu noticed the subtle shift, her mouth lifting slightly.

Luo Mu framed the cats by the bushes with her hands like a camera lens, locking them in: “However, they are luckier than me—they are free.”

“Unafraid of being abandoned, they are free,” Luo Mu continued to explain.

They were free.

In contrast, who would want to be a noble canary trapped in a golden cage for a lifetime?

“When I was little, I rescued an injured stray cat. It had grey fur and deep blue eyes, beautiful like gemstones.”

Yan Qingzhu tried to comfort her, her gaze as gentle as the morning sun reflecting on a shallow pond: “At first, I thought it was white and just too dirty. I bathed it so many times I almost rubbed it bald.”

A dynamic image appeared in Luo Mu’s mind: a silly little girl clumsily scrubbing a small grey cat. She burst out laughing.

Seeing her mood soften and the sharp edges fade, Yan Qingzhu’s tone became calmer.

“But after raising it for two or three months, it ran away.”

“I searched for it for a long time back then, checking every place I could, even looking through all the nearby surveillance footage.” Yan Qingzhu’s expression was calm as she spoke of her past as if telling someone else’s story.

That was the first time she had felt a strong desire to protect something, born from an overly thick emotion. She didn’t know what it meant then; she only felt an instability, a void forcibly carved out of her hidden depths that she didn’t know how to fill.

“Actually, I was depressed for a long time, thinking it was my fault. But later, I saw it in an alleyway.” Yan Qingzhu lowered her head; as they locked eyes, Luo Mu felt her restraint and lingering attachment.

“Its fur wasn’t as beautiful as before, and it was much thinner. But I still recognized that kid by those unique blue eyes.”

Yan Qingzhu recalled the past; every step she took forward back then, the grey cat retreated a long way. She even wanted to snatch the cat back and lock it in a cage, not wanting it to endure any more unnecessary suffering. Unfortunately, the alley was dimly lit, it had just rained, and there were puddles everywhere. She clearly couldn’t outrun the cat and could only watch as the grey child departed.

She never saw it again.

“I saw it once by chance later, but unlike before, I didn’t chase it this time.” A forced smile appeared on Yan Qingzhu’s face, her emotions hard to decipher. “It took a long time for me to realize that it wasn’t me who abandoned the cat, but the cat who abandoned me.”

For a long time afterward, she would still dream of that grey cat with glossy fur, its pupils holding the clarity of a deep blue sea. Every time she saw the cat, it would make Yan Qingzhu burst into tears, crying as she asked if the child was doing well.

She knew clearly that the child would never walk the same path as her again, might even forget her name and face, but she still couldn’t help wanting to delay the end of the show, wanting to talk to it a bit more, see it a few more times.

But she let go. She told that child: “Go forward; if fate allows, we will meet again.”

“Perhaps the reason it came back to see you was to tell you it was doing well, so you wouldn’t worry.” Luo Mu gazed at the cats playing by the bushes.

Free lives have their own reasons for coming and going.

On the way to Yan Qingzhu’s home, the two didn’t say much. One was carrying meat and vegetables for lunch, debating what to cook; the other was carrying her backpack, planning her return to school.

After a silence, Yan Qingzhu laughed: “I really didn’t expect you to come back with me.”

Luo Mu teased her with a playful tone, replying: “Why? Afraid I’ll run away?”

“No. You can leave whenever you want and come back whenever you want; I accept you as you are.” Yan Qingzhu draped her arm over Luo Mu’s shoulder, her eyes regaining their sharpness. “You won’t be abandoned. You are forever free.”

You can always pursue freedom.

Luo Mu thought this was just polite talk. But having had no one to confide in for years, this sentence was like a sweet poison to a young girl, stripping away her logic. At this moment, a hint of soreness welled up in her nose. However, it turned into a single phrase that vanished in the wind.

“Wait a second, I’ll get some slippers.” Yan Qingzhu pulled a pair of slippers from the entryway cabinet; they were shaped like little green sharks, looking quite childish.

Luo Mu stood dazed in the entryway. Seeing Yan Qingzhu put on a pair of pink shark slippers from the bottom of the rack, she asked with a stifled laugh: “Does your whole family like things like this?”

Witnessing a tall girl with a sharp face that said “Keep Out” and an air of mystery put on pink shark slippers without hesitation made Luo Mu’s defenses crumble.

“Huh? Oh—my sister likes them. She bought a whole set in different colors and sizes in one go.” Yan Qingzhu hadn’t reacted yet; her expression was confused but not embarrassed. Instead, she explained quite naturally: “I gave her a scolding for that.”

“If you don’t like this color, there are others—yellow, white—or other styles…” Yan Qingzhu, worried she might have an objection, searched through the shoe cabinet earnestly.

Luo Mu laughed at the silly sight: “It’s fine, these fit me perfectly.” Before Yan Qingzhu could react, Luo Mu had already changed into the slippers. The short girl wearing shark slippers looked as if the sharks were biting her white socks; from a distance, it was a hilarious sight, like an elementary school student.

“Are you an elementary schooler? Why do you look so funny?” Yan Qingzhu teased with a grin.

“Laughing just at a pair of slippers—who’s really the elementary schooler here?” Luo Mu gave her a light push. Ultimately, both were secretly enjoying themselves; neither was more mature than the other.

“You are. Who else fits the description better?” Yan Qingzhu forced a look of composure and answered in a low voice. The next second, she burst out laughing.

The two struggled for a bit in the entryway before finally losing their breath from laughing and being pulled into the living room by Yan Qingzhu.

Luo Mu observed the decoration of the living room. It was different from what she had imagined; the “light luxury” style gave a comfortable feeling. The simple and clean white walls were hung with a few ink-wash paintings of pavilions in the snow, elegant and tranquil. The giant crystal chandeliers she associated with the wealthy were absent, replaced by downlights and track lighting.

Luo Mu murmured: “I thought all villas had crystal chandeliers.”

Yan Qingzhu placed the bag of vegetables on the table, pulled Luo Mu to sit on the sofa, and then slumped onto it herself to stretch. “The previous house was full of them, but by the end of the year, they were covered in dust. I had to take them down one by one to wash them. At that time, I swore that if I ever installed another crystal chandelier, I’d be a dog.”

As Yan Qingzhu explained, she began to brew tea. That time, her mother hadn’t returned to the country, her sister was still small, and she alone had washed the chandeliers for the entire house, taking nearly three days. Taking down the crystal pendants wasn’t hard, and washing them wasn’t hard; the hard part was not knowing how to hook them back on. Since re-installing those pendants, Yan Qingzhu swore never to touch the reassembly of a 3D lamp again.

“I thought you’d hire a cleaning service.” Luo Mu rested her face in her hand, calmly waiting for the tea.

“It was the end of the year; the cost of hiring professionals to clean the lamps was enough to buy new ones.” Yan Qingzhu looked up at the ceiling downlights and explained lazily: “It’s better to have it plain and simple like this.”

“So you don’t usually have a cleaning service? Can you keep up with the daily housework?” Luo Mu observed the items around the room—neat and tidy, very pleasing to the eye.

The living room had an overall black-and-white tone, but the lighting was excellent, making the space feel decent and grand. The dust-free coffee table was decorated with fresh red briar roses, adding a touch of romanticism. With only two people in such a vast house and no domestic help, Luo Mu marveled at the other’s habits.

“My little sister doesn’t like others touching things in the house. She has a temper like a rabid dog; many of the previous helpers were scratched by her.” Yan Qingzhu said: “Back then, I had to say they were my friends helping out before she’d believe it.”

She finished brewing a pot of tea, poured it into a cup, and handed it to Luo Mu.

“Does she believe that kind of talk now?” Luo Mu took a small sip; the tea had a sweet aftertaste.

“How could she? Now she just snaps at me, ‘How could you possibly have friends who are forty or fifty years old!'” Yan Qingzhu mimicked Yan Yu’s tone. Thinking back, it really was stupid—how could she use such a brain-dead reason to try and brush her off?

The kid was young, not stupid.

“Then when I come here this time, will your sister think I’m your friend or here to do housework?” Luo Mu observed Yan Qingzhu’s expression, finding it rare to see a different kind of warmth on this sharp face.

Yan Qingzhu leaned her face close to Luo Mu’s, their features reflected in each other’s pupils.

“If you let her identify you… a normal person might be a helper, but if it’s a pretty older sister—”

The sound of their close breathing was vividly clear; the unique light citrus scent on the other’s top stimulated her senses. Yan Qingzhu’s tone was low and magnetic, leaving Luo Mu too stunned to react: “If it’s a pretty older sister, she might be a friend.”

Luo Mu suddenly looked up and pushed the approaching Yan Qingzhu away. It wasn’t an overwhelming pressure, but she truly had rarely had such close contact with anyone. A sliver of remaining logic pulled her back to reality, her eyes somewhat avoidant.

“Then do I still need to introduce myself?” Luo Mu said pretensefully: “Hello, I’m Yan Qingzhu’s friend. I’m exactly forty years old, divorced with two kids.”

Yan Qingzhu laughed so hard she couldn’t stand up straight: “You’re insane.”

“If we don’t say ‘friend,’ what should we say? ‘Fuck buddies’?” Luo Mu grew bold, the smile on her lips starting to go out of control.

“Sister Yan Qingzhu plays quite wild, doesn’t she?”

Yan Qingzhu knew she was looking for trouble, so she quickly played along, pinning Luo Mu’s wrist against the back of the sofa and arching her body over her. With her other hand propping herself up, she leaned slowly toward Luo Mu’s ear, her final syllables soft and lingering, enough to make one’s bones tingle.

“I can’t help it. Since Sister Luo Mu likes it.”

A raspy, electric warmth sent a jolt through Luo Mu’s nerves. At this moment, wood and citrus swirled together—a sweetness mixed with a sense of weight and restraint, lingering in their brief moment of pleasure.

Luo Mu gazed at her. Though the person before her was smiling, her eyes were like an aggressive beast that wouldn’t give her prey any chance to escape.

Yet she could feel that behind the intense emotion, there remained a sense of brokenness, an unspeakable fragility.

And this unreality was merely a comfort used to suppress a massive internal pain.

Do you have any other secrets that I don’t know?