My Sweet Little Flower Turned Out to Be a Sinister Ghost - Chapter 1

“Yuehua, can you please help me…?”

“What kind of terrible plot is this? It’s infuriating!”

Song Yuehua fumed inwardly, angrily pressing the power button on the side of her phone to close the novel she had been reading.

The screen went dark, plunging everything into blackness.

It was 2 a.m., and everyone in the dormitory was asleep.

In the darkness, Song Yuehua widened her eyes in frustration, gripping the bedsheet so tightly that it wrinkled.

If only she hadn’t opened this novel in the first place!

Regret washed over her, and she turned over irritably.

It was strange… she usually only enjoyed light, sweet stories. Who would have thought that the moment she opened the reading app, this particular novel would catch her attention?

Now, all she wanted was to slap the hand that had clicked on it.

Why hadn’t she checked the reviews first? TAT

But it was too late now, the plot of the book had already taken root in her mind.

Thinking about her packed schedule for the next day, Song Yuehua forced herself to close her eyes.

Yet as soon as she did, thoughts of the novel flooded back: the aloof and superior Song Yuelan, the pitifully delicate Bai Qingyu, and the utterly maddening storyline…

She didn’t know how much time had passed when a sliver of moonlight streamed through the gap in the curtains, casting a slender silver line across her blanket.

Just as she was drifting into a hazy sleep, a blinding white light suddenly exploded before her. Before she could even furrow her brows or turn away, her consciousness was abruptly ripped away, plunging her into an endless darkness.

…

Huh? Wasn’t she just lying in bed?

Song Yuehua twitched her fingers and froze. Her back wasn’t resting against the familiar mattress. Instead, she could feel a cool, silky sensation creeping up her spine.

She distinctly remembered curling up under the covers on her top bunk, so how was it that her toes were now touching soft shoes?

The space around her was absurdly large, nothing like the narrow dormitory hallway where two people had to squeeze past each other sideways. The ornate, gold-trimmed floor-to-ceiling window before her was wider than her entire wardrobe.

No sooner had this thought crossed her mind than sensation returned to her limbs. Instinctively, Song Yuehua clenched her fists, but her fingertips didn’t brush against the soft cotton of her pajamas. Instead, they met a crisp, structured fabric.

She glanced down at her attire, and her mind went blank.

Looking up, she realized she was in what appeared to be a living room.

A vaulted ceiling, an exquisite chandelier, a massive floor-to-ceiling window, a sofa with unique textures, and numerous expensive-looking decorations she couldn’t name, everything screamed wealth.

Song Yuehua swallowed hard. The sheer opulence of this place put even the luxury villas from novels to shame.

This was definitely not her dormitory, right?

As the thought surfaced, a soft sob suddenly sounded beside her.

“Yuehua, can you please help me?”

Who was that?

Song Yuehua hadn’t even realized there was someone else nearby. Shaken from her shock, she turned toward the voice and was met with a vision in white.

There stood Bai Qingyu, dressed in a long white gown, her jet-black hair cascading over her shoulders. A few strands clung to her flushed, tear-streaked cheeks, and her exposed collarbone curved delicately like a crescent moon.

Her slender, jade-like fingers gripped Song Yuehua’s sleeve. As she lifted her gaze, a teardrop clinging to her eyelashes fell and landed on the back of Song Yuehua’s hand, cool and damp.

Song Yuehua gasped.

Wow OoO

She had never seen anyone so beautiful in her life.

This person was as beautiful as if they had just stepped out of an ink wash painting. When their eyelashes fluttered, it was as if butterflies were about to take flight, and even their tearful voice was soft and delicate, tugging at one’s heartstrings.

She suddenly remembered the white moonlight character from the novel she had read last night. The book described the character as having “skin like congealed jade, eyes like autumn water,” but the sight of this person with their red-rimmed eyes was a hundred times more vivid than the words on the page.

“Yuehua?” Bai Qingyu’s furrowed brows resembled two willow leaves adorned with dew, and her beautiful eyes clouded with a mist-like confusion. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Huh? I’m here.” Song Yuehua jolted as if pricked by a needle, her soul, which had drifted to the far ends of the earth, finally returning to her body. She stared at Bai Qingyu’s slightly parted lips, only then realizing she had been lost in thought while gazing at the other’s face.

Bai Qingyu pressed her lips together and said nothing more, but her glistening eyes still lingered on Song Yuehua, like a little deer caught in the rain.

“Alright.” Song Yuehua agreed almost without thinking.

But the next second, she suddenly snapped back to reality.

“Help you with what?” Although she very much wanted to agree to help, she still needed to ask what exactly it was about.

Song Yuehua’s gaze was clear as she looked at Bai Qingyu.

“I…” Bai Qingyu’s eyes suddenly drifted toward the floor-to-ceiling window. As her slender fingers tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, the exposed earlobe flushed as red as a cherry. “I want to go out.”

“Go out?” Is someone stopping you?

A bad feeling crept into Song Yuehua’s heart.

No way… Had she transmigrated into a book?

“Miss, miss.”

Hurried footsteps echoed from the hallway as a woman in her forties or fifties rushed in. When she saw Song Yuehua, her face instantly turned pale.

“You can’t just come in here!” the woman’s voice trembled.

Miss?

Song Yuehua froze.

In all her life, aside from joking around during the New Year, no one had ever called her that.

She glanced down at the crisp, elegant dress she was wearing, and when she looked up again, the woman was already standing awkwardly in front of her, unsure where to place her hands.

“Aunt Li?”

The words seemed to have a mind of their own, slipping out of Song Yuehua’s mouth. Her heart skipped a beat, wasn’t this the servant at the Song family villa from the novel she had read last night?

The woman in front of her looked anxious, seemingly terrified at having allowed Song Yuehua to enter.

Aunt Li fidgeted with her hands, and upon hearing her name called, she looked at Song Yuehua strangely.

So, it was true.

Song Yuehua’s heart rate instantly skyrocketed to 180. She stiffly turned her head to look at Bai Qingyu beside her and tentatively uttered those three words: “Bai Qingyu?”

Bai Qingyu’s expression visibly faltered, as if she hadn’t expected the sudden question. Her eyelashes trembled before she nodded gently, her voice as faint as a mosquito’s hum: “It’s me.”

Song Yuehua stood rooted to the spot.

She had really transmigrated into the novel that had infuriated her to no end last night!

And judging by the situation, she had become that Song Yuehua, the one with the same name as her, the obsessive sister-complex cannon fodder who relentlessly targeted Bai Qingyu and met a tragic end!

Song Yuehua remembered this character quite vividly because her love and hatred were both utterly inexplicable.

Perhaps because she was a side character, the author hadn’t spent much time fleshing her out.

Song Yuehua only knew that the Song Yuehua in the book worshipped Song Yuelan to an extreme, almost fanatical degree. She wouldn’t allow anyone to get close to Song Yuelan, nor would she permit Song Yuelan’s gaze to fall on anyone but herself.

Song Yuehua harbored a bone-deep hatred for Bai Qingyu, who received special treatment from Song Yuelan, and she used every means possible to make Bai Qingyu disappear from Song Yuelan’s sight.

Of course, all her attempts failed. Although this was an old-school novel packed with both forced romance and a “chasing-wife-to-the-crematorium” trope, the cannon fodder characters were never destined to succeed.

Song Yuehua’s fate in the story was particularly tragic. After persistently targeting Bai Qingyu and obstructing the relationship between the two, Song Yuelan finally intervened.

For someone as obsessive as Song Yuehua, Song Yuelan’s cold command, “Don’t let me see you in front of her again,” was enough to shatter her completely.

In the end, Song Yuehua slit her wrists in the bathroom.

The modern-day Song Yuehua, who shared the same name: …

This was all too sudden.

Instinctively, Song Yuehua curled her hand, her fingertips brushing against her wrist. The cold sensation sent a shiver down her spine.

Thankfully, she was still fine for now.

“Miss, you’ve seen enough. You should leave quickly,” Aunt Li pleaded, her voice tinged with anxiety. “If Mr. Song finds out you came here, he’ll be furious.”

Song Yuehua looked up, finally realizing which part of the novel’s plot she was in.

This was the scene where Bai Qingyu was first forcibly brought home by Song Yuelan.

In the book, “Song Yuehua” had stormed in at this very moment.

She stood arrogantly in the middle of the living room, sneering at Bai Qingyu, who was huddled in a corner of the sofa, calling her a sparrow trying to climb the social ladder and urging her to give up her ambitions of cozying up to Song Yuelan. But the servants in the villa only obeyed Song Yuelan’s orders, and Bai Qingyu couldn’t even get near the front door, her eyes red-rimmed and lips bitten.

“Song Yuehua” vented all her resentment on Bai Qingyu, only to switch to an ingratiating smile the moment she turned to Song Yuelan.

It wasn’t until Song Yuelan returned from work, frowned, and told her to get out that she slunk away in disgrace.

After that, her hatred for Bai Qingyu only grew, and she frequently caused trouble for her, though in the end it only served to fuel the relationship between Song Yuelan and Bai Qingyu.

Recalling this, Song Yuehua’s gaze fell upon Bai Qingyu, who stood quietly nearby.

Bai Qingyu remained in the same posture as before, her moist eyes shimmering like scattered starlight. Though traces of unshed tears lingered in her gaze, she simply watched Song Yuehua in silence.

“Can’t I just come here to take a look?” Song Yuehua deliberately affected a haughty tone, mimicking the spoiled young lady from the book’s memory, though she failed to control the end of her sentence, letting slip a hint of hesitation she hadn’t even noticed herself.

She discreetly observed the reactions of the other two, her fingers curling slightly at her sides.

Was her acting convincing enough?

According to the book’s setting, although she lacked the power to drive Bai Qingyu out, no one dared to stop her from lingering in the villa.

“Of course, of course you can,” Aunt Li replied with a strained smile.

She glanced at Song Yuehua, then at Bai Qingyu.

Neither of them was someone she could afford to offend.

“I’ll go prepare some snacks for you both,” Aunt Li said, seizing an excuse to slip away.

If Mr. Song asked later, she would simply tell him the truth.

With that, she hurriedly left the living room.

The spacious room was now empty except for Song Yuehua and Bai Qingyu.

Song Yuehua pursed her lips, her eyes drifting over Bai Qingyu a couple of times, unsure of how to break the silence.

Bai Qingyu was the first to speak, a faint, tentative smile gracing her lips. “I once served as a substitute teacher for Computer Science Class Two.”

Oh!

Song Yuehua suddenly remembered, the novel had indeed mentioned in passing that Bai Qingyu once worked as a substitute class monitor for freshmen to save up for tuition, though it never specified which class.

She never expected it to be her class.

“I… I remember,” Song Yuehua replied, lowering her gaze guiltily.

“It’s alright,” Bai Qingyu said understandingly, shaking her head gently. Her long lashes fluttered like tiny fans. “I was probably too ordinary back then to leave much of an impression.”

She paused, her eyes lingering on Song Yuehua as she cautiously asked, “Earlier, I heard Aunt Li mention that President Song is your sister?”

“Mm,” Song Yuehua nodded, her mind racing: How did I end up transmigrating into this novel? Can I ever go back?

Bai Qingyu parted her lips as if to say something but swallowed her words, pressing them into a faint, curved line.

For some reason, a thought suddenly struck Song Yuehua: I might never be able to return.

The moment this idea surfaced, it took root, filling her with panic and unease.

But then another thought followed: Since I’m already here, I can’t just follow the novel’s plot and watch Bai Qingyu suffer, first from Song Yuelan’s obsessive affection, then from the torment of cannon fodder characters, only to end up smiling and saying “I forgive you” in that tragic conclusion.

Taking a deep breath, Song Yuehua turned her gaze to Bai Qingyu, who stood beside her looking somewhat restrained. The girl’s fingers were tightly clutching the hem of her skirt, her knuckles turning white, a clear sign of insecurity. Resolute, Song Yuehua suddenly reached out and grasped Bai Qingyu’s hand.

Bai Qingyu’s hand felt slightly cool, her fingertips rough with faint calluses. When their hands met, she stiffened noticeably, lifting her head to look at Song Yuehua like a startled little rabbit.

“I will help you,” Song Yuehua said, her tone so firm it left no room for doubt. Silently, she added in her heart: I will make sure you escape all those hardships and live a truly happy life.