My Sweet Little Flower Turned Out to Be a Sinister Ghost - Chapter 18.1

Thanks to Bai Qingyu’s patient tutoring and Song Yuehua’s intense, college entrance exam-level dedication, her progress was astonishingly rapid.

Now, Bai Qingyu only needed to come once a week for tutoring, which was enough to keep Song Yuehua on track.

With just one week left before the final exams, Bai Qingyu made an extra trip to help Song Yuehua review.

After having dinner out, the two headed back to Song Yuehua’s apartment.

Since their camping trip, Bai Qingyu had been visiting more frequently. She now had her own dedicated slippers and water cup here, almost like a half-owner of the place.

As soon as the door unlocked, a fluffy shadow darted over with a “meow,” leaping straight into Bai Qingyu’s arms and affectionately rubbing against her pants leg.

Song Yuehua watched from the side and clicked her tongue enviously. “Look at that, look at that. She’s even fonder of you than she is of me.”

“Be good, Xiaomi. Say hello to your sister~” Bai Qingyu chuckled, bending down to pick up Song Xiaomi. She gently scratched the kitten’s chin with her fingertips and waved its soft little paw toward Song Yuehua, her eyes brimming with laughter. “See, your sister’s waiting for you. Your tail’s even perked up, do you miss her too?”

But the kitten paid no mind!

Song Xiaomi narrowed her eyes contentedly, purring softly in her throat.

Song Yuehua leaned in, pressing her forehead against the kitten’s head, “scolding” Song Xiaomi for being “fickle,” before changing her shoes and entering.

Bai Qingyu smoothly slipped into her own slippers and headed into the kitchen.

Soon, she brought over a cup of warm water for Song Yuehua, who was lounging on the sofa playing with the cat, and then poured some cat food into Song Xiaomi’s special bowl.

The rustle of the plastic bag made Song Xiaomi, who had been snuggling on Song Yuehua’s chest, immediately prick up her ears. With a flick of her tail, she nimbly leaped off and dashed straight to her bowl.

“Xiaomi! Xiaomi! Play with me a little longer!” Song Yuehua, still lying down, reached out to grab the cat but caught only air.

“Come on, get up.” Bai Qingyu walked over with her water cup, smiling as she patted Song Yuehua’s knee. “Stop playing with Xiaomi. It’s time to study.”

“Alright.” Song Yuehua obediently sat up.

When Song Yuehua first transmigrated, the apartment had the sterile look of a model home. But the longer she lived there, the more it bore her imprint.

The once cold and impersonal space was now filled with her presence, a favorite knitted blanket draped over the sofa, a few large portraits of Song Xiaomi on the wall, and potted succulents she tended sitting beside the warm yellow floor lamp, creating a cozy atmosphere.

Soft light filled the living room. Textbooks and exercise sheets were spread across the coffee table as Song Yuehua sat cross-legged on the rug, frowning at a problem.

Bai Qingyu sat on the edge of the sofa, a laptop resting on her knees, her slender fingers flying swiftly across the keyboard.

Song Xiaomi strutted around the living room like a cat patrolling its territory, occasionally rubbing against Bai Qingyu’s pants leg to ask for pets, then leaping onto the coffee table to sniff the books. When its tail brushed across the pages, Song Yuehua would reach out and scratch its chin, making the kitten let out a soft “meow” before scurrying back to curl up at Bai Qingyu’s feet.

But this tranquility didn’t last long before it was shattered by the sudden ringing of a phone.

Bai Qingyu answered the call, and as she listened, the softness on her face gradually faded. Her brows furrowed tighter and tighter, her expression growing increasingly somber, the tips of her fingers gripping the phone turning pale.

Seeing her troubled expression, Song Yuehua felt a pang of worry. “Whose call is it? Is something wrong?”

After hanging up, all traces of gentleness vanished from Bai Qingyu’s eyes, replaced by unconcealed gravity. “My mother’s condition has suddenly worsened. I need to go to the hospital right away.”

No sooner had she spoken than she hurriedly stood up, grabbed her coat from the sofa, and headed for the door, her steps noticeably quicker than usual.

“I’ll drive you!” Song Yuehua’s heart sank, and without a second thought, she chased after her.

But when Bai Qingyu turned back, Song Yuehua still habitually asked, “Is that okay?”

“Of course it is,” Bai Qingyu replied, turning to face her.

The car ride to the hospital was filled with silence.

Bai Qingyu sat with her head tilted, gazing out the window.

The city’s night lights flickered across her face as the streets sped by in reverse. The halos of streetlights, the glow of passing cars, and the neon signs of billboards blended into a hazy tapestry of light and shadow.

Song Yuehua sat with her hands clutching the hem of her clothes on her lap, her gaze fixed on Bai Qingyu’s profile. Her lips moved several times as if she wanted to speak, but she swallowed her words each time.

Bai Qingyu could sense the tension in the person beside her.

“Um…” Song Yuehua began cautiously.

Bai Qingyu turned to look at her. In the darkness of the car, she could only vaguely make out Song Yuehua’s silhouette by the faint light filtering through the window.

Her features were soft and gentle, even the curve of her jaw carrying a childlike tenderness that made one feel comforted just by looking at her, a natural kindness born from having been well cared for.

“Don’t worry too much,” Song Yuehua said, her tone carrying a touch of clumsy sincerity. “Auntie will definitely get better.”

Bai Qingyu habitually forced a smile and replied, “Mm.”

Seeing the unmistakable exhaustion in her eyes, Song Yuehua felt a pang in her heart. Frowning slightly, she whispered, “You don’t have to smile if you don’t feel like it.”

From the sparse descriptions of Bai Qingyu’s family in the books, she could glimpse the hardships of her upbringing.

An abusive father, a sick mother, and a younger sister to care for.

She had shouldered the responsibility of supporting her family even before she came of age, enduring countless difficult days, yet she always wore a gentle smile and treated everyone with kindness and tolerance.

But now, seeing her smile no different from usual, Song Yuehua belatedly realized that many of the smiles Bai Qingyu always wore might not have come from the heart, they were merely a layer of protective coloring.

“You don’t need to put on such a front with me,” Song Yuehua’s voice softened gently. “If you don’t feel like smiling, then don’t. If you’re sad, say so. I’ll stay with you.”

Bai Qingyu’s smile froze instantly, as if years of pretense had been punctured. The corners of her lips still curved slightly upward, but her eyes first showed bewilderment, followed by a flicker of panic.

Song Yuehua shifted closer and gently wrapped her arms around Bai Qingyu. Bai Qingyu stiffened momentarily before gradually relaxing and leaning into the embrace.

“It’s okay to be sad,” Song Yuehua said softly, patting her back. “You don’t always have to be the strong one. You once said you’d protect me like an older sister, so let me be your shield too.”

Bai Qingyu rested her chin lightly on Song Yuehua’s shoulder as Song Yuehua’s hand moved in soothing circles on her back, the warmth from her palm seeping through the fabric.

The faint scent of laundry detergent from Song Yuehua’s clothes, clean and comforting, filled Bai Qingyu’s nostrils. Suddenly, her nose tingled, and her eyes grew warm with unshed tears.

But years of using smiles as armor weren’t easily discarded. After a few seconds of silence, she slowly raised her arms and returned the embrace.

When they reached the hospital floor, the sharp smell of disinfectant filled the corridor, and pale fluorescent lights cast a stark glow on the ground.

A doctor emerged from a room and approached Bai Qingyu with a grave expression. “You’re the patient’s family, right? The situation isn’t optimistic. The lung infection has worsened suddenly, and surgery must be arranged as soon as possible.”

“Our department can perform it, but for complex infections like this, it’s best to have Director Zhang from City Central Hospital lead the procedure. He’s an authority in this field and could significantly improve the success rate.” The doctor paused, his tone growing heavier. “However, Director Zhang’s consultation and surgery fees combined are estimated at six hundred thousand yuan. You’ll need to gather the funds quickly, the surgery can’t be delayed.”

Bai Qingyu listened quietly.

Standing behind her, Song Yuehua felt her heart clench.

In the novel, Bai Qingyu had been working multiple jobs for years, with most of her earnings going toward her mother’s medical bills and her younger sister’s tuition. She had no savings left and rarely spent money on herself.

Her mother and sister were the most important people in her life, yet now her mother faced surgery or worse, the possibility of not having it due to lack of funds.

Song Yuehua’s heart ached with sorrow. She gently tugged at Bai Qingyu’s sleeve and whispered near her ear, “Senior, don’t panic. We’ll figure out the money together.” Turning to the doctor, she asked, “What about Director Zhang? Is there anything we need to do to secure his involvement? Besides the money, we’ll do our best to borrow it.”

“Director Zhang is currently stationed at the branch hospital. I can try to contact him, but there’s no guarantee. His schedule is packed. You should prepare for the possibility that he might not be available,” the doctor replied. “Of course, securing the funds comes first.”

Bai Qingyu met Song Yuehua’s strikingly bright eyes, devoid of hesitation, filled only with genuine concern and unwavering support.

“Yuehua… you don’t have to do this,” Bai Qingyu murmured, lowering her dark lashes.

“Why bring that up now,” Song Yuehua said. “Let’s take it one step at a time. Don’t worry, we’ll face everything together. There will be a way to resolve this.”

Bai Qingyu replied, “Alright, we’ll face it together.”

Leaving the doctor’s office, the corridor lights glared an unsettling white.

Pushing open the ward door, a frail woman lay on the bed by the window, covered by a thin blue-and-white striped sheet. The outline beneath the blanket was as slender as a leaf that might drift away at any moment.

Her eyes were closed, her complexion sallow from prolonged illness. Her breathing was so faint it was almost inaudible, only the slight rise and fall of her chest indicating she was still awake.

Bai Qingyu hurried to the bedside, reaching out to tuck the blanket more securely around her mother.

Mrs. Bai slowly opened her eyes, the corners of her lips lifting into a faint smile. Her voice was as thin as a mosquito’s hum: “Qingyu… you’re here…”

“Yes, I’m here,” Bai Qingyu said, sitting by the bed. “The doctor said you need another minor surgery. You’ll feel better after it’s done.”

Mrs. Bai shook her head weakly, coughing twice. Each cough wracked her chest violently, as if draining all her strength. “Don’t… don’t waste any more money… This body of mine…”

“Don’t worry about the money,” Bai Qingyu interrupted, her voice tightening. “The doctor said the procedure is simple. You just need to cooperate.”

Afraid her mother would say more, she quickly turned to Song Yuehua standing by the door and introduced, “Mom, this is my friend, Song Yuehua. She came with me.”

Song Yuehua hurried forward, mimicking Bai Qingyu’s light footsteps. Looking at the emaciated woman on the bed, her heart ached.

She had never seen a patient like this, reduced to mere skin and bones, struggling even to speak. Yet the woman’s gaze toward Bai Qingyu was filled with deep affection.

“Auntie, I’m Yuehua,” Song Yuehua said, bending down to make her voice as gentle as possible. “Don’t worry, the surgery will definitely go smoothly.”

Mrs. Bai’s eyes rested on Song Yuehua, studying her for a few seconds before she suddenly smiled. The smile was faint, but it brought a touch of vitality to her sallow face. “This girl… is lovely… Qingyu, you’ve made a good fri…” Her words were cut off by another coughing fit, and Bai Qingyu quickly patted her back.

Song Yuehua stood by, watching as Bai Qingyu skillfully wiped her mother’s mouth and adjusted the bed’s angle.

“He…” Mrs. Bai’s frantic coughing finally subsided, her breathing gradually steadying. “Has he come back?”

Bai Qingyu’s fingers, resting at her side, unconsciously dug into her palm. A coldness settled between her brows. “No.”

“That’s good,” Mrs. Bai sighed in relief, though fear still lingered in her eyes. She gazed intently at her daughter, her bony hand resting on the blanket, knuckles white from the strain. “Don’t entangle yourself with him anymore. I don’t ask for anything else, I just want you and Qingyuan to be safe and well.”

“Forget what happened back then…” She paused, her voice as light as a sigh, the end trembling with exhaustion. “Move forward.”