My Sweet Little Flower Turned Out to Be a Sinister Ghost - Chapter 28

Song Yuehua’s bag of potato chips fell to the floor with a soft thud. She let out a sharp gasp, shrinking toward Bai Qingyu like a startled little animal. Her hands clutched tightly at Bai Qingyu’s arm, her eyes squeezed shut, and her voice trembled as she cried out, “Wh-why is this so scary?!”

Bai Qingyu had been staring expressionlessly at the screen, completely unfazed by the ghost crawling out, but Song Yuehua’s sudden lunge startled her. Her body stiffened instinctively. The faint scent of roses from Song Yuehua’s skin—the sweet but not cloying fragrance of her usual body lotion, drifted into Bai Qingyu’s senses, mingling with the light aroma of the cocktail she had just been drinking, wrapping softly around her.

Slowly, Bai Qingyu raised her hand, encircling Song Yuehua’s shoulders, her palm gently patting her back as she spoke in an unusually soft tone, “It’s alright, it’s alright. It’s all fake, just props.”

Hearing the reassurance, Song Yuehua gradually loosened her grip on Bai Qingyu’s arm. She fumbled for a nearby pillow, hugging it tightly against her chest and covering her eyes. But the eerie music from the television lingered in her ears, tugging at her curiosity, making her unable to resist wanting to know what happened next.

She stealthily lowered the pillow slightly, her fingers digging into its edges as she peeked with half an eye through the gap, cautiously glancing at the screen. Yet, just two seconds in, the camera abruptly zoomed in for a close-up of the ghost, a pale, ghastly face with dripping bloodstained nails, staring directly into the lens. Song Yuehua shrieked again, tossing the pillow aside as she threw herself entirely into Bai Qingyu’s embrace, her forehead accidentally bumping against Bai Qingyu’s chest.

Bai Qingyu let out a soft grunt, her chest aching from the impact.

Hearing the sound, Song Yuehua snapped back to her senses, quickly straightening up. Her eyes widened with panic as she stammered, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to! Did I hurt you? Let me rub it for you!” With that, her hand moved toward Bai Qingyu’s chest, her fingertips nearly brushing against her clothes.

Bai Qingyu gently caught her wrist. “I’m fine, really. Look, the ghost is gone now, the scene has changed.”

Song Yuehua followed her gaze to the screen and, indeed, saw no trace of the ghost. She breathed a sigh of relief, quietly withdrawing her hand while inwardly scolding herself: Next time I get scared, I can’t just throw myself at her like that!

But the movie’s atmosphere was so intense that even without the ghost, the background music carried an unsettling chill, making it feel as though something might jump out at any moment.

Nervously, Song Yuehua licked her dry lips and reached for the cocktail on the coffee table, tilting her head back to take two large gulps. Gradually, the screen before her grew blurry, the characters’ faces doubling into hazy outlines. By the time the ghost reappeared, her mind felt wrapped in cotton, fear didn’t register. Instead, her eyelids grew unbearably heavy, and she could no longer sit upright, her body slowly tilting to the side.

A gentle weight settled on her shoulder. Bai Qingyu turned her head to look.

Song Yuehua had already leaned her head against Bai Qingyu’s shoulder, her eyes tightly shut and her breathing soft and even, clearly fast asleep.

Bai Qingyu lowered her gaze, studying Song Yuehua’s face as the flickering light from the television screen danced across the lower half of it. Her eyelashes rested like two small fans beneath her eyes, and her lips, tinted pink from the alcohol, were slightly pursed, as if she were lost in a sweet, untroubled dream.

Bai Qingyu’s fingers twitched involuntarily. She reached out gently, the faint calluses from years of manual labor brushing softly against Song Yuehua’s plump lips.

Song Yuehua tilted her head slightly, wrinkling her nose as she shifted away from the ticklish sensation.

Bai Qingyu’s hand lingered, sliding down along her cheek until it rested on the soft, rounded curve of her earlobe. Her fingertips pinched the tender flesh, its texture reminiscent of freshly steamed glutinous rice balls, and she couldn’t resist giving it a gentle squeeze.

This finally stirred Song Yuehua a little. Her brows furrowed slightly, and she mumbled, “Xiaomi, stop it…” Her head swayed from side to side like a rattle drum, clearly mistaking Bai Qingyu’s touch for the paw of Song Xiaomi, the cat.

But she hadn’t been sitting steadily to begin with, and with that movement, her body began to slide sideways.

Bai Qingyu swiftly caught her, resting her head on her own lap.

Then, she reached for the blanket Song Yuehua had prepared earlier and draped it over her.

Song Yuehua seemed to find a comfortable position, her hand unconsciously grabbing the edge of the blanket and tugging it up under her chin, leaving only half her face exposed.

Seeing her so utterly defenseless, Bai Qingyu couldn’t help but let out a soft chuckle, her fingertips lightly brushing against the top of Song Yuehua’s head.

She decided to wait until the movie ended before carrying her back to her room, not wanting to risk waking her now.

As the film drew to a close, the steady rhythm of breathing rose from the person lying on her lap.

Bai Qingyu carefully cradled the back of Song Yuehua’s head, slipped her other arm under her knees, and laid her flat on the sofa. Only then did she stand and head toward Song Yuehua’s room. Just as she reached the doorway, a small orange fluffball came rubbing against her legs.

So, it really had been wandering around.

Bai Qingyu softened her footsteps even more, bent down, and stroked its head, whispering, “Don’t run around, or you might get stepped on.” In the unlit room, only the round silhouette of Song Xiaomi was visible.

On Song Yuehua’s nightstand stood a bedside lamp, she often turned off the main light at night, preferring to use the small lamp while scrolling on her phone.

So, Bai Qingyu didn’t switch on the overhead light, opting instead to turn on the bedside lamp.

A warm, yellow glow spilled from the lampshade, softly illuminating half of the bed.

Once everything was ready, Bai Qingyu returned to the sofa, bent down, and lifted Song Yuehua into her arms.

Asleep, Song Yuehua was like a ragdoll, her arms resting obediently around Bai Qingyu’s neck, nestled compliantly against her chest.

Bai Qingyu carefully laid her on the pillow and was about to straighten up to pull the covers over her when Song Yuehua suddenly turned over, facing inward, and draped one leg over the blanket, letting out a faint, indistinct murmur.

Bai Qingyu: …

Bai Qingyu turned and walked to the bathroom, where she ran a towel under warm water. Thinking that Song Yuehua had been drinking and might feel more comfortable with a wipe down before bed, she wrung it out.

But as she stepped back into the room with the towel, she saw the orange fluffball sprawled mischievously over Song Yuehua’s head.

“What are you doing…?” Song Yuehua’s eyelids drooped heavily, her voice groggy, not even fully opening her eyes.

“Meow~” Caught in the act, Song Xiaomi didn’t retreat. Instead, it rubbed its way down along her cheek, its little paws kneading gently against her chest, a soft purr rumbling in its throat.

Song Yuehua finally cracked her eyes open a sliver, her gaze hazy as if veiled in mist, her consciousness not yet fully returned.

Feeling the slight weight on her chest, she flailed her hand a couple of times until she managed to scoop up Song Xiaomi’s belly, clutching the cat tightly against her. She nuzzled her face into its fur, her voice muffled: “Go to sleep now, sleep…”

It was unclear whether she was soothing the cat or speaking to herself. As soon as the words left her lips, her eyes gently closed again.

Bai Qingyu approached with light footsteps, watching the kitten curled into a ball in Song Yuehua’s arms, then glanced at her drowsy expression, unable to suppress a soft smile.

But before she could speak, Song Xiaomi suddenly squirmed in Song Yuehua’s embrace, its claws clutching at her collar, and with a “whoosh,” it leaped out and landed on the carpet beside the bed.

Song Yuehua, feeling the sudden emptiness in her arms, froze for a moment before sitting up in a daze. Her hair was tousled and sticking up, and she stared blankly at the figure before her, taking a long while to recognize who it was. “Qingyu?” she tilted her head, her tone full of confusion. “Why are you still here?”

Bai Qingyu replied patiently, “Have you forgotten? You invited me over tonight to watch a movie. You got drunk and fell asleep afterward.”

“I’m not… not drunk!” Song Yuehua immediately retorted, waving her hand in the air as she tried to stand up straight to prove her point. But as soon as she pushed herself up from the edge of the bed, she swayed and nearly toppled over.

Fortunately, Bai Qingyu reached out to steady her.

“Alright, alright, you’re not drunk,” Bai Qingyu humored her and then asked, “Can you brush your teeth on your own? It’ll feel better to sleep after brushing.”

“Yes!” Song Yuehua widened her eyes, trying to straighten her posture, but her steps remained unsteady, as if she were walking on cotton. She staggered toward the door, with Bai Qingyu quickly following behind, worried she might fall.

When they reached the bathroom, Song Yuehua deftly picked up her toothbrush and reached for the toothpaste. But as she gripped the cap, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t twist it open.

Frowning, she pouted, her fingers tightening around the cap until her face flushed red with effort.

Bai Qingyu took the toothpaste from her, unscrewed the cap, squeezed a small amount onto her toothbrush, and handed it back. “Here.”

Song Yuehua stared blankly at Bai Qingyu, then at the toothbrush in her hand, before turning stiffly toward the mirror to begin brushing her teeth.

After brushing, she rinsed her mouth, bared her freshly cleaned teeth with a grin, and shook her head triumphantly. “I’m not drunk!”

“Alright, alright, you’re not drunk,” Bai Qingyu said. “Let’s get back to the room.” She stepped forward to support her.

Song Yuehua obediently held onto Bai Qingyu’s hand, her steps still unsteady as she was guided back to the room.

After finally settling her back into bed, Bai Qingyu tucked the covers around her and thought it was time to leave. But as she turned to go, her wrist was suddenly grasped.

Song Yuehua whimpered pitifully, “Don’t go. There’s a ghost in my room.”

Bai Qingyu chuckled. “Who was it that said they weren’t scared earlier? And insisted on watching a horror movie?”

Song Yuehua, caught in her lie, stubbornly insisted, “I-I’m not scared!” Then, leaning closer, she lowered her voice even further. “Don’t go. There’s a ghost. If you leave, the ghost might catch you.”

Bai Qingyu reassured her, “It’s fine. I’m not scared.”

Song Yuehua fell silent, her lips pressed together slightly as she gazed at Bai Qingyu with wide, round eyes, her eyelashes trembling softly.

Bai Qingyu sighed softly and reached out to ruffle Song Yuehua’s hair. “Go to sleep. I’ll stay here with you. I won’t leave.”

Song Yuehua quickly scooted over, making room on the pillow, and clumsily patted the spot beside her.

Bai Qingyu pressed her lips together and lay down next to her.

Song Yuehua thoughtfully shared a corner of the blanket with Bai Qingyu.

Bai Qingyu turned her head to look at Song Yuehua.

After finishing her tasks, Song Yuehua closed her eyes peacefully.

A short while later, steady breathing sounds came from beside her.

Bai Qingyu got up and stood by the bed, quietly gazing at the defenseless, sleeping Song Yuehua.

…

“Where is this?”

Song Yuehua’s eyes snapped open, only to find herself engulfed in an impenetrable darkness.

She anxiously looked around but could touch nothing except the icy blackness.

What unnerved her even more was the sensation of a gaze fixed upon her, cold and clinging, as if something was lurking in the shadows, watching her all along.

Her heartbeat quickened instantly. She turned around, trying to locate the source of the gaze, but no matter where she looked, there was only an endless expanse of darkness.

Yet that gaze coiled around her like vines, tightening its grip until even her breathing grew labored.