My Sweet Little Flower Turned Out to Be a Sinister Ghost - Chapter 32

“Coming, coming! Just a moment!”

Song Yuehua, still clutching the cat food scoop, first evenly distributed the remaining kibble into the bowl before crouching down to gently stroke Song Xiaomi’s head. “Be good, eat by yourself for now. I’ll go answer the door,” she coaxed softly.

Having just seen off two groups of visitors, she didn’t rush, her footsteps relaxed and unhurried.

As she opened the door and saw Bai Qingyu standing outside, Song Yuehua’s eyes widened slightly in surprise. “Senior? Is that you?”

“What, not happy to see me?” Bai Qingyu raised an eyebrow teasingly, a hint of playful mockery in her tone. “Or did I come at a bad time?”

“No, no!” Song Yuehua quickly waved her hands, a little flustered as she explained, “It’s just… you usually text me before coming over, so I was a bit surprised.”

“Then next time, I’ll be sure to send you a message in advance to let you know I’m coming?” Bai Qingyu leaned in closer, her eyes sparkling with even more amusement as she deliberately teased her.

Song Yuehua knew she wasn’t actually upset, but she couldn’t think of how to respond. She could only stare back with wide, round eyes, the faint redness around them from earlier tears still visible, as if veiled in a mist, clear and pitiful.

Seeing her like this, Bai Qingyu’s teasing mood instantly softened. Her fingers paused slightly, and a pang of guilt washed over her for having teased her just now.

“Alright, I’ll stop teasing you,” Bai Qingyu said, reaching out to gently pat the top of her head, her movements soft and careful. “Now hurry up and let me in. It’s a bit chilly out here.”

“Oh, right! Come in, come in!” Song Yuehua quickly stepped aside, even nudging a pair of slippers over to make it easier for her to change.

Bai Qingyu changed her shoes with practiced ease, clearly not her first time visiting.

She walked over to the sofa and sat down, her gaze inadvertently drifting to the wastebasket beside the coffee table, where a few crumpled tissues lay. Recalling Bai Qingyuan’s earlier remark that “Yuehua’s eyes were red,” she immediately understood but didn’t mention it. Instead, she rested her fingertips lightly on the armrest, waiting for Song Yuehua to join her.

“I was just pouring cat food for Xiaomi, so I was a bit slow opening the door. I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long?” Song Yuehua walked over and sat in the single-seater sofa beside her, still explaining the delay.

“A little wait is fine,” Bai Qingyu turned to look at her, her gaze gentle. “As long as you’re willing to open the door for me in the end, it’s never too late.”

Song Yuehua scratched her head awkwardly, her ears tinged with red as she tried to sound composed. “I’ll always open the door for you.”

Just then, Song Xiaomi spotted Bai Qingyu. With a flick of its tail, it leaped gracefully into her lap, nuzzling into her palm and emitting a soft, rumbling purr from its throat.

Bai Qingyu raised her hand and began stroking the soft fur along its back, occasionally scratching under its chin with practiced gentleness.

She lifted her eyes to look at Song Yuehua, her gaze lingering on her face.

Feeling a bit self-conscious under her scrutiny, Song Yuehua instinctively reached up to touch her own cheek, wondering inwardly: It shouldn’t be noticeable anymore, right? It’s been so long…

Bai Qingyu didn’t mention her red-rimmed eyes. Instead, she smoothly changed the subject, her tone casual. “By the way, the protective charm you gave my mom before her surgery last time really worked wonders. She recovered even better than the doctors expected. If we’re free this weekend, why don’t we go to the temple together to give thanks?”

Song Yuehua, relieved that the topic wasn’t about her crying, instantly relaxed, a light smile appearing on her face as she nodded eagerly. “Sure, when would be good?”

Seeing the sudden brightness in Song Yuehua’s eyes, Bai Qingyu’s smile deepened, the corners of her eyes crinkling slightly. “Anytime is fine.”

“Huh?” Song Yuehua asked, “Weren’t you still working part-time before? How come it’s suddenly ‘anytime’ now?”

Bai Qingyu gently brushed her fingers over Song Xiaomi’s ear. “The software I collaborated on with the hospital received great feedback, so I’m thinking of starting a small company. My mom’s recovery is almost complete, so I don’t need to run to the hospital every day. I quit all my part-time jobs to focus on the software.”

“Really? That’s amazing!” Song Yuehua sat up straight, her voice filled with genuine delight. “This way, you won’t have to work so hard like before. You can finally take it easy!”

Hearing that Song Yuehua’s first reaction was concern for her well-being, Bai Qingyu felt a ripple of emotion in her heart.

“Yeah, from now on, if we want to go out, I won’t have to adjust my schedule around part-time work.”

“Let me think,” Song Yuehua said, pondering.

She had just scheduled an interview at a bubble tea shop today. If she got the job, she’d really have to manage her time carefully. But should she tell Bai Qingyu about it?

If she did, Bai Qingyu would definitely ask why. And if she mentioned her bank card being frozen, Bai Qingyu, given her nature, might blame herself.

Song Yuehua pressed her lips together, hesitating over how to bring it up.

Lying would be the easiest way out, just making up some excuse but she was afraid that if the truth came out later, it would create a rift between them, which would be much harder to fix than being honest now.

“What’s on your mind? Are you busy?” Bai Qingyu asked softly, noticing her prolonged silence and furrowed brow.

Song Yuehua took a deep breath. “I might… be a little busy. I have a part-time job interview at a bubble tea shop tomorrow. If I get it, my schedule probably won’t be as flexible.”

Bai Qingyu was taken aback. “A part-time job? Why are you suddenly looking for one?”

Song Yuehua didn’t hide it anymore and explained everything that had happened that day, trying to sound casual. “…It’s not a big deal, really. I just want to make sure I have some financial security, so I don’t have to worry about money.”

After listening, Bai Qingyu frowned slightly and lowered her head in silence for a few seconds.

So, was Song Yuehua upset because she was short on money?

She looked up at Song Yuehua. “You lent me money for my mom’s surgery before, and I haven’t paid you back yet. I’ll transfer it to you today, so you won’t have to take that part-time job.”

“No, it’s fine!” Song Yuehua insisted. “You’re just starting a company, you need to hold onto your startup funds. How can you pay me back now? I still have some cash on hand, enough to last me a while. Really, don’t worry about me.”

Bai Qingyu’s fingers tightened imperceptibly, a flicker of guilt passing through her eyes. She knew Song Yuehua had never experienced much hardship before. Even though she hadn’t been treated well in the Song family, at least she never had to worry about money.

“But part-time jobs are tough, and the money you lent me before is more than enough to last you quite a while.” She didn’t want Song Yuehua to overexert herself.

“Ah, it’s really fine!” Song Yuehua leaned in a little closer, softening her tone with a hint of relief in her eyes. “I’ll have to start working sooner or later anyway. Getting used to it now is no different. Besides, my relationship with the Song family has never been good, I’ve long wanted to stop relying on their money. Earning my own way feels much more secure.”

“Yuehua…” Bai Qingyu’s heart twisted at the sight of her feigned strength, and she hated herself for not being capable enough yet to fully protect her.

“I’m really okay,” Song Yuehua said sincerely.

Just then, the sudden ringing of a phone interrupted their conversation.

“Go ahead and answer it,” Bai Qingyu said, quickly masking her emotions.

Song Yuehua picked up her phone and accepted the call.

“Hello? Is this Ms. Song Yuehua?”

“Yes, speaking.”

“I’m very sorry to inform you, but our bubble tea shop has made some last-minute adjustments to our hiring plan. We no longer need additional staff, so the interview scheduled for tomorrow has been canceled.”

Song Yuehua replied dejectedly, “…Is that so? Alright, I understand. Thank you for letting me know.”

“We apologize for any inconvenience.” Before Song Yuehua could say anything else, the caller hurriedly hung up.

Clutching her phone, Song Yuehua froze for a moment before turning to look at Bai Qingyu.

Bai Qingyu was watching her with concern, so Song Yuehua quickly forced a faint smile, trying to appear nonchalant. “It’s nothing serious. They’ve already hired someone else, so I’ll just look for another place. There are plenty of part-time jobs out there anyway.”

But Bai Qingyu’s frown deepened, and her tone was unusually firm. “I’m afraid it’ll be difficult for you to find a suitable part-time job now.”

Song Yuehua was taken aback, her eyes widening in surprise. “How could that be? I’ve seen lots of part-time job listings online.”

“Bubble tea shops are usually short-staffed this season. It’s rare for them to cancel an interview last minute unless someone specifically intervened.”

“Then…?” Song Yuehua already had an idea. “Was it Song Yuelan’s doing?”

Bai Qingyu nodded.

Song Yuehua sighed.

So, it was true, just like in the novels, once they didn’t want you to find work, you really couldn’t find any.

Seeing Song Yuehua’s distress, Bai Qingyu suggested, “If you really want a job, why not come help out at my company?”

“Huh?” Song Yuehua said naively, “But I don’t know how to code or anything like that.”

She had only studied for half a year and was planning to change majors anyway.

Bai Qingyu chuckled helplessly. “The company isn’t a coding factory, not everyone has to write code. There’s plenty of miscellaneous work to do, like organizing files, liaising with clients, and taking meeting minutes. None of that requires programming skills.”

“Oh, right.” Song Yuehua’s mind finally caught up, and she giggled at her own silliness. “My brain just froze for a second. I thought you had to be technical. How silly of me.”

As they spoke, Song Xiaomi, who was nestled in Bai Qingyu’s arms, stretched lazily. Its tail gently brushed against Bai Qingyu’s wrist as if saying goodbye, then it leaped gracefully into Song Yuehua’s arms, nuzzling softly into her palm. The fluffy fur tickled her heart.

“This little cat,” Song Yuehua murmured affectionately, rubbing Song Xiaomi’s head. “It knows how to share the love.”

“Xiaomi has always been clever, he knows who truly cares for him.” Bai Qingyu watched the affectionate interaction between the girl and the cat, the warmth in his eyes deepening.

“But I’m not as smart as Xiaomi.” Song Yuehua’s voice suddenly softened, her chin resting gently on the cat’s head. “If the tasks you give me are too difficult, I’m afraid I might mess up and cause you trouble instead.”

Bai Qingyu replied, “Who said you’re not smart? You ranked among the top in your major after just half a year of studying, that’s already more impressive than most people. How can you call yourself foolish?”

“That’s only because you taught me well,” Song Yuehua murmured.

Bai Qingyu reached out and lightly pinched the tip of her nose. “If my teaching were that effective, why haven’t I sent all my tutoring students to top universities? It’s clearly your own diligence that allowed you to learn so quickly.”

A faint, delicate fragrance drifted past Song Yuehua’s senses, carrying a gentle touch before quickly fading away.

Her mind went blank, her eyes widened, and her lips parted slightly. For a long moment, she couldn’t utter a word, not even reacting when Xiaomi nuzzled against her in her arms.

“How about becoming my secretary? You’d just help me organize documents and take meeting notes, nothing too difficult. That way, I’d be your boss, but it wouldn’t be much different from when I was your tutor. You wouldn’t have to worry about adjusting. What do you think?”

“Sec… Secretary? Boss?” Song Yuehua repeated the words dazedly.

For some reason, her face flushed red.