The Beauty with Terrible Luck Falls in Love with a Ghost - Chapter 12.1

When Zuo Lihua woke again, she found herself in a hospital.

It wasn’t out of Han Hai’er’s kindness that an ambulance had been called, rather, she herself had fought through the overwhelming weakness that made her wish to faint just for some rest, managed to secure the ambulance despite Han Hai’er, and dialed the number with her last shred of consciousness.

Her gaze fell upon a pristine white ceiling. Shifting her eyes slightly, she saw an IV bottle hanging from a stand. Moving her gaze a bit further, she spotted the familiar female ghost sitting idly by the bedside, playing with her own fingers.

Seaweed-like ink-black hair cascaded down refreshingly, with bangs covering her forehead and half of her striking blue eyes. When Zuo Lihua looked closely, she unexpectedly met the ghost’s gaze, as if the ghost had been waiting for her all along, watching her for who knows how long.

Years of dealing with her had conditioned Zuo Lihua to reflexively offer Han Hai’er a smile before her brain could even process the situation.

“……” Noticing the look, Han Hai’er glared at her before turning away.

Zuo Lihua: “……?” Seems angry?

“Would you like some water?” A voice sounded beside her.

Zuo Lihua froze for a moment, surprised to discover there was someone else in the room.

The person wore a white coat over nurse’s scrubs, holding a cup of water, their identity was obvious. A nurse.

A nurse. Zuo Lihua’s eyes flickered slightly as she lowered her gaze, unable to describe what she was feeling.

In that fleeting moment, though so faint she barely registered it, she had genuinely hoped the person she’d see would be Madam Zuo, her “mother.”

Everything happened too fast, the thought arose too quickly, and the disappointment followed just as swiftly. By the time she processed it, all that remained was a muddle of conflicting emotions, like a dud firework falling to the ground with neither spectacle nor sound, yet leaving her feeling utterly miserable.

“Thank you.” Zuo Lihua said softly, only realizing how parched her throat was when she spoke.

The bed was adjusted upward. As the nurse approached, Zuo Lihua caught a faint whiff of disinfectant from her.

Warm water moistened her chapped lips and slowly flowed down her throat.

After finishing the cup, Zuo Lihua smacked her lips. Whether from not eating for so long or something else, her tongue felt bitterly dry.

“Are you feeling unwell anywhere?” the nurse asked gently.

“I’m fine.” Zuo Lihua shook her head.

The nurse seemed relieved, letting out a soft sigh. “You fainted due to long-term lack of food, malnutrition, plus catching a cold and developing a fever… Whatever the reason, humans need to eat to sustain life. Don’t be so reckless in the future.”

The implication was clear: don’t starve yourself to death for the sake of beauty or weight loss.

Obviously, the nurse had recognized her.

Zuo Lihua didn’t find this particularly noteworthy, celebrities were human too, and all humans get sick.

“Understood. I’ll make sure to eat properly from now on.”

“Good,” the nurse appeared satisfied with her response, standing up to say, “Rest well. If you need anything, just press the call button and I’ll come.”

“Understood. Sorry for the trouble.”

“No trouble at all, it’s my job.” With that, the nurse left, thoughtfully closing the door behind her, leaving Zuo Lihua alone in the room.

This was a private suite, the hospital’s own decision, considering her profession.

Zuo Lihua found it quite thoughtful.

“Han Hai’er,” Zuo Lihua called out. Having drunk some water earlier, her voice was less hoarse now, but having just woken up, it hadn’t fully returned to its usual state. Her words carried a deep, magnetic quality that made one’s heart itch with an inexplicable feeling.

Han Hai’er, long since no longer human, didn’t find anything particularly special about the voice and replied coldly, “What?”

Zuo Lihua had many questions she wanted to ask, like how long she had been unconscious, what Han Hai’er had been doing during that time, whether she had schemed for money or harmed anyone; how she was finding the current situation, whether it was better than the villa, whether she had been dazzled by the vibrant world and felt reluctant to return; whether she had done anything strange while Zuo Lihua was asleep…

And so on. But she couldn’t ask. She still hadn’t quite figured out Han Hai’er’s temperament. If she accidentally provoked the ghost, the consequences might be more than she could bear. Besides, she was merely a victim herself. Spending more time together hadn’t given her a sense of responsibility like, “I brought her out, so I must keep an eye on her to prevent her from harming others.” One must act according to their position and capabilities. She was too weak, she could only protect herself and ensure she didn’t harm others. As for Han Hai’er, she had no control over her.

Thoughts raced through her mind, but when she spoke, only one sentence came out: “Have you been feeling bored?”

The words, tinged with concern, made Han Hai’er glance at her in surprise.

“Not bad, but it is a bit dull.”

“I’m sorry,” Zuo Lihua said with genuine sincerity. “I can’t take you out to explore right now.”

At the same time, her mind was working rapidly.

Did Han Hai’er’s words imply that she could only stay by her side and couldn’t move about freely?

She had heard before that earthbound spirits could only leave the place where they became ghosts by attaching themselves to a medium. Han Hai’er had died in the villa, so the villa was the place where she became a ghost. Since Zuo Lihua had promised to help her seek revenge, she had become the medium Han Hai’er relied on, she could only stay by her side.

Zuo Lihua bit her lower lip, a faint sense of disappointment in her heart. Did that mean there was no way to go to a temple and find a high monk to perform rites for Han Hai’er?

She blinked her eyes, her pink pupils radiating innocence, perfectly concealing all her emotions.

“No need for that,” Han Hai’er let out a scornful chuckle, as if mocking her. “Your place is lively enough as it is.”

Lively?

Zuo Lihua was taken aback as the door was pushed open again.

A tall figure appeared at the doorway, carrying a fruit basket, his face etched with a hint of anxiety.

“I’m late. What happened to you? Are you okay?”

Ning Dongbang approached the bedside, placed the fruit basket on the nightstand, and looked at her with concern.

His chest rose and fell slightly, and there were still traces of sweat on his forehead, giving him a somewhat travel-worn appearance, as if he had rushed over upon hearing the news.

Under normal circumstances, Zuo Lihua would have believed her manager genuinely cared for her and would have been deeply moved. But now, she only felt like laughing.

Zuo Lihua tried to sit up, but her body felt weak, making the effort somewhat strenuous.

Seeing this, Ning Dongbang quickly reached out to support her.

His palm touched Zuo Lihua’s exposed arm, and he exerted a slight force to help her up, then thoughtfully placed a pillow behind her back.

“Thank you.” Zuo Lihua said, her face showing gratitude, but her heart felt desolate.

Ning Dongbang’s hand was cold.

It was summer, and the weather outside was clear. Even if the hospital building was air-conditioned, if he had rushed over, his hand shouldn’t have been so cold.

He had deliberately put on an act to deceive her.

Ning Dongbang had always been a meticulous person.

In the past, Zuo Lihua would never have noticed such details. But now, as she recalled the things Ning Dongbang had done that once moved her, she realized, just like today, that something was off.

It really was because she had been too foolish, too quick to trust others.

Zuo Lihua let out a heavy sigh.

Ning Dongbang froze for a moment, suddenly feeling uneasy. Zuo Lihua was too quiet, it didn’t match her usual temperament.

If she had discovered something,

Ning Dongbang’s eyes flickered, a trace of murderous intent rising in his heart.

“Brother Ning.” Zuo Lihua suddenly spoke, her voice soft and gentle.

“Hmm?” Ning Dongbang adjusted his glasses, concealing the turbulent emotions beneath.

“I just can’t seem to muster any energy.” Zuo Lihua pouted, half whining and half complaining, her attitude as trusting as ever, as if she still had complete faith in Ning Dongbang.

Ning Dongbang relaxed slightly.

Her lack of energy was good news for him. Of course, he knew there was a ghost in the villa. Before, he had replenished the food every other day, cleaned the place, and carefully nurtured the ghost. Later, when simple food was no longer enough to suppress it, he had sent a living person inside. But since that person’s birth date didn’t align, he was worried the ghost wouldn’t accept the offering.

But Zuo Lihua, lively and energetic, had moved in and ended up in the hospital within three days. Now, even after waking up, she still seemed listless. This could only mean one thing, the ghost had fed on Zuo Lihua’s vitality and accepted her as the sacrifice.

All he needed to do now was keep Zuo Lihua calm until the ghost drained her life force completely. Once Zuo Lihua had given her life to the ghost, both he and she would be safe.

The thought made him a little excited.

Ning Dongbang picked up an apple and began carefully peeling it with a small knife. “Have you been sleeping in again? Staying up late watching anime? Sleeping too much really isn’t good for your energy levels. You need to maintain a regular schedule.”

Zuo Lihua puffed out her cheeks unhappily.

Ning Dongbang had unilaterally diagnosed her problem, analyzed the cause, and even proposed a solution, all with apparent sincerity.

“Have you been online lately?” Ning Dongbang asked casually. His knife skills were impressive; he had already finished peeling the apple while speaking and handed it to Zuo Lihua, skewered on the tip of the knife.

Zuo Lihua took it but didn’t hear him say anything like “be careful with the knife.”

She took a bite of the apple and frowned. “There’s no internet. When are you going to have someone fix it for me? I feel like I’ve been cut off from society for thirty years.”

Ning Dongbang chuckled. “What thirty years? It’s only been a few days. How are you calculating time?”

“Every day feels like ten years to me.” Zuo Lihua said, taking an angry bite of the apple as if venting her frustration about the lack of internet on the fruit.

Ning Dongbang replied, “I had someone check the place you’re staying. There’s no issue there. It might be a problem with the internet company. Just wait a bit longer. While you’re in the hospital these couple of days, don’t use your phone, treat it as a chance to rest. Once the public opinion dies down, you can go online again. The company has already started taking action.”

As he spoke, Zuo Lihua kept observing his expression, sincere and earnest, as if he were telling the truth.

If she didn’t already know the actual situation outside, she would have been completely fooled by him.

“Are you sure?” Zuo Lihua asked irritably. “How could there be a problem with the internet company?”

“Why not? Not long ago, the fiber optic cables in North Ring were stolen.”

Zuo Lihua was taken aback. “Huh?”

Ning Dongbang added in a storytelling tone, “It seems an old man, after finishing his meal, went out for a leisurely drive in his old car. Since no one was around, he thought the stuff was unwanted and started cutting it. He kept cutting for three days, even bringing someone to help on the third day. In total, they cut about seven or eight hundred meters, sold it as scrap for three yuan per kilogram.”

Zuo Lihua: “…That actually happened?”

“Anything is possible. Don’t jump to conclusions.” Ning Dongbang concluded with the tone of someone who’s seen it all.

Zuo Lihua glanced at him, then looked again, leaving Ning Dongbang utterly confused.

“…What’s wrong?” he couldn’t help but ask.

“Nothing,” Zuo Lihua nodded. “You’re right.”

“Keep eating. I’m going to wash my hands.”

“Mhm.”

As soon as Ning Dongbang left, Zuo Lihua immediately spat out the apple in her mouth and threw the rest away.

“Han Hai’er.”

Han Hai’er, who had been watching the TV in the hospital room, turned her head. “What’s up?”

“Could you follow Ning Dongbang for me and see what he’s up to?”

Han Hai’er’s expression turned fierce. “Are you ordering me around?”

“Please!” Zuo Lihua clasped her hands together, looking utterly sincere. “I’m hooked up to an IV and can’t move easily. I have to rely on you. I’ll make it up to you.”

“Can you afford to?” Han Hai’er lifted her chin arrogantly.

Zuo Lihua froze. She really had no idea what that compensation might entail.

Zuo Lihua was wearing a hospital gown. Her face was pale from illness, her pink eyes glistening as she stared unblinkingly at Han Hai’er. She looked every bit the delicate, pitiful beauty.

If it were anyone else, they would’ve agreed immediately upon seeing Zuo Lihua like this, but Han Hai’er wasn’t one to appreciate such displays.

She turned back and continued watching TV.

Zuo Lihua clenched her fist and said, “But isn’t he your enemy? He killed you. Don’t you want revenge?”

Han Hai’er suddenly froze, as if someone had pressed a pause button.

Two seconds later, she turned around as if waking from a dream. “He killed me. You’re right. They…”

Before she could finish, she transformed into a shadowy figure and slipped out through the door crack.

Zuo Lihua stared at the door, unable to make sense of it.

Han Hai’er seemed to have just remembered. Had she forgotten about it?

That shouldn’t be possible.

As she pondered, Han Hai’er returned.

Unlike when she left through the door crack, she came back by phasing through the wall. The TV was mounted on the wall, making it look as though she had emerged from the screen.

Zuo Lihua immediately asked, “What happened?”

“Ning Dongbang was on the phone with someone named Ling Mengwei. He said you haven’t seen the news, and that person will probably come over soon.”

Zuo Lihua smiled at her. “Thank you.”

Han Hai’er turned her face away. “Compensation.”

Zuo Lihua nodded. “Within my means, definitely.”

Han Hai’er said nothing more and returned to the sofa to continue watching her show.

The next second, the door was pushed open.

Ning Dongbang walked in.

“You’re back?” Zuo Lihua’s eyes lit up.

“Yeah,” Ning Dongbang stood at the doorway without stepping further in. “Ling Mengwei will be here to see you soon. I have work, so I’m heading back now.”

“Okay,” Zuo Lihua said. “Work comes first.”

“You…” Ning Dongbang adjusted his glasses. “Take care of yourself. Don’t use your phone or watch TV these next couple of days. Stay away from radiation.”

“Huh?” Zuo Lihua complained, “I can’t even watch TV? I haven’t finished my cartoon yet.”

Ning Dongbang sighed, looking helpless. “Watch less.”

The hospital TVs only broadcast CCTV channels, and Zuo Lihua wasn’t famous enough to appear on CCTV anyway, so it didn’t matter if she watched a little.

“You’re so controlling.” Zuo Lihua muttered.

Ning Dongbang raised an eyebrow. “It’s for your own good.”

“Alright, alright, you should go now.” Zuo Lihua waved her hand, dismissing him.

After Ning Dongbang left, Zuo Lihua closed her eyes for a moment, then picked up her phone.

She opened a real-time entertainment app, the top three trending searches were all about her.

#Zuo Lihua Cheating#

#Zuo Lihua Ling Mengwei#

#Zuo Lihua Suspected of Contract Termination#

Zuo Lihua frowned.

Contract termination???

She tapped on the topic and, as expected, found a flood of insults.

As a public figure in the entertainment industry, who hadn’t been criticized? Zuo Lihua had long since grown indifferent. She skimmed through the hateful comments without absorbing a single word, scrolling until she finally found the source of the contract termination rumor.

[Ning Dongbang hints that the company intends to terminate contract with problematic artist Zuo]

It was a small entertainment account, using the topic to gain followers.

Zuo Lihua lowered her gaze and put away her phone.

She hadn’t received any official notice. If the company really wanted to terminate her contract, they would bypass her agent and contact her directly. The current buzz was likely Ning Dongbang’s doing, a tactic to make fans believe she was at fault and being abandoned by the company. After all, companies don’t easily terminate contracts with artists due to compensation clauses.

She opened Ling Mengwei’s Weibo next, where comments were flooded with sympathy for Ling, while simultaneously bashing her.

She set her phone aside, adjusted the hospital bed to lie flat, pulled the covers over herself, and decided to rest a bit before Ling Mengwei arrived to regain some energy.

Just before closing her eyes, she remembered something. Picking up an orange, she asked Han Hai’er, “Want an orange?”

Han Hai’er didn’t even turn her head. “Rotten orange. No.”

“Oh.” Zuo Lihua withdrew her hand, staring at the orange in her palm.

It looked perfectly fresh and juicy, how could it be rotten?

Unable to make sense of it, she gave up.

She placed the orange back, lay down again, pulled the covers up, and quietly closed her eyes.

Han Hai’er seemed to sense something and glanced back.

The figure under the covers was barely visible, the person lying there so still her breathing was almost inaudible. Her eyes were closed, long lashes casting faint shadows beneath them. Her lips, moistened, were no longer dry and looked soft and supple, as if they’d be nice to bite…

Han Hai’er licked her lips, turned away, and changed the channel with the remote.

…

In her drowsy state, Zuo Lihua heard the door open.

Then, a faint, delicate fragrance wafted to her nose. Someone had entered.

Her eyes snapped open.

A grotesque, shriveled little infant, covered in black and red patterns, turned its head and locked eyes with her.

Zuo Lihua took a sharp breath and instinctively shifted backward.

Ling Mengwei’s outstretched hand froze mid-air.

“Li… Lihua?” Ling Mengwei clenched her hand into a fist and withdrew it, looking slightly embarrassed.

Only then did Zuo Lihua notice Ling Mengwei.

Her face was still impeccably made up, her eyes red-rimmed as if she’d been crying. Dressed in a white puff-sleeved dress, her figure was delicate and graceful, like a fragile little white flower.

Zuo Lihua lowered her eyes without a trace of emotion and glanced once more at the infant ghost coiled on her lower abdomen. “Mengwei, it’s you.”

“Ah, are you okay? Brother Ning told me you were sick, so I dropped everything and rushed over right away. Did I disturb your rest?” Ling Mengwei’s tone was apologetic.

“No, I was waiting for you anyway.” Zuo Lihua shook her head. “I’m fine. I just fainted from hunger because I hadn’t eaten.”

“Why didn’t you eat?” Ling Mengwei widened her eyes. “Didn’t you always say, ‘Not eating is worse than killing me’?”

“I couldn’t eat.” Zuo Lihua replied, “How are things going with the preparations?”

“Ah,” Ling Mengwei blinked quickly, “I’ve already posted a clarification. Don’t worry.”

“…” Zuo Lihua twitched the corner of her mouth. “Then what about you?”

“I’m okay,” Ling Mengwei said. “I was kept in the dark and was a victim too. My fans have been very understanding. You don’t need to worry.”

“Is that so?”

“Mhm, mhm!” Ling Mengwei nodded eagerly. Then, as if realizing she seemed too enthusiastic, she added, “Though there are still some people criticizing me, it doesn’t matter. It’s just a small minority. Most people understand, after all, nobody’s perfect in this life.”

Zuo Lihua stared at her, as if trying to detect something else in her expression.

Ling Mengwei instinctively averted her gaze but then seemed to think better of it and asked, “What’s wrong, Lihua? Is my makeup cakey?” She made an exaggerated, distressed face.

“No,” Zuo Lihua smiled. “You’re as beautiful as ever today, worthy of being my best friend.”

“Really? Then I’m relieved.”

After Ling Mengwei finished speaking, Zuo Lihua fell silent.

The room grew quiet, with only the sound of the TV preventing the atmosphere from becoming awkward.

A few minutes later, Ling Mengwei seemed unable to stay any longer. “Since you’re fine, I’m relieved. I’ll come see you again tomorrow.”

With that, she stood up to leave.

“Wait!” Zuo Lihua called out to her.

Ling Mengwei turned back. “What is it?”

Zuo Lihua said, “My IV drip is finished. Could you call the nurse for me?”

Ling Mengwei instinctively glanced at the IV bottle.

The crystal-clear plastic soft bottle was already empty, and below the needle in the soft tube, near Zuo Lihua’s arm, a stream of crimson blood was slowly flowing backward through the tube, as if trying to replenish all that had been lost in the bottle.

Her pupils contracted, and a sudden palpitation struck her, as if it weren’t just a trickle of blood in the tube but a surging river of blood, overwhelming and threatening to drown someone.