The Beauty with Terrible Luck Falls in Love with a Ghost - Chapter 12.2

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.