You Should’ve Said Earlier that you’re Such a Little Flirt! - Chapter 19

The outlook was grim.

But “grim” was merely a polite euphemism. Lawyer Chen held no hope for this case; after all, the key evidence was missing. She only spoke in such terms to offer Xu Qingqiong a small measure of comfort.

Even so, the words hit Xu Qingqiong like a physical blow, leaving her mind blank and her heart constricted.

Refusing to give up, she pressed further, “Is there truly no other way?”

Lawyer Chen fell silent for a moment before shaking her head.

Her explanation was crystal clear: without evidence, nothing could be done. The law demands proof; mere allegations hold no weight.

However, having handled countless cases like this over the years, she offered a habitual word of consolation. “Of course, you can keep searching for other evidence. Don’t give up hope—you never know what might turn up.”

…

Stepping out of the law firm with unsteady steps, Xu Qingqiong’s first instinct was to go to the doctor to examine the medical records.

She wouldn’t give up, not as long as a flicker of hope remained.

The doctor had been employed by the Xu family for many years and was quite familiar with Xu Qingqiong. It was she who had performed the emergency surgery the night the nanny called the ambulance. She was somewhat surprised by their sudden visit, considering it had been months since the passing.

Standing up from her desk, the doctor asked with a hint of confusion, “Qingqiong, what’s the matter?”

Xu Qingqiong clenched her fists, her voice dry. “I want to see my grandmother’s medical records.”

As a family member, she had every right to view them. The doctor didn’t pry; she simply nodded. “Of course.” She immediately instructed her assistant to pull up the previous records and test results.

Soon, a thick stack of documents was placed before Xu Qingqiong.

Sitting at the desk, Xu Qingqiong flipped through them page by page.

She wasn’t a professional; the numerical values and technical jargon were a blur of confusion. Yet, she stubbornly scrutinized every detail, refusing to let a single note slip by.

Lin Konglu sat beside her, knowing she wouldn’t quit, silently keeping her company.

Most of the records showed common geriatric ailments: hypertension, hyperlipidemia, gastrointestinal bleeding…

Xu Qingqiong knew her grandmother’s health had been declining for years. She was constantly on medication and had lost her spark.

But Xu Qingqiong had always comforted herself with the thought that there was still time. At the very least, she believed her grandmother would wait until she graduated and took over the Jiawei Art Museum. She thought they had a long road ahead of them.

Organ failure, sagging skin, chronic illness—she had assumed this was simply the inevitable path of aging.

But reading the medical records was like a slow, agonizing execution.

Her grandmother had to take a mountain of pills every day, many with grueling side effects: loss of appetite, vomiting, increased kidney strain, stomach pain, bleeding…

Disease causes a person to wither rapidly. As the body breaks down, the spirit is eroded. Like a parched plant stripped of its nutrients, she had been slowly wilting away in pain.

Soon, even living becomes a form of suffering.

A peaceful old age is a luxury for most; passing away quietly in one’s sleep without illness is an even rarer blessing.

The more she read, the less she could fathom how her grandmother—despite the handfuls of pills and the constant pain—would always smile during their video calls, telling her, “It’s nothing, I’m fine, I’m feeling quite good today…”

She also couldn’t fathom what Ye Jianguo had done to her grandmother under those circumstances.

And she shuddered to think that if not for today’s accidental discovery, she might have missed this detail entirely, never knowing the truth of how her grandmother died.

She blinked rapidly, shaking the tears from her lashes.

Her eyes scanned the papers quickly until they suddenly locked onto one specific report.

It was a small stack of physical examination reports from the past year. They showed that while various ailments persisted, her grandmother’s condition had been stable. The indicators hadn’t worsened; in fact, some had even improved.

“Here!” Xu Qingqiong said, her voice quickening with a spark of excitement. “This shows that there were no recurring symptoms of cerebral infarction over the past year.”

The doctor’s tone was helpless. “But that doesn’t prove anything. Cerebral infarction is a very common geriatric disease; it can’t be cured, and it’s highly unpredictable. One moment someone could be talking to you, and the next, it strikes.”

“Furthermore, fast-acting heart relief pills only serve to alleviate symptoms and buy time for emergency treatment.”

“Qingqiong, your grandmother was ill for so long. You must understand these things.”

She did understand. It was because she understood that she refused to let go. Pointing stubbornly at the indicators on the page, Xu Qingqiong insisted, “But she was clearly improving. There were no symptoms for a year. If someone hadn’t done something, how could it have been triggered so suddenly?”

She grew more agitated as she spoke. “And that day, only Ye Jianguo went to see her. If he didn’t do something, how could she have just…?”

“Qingqiong,” the doctor interrupted sternly.

“You cannot say that. I know you are grieving, and even suspicious…”

Xu Qingqiong froze. Her expression tightened, her eyes fixed on the doctor, her lips pressed into a thin, restrained line.

The doctor paused. “But speculation and fact are two different things. Without solid evidence, you cannot go around accusing people. These few test results prove nothing. As a doctor, I’m telling you clearly: this is not evidence.”

“You must be reasonable.”

Xu Qingqiong stared back defiantly, her eyes reddening. Finally, she couldn’t hold back the tears. two heavy drops rolled down her cheeks. Her emotions, suppressed for too long, finally breached the dam. With a sobbing voice, she broke down: “But that was my grandmother!”

Her only family. If it was because of her negligence—

The atmosphere turned heavy and strained.

Lin Konglu, her heart aching for her, instinctively reached out and pulled her close by the shoulder.

The doctor held her ground on principle—she didn’t want to see anyone wrongly accused—but she wasn’t heartless. “Qingqiong, I’ve been a doctor for a long time, and I knew Professor Xu well. I know exactly what kind of person she was, and I’m grateful for the kindness she showed me… But facts are facts. You cannot make such claims without proof.”

Looking at Xu Qingqiong’s expression, she softened and added, “Qingqiong, your grandmother has passed away. That is the reality.” She sighed, her eyes filled with gentle apology. “Try not to be too consumed by grief.”

Xu Qingqiong turned away, wiped her tears harshly with the back of her hand, and regained her composure. She bowed. “I’m sorry for bothering you.”

The doctor added, “Qingqiong, if there is anything else I can do to help, as long as it’s within my power…”

Xu Qingqiong’s pace faltered for a second, then she continued walking out.

…

Inside the car, Xu Qingqiong’s eyes were red. She leaned her forehead against the cold window glass, her fingernails digging deep into her palms.

In her heart, she wanted nothing more than to tear Ye Jianguo into pieces.

But she blamed herself even more. Why hadn’t she been more careful? Why had she ignored so many red flags so easily?

Ye Jianguo had been in such a desperate rush to hold the funeral, not even letting her see her grandmother one last time. If only she had noticed sooner… if she had caught it earlier, she might have seen the surveillance footage…

The car came to a sudden halt, but Xu Qingqiong was too lost in her thoughts to notice.

Lin Konglu unbuckled her seatbelt and called out, “Qingqiong.”

Xu Qingqiong turned her head slightly, her gaze vacant and unfocused.

Lin Konglu was deeply worried; Xu Qingqiong was in a terrible state.

She hated seeing her like this, but she knew there was no easy fix. In the face of death, everyone is powerless.

But what felt even more debilitating was the fact that while all signs pointed to Ye Jianguo’s guilt, there was no evidence to prove it—no way to reconstruct the truth.

Lin Konglu sighed inwardly and patted Xu Qingqiong’s head, her fingers brushing against the corner of her eye. “Qingqiong…”

She held her shoulders and spoke earnestly, “No matter what, we have to investigate. If Ye Jianguo really did this, he should be punished. If it really was an accident… well, everything is still uncertain right now.”

“But there is one thing that is certain—”

Her voice slowed down. “Qingqiong, this was never your fault. Don’t use this to punish yourself…”

Xu Qingqiong suddenly turned, staring at her for a few seconds before throwing her arms around Lin Konglu’s neck, burying her face against her shoulder.

Feeling the warm tears dripping onto her skin, Lin Konglu felt momentarily lost. She gently wrapped her arms around her, leaning down to kiss the top of her head. Her own heart felt like it was being shredded along with those tears.

It was late; the twilight was fading into darkness.

Xu Qingqiong’s sobs were muffled in her throat, her cries weak, like those of a fragile, wounded animal.

This was the first time she had shown such vulnerability in front of Lin Konglu. Her tears were a weapon, her weakness a blade, piercing straight into Lin Konglu’s heart.

Lin Konglu felt her own emotional control slipping. She pressed her nose against the top of Xu Qingqiong’s head, cradling the back of her skull, and whispered her name over and over as if to soothe them both. “Qingqiong, Qingqiong…”

In response, Xu Qingqiong held her even tighter, burying her head deeper.

For days, she had been holding it in, forcing herself to endure.

When she first learned of her grandmother’s passing, she had no time to cry; there were too many things to handle. After returning to the country, she had even less opportunity, because there was no one to back her up, no one to comfort her. For someone who isn’t loved, even crying is a luxury.

Everyone has a breaking point. Once that threshold is crossed, control vanishes. Now, the gates had burst open. For someone who rarely cries, once the tears start, they represent a lifetime of accumulated grievances that cannot be stopped.

Lin Konglu knew she was like a drowning person now, lungs filling with water, gasping for air, grabbing onto the nearest piece of driftwood.

She would have reached out to anyone nearby.

But Lin Konglu was glad nonetheless—grateful that it was her by her side, so that Xu Qingqiong didn’t have to face it alone.

She stroked her back gently in comfort, her eyes full of love, and whispered softly, “It’s okay, Qingqiong. I’m here.”

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