A Heartless Omega Regrets It When I’m Dying - Chapter 2

Upon hearing Wen Zhiqing’s words, Lin Wantang’s breath hitched slightly.

Her footsteps faltered for a fraction of a second, almost imperceptibly, before she quickly hurried to catch up with Wen Zhiqing’s receding back.

However, she thought, it clearly wasn’t Wen Zhiqing’s heat period right now.

Usually, Wen Zhiqing only became intimate with her during her heat, when her lust was surging. That cold body only ever showed a brief and rare attachment to her when driven by the periodic burning of an Omega’s cycle.

Lin Wantang figured that Wen Zhiqing had likely misremembered her cycle again.

This wasn’t the first time. Wen Zhiqing had always been a meticulous person who did everything flawlessly, controlling everything around her with near-ruthless precision. Yet, in this one matter so vital to an Omega, her memory occasionally lapsed.

Fortunately, Lin Wantang always remembered for her. She was always able to timely remind Wen Zhiqing of when her heat was due and the symptoms that would precede it.

“Wen Zhiqing,” Lin Wantang hesitated for a moment, only calling out softly once Wen Zhiqing had reached the bedroom, “it shouldn’t be your heat yet.”

But the room was already gradually filling with the faint scent of galbanum—as if one had suddenly stepped into the depths of a dense forest. Damp earthy notes intertwined with a bitter fragrance, growing thicker and closer.

That was the scent of Wen Zhiqing’s pheromones.

At this moment, the Omega was more dangerous than she had been in the tasting room.

A faint, mocking smile played on the corners of Wen Zhiqing’s lips. She reached out and hooked Lin Wantang’s collar, her fingertips brushing inadvertently against the skin of Lin’s neck as she pulled her toward the bed. “And if it isn’t, so what?”

The galbanum in the air suddenly turned thick and heavy, like falling layers of pine needles wrapping around a prey’s breath.

Amidst the increasingly rich scent of galbanum, Lin Wantang also caught a subtle, lingering aroma of wine.

Wen Zhiqing isn’t completely sober, Lin Wantang thought.

But her every breath was filled with galbanum. The Alpha instinct within her was ignited almost instantly by these pheromones mixed with alcohol. It roared in her veins, wanting to suppress, to possess, and to completely mark the Omega emitting this intoxicating fragrance.

However, that loss of control only ravaged her for a split second.

The next moment, all of Lin Wantang’s tensed muscles relaxed. She allowed herself to be drawn toward the bed by Wen Zhiqing’s slight force.

“You’re a little drunk.” Lin Wantang lowered her eyes, her voice carrying nothing but a near-indulgent tenderness. “I’ll ask the housekeeper to cook some hangover soup. Sleep for a while after you drink it.”

Lin Wantang didn’t want to mess around with Wen Zhiqing while she was drunk and incoherent. She didn’t want to take advantage of her, and even more so, she didn’t want Wen Zhiqing to wake up the next morning with regrets.

But just as Lin Wantang moved to stand up, Wen Zhiqing hooked her arms around her neck. Her warm breath, mingled with galbanum, brushed against Lin’s lips. Her voice was pressed extremely low: “Stop pretending. Isn’t this exactly what you like best?”

Lin Wantang was stunned for a moment. She didn’t pull away from the arms around her neck. Instead, remaining at that distance where their breaths intertwined, she raised her hand and very gently brushed her thumb against the corner of Wen Zhiqing’s mouth. “Winter is dry. Remember to have your assistant keep warm water ready, and keep the humidity in the office controlled.”

She knew what Wen Zhiqing was implying. But her past attempts at explanation were, in Wen Zhiqing’s eyes, nothing more than the solo performance of a clown. She no longer had the courage to explain the past to Wen Zhiqing.

Furthermore, three years ago in that tasting room, even though her original intention had been to save an incoherent Wen Zhiqing from being manipulated after being drugged, the final result was that Wen Zhiqing ended up married to her—the person she had always loathed.

Since that was the case, why bring up old matters?

Wen Zhiqing didn’t slap her hand away as Lin Wantang had expected. Instead, she grabbed Lin Wantang’s fingertips. The grip was so strong it startled Lin; her fingertips quickly flushed red from the lack of circulation.

“But I don’t need warm water right now.” Wen Zhiqing tilted her head up, closing the distance. “Right now, I only need an Alpha.”

Lin Wantang knew Wen Zhiqing was angry.

She didn’t understand why Wen Zhiqing was angry again. Wen Zhiqing had always been calm and self-possessed; she had never seen Wen Zhiqing lose her composure because of others. It was only when facing her that Wen Zhiqing displayed this bad temper.

Fortunately, after three years of adjustment, she knew how to coax Wen Zhiqing.

Lin Wantang lowered her head, using her fingertips to gently brush away a few stray hairs from Wen Zhiqing’s forehead. She slowly released her own pheromones—the fresh, sweet-and-sour scent of tangerines after a late autumn rain.

“I know,” she whispered, her fingertips sliding slowly down the curve of Wen Zhiqing’s ear. “I’m right here.”

The air was already saturated with pheromones. Wen Zhiqing hooked her arm around Lin Wantang’s neck. Her cold eyes were shimmering with moisture, and a flush of rich red flared at the corners of her eyes. She watched in a daze as Lin Wantang’s long fingers unbuttoned her clothes, one by one.

Lin Wantang continued to carefully unbutton Wen Zhiqing’s clothes. Her fingers occasionally brushed against Wen Zhiqing’s skin, sending ripples of fine tremors through the Omega.

She could then feel the arm hooked around her neck tighten instinctively.

It’s just the 100% pheromone compatibility, Lin Wantang thought for a fleeting moment. Then, her thoughts were pulled away by the visible, un-faded red marks on Wen Zhiqing’s body.

Those were marks left from Wen Zhiqing’s heat a few days ago; she hadn’t expected them to still be so clear.

A tender smile silently curved Lin Wantang’s lips. Once again, it felt real—the fact that Wen Zhiqing was her Omega.

“Sorry, I didn’t realize,” Lin Wantang murmured as she stroked the mottled marks on the fair skin. “I should have been gentler.”

Wen Zhiqing hated Lin Wantang’s facade of tenderness. This was the liar who had tricked her into sympathy years ago, and the same liar who had schemed to marry her three years ago. Yet, where Lin Wantang’s fingertips passed, her skin felt as if it were being scorched by fire. She couldn’t control the low gasp that escaped her throat.

I really hate this, Wen Zhiqing thought.

She bit her lip hard, the tip of her tongue almost tasting blood. But at this moment, Lin Wantang was unusually dominant, using her thumb to firmly but gently press against her lips: “Let go.”

Lin Wantang saw Wen Zhiqing’s eyes begin to mist over. Her originally cold gaze was now slightly unfocused. Then, she felt a sharp pain in her finger and realized belatedly that Wen Zhiqing had left a bite mark there.

“Don’t you dare command me.”

The voice held its usual sharp authority, but it was now colored by the husky breathlessness of passion. Even the end of the sentence trailed off into an uncontrollable sob.

Lin Wantang stared blankly at the tooth marks on her hand. Then, under Wen Zhiqing’s blurred gaze, she slowly lowered her head and gave a light lick to the glistening bite mark on her fingertip.

It was like a silent kiss.

She and Wen Zhiqing had never kissed. Kissing was something Wen Zhiqing never allowed. Lin Wantang had imagined countless times what it would feel like to kiss those moist, ruby-red lips, but the curtain had fallen thousands of times, and all those imaginations remained her own solo performance.

Wen Zhiqing covered her eyes with one hand, yet through the gaps in her fingers, she could still see Lin Wantang’s lean, powerful waist, taut like a bowstring.

“Wen Zhiqing, look at me.”

Lin Wantang felt a bit aggrieved and wanted to move the hand covering Wen Zhiqing’s eyes. Normally, she wouldn’t care about such small things, but she had recently learned that Wen Zhiqing’s “White Moonlight” was returning. The bitterness in her heart was about to overflow. Like an insecure little animal, she couldn’t help but do something so childish to assert her presence.

As expected, her hand was shrugged off by Wen Zhiqing.

Lin Wantang gave a self-mocking laugh. The cliché, third-rate drama of a “White Moonlight” returning home was actually happening to her. It was as if the screenwriter couldn’t even be bothered to put more effort into her tragedy, merely waiting for the clown’s scene to end haphazardly to make room for the true protagonist.

And she didn’t even have the courage to ask Wen Zhiqing about it. She could only silently continue the mechanical movements from before.

She didn’t even know if Wen Zhiqing would divorce her because of this.

Probably not. Wen Zhiqing was rational to the point of being cold. If a sudden divorce would cause a shock to the stock price, she wouldn’t rush into it after weighing the options.

Lin Wantang breathed a small sigh of relief, then felt that her current state of worrying over gains and losses was quite ridiculous.

Their marriage was so absurd, yet she was still trying to find the few remaining reasons why this farce shouldn’t end.

Lin Wantang’s mind wandered for a moment, and her fingers moved a bit too heavily.

Wen Zhiqing’s body began to tremble uncontrollably, and her gasps turned into whimpering sobs.

Lin Wantang wiped away the physiological tears at the corners of Wen Zhiqing’s eyes with near-devotion. Then, she found another reason: their pheromone compatibility was 100%. No one was better suited for Wen Zhiqing’s body than her.

“Let’s rest now, okay?”

Lin Wantang could see the weariness coloring Wen Zhiqing’s features. She stood up to adjust the temperature and humidity in the bedroom, then tucked the corners of the quilt around Wen Zhiqing.

“Wen Zhiqing, goodnight.”

In university, she had once called Wen Zhiqing “Senior.” She had also called her “Zhiqing.” Later, as they grew closer, she called her “Sister.” Then, at the wedding, she had tentatively called her “Wife.”

But later, all those titles were forbidden by Wen Zhiqing. So now, she called her by her full name: Wen Zhiqing.

The most formal, yet most familiar, way to address her.

Wen Zhiqing didn’t respond, but Lin Wantang didn’t feel much bitterness. The person she loved was lying right beside her; instead, she felt a sense of fulfillment steeped in exhaustion.

Lin Wantang gripped the edge of the quilt, as if she were also firmly holding her lover in the palm of her hand and her heart.

That night, Lin Wantang sank into a long-awaited good dream.

She dreamed of the very first time they met. As a university freshman, she had looked toward Wen Zhiqing on the auditorium stage from afar. Wen Zhiqing’s gaze toward her was clear and tranquil. Then, the corners of her lips curled up slightly. That fleeting glimpse of a smile had softened the many years of her life ever since.