A Heartless Omega Regrets It When I’m Dying - Chapter 20

A nearly eerie calm settled between Lin Wantang and Wen Zhiqing during this period.

Lin Wantang thought this was perhaps because the divorce was imminent. Wen Zhiqing was about to regain her freedom, and thus her mood differed from before.

After the script reading ended, the new production she was participating in officially commenced filming.

On set, Lin Wantang was dressed in crimson-purple official robes, wearing a Jin-xian crown and a Flying Fish pouch hanging from her waist. She had lost a significant amount of weight lately; the official robes hung somewhat loosely on her, further emphasizing her thin shoulders and slender, resilient waist. Her temperament unexpectedly meshed perfectly with the scholarly integrity of her character.

The court debate scene was about to begin.

Lin Wantang stood outside the hall. Her thin court robes were no match for the winter chill, and her fingertips had long since frozen stiff. Even so, a thin layer of sweat seeped from her palms. The actors she was playing against in this scene were all famous names in the industry; she was indeed nervous, yet her mind held nothing but the plot and her lines.

When the call to start echoed, the script supervisor crisply snapped the clapperboard. Lin Wantang closed her eyes; when she opened them again, they held only a calm determination. Holding her ivory tablet (hu), she walked with slow, measured steps toward the base of the dragon-carved steps amidst the crisp sound of ceremonial whips echoing from the palace gates.

Before ascending the white marble stairs, Lin Wantang reached up to straighten her crown. She suddenly looked back toward the distant rising sun, gathering all her unfulfilled ambitions into that single glance. After a brief pause, she climbed the steps and entered the hall.

The scene of the imperial court debate with the conservative faction seemed to proceed with extraordinary speed. When the director called out “Cut,” Lin Wantang snapped out of it, detaching herself from the role of the Prime Minister.

“Passed! Keep this one!”

The director shouted. The clamor of the set rushed back into her ears as staff began moving back and forth to adjust the equipment. Lin Wantang stood in place, still holding the tablet. It wasn’t until a member of the props team gave a soft reminder that she reacted, handing over the heavy wooden prop.

The effect of this scene should be quite good, Lin Wantang thought as she stepped aside. She had added a few movements on the fly and adjusted the emotional delivery of her lines by instinct. She had always been a conventional actress before, but this time it felt as though she had finally cast something aside, truly merging with the soul of the Prime Minister.

“You acted very well. Passing in one take with Director Li is rare.”

Lin Wantang turned around to see Gu Jingci walking over. She sat down naturally in the empty seat beside her. “Are you a new actor? I haven’t seen you before.”

“No, I’ve been in the industry for over three years.” Lin Wantang bowed slightly in thanks. “Thank you for the encouragement, Teacher Gu.”

Gu Jingci seemed somewhat surprised by the answer. Her gaze lingered on Lin Wantang’s face for an extra second before she spoke, her tone grave: “This time, you will definitely be seen.”

Gu Jingci actually wanted to tell this young woman that with her talent, as long as she caught the chance to be noticed, the heights she could reach in the future would be no lower than her own.

But she didn’t speak rashly. In this industry, luck is often more important than talent. She had seen too many gifted actors fail to make a name for themselves for various reasons, remaining only as “hidden gems” mentioned by a handful of fans.

Lin Wantang’s heart began to throb. She knew this might just be the polite encouragement of a senior, but she couldn’t help the excitement. She truly loved acting and desperately wanted to leave behind a character that people would remember on screen.

“Thank you. I will work hard.”

Lin Wantang finally showed her first relaxed smile since joining the crew. Her genuine smile was actually quite brilliant, like a vast field of hibiscus blooming in midsummer.

Gu Jingci’s gaze rested on Lin Wantang for a moment, then her lips curled into a warm, encouraging smile.

Lin Wantang didn’t leave even after her scenes were finished. She stayed to observe and learn how other actors handled their roles. The lighting technicians adjusted the reflectors, the director’s voice drifted near and far, and the unique set breeze—mixed with the smell of equipment—flowed slowly. Lin Wantang sat quietly in a corner, absorbing acting techniques she might never even get to use.

After another scene ended, Lin Wantang looked down at her phone to check the time, only to see a message from the police station. Her heart hammered against her ribs, and her face instantly drained of color. She didn’t even have the courage to tap the notification.

The noise of the set was suddenly pulled away from her ears. It felt as though she had been dragged back to that time she was taken to the station for questioning. It wasn’t until the screen went black that Lin Wantang stared at the reflection for a while before finally summoning the courage to unlock it and tap the message.

Regarding that kidnapping case, she had a clear conscience.

Lin Wantang opened the message. The notification stated that after further investigation, the restrictive measures preventing her from leaving North City were officially lifted. They expressed apologies for the inconvenience caused during the investigation. At the end, it even mentioned that if needed, psychological counseling could be arranged, and financial compensation would be provided for the period her freedom was restricted.

The light from the screen reflected on her still-pale face. Lin Wantang stared at those few lines of text for a long time until her eyes grew moist.

The previous production she was in had been forced to wrap her early, and her scenes had been cut clean. Many crews would no longer consider her because of the risk associated with the case. This notice had come far, far too late.

But regardless, it was finally cleared up. Everything in her life was rushing toward an open, bright direction again.

Lin Wantang locked her screen and put her phone back in her pocket. The noise of the set rushed back in, carrying a distorted blur.

As twilight gathered, the first day of filming was officially over. Lin Wantang stood up, wrapped her coat tightly, and followed the crowd out.

She had a rare good mood today, which lasted until she returned to Wen Zhiqing’s villa. When she reached the bedroom, the curve of her smile hadn’t yet faded.

Wen Zhiqing was leaning back against the headboard.

She had clearly just bathed; her slightly damp long hair wound across her silk nightgown, creating small, light-colored water stains. The warm yellow light flooded over her lush features and settled on the slight upward curve of her lips, making her look like a meticulously painted traditional piece.

A halo swirled in the depths of her eyes, giving those ink-black pools a glint that was almost demonic.

“Is something wrong?”

Lin Wantang stared at those eyes that were hauntingly beautiful in the dim light for a moment, then asked softly.

“For you, of course there is.”

The smile at the corner of Wen Zhiqing’s mouth deepened. She was lazily immersed in the dim, warm glow, looking like both a merciful deity looking down from the clouds and a soul-snatching demon from a deep pool.

A bad premonition suddenly rose in Lin Wantang’s heart. She didn’t speak, standing in place and quietly waiting for Wen Zhiqing to continue.

“It’s not a big deal.” Wen Zhiqing’s tone was almost gentle. She reached out to leisurely tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “It’s just that you might be unemployed again.”

“What do you mean?”

Lin Wantang’s entire body tensed. Her voice was thin—so thin it seemed to float, quickly dissipating into the silent air. “Are you joking?”

“Have I ever joked with you?”

“How… everything was going so smoothly today.”

Lin Wantang was almost incoherent. Her phone began to vibrate incessantly. She picked it up to see a message from the assistant director notifying her that filming was suspended. Based on the contract, the 20% signing fee already paid covered the work done thus far, so the termination did not involve a breach of contract.

Lin Wantang lifted her head very, very slowly, looking at Wen Zhiqing’s lush, cold profile under the light. “Is it because of you?”

Everything had been improving before this. she had secured a major production she had never dreamed of, passed her first scene in one take, and even received encouragement from a Best Actress. It had all been like a soap bubble in the sun, reflecting dizzying brilliance. But now, she clearly heard the soft pop of the bubble bursting.

“Yes.” Lin Wantang’s voice was already raspy, but Wen Zhiqing remained unmoved. “I provided the crew with an additional five times the investment. The only condition was that you leave.”

She tilted her head slightly, her tone as composed as it was cruel: “Shouldn’t you be happy? To think you’re worth that much money.”

Lin Wantang stared blankly at the calm, elegant Wen Zhiqing in front of her, suddenly feeling as though she had never truly known this person. She thought Wen Zhiqing merely loathed her, but she never imagined Wen would use this method to crush her hopes.

This Wen Zhiqing felt like a stranger. She felt Wen wasn’t even human, but rather a beautiful, cruel demon, leisurely toys with her and gnawing at her very life force.

But Lin Wantang was still unwilling to give up. she tried to force a connection between the monster in a beautiful skin before her and the shadow of the gentle Senior who once supported her dreams.

She gazed at Wen Zhiqing’s inhumane, perfect profile and made one last, desperate confirmation: “Why? Is it simply because you loathe me?”

“Not only that.”

Wen Zhiqing avoided Lin Wantang’s stubborn gaze, seemingly deigning not to look her in the eye. “I’m just putting things back on track. Lin Wantang, there’s no need to keep pretending to be innocent. You know best how you got this role.”

“Getting a role through industry ‘rules’ and climbing onto Qi Yishu with such unseemly haste… did you not think of the consequences when you did those things?”

Lin Wantang saw Wen Zhiqing’s thin lips moving, but it took a long time for her brain to process the melodic voice. It was too absurd. Lin Wantang thought: So I was sentenced in Wen Zhiqing’s mind before I even knew the charges, without even a chance to defend myself.

But things had come to this; there was no need for defense anymore.

The familiar, dull throb in her gland returned. Lin Wantang let out a soft laugh. “Yes. I’ve always been that kind of person in your eyes.”

The world before her eyes began to blur as warm liquid surged into them. Lin Wantang felt exhausted. Amidst the dense, dull pain in her gland, she tremblingly tore off the scent-blocker and pulled the painkiller from her inner pocket.

The cold liquid was pushed into the gland. Lin Wantang spoke hoarsely, one word at a time: “Wen Zhiqing, I hate you.”

The needle was withdrawn, and a small bead of blood seeped out.

“If it were possible, I wish I had never met you.