A Heartless Omega Regrets It When I’m Dying - Chapter 22.2

Lin Wantang looked at the meticulously prepared birthday gift and suddenly felt it was all farcical. So, Wen Zhiqing would make a small concession simply because she was “making a scene” now. It made all her previous sincerity seem like a joke.

“There’s no need,” Lin Wantang shook her head. “I just want to leave.”

So she’s planning to raise her price and demand high terms. Greedy as ever, Wen Zhiqing thought, frowning. “Just say it. Do you want a lead role in a production, or do you want money? Or both?”

“Neither,” Lin Wantang sighed. “I really just don’t want to be with you anymore.”

Wen Zhiqing was almost enraged by Lin Wantang’s behavior. She had offered generous terms, yet Lin still wasn’t satisfied, still trying to play “hard to get” to negotiate.

She was starting to grow weary of this conversation.

“President Wen, I truly just want a divorce. If you’re worried about not being used to your heat later, I can extract a certain amount of pheromones for you to use as a transition.”

The current Lin Wantang, of course, wouldn’t be so sentimental as to think Wen was trying to keep her because she liked her. She knew Wen only wanted to avoid a divorce because of their compatible pheromones.

Omegas in heat have a very fragile side, with a near-craving dependency on tangerine-scented pheromones.

“Fine. I’ll have the legal team add that clause to the agreement.”

Lin Wantang nodded. She understood an Omega’s caution. Even if Wen hadn’t said it, she would have done it. Since she was taking back the gifts to exchange for money, it was only right to exchange pheromones in return. She didn’t want to owe Wen Zhiqing anything; this way, they would be completely even.

Wen Zhiqing immediately contacted her assistant to have the legal team draft the new agreement. Usually calm, she gave a cold laugh at Lin Wantang’s “reckless” attitude, which terrified the assistant on the other end.

Lin Wantang had no reaction. She used to care about Wen’s attitude because she loved her; now that she didn’t, it had nothing to do with her.

She packed the gifts into her suitcases. The two large, once-empty suitcases were now full of her clothes and belongings; she could leave at any moment.

Real life isn’t like a divorce in a TV drama—leaving with nothing but the clothes on your back, leaving the other person to regret everything as they look at a house full of items.

Wen Zhiqing hung up.

But after a few seconds, the phone rang again. Wen thought the assistant had misunderstood something and was calling back, but her expression darkened instantly when she saw the caller ID.

She didn’t answer, instead looking at Lin Wantang: “Do you know who’s calling?”

Lin Wantang replied: “The caller ID shows the contact’s number.”

She had no interest in who was calling and didn’t want to play Wen’s guessing games anymore.

“It’s Qi Yishu.”

Wen Zhiqing’s dark eyes fixed on Lin, like two bottomless cold pools—calm on the surface but with swirling undercurrents capable of swallowing all light.

Lin Wantang merely took a few steps back and gave a considerate smile: “I see. Then I won’t disturb you.”

Her voice was thin and ripple-less. She turned and left, pulling the door shut behind her.

Wen Zhiqing stared at the closed door for a long time without answering. She knew Qi Yishu must have learned about Lin Wantang being replaced and was likely anxious. Sure enough, after the first call went unanswered, it rang again persistently.

But Wen knew Qi Yishu wasn’t the type to call a second time if the first wasn’t picked up. They were of the same breed: proud and lacking patience. Wen didn’t answer but didn’t reject the call either; she was waiting to see how many times Qi would call before giving up.

When the ninth call rang, Wen finally pressed the answer button.

“Zhiqing, I heard you replaced the junior’s role?”

Qi Yishu spoke first, her voice raspy, likely from tobacco, though she quickly suppressed it.

“Qi Yishu, what does the presence or absence of a small role have to do with you?” Wen’s tone was habitually cold. “Since when did you become so kind?”

“Zhiqing, there’s no need to be so heartless.”

Qi Yishu’s voice through the receiver grew raspier, like smoke scattered by a night breeze, imbued with an odd sadness. She seemed to be trying her best to suppress herself. After a pause, she continued: “Do you know how important this role was to her?”

“If you’re just here to repeat these meaningless words, don’t waste my time,” Wen Zhiqing said coldly, then shifted her tone: “You should focus on your upcoming film instead, lest there be constant trouble before filming even starts.”

This was a blatant threat.

Qi Yishu finally let out a slow sigh.

“Wen Zhiqing, I hope you never have a day where you regret this.”

Regret?

That was an alien word to Wen Zhiqing. Successful since her youth, every step of her journey had been accurately calculated and controlled. She had never encountered anything that made her regret. If she had to trace it back, the only thing that even came close was that she had almost truly given her heart to Lin Wantang once.

Wen Zhiqing hung up, then smoothly swiped her screen and blocked Qi Yishu.

How could Qi Yishu be so presumptuous? It was obvious Lin Wantang could never love a Beta like her. She actually dared to interfere in the matters between her and Lin, like a pathetic clown who wandered onto someone else’s stage and couldn’t even recite the lines correctly.

Wen Zhiqing put down her phone. Lin Wantang’s packed suitcases were still in the middle of the bedroom—pure white cases standing on the dark carpet, jarringly bright.

They were finally parting ways.

But she had given Lin Wantang a chance, Wen thought. She had made a rare concession, yet Lin insisted on a divorce. She had done more than enough.

Wen Zhiqing stood up abruptly. As she passed the suitcase, she gave it a casual kick, sending it sliding to the side. She didn’t stop and opened the door.

The Alpha stood against the light at the top of the stairs, her high-collared shirt covering her neck completely. Wen looked at her, unable to remember when she had started favoring turtlenecks.

Hearing the door, Lin Wantang looked back. she had grown very thin lately, with faint shadows under her eyes—likely from a lack of rest. Like a field of blooming hibiscus that had faded in late autumn, she exuded a gentle but weary lethargy.

An unfamiliar throb hit Wen Zhiqing’s heart again, like sour lemon juice splashing inside. She instinctively pressed her hand to her heart, speechless. A doctor checked her regularly; her heart was perfectly healthy. She didn’t understand this sudden stasis.

“I’m leaving,” Lin Wantang said. “The extracted pheromones will be sent to you. Once the divorce agreement is ready, please set a time for me to sign.”

The stagnation in Wen’s chest didn’t vanish. She thought she should schedule a detailed check-up with a doctor later.

When Wen didn’t react for a long time, Lin Wantang asked softly again: “President Wen?”

She saw Wen Zhiqing pressing her hand to her heart with downcast eyes, appearing uncomfortable. In the past, she would have instinctively worried and called the family doctor immediately. Now, she just stood there, waiting quietly for an answer.

“I understand.”

Things had reached this point; there was no turning back. Besides, not being entangled with a mercenary liar like Lin Wantang should make her feel relieved.

Receiving an affirmative answer, Lin Wantang nodded and walked toward the bedroom.

Once, she had arrived here with a suitcase full of joy. Now, she was leaving with it, the wheels creating a dull sound against the floor. These three years felt like a long, unrealistic dream. Everything she had imagined had collapsed into ruins. The price of waking up was high; she was a completely different person than when she had arrived.

Lin Wantang struggled to carry the heavy suitcases down the stairs. Because of the weight, her sleeves slid up a bit. Wen Zhiqing could see the pale blue veins on her fair wrists, like the fine cracks in cold white porcelain. The heater was clearly keeping everyone warm, yet Wen found herself wondering if Lin’s exposed skin was cold.

The house was silent, save for the sound of the suitcases on the stairs. Wen didn’t speak, so no one helped her. Their marriage was at its end, but Wen wasn’t thinking of the agreement or life after the divorce; she was just standing there, looking at Lin Wantang’s back.

The only one in the villa who didn’t know how to read the room was the kitten. It snagged Lin Wantang’s trouser leg as she reached the living room.

Lin Wantang stopped.

She was dragging two heavy suitcases and was worried about hitting the kitten if she kept going. She had to wait for Wen Zhiqing to come down and take the cat away. She remembered Wen hated it when cats approached her, but she waited, and Wen never came down to stop it.

Lin Wantang had no choice but to pick up the fluffball and place it on the sofa. The cow cat had already shown its neurotic traits; thinking Lin was playing, it gave her finger a light nip, then arched its back and pounced in a play-invitation.

Lin Wantang shook her head and slowly backed away. As she turned to leave, the kitten was still tirelessly jumping on the sofa, hoping Lin would play with her.

Lin Wantang felt a tiny pang of sadness. In university, she had hoped to be with someone she liked, to raise a cat together, and to go see the sea in their spare time. But those beautiful hopes had twisted into an obsession over the years. She had lived in it willingly for three years until the cracks reached the foundation. Only after being battered and bloodied could she finally let go, tear everything down, and stand up from the rubble to touch the real wind outside.

She gripped the handles of her suitcases, adjusted her breathing, and continued toward the door. The villa was silent, except for the soft meowing of the kitten.

There was nothing left for her to miss. She pushed the door open without hesitation. Winter sunlight flooded into the villa, casting a thin shadow behind her.

Lin Wantang didn’t look back. They hadn’t managed to part on good terms after all.

After leaving the villa complex, Lin Wantang hailed a taxi. She had already booked a hotel; if it weren’t for needing to settle the divorce matters with Wen this morning, she wouldn’t have stayed a second longer.

She unlocked her phone to see several messages from Qi Yishu. There were only a few, sent tens of minutes apart.

[Junior, are you okay?]

[I’m sorry. I wasted your time.]

[If you want to talk, I’m always here.]

Lin Wantang felt a bit of guilt toward Qi Yishu. Qi was truly a good person. Even though she didn’t get the role in the end, she was still grateful to her. For a moment, she even thought of tactfully advising Qi to reconsider her relationship with Wen Zhiqing.

But she quickly dismissed the thought. The way Wen treated her and the way she treated Qi were poles apart. Wen was willing to invest five times the amount just to kick her out because she was jealous—surely that meant she loved Qi deeply.

Then, their future life would surely be a happy one.

Thinking of this, she replied: [It’s okay. I’m fine now. Thank you for your concern, Senior.]

[Good. Reach out whenever you need me.]

Qi Yishu’s reply was almost instantaneous, giving Lin the illusion that she had been waiting for her message. The thought was absurd; Lin breathed in and felt a bit embarrassed by her own sentimental guess.

[Alright, thank you.]

After replying, she exited the chat and opened the hospital’s reservation system to book a time for the pheromone extraction the next day. She wanted to extract a sufficient dose before her surgery and send it to Wen. She truly wanted to be divorced as quickly as possible.

The taxi arrived, and Lin boarded with a heavy heart. Since the diagnosis, her body had become much weaker. By the time she moved her suitcases into the hotel lobby, she was exhausted. Fine sweat broke out on her forehead, and she steadied the handle, gasping for breath. She had been wearing a scent-blocker because she was terrified the tangerine scent would leak uncontrollably.

Fortunately, nothing happened.

Lin Wantang successfully got her room card and moved into her room. Once settled, she saw another message. It was from one of Wen Zhiqing’s personal assistants, saying that Wen had been feeling a bit “heated” (internal heat/inflammation) lately and telling Lin to send her the varieties and proportions of the herbal tea she used to brew for her.

Lin Wantang frowned. She didn’t know if the assistant knew about the divorce, but they would soon have no legal relationship. Furthermore, even if they didn’t know, they shouldn’t be asking her about Wen’s care. She wasn’t an assistant; taking care of Wen wasn’t strictly her duty.

She used to be so humble in love that she was willing to be Wen’s shadow. Looking back now, she realized she had never known how to say no. Perhaps her constant concessions and indulgence had led the people around Wen to take crossing normal boundaries for granted.

Lin Wantang stared at the message for a long time, deciding for the first time to refuse the request. She didn’t reply immediately, typing and deleting in the chat box as she considered the wording. But the assistant, seemingly impatient, sent several question marks to urge her.

It was as if she were a subordinate.

Lin Wantang stared at the question marks for a few seconds, deleted the “I’m sorry” she had typed, and sent a new message:

[This isn’t my job. Please do not contact me again.]

She didn’t care about the subsequent messages and simply deleted the contact.

Finally, peace.

Refusal wasn’t that difficult after all. Yet in three years, she had never refused a single request from the people around Wen.

Lin Wantang paused, then deleted all of Wen’s other assistants in one go. Every time she hit the delete button, her heart hammered. It wasn’t panic, but a tiny, near-weightless sense of pleasure—like a warm current flowing under the ice, silently washing away long-held habits and compromises.

After deleting them all, she let out a sigh and smiled slightly. She rested for a bit, then opened her suitcase and took out the gifts she had prepared for Wen. These needed to be listed on the trading platform as soon as possible to become the actual surgical fees she needed.

She took photos of the gifts one by one until she reached the last anniversary gift.

She still remembered contacting an independent designer a year in advance for the custom rings, and then personally engraving the initials of her and Wen’s names on the inside. All her beautiful hopes had been permanently cast into the silent metal alongside those fine lines.

But this also meant the rings couldn’t be sold on a second-hand platform.

Lin Wantang picked up the two rings. She had carefully measured the size of the ring meant for Wen with a soft tape while she was asleep. She had been so nervous at the time, terrified Wen would wake up and catch her measuring her ring finger. Sadly, Wen had never worn it, so Lin didn’t even know if the size was right.

As for her own ring, she slowly slid her finger into it. Her illness had made her fingers even thinner; the ring slid easily to the base, leaving a significant gap between the band and her skin. The ring wobbled, the cold metal touching her skin intermittently. It clearly no longer fit.

Lin Wantang took the ring off and put them both back in the box. The velvet grooves held them perfectly, looking as new as the day she had brought them home.

She was silent for a while, then walked over to the trash can in the hotel room. Without hesitation or haste, she simply let go.

The box hit the bottom with a muffled thud.

After Lin Wantang left, Wen Zhiqing fed the cat as usual, as if the day were no different from any other Saturday. She had scheduled a heart check-up for tomorrow, ordering the private doctor to finish everything and give her the results within the day so as not to interfere with her work on Monday.

That night, after playing with the cat, Wen returned to the bedroom and accidentally kicked something near the bed. She looked down to see the used painkiller vial on the carpet.

Disgusting. Wen was about to call the housekeeper to have the entire room cleaned again. But by some strange impulse, she leaned down and picked it up. Under the light, the dried dark blood on the syringe was startlingly obvious.

It must be the “liar’s” blood.

Wen Zhiqing pressed her hand to her chest, feeling that heavy, stagnant sensation rising again without warning.

It doesn’t matter, she thought calmly. Once the check-up results come out tomorrow, there will be a clear medical explanation.

With that thought, Wen Zhiqing turned off the light to sleep.

In the darkness, she suddenly thought of that loathsome liar again.

Because she had spent time with that “liar” in university and pitied her faked poverty, she had insisted on regular charitable donations. After taking over the Wen Group, she had strictly followed labor laws and improved the corporate system to treat employees well. Her business methods were always clean, and she had never used wealth to crush something another person cherished.

But she had been so angry. For the only time, she had disregarded her principles to use that very method on this mercenary liar, destroying the thing she cherished most.

But this liar was also her Junior, the only person she had ever truly been moved by years ago… her soon-to-be ex-wife.

Her heart began to throb with pain again.