A Heartless Omega Regrets It When I’m Dying - Chapter 23.1

Over the weekend, accompanied by her private health management team, Wen Zhiqing went to the private hospital under her own group’s umbrella.

Her health management team was large, including a general practitioner, a cardiologist, a nutritionist, and a sports rehabilitation specialist; everyone was professional and deferential.

But Wen Zhiqing still felt there were too few people—or rather, it wasn’t about the number. To be precise, there was just one person missing.

Missing was that mercenary, impure-minded liar.

This is good, Wen Zhiqing thought indifferently. Having this liar around would only be an obstacle, adding to her own irritation with that hypocritical concern and those meaningless, empty pleasantries.

The interior of the car was silent; everyone could tell Wen Zhiqing was in a bad mood, but no one knew why. President Wen’s thoughts were always like a deep pool hidden in the mist—impossible to fathom; therefore, silence was the safest way to avoid her wrath.

The journey was too boring, so Wen Zhiqing closed her eyes to rest.

The warm air in the car seemed exceptionally strong, making one’s skin feel hot and preventing one from settling. After a few seconds, Wen Zhiqing opened her eyes impatiently, a trace of imperceptible irritability in her voice: “Lower the temperature.”

The driver glanced at Wen Zhiqing nervously, thinking that the President was particularly nitpicky today. Since getting into the car, this was already the third time she had asked to adjust the temperature. One moment she felt cold, the next stuffy, even though each adjustment was only by 0.5°C.

Having opened her eyes, Wen Zhiqing inadvertently caught sight of the energy bars and glucose tablets neatly arranged in the storage compartment.

She occasionally suffered from mild hypoglycemia; Lin Wantang had always regularly and punctually placed these fast-acting carbohydrates in the car.

Seeing these brightly packaged snacks now, the already gloomy Eldest Miss Wen’s mood worsened. She extended a finger and tapped the row of energy bars lightly, her voice devoid of emotion: “Why is this stuff still here?”

The personal assistant’s expression froze for a moment before she quickly replied in a low voice: “Yes, President Wen. I will have all related items replaced afterward.”

“Throw away this first-aid kit as well.”

“And get rid of this game console; I don’t like playing handhelds.”

“I don’t want this satellite phone anymore either.”

After noting everything down, the assistant replied cautiously: “President Wen, I will check later which items… should be replaced.”

It seems the rumors of the President’s marital change are true, the assistant thought. No wonder Lin Wantang had suddenly blocked her yesterday.

She somewhat regretted not saying a few good words for Lin Wantang sooner; if the President’s loathing had developed more slowly, her current workload of loose ends wouldn’t have piled up so high.

Wen Zhiqing’s gaze finally landed on an inconspicuous cat plushie hanging on the seat pocket.

Lin Wantang had hung it there at some unknown time. Because it had been there so long, the plush fur was slightly faded and white, and the edges had started to pill. It had just stayed there, never having been removed by anyone.

That familiar tightness in her chest flickered again; it wasn’t severe, but it was enough to stir Wen Zhiqing’s unprovoked frustration. She suddenly reached out and ripped the plushie down.

The small toy was torn away, rolling a few times before disappearing into the shadows beneath the seat.

“Discard it immediately after we get out of the car.”

Wen Zhiqing spoke indifferently, the assistant deferentially complied, and the car arrived at the private hospital’s parking lot.

Since Wen Zhiqing had ordered it to be thrown away immediately, the moment the car stopped, the assistant followed orders, picked up the fallen doll, walked to the nearest bin, and threw it inside.

Wen Zhiqing’s pace didn’t falter, as if the assistant’s action had never happened, and she walked straight into the hospital.

All the examination procedures were tedious and boring; Wen Zhiqing wondered how she used to have the patience to stay here for one test after another.

Surprisingly, the results came back much faster than expected.

“President Wen, after a comprehensive evaluation, your cardiac function is perfectly normal.”

The private medical team and the hospital’s top cardiology experts reached a unanimous conclusion after comparing the data in detail.

Because this heart was a textbook example of health.

“So,” Wen Zhiqing lifted her eyes, her gaze sweeping over the team of experts: “You haven’t found the cause of my heart discomfort?”

Indeed, no one had.

If they didn’t know this top Omega was the efficiency-first leader of the Wen Group, these doctors might have thought she was just toying with them out of boredom.

After a moment, a senior doctor spoke cautiously: “President Wen, objective tests found no organic issues. We are inclined to believe this might be a physical reflection of emotional issues—a psychogenic somatic symptom.”

Wen Zhiqing swept a cold glance over her, her tone flat: “Emotional issues?”

Despite her normal tone, the doctor carefully added: “Clinically, things like grief or long-term excessive pressure can sometimes cause…”

From the start of the check-up until now, the Eldest Miss Wen’s face—with its lush features—looked like an eternal iceberg, without any trace of warmth.

In her eyes was only dismissive mockery: “You’re wrong; my mood has been quite good lately.”

A calculating liar had finally rolled out of her life; she should be feeling relieved.

This “grief” of the heart.

The doctor paused, then nodded as if enlightened: “Physiologically, strong positive emotions can also cause a rapid heartbeat. The heart may experience an overload due to excitement or joy, creating an illusion similar to angina.”

She thought to herself, the President truly was a high-level leader, never letting her emotions show; if she hadn’t admitted it herself, who could have guessed she was in a good mood?

“In short, your heart is very healthy. Regarding your emotions, we will contact a psychologist to customize a short-term systematic regulation plan for you…”

“No need.”

Wen Zhiqing interrupted the doctor directly.

Confirming her heart was healthy was enough. There was nothing wrong with her emotions, and she didn’t need anyone to regulate them.

As she left, fine snow began to fall outside.

This year, the snow in North City had been particularly frequent; the assistant held an umbrella over her. Wen Zhiqing suddenly reached her hand out into the air, catching a few flakes and feeling the cold wetness as they melted.

She caught a glimpse of the light gray trash bin and knew the cat plushie was lying there, its fur likely soaked by the snow.

She hesitated for a moment but ultimately sat back in the car.

It was just a doll, after all.

The car drove off; Wen Zhiqing didn’t close her eyes. She turned her head toward the window. Fine snow hit the glass, instantly turning into tiny water trails winding downward.

This winter seemed colder than usual. She had originally planned to take Lin Wantang and the cat to a Southern Hemisphere island for the winter. She had even had her assistant organize the itinerary; unfortunately, this sudden change had come too quickly.

After Lin Wantang moved out, the diligent private investigator reported her recent whereabouts to Wen Zhiqing. Wen Zhiqing thought Lin Wantang might move in with Qi Yishu, but surprisingly, she moved into a hotel.

The price of the room was so cheap it secretly startled her.

In a place like that, the walls were thin, the insulation and soundproofing likely poor, and the bedding probably uncomfortable. She couldn’t understand why Lin Wantang would live there.

The snow kept falling; Wen Zhiqing turned her head and slowly withdrew her gaze from the endless curtain of snow outside.

Regardless, it had nothing to do with her anymore.

When Lin Wantang woke up, she instinctively checked her phone and saw 99+ notifications on the second-hand trading platform.

It had been up for less than a day, yet there were already so many inquiries.

But Lin Wantang knew most were just casual inquiries; serious buyers were likely in the minority.

She didn’t open the platform to look closely; she put down her phone and sat up.

This sleep had been exceptionally long, as if she had finally set down all her burdens. She hadn’t had any nightmares, nor had she woken up in a panic in the middle of the night.

It was probably because she was finally no longer with Wen Zhiqing.

Even when she loved Wen Zhiqing most, being with her brought immense pressure. She used to worry that nothing she did would satisfy Wen, or that a careless action would earn a cold glance.

There were no such concerns anymore.

Lin Wantang got dressed, her fingers smoothing the final wrinkle of her hem. After washing up, she took her room card and headed to the first floor for breakfast.

While the elevator descended, she opened the second-hand app. The list was dense. She noticed even the broken jade comb mended with gold wire had an inquiry.

The buyer was a merchant selling jade rings and ornaments; she understood instantly.

The jade was high quality; if cut properly, it could still yield several fine jade beads or ornaments.

The doors slid open; she reached the first floor. She put her phone in her pocket and stepped out.

The buyer didn’t haggle and even offered direct payment; she didn’t want to refuse.

She had poured her heart into crafting and mending that comb, but that was all in the past.

As for now, she only wanted to raise the money for her surgery as soon as possible.

So, as long as it sold, it didn’t matter where it went or what it became.

She sat in a corner booth and replied to messages while eating breakfast.

Since she was in a hurry to liquidate, the prices were slightly lower than market value, drawing many inquiries.

At this rate, she would raise enough funds before the surgery.

Yet Lin Wantang felt a vague sense of unease. Every time she thought she had reached the shore, a tide would pull her back into the water.

She didn’t dare to be blindly optimistic until she was truly “on shore.”

The hotel’s heating was weak; she ate her congee until the last spoonful was slightly cold.

She set down her spoon and looked at the falling snow.

If she had focused on her career and saved money instead of wasting her energy on things destined to fail, she wouldn’t be in this desperate position.

But she didn’t think it was too late to wake up.

Truly waking up was the earliest possible start.

She stood up, wrapped her coat tight, and headed out.