A Heartless Omega Regrets It When I’m Dying - Chapter 23.2

The automatic doors opened to the wind and snow. She paused, then opened her umbrella and walked into the white.

She was going to the hospital to extract pheromones. The final step before signing the divorce was extracting a sufficient dose.

Before booking, she had confirmed with the doctor that extracting pheromones a month before surgery wouldn’t affect the outcome.

Knowing there were no risks, she booked the appointments.

She still felt embarrassed that everyone would see her scarred, battered gland during the extraction.

On the subway, she instinctively pressed the edge of her scent-blocker to make sure it was secure, then tucked her collar higher.

At the hospital, she propped her umbrella in a corner and waited.

The hall was quiet; the few people there were looking at their phones.

Lin Wantang also messaged the jade comb buyer and agreed on a shipping time.

She didn’t ask what they would do with it; it belonged to someone else now.

She continued replying to other buyers. On the car-selling platform, several people asked to see her Mercedes C-Class, and she set times for them.

The automated voice called her number.

It was time for the extraction room.

Lin Wantang let out a soft sigh.

It was her first time proactively extracting such a large amount.

She stood up with downcast eyes, adjusting her collar and trying to stay calm.

The thought of the process still frightened her.

Even now, the skin on the back of her neck was beginning to tighten.

But she had come this far.

The hallway was so short; she sighed and walked into the extraction room step by step.

“Are you Ms. Lin?”

The previous Alphas had only extracted small doses; the nurse checked the dosage in the system and confirmed with her.

The Alpha before her was beautiful, as stunning as any movie star on the big screen; her features weren’t just delicate, they were sharp and captivating.

But the aura she gave off was very soft, without any aggression.

The young nurse forgot to reply, her gaze lingering on that beautiful face for a few extra seconds.

Until Lin Wantang spoke again, she hurriedly clicked confirm in the system.

Following the protocol, the nurse gripped the edge of the scent-blocker and slowly peeled it away from her neck.

The gland shivered the moment it touched the cool air, like a candle flame in a breeze.

Lin Wantang clenched her hands, cold sweat seeping from her palms, yet even the sweat felt wet and cold, like snowflakes melting on the ground.

The room remained quiet; her scarred gland didn’t cause the nurse to gasp, which made her relax a little.

The needle pierced the skin silently, with only the scent of tangerine drifting out; the sweet fragrance was mixed with a hint of bitterness and quickly dissolved into the air.

The process was longer than expected, but not as painful.

Lin Wantang was momentarily confused; she remembered that in the past, every extraction felt like something sharp was gouging her flesh, a pain she resisted with her whole heart.

Now, if not for the scent in the air, she would have thought the nurse hadn’t even started.

But she soon understood why.

Because her gland had flared up so often and she’d used so many painkillers, she no longer felt much during the process.

The sharp pain she once struggled to resist was now something she could endure numbly.

She really didn’t know if this was a good thing.

She extracted a total of three vials.

The nurse’s hands inside her gloves were soaked in sweat, and she didn’t even dare look at Lin’s face; yet when she handed over the vials, she found the expression of this beautiful woman as calm as ever.

The woman even thanked the nurse politely before walking out with a steady step.

Only when the next person walked in did the young nurse finally snap out of it.

Lin Wantang packed the three vials carefully; they were enough for one month of Wen’s heat.

She planned to send them immediately to avoid any misunderstanding.

The hospital provided a delivery service, so she went straight to the window.

Technically she should have messaged Wen Zhiqing to tell her, but she really didn’t want to open that chat window anymore.

She borrowed a pen and wrote a note to explain the situation, placing it with the vials.

After confirming it was cash-on-delivery, she finally let out a sigh of relief and left the hospital.

The snow had lightened; the few remaining flakes brought only a hint of cold to her face.

But the winter in North City remained cold; she pulled her collar tight and hurried into the subway.

She had sold three gifts today and had several interested buyers for her car; she had now raised nearly the 1 million required for the surgical deposit.

Lin Wantang touched the scent-blocker again; since the body needs time to regenerate pheromones, she would have to come back twice more over the week.

She had explained this in the note and asked again when they could sign the divorce papers.

Wen Zhiqing wouldn’t delay it, but she couldn’t imagine how difficult it was to divide their assets.

Lin Wantang hoped to divorce immediately after sending the final batch of pheromones.

Regardless of whether the surgery succeeded or failed, she didn’t want to have any relationship with Wen Zhiqing anymore.

Delivery was fast; by evening, the package had been signed for.

Lin Wantang instinctively opened the chat window; the last message was from their anniversary.

Wen Zhiqing hadn’t messaged her, perhaps because she hadn’t opened the package yet.

She sighed and continued replying to second-hand buyers.

If Wen Zhiqing didn’t tell her when to sign the papers by tonight, she planned to message her and say she would file for a contested divorce.

As expected, Wen Zhiqing hadn’t opened the package yet.

Back at the villa, Wen Zhiqing felt that inexplicable tightness in her heart again.

The feeling was unprovoked yet incredibly stubborn, like something was blocking her chest.

She thought of the doctor’s diagnosis and still couldn’t understand what there was in the villa to be “excited” about.

Was it because she was planning to acquire her biggest rival’s company?

But that was only in the planning phase, and she wasn’t one to celebrate early.

In the foyer, she saw a package the housekeeper hadn’t put away yet.

Wen Zhiqing frowned; she had walked past it, but then stopped and reached out to pick it up.

The sender was Lin Wantang; she recognized the number instantly.

She remembered Lin Wantang’s promise to send a dose of pheromones.

But she hesitated; Lin Wantang had only moved out yesterday, and she had already gone for an extraction today?

That was incredibly fast.

She slowly put it back, not wanting to open it yet.

Now wasn’t the time; she didn’t want to open it yet.

She played with the cat for a while and ate dinner.

She didn’t think of Lin Wantang, at least not on purpose. She thought of her work plan and her meetings.

In short, there was no Lin Wantang.

Only at night did she finally think of the unopened packages.

After checking her other mail, she looked back at the sealed box from the foyer.

Lin Wantang hadn’t sent any explanation; if not for the phone number, she might have thought it was from a different “Lin.”

She finally picked it up. She looked at the label carefully; it was from a hospital, and it was indeed pheromones.

She hesitated. That heavy tightness began to wash over her heart again.

Was she excited because she finally had the pheromones to get through her heat?

To the point of overloading her heart?

That had to be it.

She opened the plain box herself. Three vials lay inside alongside a neatly folded note.

She was silent for a while before opening the note.

It was Lin Wantang’s handwriting.

The handwriting was a beautiful Slender Gold style, sharp and fierce, contrasting with her gentle personality.

How many people had this liar fooled with such beautiful writing?

The note seemed hurried; the final strokes were sharp enough to nearly pierce the paper.

She began to read.

It was very short.

Lin Wantang explained she would send two more batches within the week. At the end, she asked again when they could sign the papers, stating she was available at any time.

As if she were worried that Wen Zhiqing didn’t want the divorce.

When she was the one who wanted it more.

Without much thought, Wen Zhiqing sent Lin Wantang a message.

[Within a week. I hope you truly are available at any time.]

She waited for several minutes, but there was no reply.

Half an hour later, she checked her phone again in disbelief.

Still no reply.

What could possibly be so important that this liar couldn’t reply for half an hour?

This had never happened before; in the past, Lin Wantang replied in seconds. Even if she was late, she apologized within thirty minutes.

But now, many half-hours had passed without a word.

It was late.

It was time for bed, but Wen Zhiqing remained propped against the headboard, checking the chat over and over.

But she received nothing.

Lin Wantang had been busy all night packing, showing her car, and answering buyers.

Only when she had cleared her notifications did she realize she hadn’t replied to Wen.

It was past eleven. Knowing Wen’s schedule, she must be asleep.

Out of politeness, she didn’t want to disturb her.

She decided to rest and reply the next morning.

When no reply came, Wen Zhiqing turned off the light. She opened her eyes after a while to check her phone again, then put it down.

It was after midnight; even the cat would be asleep. There was no way Lin Wantang would reply now.

She put the phone down for the last time. She had a meeting in the morning.

She didn’t sleep well. When she woke, she reached for her phone.

Lin Wantang had replied.

It was very short, just two letters:

[OK]

Wen Zhiqing took several deep breaths to resist the urge to throw her phone.

She had work to do; she wouldn’t waste her energy on an irrelevant person.

She locked the note and the vials in her safe.

She thought of tearing the note up, but then decided to keep it as a reminder of how resolutely this liar had left.

If Lin Wantang ever came back begging to be together again, she wouldn’t soften.

Over the next week, they maintained a strange tacit understanding: Lin Wantang sent pheromones, and Wen Zhiqing sent the details for the signing.

They were like two neighboring islands, only using the tide to send things back and forth.

Finally, it was the night before the signing, and neither could sleep.

Lin Wantang counted her assets; she had raised the deposit and most of the follow-up costs.

If the surgery succeeded, she would work to pay the rest. Even if Wen Zhiqing blocked her, she would find a new career.

She wouldn’t let Wen Zhiqing block every path. She would survive and pay her debts.

Once she signed the papers tomorrow, that person would be in the past.

Every day after that would be a new start.

In the villa, Wen Zhiqing was also awake.

She didn’t know why she had insomnia; perhaps the bed felt too empty.

Occasionally when she turned over, she thought she felt Lin’s hair. But when she woke up, there was only her own warmth.

She told herself she was just unaccustomed to it.

She counted from the day Lin Wantang left. It takes thirty days to form a habit; she calculated she would be used to sleeping alone in three weeks.

She thought all night, and the heart pain returned at dawn.

She thought it would be fine after the divorce. Once this “pleasant matter” was settled, her heart would be normal.

They both woke up early the next day.

Lin Wantang expected Wen Zhiqing to be difficult, or to make her wait at the door.

But the door opened the instant she rang the bell.

In the foyer, she dithered for a second before walking in.

Wen Zhiqing looked the same, beautiful and cold. But there was an air of gloom around her eyes, like morning frost.

Lin Wantang didn’t know what to say; there was nothing left to discuss.

“Go to the study.”

Wen Zhiqing spoke first, and Lin Wantang followed silently.

Nothing in the villa had changed, except for her missing things.

They reached the study.

The process was simple; Lin Wantang stood by the desk, waiting for Wen Zhiqing to sign first.

Wen Zhiqing appeared even gloomier; after a silence, she pushed the papers toward Lin: “You sign first.”

Lin Wantang had seen the digital draft; she looked at Wen, then opened the agreement and read it carefully before signing her name without a pause.

She handed the papers back; only Wen’s space remained empty.

Wen Zhiqing took them, her fingers accidentally brushing Lin’s cool hand, making her flinch.

Lin’s hands had always been warm in her memory.

“Is it cold outside?”

She asked a bizarre question instead of signing.

“It might be because the snow is melting.”

Lin’s gaze remained on the agreement.

Wen Zhiqing gave a small response and slowly wrote her name.

She had signed countless documents before, but for this one, she wrote every stroke carefully, without her usual hurried cursive.

Lin Wantang showed her first smile since entering the villa; it was a faint curve of the lips, like a sliver of light through clouds.

But Wen Zhiqing felt her heart throb with a dull pain. She told herself it was because she was even happier than Lin.

“We just need to submit the application in the system now.”

Lin Wantang read the agreement carefully; their names were together.

They were close on the paper, but they would never be together again.

Wen Zhiqing nodded; she wanted to speak, but her throat was too dry.

They both had to submit the application. Lin Wantang had brought her laptop and finished quickly.

She looked at Wen’s progress and realized the President had no idea how to use the system; she was only on the second step.

“Do you need help?”

Being in the same room was awkward; Lin Wantang wanted to finish as quickly as possible.

Wen Zhiqing hesitated, then nodded.

Lin Wantang took the laptop and navigated the steps. She kept the screen facing Wen Zhiqing so she wouldn’t be suspicious.

Wen Zhiqing didn’t interrupt; she wasn’t even looking at the screen, she was lost in thought.

“President Wen, I’m finished. It can’t be withdrawn once submitted. Please confirm.”

Wen Zhiqing checked the details. She couldn’t focus; she was too tired.

Lin Wantang waited until Wen Zhiqing finally pressed the confirmation button.

Everything was finalized.

She let out a sigh and stood up: “President Wen, contact me if any issues arise before the system approves.”

Wen Zhiqing nodded indifferently.

Lin Wantang’s voice felt distant, like it was behind thick glass; she hadn’t really heard what was said.

She just wanted to sleep and wake up to her work.

Wen Zhiqing closed her laptop after a while; she had been dazed for several seconds, or perhaps longer.

But Lin Wantang was already gone.

Wen Zhiqing remained seated, the title “President Wen” echoing in her mind.

The liar hadn’t used that title before. It meant they truly had no relationship anymore.

She went back to her bedroom. She wasn’t even sure if Lin Wantang had actually been there.

Maybe it was just a dream.

After all, she hadn’t even seen the liar’s back.