A Heartless Omega Regrets It When I’m Dying - Chapter 27

During each night of the subsequent heat period, Wen Zhiqing’s bedroom was nearly filled with the lingering embrace of two types of pheromones.

However, the scent of tangerine grew fainter day by day.

Wen Zhiqing gripped yet another glass bottle that was already empty, feeling a sense of frustration. She had only opened and used the pheromones during the most unbearable moments, letting the mouth of the bottle stay near her gland for only a brief while.

But now, two bottles were already empty.

She closed her eyes and let out a soft sigh.

A faint tangerine fragrance still floated in the room—subtle and clear, as if that person were still by her side. With the pheromones present, she might actually be able to get a good night’s sleep tonight.

She had been too busy during this time. On one hand, the acquisition plan had entered a critical stage where every step allowed for no mistakes; on the other hand, several scholars specializing in pheromone disorder had finally finalized their itineraries and were flying in from abroad, expected to land tomorrow.

Wen Zhiqing had originally intended for her subordinates to handle the airport pickup. The list of doctors and their resumes had been sent, and the itinerary had been clearly explained; reasonably, there should be no slips.

But after lying down at night, Wen Zhiqing always felt somewhat uneasy.

These several scholars had spent nearly half their lives rooted in the study of pheromone dysfunctional atrophy. One of them was the pioneer of surgical treatment for this condition and currently the doctor with the highest international success rate for such surgeries.

Wen Zhiqing thought it would be better to personally meet them tomorrow morning. She wanted to face-to-face re-confirm whether the surgical plans these people had finalized could proceed smoothly.

As the tangerine-scented pheromones in the air grew thinner, Wen Zhiqing closed her eyes. On the massive bed, she still habitually occupied only half the space, as if the other person might return at any moment.

The next day, Wen Zhiqing woke up very early. After the night passed, the tangerine scent had completely dissipated.

Wen Zhiqing frowned, checked the time, and then briefly notified her special assistant of her change in itinerary.

While washing up, the words Lin Wantang had spoken in the hospital surfaced in her mind again. When Wen Zhiqing recalled the frail way Lin Wantang had pleaded for her to let her go, she felt a sense of relief instead.

Today, these world-class top gland specialists would also go to the ward for a consultation on Lin Wantang’s condition. At that time, Lin Wantang would surely understand her well-intentioned efforts.

Thinking of this, the corners of Wen Zhiqing’s lips curled up slightly. This smile was faint, yet it was the smile of someone determined to win. She was somewhat impatient to see the expression on Lin Wantang’s face after she learned the truth.

The subsequent pickup process was exceptionally smooth. The translator accompanying Wen Zhiqing was practically redundant; she could freely switch between multiple languages to communicate with these top doctors herself.

However, when Wen Zhiqing asked if the surgery could proceed smoothly, the doctors pondered for a moment, exchanged glances, and suggested they first needed to go to the hospital to check the patient’s current condition.

Wen Zhiqing nodded in agreement to the doctors’ request. A few days ago, the hospital had informed her that Lin Wantang’s vital signs had stabilized and she could be transferred at any time during this period.

She had already planned it out: once these doctors finished the consultation on Lin Wantang’s gland condition, she would immediately transfer Lin Wantang to the best specialized gland hospital, observe her for a few days until all indicators met the standards, and then perform the surgery.

Wen Zhiqing pressed her fingertips against her brow, letting them linger on her temple for a moment. She thought to herself that in order to treat Lin Wantang’s gland, she had mobilized resources that were difficult to measure in money.

She was likely the best Omega to an ex-wife after a divorce.

On the way to the hospital, Wen Zhiqing remained in a good mood. She was seriously considering that after Lin Wantang successfully completed the surgery and was discharged, she might be so moved that she would want to be back together with her.

But should she agree? For a moment, Wen Zhiqing was somewhat hesitant.

But she didn’t have much time to think. They arrived at the hospital quickly. After getting out of the car, Wen Zhiqing crossed the outpatient hall with practiced ease, took the elevator, and turned into the corridor leading to Lin Wantang’s ward.

The assistants and doctors followed behind Wen Zhiqing, their footsteps sounding exceptionally clear in the quiet corridor. Upon reaching the ward door, Wen Zhiqing pressed the doorbell first, but after pausing for several seconds, she received no response.

She wasn’t surprised, because it had been the same last time.

Wen Zhiqing suppressed the slight unpleasantness rising in her heart and pushed the door open directly.

The ward was empty.

Wen Zhiqing stood at the door, staring at the neatly made white hospital bed for a long time. The winter afternoon sunlight leaked through the gaps in the curtains, falling onto the empty pillow, appearing incredibly tranquil.

The doctors behind her began to exchange looks and then whispered among themselves. Wen Zhiqing acted as if she hadn’t heard, and after a long pause, she walked straight to the bed.

The quilt was folded perfectly, the pillow had been fluffed up, and there wasn’t a single wrinkle on the sheets.

It was as if no one had ever been here.

Wen Zhiqing lifted her eyes toward the curtains. The windows were closed, and the curtains hung still; they weren’t fluttering in the wind as they had in her dream. Everything appeared perfectly normal.

She knew very well that Lin Wantang was not the type of person who would commit suicide.

Wen Zhiqing mechanically opened the window, and cold wind poured in. She leaned out to look down but was stopped by her personal assistant.

Below was a patch of wild grass, swaying lifelessly in the cold wind; there were no traces of anything, nor anyone.

That coldness spread outward from her chest. By the time it reached her fingertips, she realized she was shaking. But she held herself together, remaining calm on the surface at least. She turned her head and, in a fairly steady voice, told her special assistant to inquire with the hospital.

The scholars behind her had already begun to ask in low voices about the patient’s whereabouts. Wen Zhiqing shook her head and did not speak.

Turning to pass the bed, Wen Zhiqing suddenly paused for a step, then reached out and flipped back the corner of the white quilt.

There was nothing inside; she should have known.

Wen Zhiqing suddenly picked up her phone again, quickly clicking into the chat window with Lin Wantang to try and send a message.

However, the message failed to send; she saw the red notification indicating she had been deleted by the other party.

Lin Wantang had actually deleted her.

Wen Zhiqing first felt a surge of anger, but after the anger, more complex emotions flooded in.

She had never imagined Lin Wantang would delete her; after all, she had always been Lin Wantang’s only pinned contact.

Lin Wantang had mentioned this before, but at the time, Wen had only dismissively thought it was a tactic to perform loyalty.

But now she stood there dazedly clutching her phone, finally realizing that for Lin Wantang, after the divorce, all contact was unnecessary.

The assistant was efficient. In less than ten minutes, the hospital director rushed over. She reached the door, her gaze landing on the empty bed, and froze for several seconds as if she hadn’t processed it. Then she turned her head, her voice very low: “Call the attending physician here.”

Wen Zhiqing stood there without moving, merely staring at the approaching attending physician. Her black eyes were like glass marbles devoid of life; when light fell on them, it was swallowed up, revealing not a hint of emotion.

“The patient has processed a transfer.” The attending physician paused, looking at Wen Zhiqing: “When the patient signed the transfer agreement, she specifically noted a requirement to keep it confidential from family members. According to the hospital’s privacy protection regulations, we have no right to disclose her whereabouts.”

The director gave a light “tsk” and shot the young attending physician a look. The latter remained unmoved: “The hospital has clear regulations; please understand.”

The young doctor didn’t know how to be flexible. The director waved her hand, signaling for her to leave first. Then she moved a step closer to Wen Zhiqing, her voice kept very low: “The medical records office will have transfer records. However, if the patient signed a confidentiality agreement, applying for permission to view them will take a little time; you might need to wait a few more days.”

Wen Zhiqing nodded coldly but didn’t speak; she no longer had even a shred of trust in this exceptionally unreliable hospital.

The special assistant understood and stepped forward to add the director’s contact information: “If you have news, contact me directly.”

Wen Zhiqing turned and left the ward.

Walking down that long corridor, the ground beneath her feet suddenly began to go soft, and the hallway before her eyes swayed slightly, like a reflection on the water being slowly rippled by the wind. Wen Zhiqing instinctively reached out to lean against the wall, only managing to stand steady after her palm touched the icy surface.

Wen Zhiqing’s breathing began to grow rapid and chaotic. She quickly realized this was a precursor to fainting, then closed her eyes.

The lights in the corridor exploded into a blinding white in Wen Zhiqing’s mind, and a sense of the world spinning surged again from the back of her head, rolling into her mind like a tide. She leaned against the wall with effort, her knuckles turning white from the force she used, finally pushing back the dizziness.

She absolutely could not collapse now.

Wen Zhiqing brushed off the assistant’s attempt to support her, leaned against the wall for a moment, then opened her eyes, her gaze becoming cold and clear again.

She thought to herself that there were many ways to investigate which hospital Lin Wantang had gone to. She could send people to check Lin Wantang’s health insurance card spending records or check the ambulance dispatch records from the emergency center.

Even if Lin Wantang signed a hundred confidentiality agreements, as long as she was hospitalized in this city, she would definitely leave a trace.

She had the patience; she could find her.

Once she found Lin Wantang’s whereabouts, she wouldn’t let Lin Wantang run around everywhere like this anymore. She wouldn’t give her another chance to sign a confidentiality agreement, nor another chance to disappear to somewhere she couldn’t be found.

She would lock Lin Wantang firmly within her sight; until the surgery was over, Lin would go nowhere.

Wen Zhiqing let go of the wall, stood straight, and continued forward. The dizziness remained, and her surroundings seemed to sway slightly, but she could walk now.

Before getting into the car, she turned to instruct the special assistant: “Have the public relations department take these specialists to their hotel. Arrange dinner later, and I’ll head over once I’ve finished things on my end.”

Before that, she would definitely find Lin Wantang.

The personal assistant pulled open the car door for Wen Zhiqing.

After getting in, Wen Zhiqing pursed her lips and said nothing.

Once the door closed, she closed her eyes and leaned back, her whole being exuding a silence born of exhaustion. Light fell in through the car window, casting a small shadow from her eyelashes beneath her eyes.

The driver drove very steadily. When Wen Zhiqing opened her eyes again, the car had stopped below the headquarters building.

She didn’t move immediately. Her gaze fell back into the car, slowly sweeping over all the spots where Lin Wantang’s items had once been placed; now, there wasn’t a single trace left.

The assistant pulled the door open for Wen Zhiqing again. She didn’t look further, stepping straight out of the car.

Wen Zhiqing had already arranged for the secretary to have the technical department track Lin Wantang’s trail and had contacted the private investigator again.

After Lin Wantang disappeared, Wen Zhiqing felt as if her heart were suspended by a single thread; it didn’t ache as it had before, but it swayed every moment, and she didn’t know when it would finally settle.

But she maintained her basic rationality. Because it was impossible not to find someone.

Yet Lin Wantang was just her ex-wife; clearly, there was no longer any relationship between them.

Wen Zhiqing pressed her fingertips against her brow, refusing to think further.

She returned to the CEO’s office. Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, the city skyline spread out under the sunlight, plated with a faint golden rim. But Wen Zhiqing didn’t look; her gaze fell on the sofa, where someone had arrived ahead of her.

Sitting on the sofa was her Alpha mother, Wen Lan.

“Zhiqing, I heard you’ve been very busy lately,” Wen Lan spoke slowly. “Not only busy with work matters but also busy running back and forth for your private affairs.”

Wen Zhiqing frowned, sat down beside Wen Lan, but did not respond.

“Ever since you reached adulthood, I have rarely interfered with your decisions,” Wen Lan continued. “Previously, when you married Lin Wantang, I did not intervene; after all, a 100% pheromone compatibility is indeed suitable.”

“In just three short years you’re making a fuss about a divorce; I similarly didn’t care. If it’s no longer a fit, you indeed should separate.”

Wen Zhiqing remained silent.

Wen Lan sighed again: “But after the divorce, you still have lingering feelings. First, you suddenly fainted during a meeting, and now you’re making a grand show of finding doctors for her. Look at how haggard you are now; I truly don’t understand what you’re tossing and turning over.”

“We have no lingering feelings, much less can one talk about feelings not being over,” Wen Zhiqing quickly replied. “I just pity her, nothing more.”

Wen Lan waved her hand: “In any case, your current state is very wrong. An Alpha with a 100% compatibility with you is indeed rare, but those with a compatibility above 80% aren’t uncommon; you can first try to shift your attention away from your ex-wife.”

Before Wen Zhiqing could argue, Wen Lan continued.

“The acquisition plan is also not urgent.” She looked at her daughter with concern: “Readjusting yourself right now is what’s most important.”

Wen Zhiqing pursed her somewhat dry lips, paused, and then said: “It’s alright, I don’t need to readjust right now.”

Wen Lan didn’t follow up, only giving a very faint smile: “The technical department serves the entire company, not your private affairs. I have already told them to continue with their regular work.”

Wen Zhiqing felt as if the floor-to-ceiling window before her swayed for a moment. She closed her eyes and gripped the armrest of the sofa.

Her daughter’s reaction was fully noted by Wen Lan. She supported Wen Zhiqing and sighed again: “If it were only out of pity, you wouldn’t be in this state. Qiaoqiao and I will stay at your place for a while until you get better.”

Jiang Qiao was the name of Wen Zhiqing’s Omega mother.

She stood up, called the personal assistant for her daughter, and gave her daughter one last look before leaving: “Distinguish clearly between public and private matters. I have already sent people to investigate Lin Wantang’s whereabouts; regardless of the outcome, you must learn to face it. During this time, properly sort through your own thoughts.”

Wen Lan had always followed the principle of letting her child grow up freely, following Wen Zhiqing’s wishes most of the time, and Wen Zhiqing had always handled things well. But now she felt things might be a bit tricky.

This daughter, who had known what she wanted since she was young, seemed this time as if she didn’t even know what she was doing herself.

Wen Zhiqing leaned weakly against the sofa and nodded slightly.

In truth, she didn’t much like her mother’s statement about facing the outcome regardless of what it was.

Because the outcome would definitely be Lin Wantang successfully being discharged; there was no other possibility.

But right now, she didn’t know where Lin Wantang was.

Wen Zhiqing waited until twilight settled, but she received no news related to Lin Wantang.

Outside the window, the lights turned on one by one, slowly winding into a dazzling river of light; the city became lively again at night.

Wen Zhiqing sat before the floor-to-ceiling window in the CEO’s office without turning on the lights. Darkness poured in from all sides, quietly enveloping her.

During this time, Wen Lan sent her a message saying that no hospitalization records for Lin Wantang had been found in any hospital in North City and told her not to wait any longer tonight.

Not long after, the private investigator sent a similar message, adding a sentence at the end that they would start checking surrounding cities tomorrow.

Things had completely spun out of control. Wen Zhiqing stood up irritably and checked the time; it would soon be the welcome banquet prepared for the specialists. She was in no mood to attend, yet she had to go.

Although she hadn’t found Lin Wantang today, she could pull up Lin Wantang’s previous vital signs reports, go over them with the specialists again, and then re-confirm the success rate of the surgery with these experts.

Wen Zhiqing ultimately attended the banquet with a lack of interest, constantly lowering her head to check her phone to see if there was any news about Lin Wantang.

The doctors at the banquet had never encountered such a bizarre situation. A young wealthy person spent a massive sum to invite them over for a patient’s surgery, yet the patient had disappeared.

This was likely the most absurd meal of their professional careers.

As the banquet drew to a close, Wen Zhiqing absent-mindedly raised her wine glass and finally began to ask about Lin Wantang’s surgery.

Several experts exchanged glances. Without the patient’s most recent physical data, they couldn’t make any guarantees. No matter how perfect the previously finalized surgical plan was, without accurate recent data, it was merely paper talk.

Wen Zhiqing frowned slightly, placed her glass back on the table, and lightly stroked the body of the glass with her thumb.

“Is there no way to make any guarantees now?”

The translator finally became useful; Wen Zhiqing had completely forgotten to switch languages.

She sat in the main seat, looking somewhat dazed as the pioneer of pheromone dysfunctional atrophy treatment lightly shook his head.

Without the patient’s recent gland condition, no one could make a guarantee.

Wen Zhiqing swayed slightly again. The lights and figures before her eyes seemed to be behind a layer of mist—hazy and distant, having nothing to do with her.

Wen Zhiqing heard her own voice coming from behind that layer of mist, devoid of any confidence: “I can pay more.”

She quickly realized the words she had spoken were a bit ridiculous, but she had no other way.

The elder scholar again lightly shook his head, tactfully reminding Wen Zhiqing that they currently had no recent gland data for the patient. If the patient’s physical condition had continued to deteriorate recently, the possibility of a successful surgery would only grow lower and lower.

Most importantly, everything could only be determined after the patient was found.

Previously, Wen Zhiqing had always believed that all things had a definite answer. Math problems were like this, business was like this, and Lin Wantang’s surgery should also be like this.

But now she had invited all the most skilled doctors in the world, and no one could give her that answer. 100% was guaranteed by no one, and 50% was guaranteed by no one either.

Everything was unresolved.

Wen Zhiqing let out a weary sigh. Lin Wantang wasn’t in North City; she didn’t know where Lin Wantang would go, and she wasn’t even sure why Lin Wantang would choose to transfer.

Her heart began its stagnant ache again, but she had gradually begun to grow numbly accustomed to it.

After the banquet ended, in a flash of realization, she suddenly thought of Qi Yishu.

Perhaps Qi Yishu knew the details.

But she had previously blocked Qi Yishu.

Wen Zhiqing scrolled to the block list, saw Qi Yishu’s avatar, and her finger paused. She had never proactively unblocked anyone before, not even once.

Moreover, Qi Yishu was similarly a proud person; surely she was also on Qi Yishu’s block list.

Wen Zhiqing slowly put down her phone again.

She thought to herself that there was actually no need for this.

When the sun rose tomorrow, it was impossible that she still wouldn’t have found that person.

A few minutes later, Qi Yishu’s phone rang.

She glanced at the screen—it was Wen Zhiqing calling—then slowly blew out a smoke ring.

Ultimately, however, she answered.

After answering, there were several seconds of silence. Qi Yishu looked at her phone suspiciously and was just about to hang up when she finally heard Wen Zhiqing’s somewhat dry voice: “Do you know where Lin Wantang is?”

“What, President Wen is busy with a thousand matters a day, and now you suddenly have time to care about your wife… oh wait, it should be ex-wife?”

Qi Yishu put out the cigarette in her hand, not hearing the expected disdainful retort from Wen Zhiqing.

She paused, her fingertip still lingering on the edge of the ashtray. After a few seconds, she heard Wen Zhiqing breathe softly once and ask again in an even lower voice: “If you know, would it be convenient to tell me?”

Qi Yishu silently pressed the extinguished cigarette butt further into the ashtray and finally let out a soft sigh: “I don’t know either.”

She couldn’t help but continue: “I reminded you before to care more about the junior when you hadn’t divorced yet. Wen Zhiqing, is your reaction arc really that long?”

Qi Yishu irritably pulled out another cigarette, pinched the mint bead with her fingertips, skillfully lit it, and turned her head slightly to hold it. Smoke overflowed from the gap in her lips, slowly dissipating into the darkness.

Wen Zhiqing did not snap back as Qi Yishu had expected, but finally just said softly: “If you contact Lin Wantang later, could you please let me know?”

As if worried Qi Yishu would refuse, she quickly added: “I have already engaged the best medical team; the surgery can be performed at any time. This is the most secure plan for Lin Wantang’s surgery.”

By the time she reached the end, her voice was somewhat fragmented, completely lacking its former high spirits.