A Heartless Omega Regrets It When I’m Dying - Chapter 28

Qi Yishu hung up the phone directly.

Wen Zhiqing put down her phone, her spirit seemingly crushed. It was only when the screen went dark that she realized her hands had been shaking the entire time.

It was still within her heat period. She had already taken out the third bottle of pheromones, yet she stared at the transparent glass vial for a long time, ultimately failing to unseal it ahead of time.

She had firmly believed she could find Lin Wantang, and she was equally convinced that Lin’s gland surgery would proceed smoothly, yet now she didn’t dare think about it any further.

Wen Lan had once mentioned that even if a 100% matching Alpha couldn’t be found, there were plenty of Alphas with a high compatibility of over 80%.

Wen Zhiqing thought: None of those people are Lin Wantang.

She was supposed to be entangled with Lin Wantang for a lifetime—not necessarily in love, not necessarily staying together, but entangled.

She thought she had all the time in the world, but the other party had ultimately broken their appointment.

The scent of galbanum grew increasingly rich. Wen Zhiqing curled up on the bed, her breath rising from deep in her throat, carrying a scorching humidity.

That small patch of skin on the back of her neck felt as if it were being repeatedly licked by flames. The heat began to spread from there to her entire body; as it passed her shoulders, her shoulder blades trembled slightly; as it passed her waist, her torso tightened involuntarily; and as it continued downward, her whole body began to shake incessantly.

Wen Zhiqing’s skin became excessively sensitive, leaving a trail of fine tremors wherever her pajamas brushed against it.

Yet she still gripped that bottle of pheromones in her hand, the cool glass beginning to take on her scorching body temperature. All she had to do was open the bottle and let the tangerine scent near her gland to safely endure the heat, but she didn’t do it.

Wen Zhiqing bit her lower lip, her nails digging into her palms, using physical pain to combat a deeper desire.

Gasping breaths escaped through the gaps in her teeth, but those gasps shifted in tone, turning into a suppressed, vibrating sound emitted from deep within her chest.

She finally realized she was powerless to get through this long, endless night on her own; she either had to use the pheromones or the inhibitors.

Even though the pheromones were right within reach, she still didn’t open them. The glass bottle had been gripped by her for so long that the body of the vial had already taken on the temperature of her palm.

She loosened her grip, gently placing the glass bottle back on the bed. Then she propped herself up, supporting herself with her hands on the edge of the bed. After waiting for a few seconds to steady herself, she reached for the nightstand. The drawer slid open a crack, revealing the box of inhibitors inside.

Wen Zhiqing hadn’t used inhibitors in a very long time. She tore open the packaging, and the long, slender metal needle tip was revealed, reflecting a line of cold light under the lamp.

The brightness reflected from the needle point mirrored in her black pupils, and Wen Zhiqing’s fingers began to shake even more violently.

Wen Zhiqing pressed the needle tip against the skin at her gland. That patch of skin was still burning hot—so hot that the needle tip took on her body temperature. She could barely hold the inhibitor steady, trying several times before finally aiming correctly.

The medicinal liquid was slowly pushed in, a chill traveling inward along her blood vessels, slowly suppressing that scorching heat. Wen Zhiqing let out a long sigh of relief. Afterward, she pulled out the syringe too quickly; the moment the needle tip left her skin, a string of tiny blood beads seeped out, condensing into a startling point of vivid color on that slightly reddened skin.

A sharp pain radiated from where the needle had left. Wen Zhiqing’s brows furrowed, her features flickering slightly in the lamplight as her breath hitched.

Although she hadn’t used Lin Wantang’s pheromones, Wen Zhiqing thought of Lin Wantang again at this moment.

During previous heat periods, Lin Wantang remembered them even more clearly than she did and would constantly release pheromones to soothe her. Especially during the long nights, Lin Wantang would relieve her desires at times like these.

Those well-defined hands—every knuckle was shaped with just the right amount of beauty, the curve and length perfectly suited to reach the deepest parts. After being stained with her “things,” they would shimmer with a wet brilliance under the light.

But now Lin Wantang wasn’t here, and she didn’t know where Lin Wantang was at all. Was she still near this city, or had she gone somewhere very far away?

Wen Zhiqing wondered if Lin Wantang would still remember that it was currently her heat period. Would she know that she had mobilized every person she could deploy to find her like a madwoman?

But it didn’t matter. Once she found Lin Wantang, Lin would never be able to run around randomly like this again and cause such anxiety. Thinking of this, Wen Zhiqing felt slightly more relieved.

Yet under the quiet light, the entire room seemed very empty after all of Lin Wantang’s belongings had disappeared.

This made the already overthinking Wen Zhiqing somewhat irritable. She reached out and turned off the light directly.

The light vanished in an instant, and the entire room sank into darkness; those empty spaces would finally no longer be visible.

The next day, Wen Zhiqing still woke up very early. She searched through her message list, but still received no news regarding Lin Wantang’s whereabouts. Wen Zhiqing even looked at her phone frequently while washing up, for fear of missing a single piece of news about Lin Wantang.

In the entire villa, the only one who failed to notice Wen Zhiqing’s change was that cow-patterned cat.

It had grown quite a bit and quickly displayed its gifted neurosis. While Wen Zhiqing was eating breakfast, it suddenly leaped down from the sofa and accurately collided with a side table.

The expensive porcelain shattered with a crash, shards splashing across the floor. The cat took a slip, then bolted toward the tea table, peeking its head out only after the noise stopped.

Wen Zhiqing put down her phone and looked at the butler who hurried over.

“President Wen, I’ll have someone clean it up right away.”

Wen Zhiqing nodded, then suddenly remembered something: “Do you remember what Lin Wantang took with her when she left?”

The butler was momentarily stunned and didn’t answer immediately.

“It probably wasn’t much. Replace all of it later as well.”

Lin Wantang lay in a ward in a city adjacent to North City. An ordinary hospital, an ordinary ward—the conditions were even harsher than before.

Looking at the ceiling, her gaze fell hollowly on the cracks in the wall, yet it was as if she were seeing nothing at all.

She had never originally intended to transfer.

But Lin Shen and Wen Zhiqing were haunting her. Even the day after Wen Zhiqing left, Lin Shen had come again.

It was the same act of “deep mother-daughter affection.” During the second visit, Lin Shen’s words even held a hint of accusation—accusing her of ignoring her biological mother who was in a difficult situation, and having no intention of repaying the debt of so many years of upbringing.

Lin Shen gripped her wrist, tighter and tighter, until Lin Wantang felt as if her knuckles were about to be crushed. She couldn’t break free and had to use her other hand to press the call bell on the headboard.

Only when the nurse entered did she slowly pull her hand back. Her wrist was flushed red. Lin Wantang closed her eyes wearily and heard the nurse escorting Lin Shen out.

I can’t stay here anymore, Lin Wantang thought. If she stayed any longer, she might not even make it to the day of her surgery.

She had to transfer to a place where both Lin Shen and Wen Zhiqing couldn’t find her.

Lin Wantang had asked the doctor; her various data were currently stable and met the requirements for transfer.

But the doctor advised against it. Because she had been seen at this hospital from the start, the doctor already understood all her test results and medication reactions. Changing hospitals would mean starting everything from scratch, and the success rate of the surgery would only be lower than it was now.

After hearing this, Lin Wantang just smiled softly and didn’t explain much further.

She chose an ordinary hospital in the adjacent city and subsequently signed a confidentiality agreement regarding the transfer with the hospital.

After the transfer, Lin Wantang’s physical state was a bit worse, but without Lin Shen’s repeated disturbances, her mental state was better than before.

Lin Wantang occasionally received messages from Qi Yishu.

Initially, Qi Yishu would ask what she was busy with. When she brushed it off, Qi Yishu stopped asking. But Qi Yishu would send some photos she had taken casually—if the scenery was good, Lin Wantang could go and see it later when she had time.

[Alright, thank you, Senior.]

Lin Wantang looked at the new flower shop at the corner in the picture and slowly typed a reply.

However, a day after her transfer, Qi Yishu also became strange. She would still send photos—the twilight horizon outside the window, the frozen surface of a river, the empty seats in a corner of a coffee shop. But she would also ask Lin Wantang about things she hadn’t asked before, such as how the weather was lately, or asking if Lin Wantang could also take a picture of the nearby scenery.

Upon seeing the message, Lin Wantang became alert almost instantly.

Qi Yishu indeed treats me well, Lin Wantang thought. Her senior likely had no malice, but she absolutely could not reveal her location.

Lin Wantang checked the weather in North City, but she didn’t want to lie to Qi Yishu.

[I’m sorry, Senior, I don’t want to tell you.]

This time Qi Yishu took a long time to reply.

[It’s okay, Junior.]

Subsequently, Qi Yishu sent a casually taken picture as usual. She sent Lin Wantang a photo of a foggy window where someone had used their finger to draw a smiley face.

Lin Wantang put down her phone. Qi Yishu was probably the only person who had consistently shown her kindness during this period. But just now, she had actually wondered if Qi Yishu’s indirect inquiries about her current location were at Wen Zhiqing’s behest; she felt ashamed of such a suspicion.

After the transfer, Lin Wantang even received a friend request from Wen Zhiqing. Seeing that familiar avatar, Lin Wantang’s fingers twitched; the phone slipped from her palm and hit the quilt with a thud.

She hesitated for a moment before picking up the phone again.

[Where on earth are you right now?]

[Send me the address; I’m coming to find you.]

Lin Wantang closed her eyes. After trying her best to calm down, she turned off all methods of adding her in the privacy settings and then directly blocked Wen Zhiqing.

Her fingertips were trembling slightly from nerves, but she didn’t stop. She checked all her social media apps in one go, eliminating any possibility of Wen Zhiqing private messaging her again.

After blocking Wen Zhiqing on all platforms, Lin Wantang let out a long sigh of relief.

She didn’t quite understand why Wen Zhiqing was so obsessed with driving her into a corner; clearly, she had already managed to be a qualified ex who was as quiet as if she were dead, just as people said on the internet.

Afterward, Lin Wantang had another nightmare. She dreamed that as the surgery approached, Wen Zhiqing appeared silently in the ward, her brow slightly arched with her innate coldness, showing her a malicious smile.

Then, the green curve on the monitor went flat. Everything ended.

Lin Wantang woke up with a start.

Sunlight spilled across the bed through the curtains, warm and cozy. She gazed at that patch of light, slowly steadying her breath. When she turned her head, her gaze met Wen Zhiqing’s at the side of the bed.

Wen Zhiqing was wearing a bright yellow coat, yet this warm-colored jacket didn’t neutralize her inherent sense of coldness; instead, it made her features seem even more distant. Her black eyes were deeper than ever, staring at her unblinkingly.

Lin Wantang’s mind wavered; for a moment, she couldn’t tell if she was still trapped in the dream.

But she was soon supported by a pair of hands. Lin Wantang could catch a glimpse of Wen Zhiqing’s profile drawing closer and closer, finally determining with sadness that Wen Zhiqing had found her yet again.

Lin Wantang turned her head away in despair, not wanting to look at anything before her.

Wen Zhiqing’s hands shook, almost unable to hold Lin Wantang steady. She took a deep breath and wrapped her arms around Lin Wantang’s waist, pulling her in gently—it was the posture of a cautious embrace.

This was the first time she had proactively embraced Lin Wantang.

She had personally searched for Lin Wantang for several consecutive nights. When she finally confirmed Lin’s location, she almost couldn’t believe it, fearing she was still in a dream and hadn’t woken up.

During these days, she had gone from hope to disappointment, and from disappointment to a gradual numbness. She thought that once she found Lin Wantang, she would definitely lock her up—lock her up until the surgery was over. She couldn’t endure the experience of Lin Wantang suddenly disappearing before the surgery a second time.

Afterward, everything in the past could be forgiven. As long as Lin Wantang could survive, everything in the past could be wiped clean; she could let bygones be bygones.

As long as she could find Lin Wantang. As long as Lin’s surgery went smoothly.

She had no other requirements anymore. Afterward, this liar could deceive whoever she wanted to deceive; she accepted it.

After arriving in the early morning, Wen Zhiqing stood at the ward door and watched for a long time—watching Lin Wantang’s pale profile, watching her black hair scattered on the pillow, and watching the warm appearance of the sunlight falling on her. Wen Zhiqing looked at her like a fragile object, afraid she would disappear the moment she blinked.

She had searched for Lin Wantang for too long, and now she had finally found her.

Wen Zhiqing felt that Lin Wantang’s hair was a bit damp. She turned her head slightly, wanting to see what it was, only to realize with a start that her own face was equally wet.

It turned out that she herself was crying.

“President Wen, why can’t we just part on good terms?”

Lin Wantang’s voice was very soft. She tried to pry Wen Zhiqing’s arms away, but although Wen’s arms were only loosely encircling her, she couldn’t break free.

Wen Zhiqing was still immersed in the daze of having recovered what was lost. She didn’t even hear Lin Wantang’s voice clearly; she just felt the Alpha in her arms shivering and instinctively patted the Alpha’s thin back.

Then she lowered her head and comforted her in a very soft voice: “I will contact a hospital for your transfer; I will bring in the best medical resources to cure you. I am your Omega; we will be together forever.”

This was too absurd, Lin Wantang thought—so absurd that one almost couldn’t believe if it were reality.

“President Wen, we are already divorced.”

Lin Wantang’s cool hand lightly covered the back of Wen Zhiqing’s hand—an action she often did after Wen had fallen fast asleep during their three years of marriage. But under the Omega’s stunned gaze, she continued: “Which means, whether in life or death, I will never be with you again.”

Exerting a little force with her knuckles, she finally broke free from Wen Zhiqing’s embrace: “President Wen, I really don’t deserve it.”

Wen Zhiqing’s beautiful eyes still shimmered with moisture, and her expression was still one of shock. Lin Wantang met her gaze, her tone calm: “Thank you for your kindness, President Wen.”

She paused, her tone very steady, like she was speaking of something unrelated to her: “But life and death are up to fate; there’s no need for President Wen to go to such great lengths.”