After My Death, I Became a Heartless Madman - Chapter 12

The train Song Shizhou boarded had been traveling for a long time, two days and three nights, a journey so prolonged it felt like a lifetime.

As the train rumbled through the tunnels, everything plunged into darkness. Shizhou loved this sensation, especially the darkness on the train. It made her feel like a cocoon curled up in the shadows, waiting for dawn to bring forth her emergence and rebirth.

The idea for this trip had come abruptly, and her actions had been just as hasty. Shizhou hadn’t eaten much on the train. Everything after her rebirth filled her with such intense novelty that she barely felt hunger, only sipping a few mouthfuls of sweetened water.

Perhaps people can’t eat when they’re overly excited, Shizhou thought with a self-deprecating smile. Su Ziqing once said Feng Yu was a fairy who drank dew. Whether Feng Yu was a fairy or not, Shizhou didn’t know, but now she had truly become one though while fairies drank dew, she drank Nutri-Express.

She had also bought a cake on the train, the kind of old-fashioned cake she used to eat as a child. Ten yuan for a bag, filled with many small pieces, the kind that left oil stains on your fingers when you took them out.

She had long outgrown her love for sweets, but today, on a whim, she bought a bag.

She wanted to celebrate her own birthday.

Today wasn’t actually her birthday, but what did that matter? Today was the first day she had left the Inner City, the first day of her rebirth, and likewise, the first day of her freedom.

Back in the Lu family, this was the kind of cake she ate every birthday, one piece split in half to share with Lu Qi. After returning to the Song family, she could have lavish cream cakes every year, adorned with sweet frosting and delicate figurines in pink dresses standing at the center, utterly out of place next to Song Shizhou.

There were no candles on the train, not even for money. As the train passed through a tunnel, Shizhou clasped her hands together and made a small wish.

In this life, she wanted to live for herself.

…

The train’s final stop was the Thirteenth District. Unlike the bustling Inner City, this place was quieter. Shizhou stepped out of the carriage, stretching comfortably in the fresh air and pleasant surroundings.

How nice. The air carried the crisp scent of after-rain.

The first order of business after gaining freedom was to assess her financial situation.

At twenty-five, Song Shizhou had a considerable savings. But at twenty-one, she had almost nothing her cards had been frozen by Madam Song Lanyi. Shizhou transferred all the funds she could access to her WeChat wallet, leaving her with just twenty thousand yuan in her account.

This twenty thousand was the result of scrimping and saving. She had never been one for extravagance, and while this amount might seem tight for someone like Su Qing, for her, it was enough to last a while.

She first found a cheap guesthouse. Unsure how long she’d stay in the Thirteenth District, she only signed a one-month lease. The three-day, two-night journey had left her exhausted, but she didn’t collapse into bed. She was short on money, and after paying rent, what remained was even less.

Truthfully, Song Shizhou was quite capable of taking care of herself. But what few people knew was that she was also very good at making money.

She found a busy pedestrian street and, nearby, a small art studio where she borrowed some painting supplies from the owner.

She knew how to paint.

Thanks to her early years in the slums, she had few entertainment options as a child. Her father’s vegetable stall wasn’t always busy, and during idle moments, she would observe the bustling market crowd. A pen and a notebook were enough to keep her sketching for days.

Later, after returning to the Song family, Song’s Mother hired professional tutors for her, and Song Shizhou’s painting skills improved even further.

She had painted Bai Ruowei too.

At that time, Bai Ruowei hadn’t yet revealed her true identity. But Miss Bai was always meticulous, even while indulging in childish games, she had Mia craft a flawless fake identity for her.

Song Shizhou had never doubted her in the first place, and with this fabricated background, she had even less reason to. As they spent more time together and grew closer, Song Shizhou shyly invited her to be her model.

She loved Bai Ruowei so much that painting her was nothing like casual practice. Even holding the brush made her nervous. Bai Ruowei, noticing her trembling hands, laughed at her flustered state and teased, “Can you even do this? Do you know how to paint?”

How could Miss Bai have known what she was feeling then? She wasn’t just painting a person, every stroke felt like she was carving open her own heart.

Hopeless romantic.

Song Shizhou shook her head.

A truly incurable hopeless romantic.

Her young lover lowered her gaze, noticing Song Shizhou’s growing concentration. For once, Bai Ruowei showed a rare hint of shyness. Song Shizhou meticulously captured every detail, she knew this body intimately, every scar, every hidden curve, all places she had touched and kissed. Uncharacteristically cooperative, Miss Bai didn’t complain about backaches or boredom.

When the painting was done, she invited Bai Ruowei to see it. Miss Bai sat beside her, brows slightly furrowed.

She said nothing.

Only later did Song Shizhou learn that the woman she loved was Bai Ruowei, the heiress of the Inner City. Miss Bai had countless artist friends, and countless more begged for the honor of painting her. These were people who had trained under masters since childhood, gifted beyond measure far surpassing Song Shizhou, who had only started later in life.

A portrait of Bai Ruowei did hang in the Inner City’s art gallery, but not this one. It was the one commissioned from a renowned painter when she became Chief Inspector.

When Bai Ruowei finally revealed her identity, she deliberately dug out that old painting. She mocked it relentlessly, laughing uncontrollably at the clumsy strokes and cheap pigments, nitpicking every flaw until it seemed there wasn’t a single redeeming quality.

Embarrassed, Song Shizhou tried to take it back, but Bai Ruowei refused. She insisted on keeping it, saying she’d look at it whenever she was in a bad mood.

“How could something so ugly even exist?”

As for where that painting ended up, Song Shizhou never knew.

She never painted Bai Ruowei again.

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