After My Death, I Became a Heartless Madman - Chapter 30.2

Song Shizhou looked at the table of delicacies and smiled faintly.

For some reason, she suddenly lost her appetite.

She didn’t touch a single dish. Qingluan was surprised but hesitated to say anything.

The only thing she kept was that painstakingly made cinnamon-baked apple.

……

By the time Bai Ruowei returned, it was already late at night.

She had been extremely busy lately. Mr. Bai wasn’t the type to voice his displeasure outright, but since Bai Ruowei had slighted him and wasted his time, she naturally had to make up for it. He had assigned her several thorny tasks, and she and Mia had been working on them until late.

Now, physically and mentally exhausted, she desperately needed a good night’s sleep. The bedding in the Snow Pavilion was custom-made, perfectly tailored to Miss Bai’s figure to ensure the best possible rest. Yet, inexplicably, she found herself missing the feeling of squeezing into bed with Song Shizhou.

What she needed now wasn’t just rest.

She needed her lover’s embrace.

Mia, of course, knew exactly what was on her mind.

“Shall we stop by the Ink Residence?”

Bai Ruowei didn’t answer, only shook her head.

The car swayed to a stop at the entrance of the Snow Pavilion. Bai Ruowei sat inside for a while longer before sending Mia upstairs.

Alone, she walked back to the Ink Residence.

Between the Snow Couch and the Ink Residence lay a flower-lined path dotted with small trees. The recent temperature drop had gradually coated the treetops with icicles, and the damp, chilly air soaked through her clothes and shoes, making her steps unsteady and her appearance somewhat disheveled.

Her heart ached with a sour longing, missing the scent of Song Shizhou.

She was still an Alpha. Given their current relationship, it was clear Song Shizhou had no intention of marking her. Bai Ruowei knew Shizhou well, outwardly easygoing and tolerant, yet firm in her principles. In the past, those principles could be bent repeatedly for Miss Bai, but now…

Bai Ruowei recalled the words she had overheard at the door that day:

“Anyway, I’m not planning to love her anymore…”

She paused, unsure how she should feel.

She stood beneath the Ink Residence for a long time. A small, faint light in the study told her Shizhou was likely reading.

Shizhou had always loved books. Bai Ruowei had gifted her many rare, delicate, and expensive volumes, only to sulk afterward, resentful that Shizhou preferred reading over her. Their time together was already so limited, how could Shizhou not cherish it? She would haul those precious books around carelessly, unafraid of damaging them, and when asked what she was reading, Bai Ruowei would snap, “Why not sleep instead of reading?”

Sleep with her, instead.

Bai Ruowei lingered below, watching until, finally, the small light in the study went out.

Shizhou must have gone to bed.

Bai Ruowei entered the Ink Residence.

Lin Sao, the former head chef of Furong Grand Restaurant, had retired with age until Mia spent a fortune to bring her back. She greeted Bai Ruowei, who responded with indifference.

“Did Miss Song… enjoy the dishes tonight?” Bai Ruowei asked.

Lin Sao clicked her tongue. “Miss Bai, I must tell you, Miss Song didn’t seem to like the menu you chose. She didn’t touch a single bite of dinner tonight.”

Bai Ruowei froze. “She didn’t eat?”

Lin Sao nodded.

Bai Ruowei ascended to the second floor.

The bedroom was dark. After a moment’s hesitation, she pushed the door open.

Inside, the steady rhythm of Shizhou’s breathing mingled with the faint fragrance of night-blooming cereus. Almost instantly, Bai Ruowei shed her coat and slipped into bed.

She wrapped her arms around Shizhou over the blanket. Even through the layers, their shared warmth was enough to kindle heat. Burying her face in Shizhou’s neck, Bai Ruowei knew Shizhou wasn’t asleep or if she was, she’d soon be roused.

Yet Shizhou didn’t respond.

The scent of osmanthus grew heavier, entwining with the cereus. Bai Ruowei’s soft breaths against Shizhou’s scent gland sent tingles through her, stirring impatience.

“Miss Bai, what are you doing?” Shizhou asked.

Bai Ruowei didn’t answer, pressing a kiss to the gland instead.

They had never been apart this long before. Bai Ruowei’s heart ached with pent-up longing. Shyly, she kissed the spot again, the clearest hint of reconciliation and desire.

But Shizhou remained unmoved.

Bai Ruowei nestled deeper into her embrace.

She should be used to this by now.

Her voice muffled, almost petulant, she murmured, “Lin Sao said you didn’t eat tonight. Aren’t you… hungry?”

Shizhou chuckled. “What are you really trying to say?”

What exactly did she want to say? Miss Bai awkwardly rambled about everything under the sun, carefully avoiding any mention of her increasingly weak body or the heavy scent of pheromones permeating the air.

Bai Ruowei said uncomfortably,

“Don’t you want to hold me?”

Song Shizhou wrapped herself in the blanket and turned to the other side.

When she went downstairs, Lin Sao was still there. Bai Ruowei sat beside her, looking somewhat exhausted.

Lin Sao didn’t seem to notice her mood.

“Although Miss Song didn’t eat dinner, she really liked that dessert. The dish sounds simple, French butter-baked apples but it’s actually quite tricky to make.”

Bai Ruowei paused.

“How tricky?”

Lin Sao explained,

“It doesn’t take too long, if you’re skilled, you can make a lot in just half an hour. But it requires precision. If the ingredient ratios are even slightly off, you have to start over.”

It didn’t sound as difficult as double-red soup.

Bai Ruowei pursed her lips.

“I see. Lin Sao, you should rest now.”

If Song Shizhou could do it well, so could she.

Bai Ruowei thought,

Then, whatever love Song Shizhou could give her, she could give just as much.

She tied on an apron.

Since Song Shizhou liked it, she would learn to make it too and gladly serve it to her.

She wasn’t someone who only knew how to take. Miss Bai felt a little aggrieved.

The juicer roared to life, splattering large foamy bubbles of butter, drowning out her grievances.

Miss Bai had little experience in the kitchen. She was a beginner now. Lin Sao had sent her a tutorial video, and she followed the steps meticulously.

She didn’t know how much time had passed. The oven kept beeping, and finally, the long dining table was covered with rows of baked apples.

It was practically an apple waterfall.

The sky was beginning to brighten, but Miss Bai didn’t feel particularly tired.

Why had she made so many?

If Song Shizhou liked this dish, then surely she’d be happy to see so many, right?

Bai Ruowei instinctively smiled.

But as time passed, the once piping-hot, tender baked apples had cooled. The sweet butter had congealed on top, looking awkward and pitiful.

Miss Bai pressed her lips together and stood there silently, at a loss.

Would anyone still like cold baked apples?

Qingluan had heard the noise downstairs earlier but knew it was Miss Bai. She didn’t dare disturb her while she was busy. Only now that Miss Bai had stopped did she dare come down to check.

Even so, Qingluan was startled when she saw the scene.

“Miss Bai… did you make all of these?”

“Why did you make so many? How long have you been at this?”

When Bai Ruowei didn’t answer, Qingluan hesitantly continued,

“Should I… call Miss Song down?”

“No need.”

As if making an unbearably difficult decision,

Bai Ruowei said,

“Throw them all away.”

No one would like cold baked apples.

…

The next morning, Song Shizhou woke up early.

The kitchen was filled with a sweet aroma. She glanced at the newly replaced trash bag traces of butter clung to it, stubborn from cooling. Cold butter, like cold people, was never liked by anyone.

Song Shizhou took a bite of an apple.

Her teeth were healthy crunch.

Qingluan inexplicably felt a chill.

Song Shizhou smiled.

“Did you use up a lot of apples last night?”

Mini Theater:

Xiao Song: Didn’t say a word, made the woman angrily bake 30 roasted apples for me.

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