After My Death, I Became a Heartless Madman - Chapter 35.2

The Chief Inspector getting injured was no small matter.

Mia silently observed Song Shizhou’s expression, wondering if she had any suspicions.

But Miss Song’s expression remained unchanged, as if she hadn’t noticed anything amiss.

It wasn’t that Miss Song hadn’t noticed anything, Mia thought to herself. Rather, she had likely already pieced together the whole story and didn’t need to ask.

Miss Song was truly this clever and cautious.

By evening, Bai Ruowei gradually woke up. The sky outside had darkened, and the pale lilac curtains in front of Ink Residence’s floor-to-ceiling windows were slightly ajar, blocking out the last remnants of light.

Struggling to open her eyes, Miss Bai realized the pain in her waist had subsided. With effort, she lifted the blanket and looked down, the wound had been carefully bandaged, with no trace of blood seeping through.

The room was empty except for her. Bai Ruowei’s throat burned with pain. A bowl of water sat on the tea table, and she picked it up, drinking it all in one go.

Instinctively, she called out for Song Shizhou a few times, but there was no response.

Her heart sank, and a sudden fear gripped her.

Had Song Shizhou already left?

She called for Mia twice more, but still, no one answered.

She hadn’t kept her imprisoned, hadn’t stopped her from leaving. She had said she was free. Bai Ruowei closed her eyes again, but now she regretted it. Why hadn’t she just locked Song Shizhou by her side, ensuring she couldn’t go anywhere?

That way, she wouldn’t leave her, wouldn’t go to someone else…

If she couldn’t keep her heart, at least keeping her person would be something. Call her despicable, Bai Ruowei let out a soft laugh but she didn’t want to make Song Shizhou unhappy. If forcing her to stay would only bring her misery, she couldn’t bear it.

She felt unbearably greedy, wanting both her heart and her person. But in the end, it seemed like…

Her phone lay intact on the tea table. She picked it up and unlocked it.

The screen displayed that photo of fireworks.

But it seemed like she couldn’t hold onto either anymore.

The small tree brought back from Flying Bird Town sat by the bedside. That tree represented Lan Chi and Song Shizhou’s past, carrying so many of their beautiful memories. But the memories between her and Song Shizhou had already vanished without a trace.

She didn’t want to look, didn’t dare to.

Footsteps sounded from the doorway. Bai Ruowei struggled to sit up, a dull pain flaring at her side. She glanced at her wound.

At least it wouldn’t kill her.

Song Shizhou pushed the door open.

“You’re awake.”

A bowl of medicine was placed on the nightstand.

“Mia isn’t here. She went back to Snow Couch to handle some matters.”

“Do you want me to call her back for you?”

Bai Ruowei pressed her lips together.

“No need.”

The person she wanted to call had always been Song Shizhou alone. Now that Song Shizhou was here, what use was Mia? (Poor Mia.)

Bai Ruowei opened her mouth, wanting to say these words aloud, but in the end, she said nothing.

Her face paled. She vaguely remembered saying something after fainting something incoherent but now, she couldn’t recall it at all.

Had she embarrassed herself?

“You…”

Miss Bai hesitated before finally asking,

“How long was I asleep?”

“A full day and night.”

No wonder.

Bai Ruowei sighed softly.

No wonder she felt so weak upon waking…

“Did I say anything strange while unconscious?”

Song Shizhou cooled her medicine for her.

“No.”

“You were completely out, didn’t utter a word.”

Bai Ruowei: “Oh…”

Silence fell between the two in the room again. Ever since Song Shizhou’s rebirth, such quiet moments had become frequent between them. But today’s silence felt different from before as if something intangible was slowly flowing between them.

“Why did you go to Flying Bird Town?”

Bai Ruowei asked instinctively.

“Had a mission to complete.”

Song Shizhou smiled but didn’t elaborate. She’d actually already asked Bai Ruowei this question during her delirium, when the feverish woman had clutched her hand desperately, begging her not to leave, to stay forever.

See? For the clear-headed Miss Bai, such heartfelt words remained so difficult to voice.

Bai Ruowei couldn’t read her thoughts but keenly sensed Song Shizhou’s resistance toward her had softened somewhat. Perhaps witnessing her vulnerable state might earn forgiveness after all.

A flicker of happiness warmed Bai Ruowei’s chest. She grasped Song Shizhou’s hand and whispered that she was hungry.

Song Shizhou withdrew her hand, her heart heavy, with no inclination to cook for Miss Bai.

“Lin Sao’s off today. There’s instant food in the fridge, just heat it up.”

Song Shizhou added, “I’ll call Li Ningzhi back to cook for you.”

Curled in the corner, Bai Ruowei’s listless eyes drooped.

“Don’t bother her.”

“I’m not hungry anymore.”

She only wanted food made by Song Shizhou’s hands. Nothing else interested her, no matter how delicious.

The little sapling she’d painstakingly brought back sat on the bedside table where Bai Ruowei could see it. Plants were strange creatures, some wilted under meticulous care while others thrived with just a handful of soil and scant sunlight.

Bai Ruowei’s gaze darkened.

Was this how human connections worked too?

“I want noodles…”

A whisper softer than the sapling’s tender buds, yet Song Shizhou heard it clearly.

After half a month apart, Bai Ruowei had grown thinner, her face reduced to sharp angles with only those large eyes remaining prominent. She looked up pitifully.

“I want noodles you made.”

Song Shizhou sighed.

Making noodles was simple, boil water, toss them in, add salt and preferred vegetables. But Bai Ruowei was picky, rejecting all store-bought instant noodles or machine-pressed varieties. Only hand-kneaded dough from Song Shizhou would do.

Starting from scratch today would mean the bowl wouldn’t be ready until midnight. Song Shizhou shook a pack of instant noodles questioningly. Bai Ruowei kept her head down, offering no protest.

Xiao Bao, confined mostly to its cage while recovering, was nearly stir-crazy. Seizing the chance while Song Shizhou cooked, Bai Ruowei released it. The little creature immediately scampered wildly about the room, its excited “werwerwer” echoing nonstop.

“Put it back, would you? Too noisy.”

Miss Bai sat clutching her stomach, pretending not to hear.

The noodles were quickly cooked, and Song Shizhou had even washed a handful of baby bok choy. Though it was just an ordinary bowl of noodles, Bai Ruowei felt an inexplicable pang in her heart when it was placed on the table.

It had been so long, so very long, since she last ate a meal prepared by Song Shizhou.

Was this punishment for not cherishing it enough before? Bai Ruowei silently asked herself. But the truth was, every single time before, she had treasured it deeply and finished every last bite.

A faint steam curled between them. While eating, Song Shizhou didn’t like to play with the dog. She grabbed Xiao Bao by the scruff of its neck and stuffed it back into its cage. Xiao Bao bared its teeth at her through the bars, and Song Shizhou clicked her tongue.

“No more treats for you then.”

After dealing with one, there was still another sitting in the dining room. Song Shizhou washed her hands and turned back, ready to listen to Miss Bai’s profound opinions.

Miss Bai was cosplaying as the Xiang Consort in front of a bowl of noodles, tears plopping into the broth. Song Shizhou leaned against the doorframe, watching her cry.

She seemed so aggrieved she didn’t know what to do with herself, her suppressed emotions ebbing and flowing or perhaps she was simply moved to tears. Whether she was crying from how delicious the noodles were, Song Shizhou couldn’t tell. All she knew was that Xiao Bao was howling, Miss Bai was wailing, and poor Xiao Song was at her wit’s end.

Resigned, she ducked into the bathroom, grabbed a face towel, and unceremoniously wiped Miss Bai’s face.

“The noodles were so good they made you cry…”

She smiled warmly as she held her, the pose deceptively intimate. The warmth in Song Shizhou’s embrace was intense. Bai Ruowei cautiously lifted her head to look at her.

Her expression was meek, her eyes slightly red. A flower left uncared for, where was her arrogance now? Where was her haughty criticism?

Song Shizhou’s tone was no different from in their past life, as if she had reverted to the Song Shizhou who once adored her. Yet Bai Ruowei knew something had changed.

“Don’t be mad at me anymore.”

“Please stop being angry with me.”

She kept repeating these two phrases, unable to muster a third. Clearly, Miss Bai lacked the skills of a debater. The oven dinged. Song Shizhou patted her head.

“Stop crying for now. Eat something first then you’ll have the energy to cry.”

Such a cutting remark, yet Miss Bai didn’t seem to notice. The noodles were inedible now, so Song Shizhou went into the kitchen and pulled an apple pie from the oven.

Miss Bai’s eyes widened.

Or perhaps it should be called French butter apples.

Wearing thick oven mitts, she took out the baking tray.

“Roasting apples requires patience. The heat must be just right. Too high, and they’ll burn. Too low, and the butter won’t melt.”

“Making too many at once won’t work.”

“Because they won’t heat evenly.”

A ding-dong went off in Bai Ruowei’s heart, mirroring the oven.

“You knew…”

“You… knew all along.”

Song Shizhou blinked.

“Knew what?”

“I also know this.”

A little bee flew out of Song Shizhou’s pocket and landed in Bai Ruowei’s palm.

Could a tracking chip with half its wings broken ever recover? Hadn’t it turned into a puddle of sewage right before Bai Ruowei’s eyes? Wasn’t something like this destined for the scrap heap just like their shattered love? Could it really have been picked up and repaired by Song Shizhou?

Miss Bai’s tears began to fall again, plop-plop.

“Don’t cry.”

Song Shizhou wiped her tears with her hand.

But tears only multiply when wiped. Bai Ruowei sobbed harder, her vision blurred, soft and fragrant in her distress.

“You knew everything…”

“The chip, the apples… you knew it all.”

“You knew and pretended not to. Do you have any idea how much I’ve suffered this whole time? I thought you’d never like me again, that you’d never be with me.”

She thought she’d been ignored by Song Shizhou. But now, she realized, every move she made, Song Shizhou had seen it all.

Once the floodgates of suppressed grievances were opened, they could no longer be contained. Miss Bai, disregarding the wound on her abdomen, cried with genuine heartbreak, her sobs raw and piercing. Downstairs, Xiao Bao successfully pried open his cage. Clutching a toy in his mouth, he eagerly prepared to cause some mischief, only to freeze awkwardly upon hearing Miss Bai’s cries. With a sheepish bark, he retreated downstairs.

“Since you already know… does that mean you forgive me?”

Miss Bai leaned close to her lips, her eyes red and swollen from crying. Her pale eyelids, tinged a delicate peach hue, looked beautiful yet heartbreaking.

Song Shizhou remained silent.

Bai Ruowei cautiously tilted her head to look at her.

The tracking chip finally landed in Miss Bai’s palm. Song Shizhou grasped her hand, their fingers intertwining tightly. The sharp needle pierced Miss Bai’s skin, and she winced slightly. Song Shizhou pressed a kiss to the wound.

Bai Ruowei smiled faintly.

“You must have forgiven me.”

Song Shizhou pursed her lips, her expression unreadable.

Miss Bai didn’t notice these subtle shifts in her demeanor, she was too weak, too overwhelmed by joy.

When Bai Ruowei had been unconscious, Song Shizhou had indeed asked her many questions.

She asked why she had gone to retrieve the sapling. Bai Ruowei replied, Because you said so, so I had to do it.

Song Shizhou then asked, Why? Just because I said it, you had to obey? If someone else had said it, would you have done the same?

Bai Ruowei shook her head. No. Because I like you, I want you to be happy. That’s why I did it.

After a moment of contemplation, Song Shizhou asked her,

“Why do you like me?”

This time, Miss Bai fell silent.

She remained quiet for so long that Song Shizhou almost thought she had drifted back to sleep.

Then, the unconscious woman murmured,

“I don’t know.”

Song Shizhou’s heart clenched, a sharp pang of pain shooting through her.

But liking someone shouldn’t be forced, shouldn’t be out of habit, shouldn’t be mere inertia.

Support