After My Death, I Became a Heartless Madman - Chapter 42.2

Back in Flying Bird Town, she had often sat like this perched on a tall wooden chair, staring blankly at the walls covered in unfinished paintings.

So many stars, so many dazzling night skies, so many regrets.

Song Shizhou whispered,

“Your younger sister… is she doing alright?”

She was asking about Zhu Xing.

Lan Chi shook her head, saying nothing.

She always seemed this enigmatic, her story existing in its own world, entirely separate from everyone else here.

Song Shizhou was the only tiny dot connecting to her, the only ink stain willing to let her linger a little longer.

The light bullet guns were eventually taken away. Lan Chi wiped the sweat from her hands.

“Have you been happy these past few days?”

She asked casually, as if it were nothing.

This was the first time in all these days that anyone had asked her that.

Most people simply assumed that finding her family, becoming Chairman Chen’s daughter, was the greatest stroke of luck in the world so of course she must be overjoyed. No one cared about how she truly felt, whether she was happy, whether she had adjusted. They only knew how to flatter.

Because flattery could never go wrong, right?

Why had it taken Chen Ting over twenty years to find her?

This question had troubled Shizhou for a long time. She couldn’t figure it out, nor did she want to, so she decided to let it go.

Lan Chi always carried a faint, pleasant scent of grass and wood. Even here, in the Council, thousands of miles from Flying Bird Town, that delicate fragrance still clung to her.

Leaning casually against the railing, she rested her chin on her hand.

“I thought finding your mother for you would at least make you happy, that it might make up for my past mistakes. But now it seems, you’re not as happy as I expected.”

She shrugged, her tone casual, as if there was nothing in this world she couldn’t accomplish so her promises always carried that same flippant air.

“Since you’re unhappy, I still owe you one thing. One thing that will truly make you happy.”

Song Shizhou paused.

“I’m not unhappy.”

Lan Chi instinctively smiled, though the curve of her lips seemed forced. She had thought her heart was cold enough, yet the memory of the day she parted with Shizhou remained etched in her mind,

unable to fade.

Perhaps this was what guilt felt like.

She owed Song Shizhou.

She had deceived her.

She had only stayed by Song Shizhou’s side to return to the Surveillance Institute, taking her in and playing along with the act. But why was it that, by the end of it all, she was the one who had carved it into an obsession?

Lan Chi let out a soft laugh, as if mocking her own weakness.

“Shizhou, why didn’t I meet you sooner?”

Lan Chi suddenly spoke.

“Why am I so much older than you, so much older than Inspector Bai?”

Lan Chi was the Optimal Subject of the Surveillance Institute’s experiments. The Institute loved human trials selecting the most promising candidates from among countless vibrant children, pitting them against each other until only the strongest remained.

When she was sixteen, she went to District 14 on a mission and met an eight-year-old Song Shizhou.

By sixteen, Lan Chi had already known Mia, had already met Zhu Xing, had already experienced countless unforgettable things, had already obtained her first Light Bullet Gun.

You were born when I was not, I was born when you were already old. It seemed to be an eternal, insurmountable lament of humanity. If only she hadn’t appeared so late.

Lan Chi suddenly felt a pang of melancholy.

“Shi Zhou, I should have left long ago.”

“Whether exiled to the most remote region or simply executed, the only reason I’ve held on this long is—”

“Because of you.”

Song Shizhou froze.

Lan Chi seemed almost dazed.

“Shizhou, why must you always be unhappy? Walking alone is exhausting. Chairman Chen is your mother is there anything you can’t tell her?”

“You don’t seem to like her attempts to make amends.”

Song Shizhou replied with detached calm.

“I’m not unhappy.”

“It’s just that I’m used to my old life, so Chairman Chen’s sudden appearance surprised me.”

In her past life, hadn’t she lived just fine without Chairman Chen? Perhaps it was because of two unsatisfactory family backgrounds, but she always preferred to keep things in her own hands.

Chen Ting’s arrival shattered that delicate balance.

Or perhaps she harbored some resentment.

Resentment that Chen Ting had come so late, so delayed.

“Then, will you resent me?”

Lan Chi asked.

Her psychic abilities were a terrifying force. Aside from Chairman Chen, she could hear the thoughts of anyone around her with perfect clarity when her control slipped.

Song Shizhou stiffened.

“Shizhou did I come too late as well?”

The atmosphere between them grew stiff from those inexplicable words. Song Shizhou stood rooted in place, momentarily at a loss for how to respond.

Lan Chi’s profile was as beautiful as ever, always carrying a faint trace of sorrow. Her hair fell lightly over her eyes, obscuring the emotion in her gaze from Song Shizhou’s view.

The reason Lan Chi had held on until today was because of that vow made in Flying Bird Town.

She owed her once.

She owed Song Shizhou once, and she had to repay her.

But it was already far too late.

“The charges against the Lu Family Couple seem to have been finalized. If you have time, you might want to look into it.”

Song Shizhou nodded.

Lan Chi switched to a less powerful firearm, aimed at the bullseye, and fired several shots.

Every single one missed.

She let out a soft, knowing laugh.

“I can’t do it anymore.”

Her left arm had been rendered useless in an accident many years ago.

Painting wasn’t affected, but precise actions like aiming became difficult to control.

Lan Chi looked up, spread her arms, and said to her,

“Let me hug you, Shizhou.”

Song Shizhou didn’t refuse.

Her embrace was as warm as ever, yet Shizhou felt as though this was truly a farewell.

When Bai Ruowei entered, this was exactly the scene she witnessed.

The two of them gazed at each other with an intimacy that left no room for others. There was a flicker of surprise in Song Shizhou’s eyes, a liveliness Bai Ruowei hadn’t seen in so long. When facing her, Shizhou only ever had one expression: ice-cold detachment.

And Lan Chi, wearing a face identical to hers, smiled gently at Shizhou.

Bai Ruowei didn’t like the way Lan Chi looked at Song Shizhou.

Those pale green eyes, so much like her own, gazed at the woman before her with unprecedented tenderness so earnest, so focused, as if tinged with faint remorse, as though the person before her was the most important thing in the world.

That covetous look unsettled Bai Ruowei. If it had been anyone else staring at Shizhou like that, she would have taken immediate action to reclaim her.

But the one looking at Shizhou this way was Lan Chi.

The Lan Chi who shared the most history with Shizhou.

The Lan Chi whom Shizhou, in a fit of anger, had once called her true original, the one Bai Ruowei was merely replacing.

Bai Ruowei’s heart wavered.

She had never doubted the sincerity of Shizhou’s confession to her. She believed in love at first sight, believed Shizhou’s love was for her, for who she was.

But now, she wasn’t so sure anymore.

She wasn’t one to torture herself, yet here she stood, powerless to do anything but watch as the two embraced.

It was like being flayed slowly by a blunt knife. Bai Ruowei felt as though someone were carving into her flesh, the agony unbearable, her fragility and confusion blurring into a haze before her eyes. No matter how hard she tried to steel herself, to focus, she couldn’t hold back.

Shizhou didn’t necessarily need her to teach her.

Similarly, Shizhou didn’t necessarily need her to love her.

Someone else could fall for Song Shizhou perhaps someone better suited, someone more in tune with her.

And all Bai Ruowei could do was stand there, enduring the bitter fruit she had sown, the torment akin to a slow execution.

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