After My Death, I Became a Heartless Madman - Chapter 52.2

The sky was growing dark, and Mia wasn’t sure whether Chairman Chen was still around. As a dutiful subordinate of Mr. Bai, she had no intention of lingering while the relationship between her superior and Chairman Chen remained unclear.

After exchanging a few pleasantries with Song Shizhou, she got into the car and left.

The understated black vehicle took a while to disappear from sight. Sweetwater Lane was narrow and winding, and the car swayed unsteadily before finally turning the corner.

Seated in the passenger seat was the very person who supposedly shouldn’t still be in the Inner City. The orange glow of the sunset cast her expression in shadowy ambiguity.

She had kept one of the bouquets meant for Song Shizhou. The pale green stems rested in Miss Bai’s hand, the plush white petals brushing against her neck, as if the flowers had bloomed from her very flesh.

That was why they seemed so bewitchingly vivid.

Bai Ruowei’s throat moved slightly.

“Were there many people who came to see her today?”

The guest list for the porcelain studio’s opening ceremony, the friends who had attended, the gifts they had brought hadn’t Miss Bai just watched everything unfold from the car?

Mia hesitated before answering.

“Most of Miss Song’s friends in the Inner City came. It was quite lively.”

Bai Ruowei’s eyes flickered faintly, but she didn’t press further. Instead, she changed the subject.

“Did she like the flowers?”

Mia replied, “Miss Song accepted them. Though she didn’t say much, it seemed like she was pleased.”

Though she didn’t say much, it seemed like she was pleased.

There was no need to be so vague.

Bai Ruowei smiled self-deprecatingly, her gaze lowering.

The driver continued on, and Mia handed something over from the back seat.

“Oh, this is from Miss Song. She said it’s a return gift for the flowers.”

Bai Ruowei paused, then reached out to take it.

She opened the box to find a glazed porcelain vase inside, its surface smooth and its colors exquisitely crafted.

She froze, as if in disbelief. “She… gave this to me?”

Mia nodded.

“Yes.”

The hand gripping the porcelain vase suddenly tightened. In Mia’s view, Miss Bai’s slender fingers clenched with such force that the tips turned white, making her gasp involuntarily.

The cool, smooth surface of the vase pressed against Bai Ruowei’s palm, reminding her of that woman’s gentle eyes and the heart beneath her touch that had raced unmistakably fast.

Miss Bai smiled inexplicably.

Her eyes shimmered with emotion, and under Mia’s astonished gaze, her crimson lips suddenly pressed against the small porcelain vase.

Not as if kissing an inanimate object, but as if embracing a beloved with genuine tenderness. Miss Bai was deeply moved. The stark contrast between the icy white porcelain and her flushed lips collided, creating a scene both sensual and obsessive.

With a hint of underlying madness.

She was reminiscing about that kiss.

Even after all this time, Bai Ruowei hadn’t forgotten that conquering, invasive kiss, their only intimate contact in this period.

Yet the next moment, Bai Ruowei calmly put the vase away, as if the person stubbornly kissing porcelain moments ago hadn’t been her.

Her voice carried an unusual languor. The driver didn’t dare look at her, so she turned to Mia instead.

“Tell me, does her sending me this porcelain mean she wants to see me? Should I go back to her?”

Mia’s limited brain couldn’t quite grasp the connection between gifting porcelain and wanting to meet, but she still offered a fair response.

“Miss Bai, you’re about to leave for the Third District on business. This trip is crucial for us. You should focus.”

“Once this trip is over, you can see Miss Song every day.”

Bai Ruowei twirled a strand of her long hair between her fingers, playing with it idly.

“You’re right. I’ll wait a little longer then.”

…

Xiao Zhao, concerned about the wound on her boss’s lip, chose a mild mushroom hotpot for dinner.

After the meal, the two parted ways. Instead of returning to her small apartment, Song Shizhou went back to the studio.

It was late at night, and only a single ambient desk lamp illuminated the studio. Song Shizhou wiped down the display cabinets for a while but soon felt unsettled, so she retreated to the break room.

The break room was a small space partitioned off by a wall. Though called a break room, it didn’t even have a bed, just a sofa and a bookshelf.

From behind the bookshelf, she retrieved a painting.

A painting of Miss Bai.

Far more formal than the one sketched in the ledger, the figure in the transparent glass frame gazed down with pale green eyes as if looking at her, yet not.

Song Shizhou brought the painting out and laid it flat on the table.

It was just a sketch, unfinished and uncolored. A faint scent of osmanthus drifted in, an aroma that shouldn’t have been there, yet Song Shizhou could swear she smelled it.

It was the fragrance carried by the roses Bai Ruowei had sent.

An odd sensation stirred in Song Shizhou’s chest.

A large wine rack lined the studio wall. After standing still for a moment, Song Shizhou walked over slowly and picked up a bottle of red wine at random.

The cork came out with a soft pop, a sound that was embarrassingly suggestive, evoking thoughts of less-than-proper things.

The aroma of Burgundy wine wafted through the air, its pale red liquid swirling in the bottle. Pouring herself a glass, a faint itch emanated from the gland on the back of her neck could her heat cycle be approaching? She didn’t remember it being due around this time. Song Shizhou gripped the wine glass, her hand trembling slightly as she set the bottle down on the table.

The bottle, unfortunately, failed to stand upright. A curtain of crimson liquid cascaded mercilessly over the glass picture frame, producing a soft, trickling sound. The scene was both spectacular and alluring, with Miss Bai bathed in the deep red hue, appearing irresistibly seductive as though she were meant to be drenched in the fine spray of wine, meant to appear disheveled and vulnerable before her.

In her daze, Song Shizhou couldn’t tell whether the bottle’s fall had been an accident or her own doing.

A wave of heat surged within her, instantly conjuring memories of the days and nights she had spent entwined with Bai Ruowei, and the plump lips of the woman when they had last parted.

Miss Bai’s words seemed to linger in her ears, what had she said to her when they last separated?

That pale hand had crept up her chest, provocatively slipping beneath her clothes, leaving a trail of scorching heat over her heart.

“Song Shizhou, don’t deny it. Your heart has long been in turmoil.”

Had her heart truly been in turmoil?

The painting hidden beneath the frame was now utterly ruined. The wine bottle rolled under the table with a gurgling sound, coming to rest beside a slender calf.

A black sedan pulled to a slow stop at the mouth of the alley, followed by the sharp click of high heels at the door.

Song Shizhou lifted her gaze slowly, her amber eyes tinged red from the feverish heat.

The woman was unusually clad in sleek black calfskin stilettos. Beneath her tailored black blazer was a form-fitting pencil skirt paired with a gray chiffon blouse, the curve of her chest faintly visible through the fabric.

She was still an Alpha, yet she rarely dressed so provocatively.

Bai Ruowei surveyed the mess on the floor, her pale green eyes shifting until they locked onto Song Shizhou’s.

“Shizhou, what are you doing?”

The spacious studio was enveloped in silence. The crystalline wine dripped from the solid wood table, its rhythmic patter the only sound.

She hadn’t expected Bai Ruowei to appear before her now.

Ignoring Miss Bai’s question and offering no explanation for what had just transpired, Song Shizhou instead replied with a light, casual tone,

“Shouldn’t you be on a plane leaving the Inner City right now? Why are you here?”

“Your studio’s opening today, of course I had to come congratulate you.”

Bai Ruowei’s tone was even more carefree.

The enigma’s heat cycle came on fiercely, and soon Song Shizhou’s cheeks were flushed crimson. She finally retrieved a Suppressant from the emergency kit and pressed it against her gland. The feverish heat from her cycle gradually subsided.

“Your congratulations are duly noted. Mia mentioned you were leaving for a business trip. Miss Bai, I don’t need to explain the Surveillance Institute’s situation to you. You should prioritize your work right now.”

The entire bottle of Burgundy wine had spilled over the picture frame, the excess liquid spreading across the studio’s white tiled floor. Bai Ruowei’s heels tapped against it, sending ripples through the puddles.

“How about I give you a gift?”

She perched on the edge of the table, her tone suddenly laced with challenge.

“How pitiful, are you nearing your rut? Is an engima’s rut particularly unbearable?”

The sudden surge of osmanthus fragrance grew even more chillingly alluring under the pale moonlight. Song Shizhou paused, feeling the glands at the back of her neck grow hotter.

“What exactly are you trying to say?”

“I want to give you a gift to have you do to me what you just did to that painting.”

Miss Bai’s slender fingers lightly traced the glass photo frame, leaving streaks of moisture amidst the spilled wine. Her fingertips were stained with traces of red wine, crimson as blood.

“Is this alright, Shizhou?”

She smiled faintly,

“I like it when you do this to me.”

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