After Abandoning Her, She Discovered That Her Partner Was a Paranoid - Chapter 11

“You’re moving?” Lin Xin’s voice shot up an octave in the café.

The culprit behind her best friend’s shock remained remarkably calm. Jing Feizuo stirred the ice cubes in her cup with a spoon. “The lease expires at the end of the month. Just moving to a different place. Why are you so worked up?”

“Because you’ve said countless times how much you love this apartment!” Lin Xin defended her surprise. “Fine, then where are you planning to move?”

Jing Feizuo suddenly smiled, a smile that immediately put Lin Xin on alert.

Sure enough, the next moment, the bomb dropped unexpectedly.

“Europe.”

“Europe?!” Lin Xin’s voice was even louder this time.

Seeing her friend’s stunned reaction, Jing Feizuo finally burst into triumphant laughter, handing her phone over.

“My professor has a biennial exhibition and an international artist residency program. She wants me to participate in both, which means I’ll be staying in Europe for six months. I’ll give her my answer in a few days.”

Lin Xin scrolled through the email on Jing Feizuo’s phone as she asked, “Does Wen Jin know about this?”

Jing Feizuo paused, her movements freezing, and remained silent.

Lin Xin saw the answer in her silence, her expression turning complicated. “Didn’t you say you’d never do long-distance?”

Jing Feizuo nodded in agreement. “Exactly. That’s why I’m breaking up with Wen Jin.”

Lin Xin felt like all the shocks she’d received this month had come from the person across from her. She wanted to kick Jing Feizuo hard.

“I wanted to ask you that night at the police station: what exactly happened between you two? Weren’t you just on a romantic vacation together recently?”

Jing Feizuo’s gaze drifted vaguely out the window. Her throat bobbed as she opened her mouth, but no words came out.

Lin Xin’s anger flared.

“If you’re not willing to spill the juicy details, don’t even start this conversation with me!” She scratched her head irritably. “Just tell me already!”

Jing Feizuo’s gaze returned to Lin Xin’s face. “She asked me to move into her house.”

Lin Xin was speechless. “That’s it? You’re being way too harsh…”

“She interfered with my projects, tracked down my hospital records, and even sent people who annoyed me to meet their maker,” Jing Feizuo quickly added. “I don’t know if that last one actually succeeded.”

This time, it was Lin Xin’s turn to fall silent.

Her expression froze for a long moment before she managed to regain her composure, her face now etched with disbelief. “Really?”

Jing Feizuo replied casually, “Mhm.”

“Oh my god,” Lin Xin groaned, collapsing onto the sofa. “I told you from the start—don’t get involved with women who are rich, powerful, and way older than you. Shen Zhiyi just left, and now you’ve landed yourself with Wen Jin, who’s even more trouble.”

Jing Feizuo watched Lin Xin without a word.

Lin Xin sighed. “Okay, I admit, women like that are alluring. But your dating style is practically begging for enemies…”

“No, I wanted to tell you—Shen Zhiyi and Wen Jin know each other. They were college classmates.”

Lin Xin’s jaw dropped completely, and she stammered, “Sh-she… they…”

Jing Feizuo took a sip of her iced coffee. She didn’t usually like coffee drinks, but the cold, bitter liquid helped suppress the slight panic rising within her.

“Yes, we ran into Shen Zhiyi during our vacation. She and Wen Jin caught up like old friends. When Shen Zhiyi returned to A City, she warned me to stay away from Wen Jin and showed me the secret dirt she’d dug up on the Wen Group—all about Wen Jin’s ruthless side.”

She finished in a rush, exhaling sharply and managing a smile for her friend. “Well, is that enough gossip for you?”

Lin Xin looked at Jing Feizuo, her throat tightening slightly.

She knew her friend too well. Jing Feizuo might appear deeply invested in relationships, but she was actually a master at calculating the expiration date of emotions. At the first sign of trouble, she would walk away without hesitation.

And this time…

“This is the first time I actually agree with your reason for breaking up,” Lin Xin murmured, lowering her voice even though they were alone. “But Wen Jin isn’t the kind of ex you can easily brush off.”

“I know, but we only dated for three months anyway,” Jing Feizuo said, a faint smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “Besides, I’ll go to Europe first and break up with her there.”

Lin Xin shook her head, her voice tinged with helplessness. “This is the first time I’ve seen you being so cautious about a breakup, like you’re defusing a bomb.” She paused. “Are you… afraid of her now?”

“I don’t know.” Jing Feizuo drained the remaining coffee in her cup, the bitterness spreading through her chest. Her lowered lashes hid the emotions in her eyes. “But I feel like if I don’t leave now, it’ll only get harder later.”

Jing Feizuo’s tone was calm, but Lin Xin noticed the slight tremor in her hand as she gripped the cup.

In the end, Lin Xin said nothing, only sighed.

When Jing Feizuo returned to her apartment, the hems of her pants were already damp.

The crisp, sunny autumn days of the past few weeks seemed to have vanished. This year’s cold snap had arrived unusually early, bringing with it days of irritating weather that even threatened snow.

Sure enough, at first it was just a scattering of rain mixed with unmelted snowflakes, forming a sticky, gray slush on the concrete pavement. Gradually, the rain turned to snow. But the snow fell halfheartedly and uglily, melting into black water the moment it touched the ground, accumulating in dirty puddles in the corners. A moment’s inattention could leave pedestrians in a miserable state.

Jing Feizuo switched on the lights and changed out of her damp clothes.

The apartment she rented herself had a simple layout. Apart from the kitchen and bathroom, there was only a living room and two bedrooms. The large living room occupied nearly half the space, serving as both a dining area and Jing Feizuo’s hand-painting studio.

What truly set the apartment apart was the small bedroom—a space Jing Feizuo never showed to visitors. Wen Jin had once asked what was inside, but Jing Feizuo always evaded the question with vague answers.

Today, instead of taking her usual shower first, Jing Feizuo went straight to the small bedroom, unlocked the door, and stepped inside.

The room was spotless, clearly well-maintained. It contained only essential furniture: a desk topped with a thick 4K art book, next to which a notebook looked almost comically small.

Over a dozen identical storage boxes were neatly arranged on the floor. All but the outermost box were sealed and labeled with sequential numbers.

She opened box number 1, revealing a meticulously organized collection of photographs, carefully boxed gifts, and even a portable hard drive.

Jing Feizuo could no longer recall exactly when she had begun documenting every romantic relationship.

Perhaps it was after her first breakup.

She and her adorable junior had parted ways due to conflicting post-graduation plans. She heard the junior had wept bitterly that night, while Jing Feizuo meticulously gathered every memento of their time together: photos, exchanged gifts, and even daily chat logs.

By the time Jing Feizuo had sorted, categorized, and sealed everything into the storage boxes, she realized the lingering sadness from the breakup had vanished completely, replaced by the satisfaction of having created a perfect Love Collection.

This collection thrilled her, and she suddenly realized where the greatest joy of love came from.

After that, she began selecting romantic partners in her free time. Jing Feizuo’s refined appearance and easygoing personality meant she never lacked suitors, and she occasionally took the initiative herself.

Each new relationship marked the birth of a new item for her Love Collection.

Throughout the relationship, she meticulously recorded every memorable moment they shared. Sometimes, to avoid repetition in her collection, she would prioritize types she hadn’t encountered before.

It didn’t matter if she didn’t truly like them, because she knew they would eventually break up.

The breakup could be initiated at will. The moment negative emotions surfaced between them, she would decisively withdraw.

The breakup was the final step in completing each collection item.

After the breakup, Jing Feizuo would ruthlessly erase all traces of the person from her life. Every memory and memento would be confined to the small box.

She would create a “resume” for each relationship: a photograph of her partner glued to stiff cardstock, their personal information written in ink, along with the dates of their relationship and the reasons for their breakup.

Even more meticulously, she would select her most satisfying photograph from the relationship and painstakingly recreate it with her own brush.

Once the “resume” and “portrait” were added to her notebook and sketchbook, respectively, her carefully designed “collection process” would be complete.

Beginning and end were the head and tail of her collection; Jing Feizuo allowed no room for error.

Lin Xin knew about Jing Feizuo’s peculiar “Love Collection” habit. When Jing Feizuo showed her the contents of this room, Lin Xin remarked, “You’re as ruthless as your name suggests. The future won’t give yesterday a second chance.”

Yet Jing Feizuo believed she had always treated her partners fairly.

Breakups were a natural part of love. “Love” existed in recorded moments, not in the mundane routines of daily life. Transforming emotions into “art specimens” that could be repeatedly savored was the true path to eternity.

Whenever Jing Feizuo felt bored or lacked inspiration, she would retreat to her room to indulge in her “Love Collection,” slowly flipping through her archives like a warrior caressing their medals.

Yesterday, Jing Feizuo crouched down and began examining the contents of Box No. 1, which she had opened, but unlike usual, she didn’t linger to admire them. Her attention was involuntarily drawn to the unnumbered box.

Twirling the Buddhist prayer beads on her wrist, she finally closed Box No. 1 and carried the unnumbered box to the living room.

Inside, she found a stack of photographs of Wen Jin.

Wen Jin sleeping, Wen Jin exercising at the gym, Wen Jin chairing meetings. Every image was of Wen Jin. Each photo had a date and brief note scribbled on the back.

Jing Feizuo sat on the living room sofa, silently flipping through the photos for a long time.

Just as she was about to return the box to its place, her phone rang.

It was her assistant on the other end. “Boss, there’s been a change in the new exhibition project. We might still need you to come and handle it.”

She hummed in acknowledgment and hung up. After a moment’s hesitation, she glanced at the box in the living room.

Thinking of Wen Jin’s important meeting tonight and her assistant’s urgent request for help, Jing Feizuo ultimately decided to leave everything as it was. She grabbed her coat and hurried out of the apartment.

Unbeknownst to her, Wen Jin’s meeting ended early that evening. Instead of heading home, she made a sudden turn at the intersection and drove toward Jing Feizuo’s small apartment.

Wen Jin hadn’t contacted Jing Feizuo beforehand. She wanted to surprise her—she had purchased a villa in Switzerland as a gift to celebrate the success of the exhibition Jing Feizuo had been working so hard on lately. Jing Feizuo had once mentioned how much she loved the Swiss scenery.

But Wen Jin hadn’t anticipated that Jing Feizuo wouldn’t be home tonight. She distinctly remembered that Jing Feizuo had no work commitments scheduled for this evening.

Wen Jin switched on the living room lights and saw painting supplies scattered haphazardly across the floor, clearly indicating that the occupant hadn’t had time to tidy up.

As she bent down to organize Jing Feizuo’s art supplies, she accidentally knocked over a box. Instead of art materials, a piece of cardstock and a stack of photographs spilled out.

When Wen Jin saw what was on them, her pupils trembled slightly, like a camera lens suddenly adjusting its focus, struggling to refocus on this distorted reality.