After Abandoning Her, She Discovered That Her Partner Was a Paranoid - Chapter 17

“What’s going on?!”

The next morning, an incredulous shout echoed from the walk-in closet. When Wen Jin rushed to the scene, she found Jing Feizuo sitting cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by scattered clothes.

Wen Jin leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. “Are you… moving again?”

Jing Feizuo looked up at her.

Ever since their negotiation at the café, Wen Jin’s work hours had dwindled while her chatter had increased.

She felt a brief pang of sympathy for Wen Jin’s assistant before shaking out the suit she had pulled from the bottom storage box. A long gash ran from the right shoulder to the hem, as if slashed by something sharp.

Her tone was tinged with regret. “I must have accidentally cut it with a carving knife the last time I wore it. I was planning to wear it for my school anniversary speech next week.”

Wen Jin crouched down and ran her fingers along the gash. “You haven’t worn this in a while, have you?”

Jing Feizuo nodded.

“Yeah, so many events require formal gowns,” she wrinkled her nose in genuine distaste. “But I hate them, especially in winter—they’re freezing!”

Wen Jin thoughtfully folded the suit.

She glanced at the time. “I know a tailor shop. If we go now, they should be able to rush something for you.”

“Now?”

Wen Jin stood up. “Yes, it’s in Old Town. If you can change in ten minutes, we can grab lunch on the way.”

Jing Feizuo surveyed the mess on the floor and her own casual loungewear. “You know, when I suddenly have to go out unexpectedly…”

“…you get incredibly lazy,” Wen Jin finished, pulling Jing Feizuo to her feet with a sigh. “I’ll find you some clothes. Just change, walk out the door, and get in the car. Can you do that?”

Jing Feizuo finally smiled. “Alright.”

The bluestone streets of Old Town were dusted with a thin layer of snow, crunching softly underfoot. Bare plane tree branches lined the road, and a few snowflakes drifted down from above as the two women walked beneath them, landing on their shoulders.

“This is it,” Wen Jin said, stopping before an unassuming shop. The wooden sign above read “Chen’s Tailors” in faded characters.

Pushing open the door, the brass bell chimed crisply. A wave of warm air, carrying the scent of wood, enveloped them, instantly melting the snowflakes on their shoulders.

The shop’s four walls were lined with fabrics of every color, neatly categorized like a library. A meticulously dressed master tailor was examining a deep blue fabric. Hearing the sound of the door, he turned, his silver-gray sideburns trimmed to perfection.

Wen Jin greeted him familiarly, “Master Chen.”

The master tailor looked up, his reading glasses sliding down to the tip of his nose. “Ah, Ms. Wen, it’s been a while.”

He squinted at Jing Feizuo. “And this is?”

Wen Jin introduced her. “My friend, she needs a suit urgently made.”

The master tailor set down his work and picked up a measuring tape. “When do you need it?”

“Monday morning.”

The master tailor pinched his fingers together, calculating. He clicked his tongue. “It’s already Friday… That’s quite a rush.” He gestured for Jing Feizuo to follow him into another room. “We’ll have to expedite it.”

The measuring room was carpeted with a handmade rug that clearly cost a fortune. The oak platform in the center had been polished to a gleaming shine. As Jing Feizuo stood on it, she saw through the floor-to-ceiling mirror that the entire wall behind her was covered with scissors, each blade gleaming with a cold light.

The measuring process was highly professional. The master tailor called out measurements as he worked, while a young apprentice scribbled them down. Jing Feizuo followed the tailor’s instructions, raising her arms as directed. Through the mirror, she noticed Wen Jin watching her intently.

“Do you come here often?” she asked.

“Mm,” Wen Jin said, stepping forward to adjust Jing Feizuo’s collar. “I’ve been getting my clothes made here for six or seven years.”

“Ms. Wen is one of my oldest clients,” Master Chen said with a smile. “She’s meticulous about tailoring and details. Once, she made us redo a suit three times because the angle of the button stitching on the cuffs was off.”

Jing Feizuo raised an eyebrow and gave Wen Jin a thumbs-up.

Amused by Jing Feizuo’s reaction, Wen Jin turned to Master Chen. “What colors are available?”

“We just got a new batch of fabrics in,” Master Chen replied. After finishing the measurements, he led them to the fabric samples and pointed to a navy blue material. “How about this color?”

Jing Feizuo touched the sample, its texture smooth and fine. “This one will do.”

With the fabric chosen, Master Chen brought out several pattern books. “What style are you looking for?”

Jing Feizuo, unfamiliar with custom suits, glanced at Wen Jin for guidance.

Understanding her unspoken request, Wen Jin asked Master Chen, “Do you have any sample suits she can try on?”

“Yes, follow me,” the master tailor replied.

After trying on several suits, Jing Feizuo realized the intricacies of custom tailoring. The endless combinations of lengths and button arrangements left her dizzy, a stark contrast to her usual casual shopping trips to ready-made stores.

Standing before the mirror in her third outfit, Jing Feizuo turned to Wen Jin. “How does this one look?”

Wen Jin stroked her chin, pondering how to answer.

The master tailor chuckled, interjecting, “Double-breasted, six-button, two-button stance—this is Ms. Wen’s usual style. But the way you two wear it is quite different.”

Intrigued, Jing Feizuo nudged Wen Jin’s arm. “I want to see you wear it.”

The master tailor promptly offered a suit one size larger. Wen Jin glanced helplessly at Jing Feizuo before obediently stepping into the changing room.

When she emerged wearing the same suit, the atmosphere in the room shifted dramatically.

The gilded buttons were fastened precisely, and though the suit wasn’t custom-tailored, the peak lapels clung snugly to her body. The waistline accentuated her commanding figure, and every seam stretched into sharp, unwavering lines under the light, radiating an undeniable authority.

Jing Feizuo pressed her lips together, glancing at her own reflection in the mirror. The heavy fabric draped in subtle folds over her slender shoulders, the double-breasted buttons left undone, and the sleeves casually rolled up twice to reveal a sandalwood bracelet on her delicate wrist.

Jing Feizuo sighed, took off the garment, and said to Master Chen, “Let’s try another style, Master Chen.”

Wen Jin couldn’t help but chuckle. “What’s wrong?”

Jing Feizuo covered her face. “Before I saw you wearing it, I thought I looked pretty decent.”

Master Chen chuckled again. “This style suits taller figures better. Ms. Jing, you wear it with your own unique flair, but Ms. Wen simply embodies the garment’s inherent qualities.”

Finally, the master tailor delivered his verdict on the garment that sustained his livelihood: “Clothes are meant to be changed if they don’t fit. You should always choose based on your own circumstances, not let the clothes define you.”

After five fittings, Jing Feizuo and Master Chen finally settled on a style and matching shirt that suited her perfectly.

Wen Jin added, “The lining should be wine-red silk.”

Jing Feizuo looked at her in surprise. “How did you know I wanted wine-red?”

“Your palette,” Wen Jin replied casually, a hint of smugness in her voice. “You’ve been using that color scheme a lot lately.”

By the time they finished paying the deposit, it was noon. While Wen Jin was still considering where to eat, Jing Feizuo had already dragged her to a hidden izakaya.

The izakaya was small, tucked away deep in the alley next door. On a weekday afternoon, there weren’t many customers. As they entered, the boss was grilling eel behind the wooden counter, the sizzling fat dripping onto the charcoal, filling the air with an irresistible aroma.

“Two?” the boss asked, looking up with a warm smile.

Jing Feizuo nodded and pulled Wen Jin to sit at the bar. Wen Jin glanced around: sake bottles lined the shelves, stacks of beer cases filled a corner, and a handwritten menu was taped to the wall.

Jing Feizuo barely glanced at the menu.

“Boss, two signature eel rice bowls, one each of grilled chicken skewers, mackerel, charcoal-grilled squid, and oden, plus two Sprites,” she declared with a sweeping gesture. “My treat.”

Wen Jin now suspected Jing Feizuo wasn’t a painter but a professional food blogger. “How did you even know about this place?” she asked.

Jing Feizuo propped her head on her hand. “This old shop is famous in A City. I’ve known about it since high school. It’s on the same street as your tailor shop, so it naturally came to mind. It’s like how mentioning B City makes you think of hotpot.”

Wen Jin: “When I think of B City, I just think of all the factories there.”

Jing Feizuo: “……”

“That’s odd. Could it be that people who can cook well have terrible taste in restaurants?”

Wen Jin humbly replied, “I’ll pay more attention in the future.”

Then she remembered something. “Isn’t your memory before college supposed to be hazy?”

Jing Feizuo let out an “Ah!” and chuckled. “But I remember delicious food perfectly clearly.”

After a satisfying meal, Jing Feizuo sat in the passenger seat on the way back. She suddenly asked Wen Jin, who was driving, “How much did this outfit cost?”

Wen Jin didn’t answer directly. Instead, she countered with, “How much was that painting you did yesterday worth?”

“You mean the one I painted for you?” Jing Feizuo chuckled, feigning thoughtfulness. “The materials cost about a hundred yuan, but it could probably sell for a few thousand.”

Wen Jin: “Then this outfit is about the same.”

Jing Feizuo snorted skeptically. “You’re trying to fool a kid. I don’t believe you.”

Wen Jin: “It’s true.”

She’s really trying to fool a kid, Wen Jin thought to herself.

Jing Feizuo didn’t argue further.

“Lin Xin still calls me a freeloader in your mansion. I think I’m more like a woodworm, slowly eating away at your family fortune.”

Wen Jin smiled. “You’re always welcome.”

As they stopped at a red light, she reached over and gently squeezed Jing Feizuo’s palm. “For your class reunion, I’ll drive you there.”

Jing Feizuo glanced at her. “You’ve been so free lately?”

Wen Jin: “I was worried you’d be too cold taking a taxi.”

Jing Feizuo shrugged. “Lin Xin will pick me up.”

Wen Jin fell silent for a moment. Just as the light turned green, she slammed on the accelerator, the car lurching forward violently. Caught off guard, Jing Feizuo was thrown back against her seat by the sudden inertia.

Jing Feizuo sensed this silent, childish protest but wasn’t annoyed.

“Even if you drove me in your Mercedes or Maybach, wouldn’t you be worried the Arts Representative would borrow another fifty million from me?” She remained reclined in her seat. “I really don’t remember much about my high school classmates. Lin Xin was the one who told me about the Arts Representative’s debt. I don’t even know if the amount she mentioned was accurate.”

Wen Jin didn’t press further. “What about the school anniversary celebration on Monday?”

“Ah, that…” Jing Feizuo drawled. “Even if you wanted to skip it, I wouldn’t let you.”