After Abandoning Her, She Discovered That Her Partner Was a Paranoid - Chapter 18

Standing at the school gate, Jing Feizuo tilted her head back to gaze at the wrought-iron entrance. In her mind, a tiny hammer seemed to be tapping against the barrier of her memories, trying to awaken her by evoking the emotions clinging to the place—to remind her that this was the building where she had lived for three years.

She should have known it well.

“What are you spacing out about?” Wen Jin’s voice came from behind her, tinged with amusement.

Today, Wen Jin had surprisingly ditched her usual expensive suits and coats for a casual outfit: a beige hoodie paired with a dark baseball jacket, light blue straight-leg jeans, and even flat canvas sneakers. She looked almost excessively approachable.

Jing Feizuo turned her head, a slight smile playing on her lips. “President Wen, you look like a college student today.”

Wen Jin gently nudged her shoulder, the gesture so natural it was as if they were just two ordinary alumni visiting their alma mater. “I was afraid you’d think I was too old-fashioned to keep up with you.”

Jing Feizuo laughed, grabbing Wen Jin’s wrist and pulling her inside. “Alright then, Senior Wen, you’re hanging with me today.”

The vibrant energy of youth washed over them as they entered the campus. The dismissal bell had just rung, and students poured out of the academic buildings in small groups. Some raced toward the basketball court with basketballs under their arms, while others leaned against the corridor railings, chatting and laughing. The mix of shouts and laughter created a lively, noisy atmosphere.

Jing Feizuo felt a momentary daze, as if she had been transported back to her days in school uniform.

Wen Jin suddenly asked, “Do you really not remember what you were like here before?”

Jing Feizuo’s eyes curved into crescent moons as she smiled, making up stories. “Skipping class, drawing, getting scolded by teachers.” She watched Wen Jin’s reaction. “And having lots of girlfriends.”

Wen Jin raised an eyebrow, the gesture instantly erasing her student-like demeanor.

She looked at Jing Feizuo with a half-amused, half-challenging expression. “And where are they now?”

Jing Feizuo’s tone was light and airy. “Probably on someone’s assassination list.”

Wen Jin didn’t reply, but gently brushed a strand of hair clinging to Jing Feizuo’s shoulder with static electricity, her touch as delicate as if handling something fragile.

They continued strolling along the main campus path, occasionally drawing curious glances from students who were quickly pulled away by their companions.

Jing Feizuo suddenly found the scene of her and Wen Jin casually strolling through the campus, chatting about trivial matters, strangely surreal.

She heard Wen Jin ask, “Nervous?”

Jing Feizuo snapped out of her reverie, instinctively asking, “About what?”

“The speech later.”

She shrugged. “Just speaking to a few hundred people. It’s not like it’s my first time.”

Wen Jin chuckled softly. “But you were fidgeting with your fingers the whole ride here.”

Jing Feizuo froze, glancing down at her hands. Sure enough, the tips of her fingers were slightly red from her unconscious rubbing. She clicked her tongue and shoved her hands into her pockets. “President Wen, you’re quite observant.”

The auditorium was just ahead, with students already gathering at the entrance, waiting to be admitted.

Jing Feizuo stopped walking. “Lin Xin mentioned that when we had the school anniversary back then, we got a holiday. Poor kids this year have to listen to a lecture instead.”

Wen Jin shrugged dismissively. “I think they’re incredibly lucky.”

Jing Feizuo laughed. “You’re just seeing me through rose-tinted glasses.” She turned to Wen Jin. “Just try not to fall asleep in the audience later.”

A faint smile played in Wen Jin’s eyes. “Don’t worry, I’ll be listening intently—Senior Jing.”

The auditorium buzzed with chatter as students filed in, the rustling conversations rising like a tide.

Standing backstage by the curtain, Jing Feizuo peeked through a gap at the crowd below. In the sea of dark heads, Wen Jin sat in the back corner, relaxed yet somehow out of place.

A Student Council girl, her cheeks flushed, handed Jing Feizuo a bottle of water, her eyes sparkling. “Senior Jing, it starts in five minutes.”

Jing Feizuo took the bottle. “Thank you.”

She twisted open the cap and took a sip. The icy water slid down her throat, calming her slightly.

This wasn’t her first time standing on a stage facing an audience. Whether at press conferences or addressing the wealthy patrons of art exhibitions, she had plenty of experience.

Yet she still wasn’t used to being the center of so many gazes. When painting, she could hide behind her canvas, but on stage, she had to stand in the spotlight, exposed to the dissecting scrutiny of every eye.

The host’s voice boomed through the microphone: “Now, please welcome our distinguished alumna, the young artist Senior Jing Feizuo, to share her insights on—”

Hearing these titles announced with such solemnity, Jing Feizuo couldn’t help but find it a little absurd.

Applause erupted. She took a deep breath and walked onto the stage.

The lights were blinding; she squinted to adjust. Hundreds of pairs of eyes stared up at her, but her gaze immediately locked onto Wen Jin. The woman was looking up at her, her expression so focused it was as if she were listening for lottery numbers.

Suddenly, Jing Feizuo’s nervousness vanished.

With one hand casually tucked into her pocket and the other resting lightly on the podium, Jing Feizuo exuded both confidence and composure in her custom-tailored suit. Yet when she spoke, her voice was languid, as if chatting with a friend.

“To be honest, I never imagined I’d be standing here one day. After all, back then I couldn’t even be bothered to attend flag-raising ceremonies.”

A wave of laughter erupted from the audience.

Relaxing further, she began to discuss her art, her initial surprise at gaining attention, and the chaotic excitement of her first exhibition. Her tone was nonchalant, yet inexplicably captivating.

As the speech neared its conclusion, a student raised their hand to ask, “Senior Jing, how did you stay true to your style?”

Jing Feizuo paused to consider.

“I suppose… it’s because I never tried to please anyone,” she said, her gaze sweeping casually over the back row. “Whether it’s painting or life, you have to make yourself happy first.”

Wen Jin’s eyelashes fluttered slightly, and a sudden, inexplicable fear gripped her heart.

On stage, Jing Feizuo was smiling—a familiar, nonchalant smile with a hint of world-weariness. The corners of her lips curved upward, while the corners of her eyes drooped sweetly and lazily, like those of a haughty cat.

What had seventeen-year-old Jing Feizuo been like?

Wen Jin had imagined this scene countless times in her mind. Back then, would Jing Feizuo have stood in the spotlight, speaking rebellious words in that same nonchalant tone?

When she saw a familiar face on the guest list for that private exhibition, she was overjoyed. She immediately agreed to collaborate with the gallery owner, even considering taking the old man’s little dog as a mascot.

Being with Jing Feizuo turned out to be even smoother than she had imagined. Yet this frequent visitor to her dreams acted as if they were meeting for the first time. Not only had she forgotten Wen Jin, but she had also forgotten her entire high school life.

The Jing Feizuo she had secretly imagined in her mind was now impossible to verify, leaving her with a pang of heartbreak.

But she quickly stitched that tiny fragment back together. In the three months since they had become a couple, every facet of Jing Feizuo felt like a gift showering down on her—the Jing Feizuo lost in focused concentration in the art studio, the Jing Feizuo effortlessly navigating the gallery, the Jing Feizuo overwhelmed by passion in the bedroom…

Wen Jin had initially believed the repaired cracks in her heart would gradually fade. In truth, they did disappear—because her heart had shattered completely.

She refused to relive that night’s scene. After her collapsing rationality was barely pieced back together by Jing Feizuo’s terrified expression, she resorted to a desperate tactic to keep her close.

The six-month reprieve was merely a delaying tactic. Though Wen Jin had spoken with conviction at the time, she harbored no certainty about what to do next. She had no plan whatsoever.

Standing on the lecture hall stage of her alma mater, Jing Feizuo seemed utterly fresh and new, like an old photo album suddenly opened, compelling one to turn each page.

Yet Wen Jin inexplicably sensed that the sliver of hope Jing Feizuo had given her these past few days was slowly, cruelly dissipating.

Amidst thunderous applause, Jing Feizuo waved casually and stepped off the stage.

Wen Jin remained seated, watching her figure disappear behind the curtain before slowly rising.

“Senior Jing! Can I get your autograph?”

“Senior, can we take a photo together?”

As soon as Jing Feizuo stepped out of the auditorium, she was swarmed by students. A few who genuinely knew her had drawn in a crowd of onlookers, creating a scene bordering on frenzy.

She casually accepted the offered notebooks, signing her name with a flourish. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Wen Jin waiting for her nearby.

Suddenly, a bold girl squeezed forward and asked, “Senior, do you have a girlfriend?”

Jing Feizuo’s pen paused mid-stroke as she looked up at the questioner—a girl with a high ponytail and strikingly bright eyes. Hearing the question, Jing Feizuo felt a momentary daze, inwardly sighing at how direct and fearless the students of her alma mater were.

“Yes, I do,” she replied. Seeing Wen Jin silently step forward, she smiled lazily at the girl, signaling her to continue. “And—”

“And she’s very fierce,” Wen Jin interjected, her voice calm but carrying an undeniable presence.

The students fell silent, their heads turning in unison toward the unfamiliar woman who had suddenly appeared. Though casually dressed, she exuded an aura that discouraged any further audacity.

Jing Feizuo raised an eyebrow at Wen Jin. “What, couldn’t wait any longer?”

Wen Jin didn’t answer. Instead, she reached out to straighten Jing Feizuo’s wind-tossed collar, her fingertips brushing lightly against her neck, momentarily disrupting Jing Feizuo’s breathing.

“Let’s go,” Wen Jin said.

They walked away side by side, leaving behind suppressed gasps and whispers from the students.

Jing Feizuo couldn’t help but laugh. “President Wen, you scared the kids.”

Wen Jin hummed noncommittally, then suddenly grasped Jing Feizuo’s wrist, her thumb pressing lightly against her pulse. “Then why weren’t you scared?”

Jing Feizuo’s heart skipped a beat.

As the sun set, the campus radio played an old song, and the distant shouts of boys on the basketball court carried on the breeze, tinged with the scent of youth. Neither spoke as they strolled forward, looking like ordinary students.

Until Wen Jin suddenly asked, “If your seventeen-year-old self met me now, what would she say?”

Jing Feizuo froze.

She gazed at Wen Jin’s profile, at the thin line of sunlight tracing the bridge of her nose, at the slight curve of her lips.

“She would say…” Jing Feizuo began slowly, “Get away from me, you control freak.”

Wen Jin laughed, a genuine laugh that crinkled the corners of her eyes.

“And then?”

Jing Feizuo smiled too, gazing at the distant classrooms lit up against the twilight. Her voice was soft, almost like a sigh. “Then she would ask you if you wanted to skip class with me.”

Wen Jin turned her head, her gaze settling on Jing Feizuo’s face, lingering there quietly for a long moment.

Standing on the school’s athletic field, Jing Feizuo watched Wen Jin. Suddenly, her memories were shattered open by that little hammer, and in a flash of insight, she remembered having seen Wen Jin back in high school.

“When I was seventeen, did I meet you?”

The moment the words left her lips, Wen Jin froze as if struck by a spell. All surrounding sounds vanished. She suddenly forgot how to breathe, every emotion choking her throat, leaving only silence.

After what felt like an eternity, Wen Jin finally heard her own voice.

“I don’t know if you got scolded by teachers in high school, or if you had many girlfriends. But I know for sure… you definitely skipped class.”