After Abandoning Her, She Discovered That Her Partner Was a Paranoid - Chapter 20

Jing Feizuo couldn’t quite remember how they had left the school on the night of the anniversary celebration.

All she recalled was that after reminiscing about that past event, they had tacitly avoided discussing it further. She hadn’t asked Wen Jin why she had been found drunk in the alley, and Wen Jin hadn’t asked her why she had skipped school.

She hadn’t questioned Wen Jin and had maintained a calm demeanor.

But in reality, the shock of this coincidence had spread through her mind like mold in damp weather, quickly consuming her thoughts. She had become so dazed that she couldn’t remember how they had gotten to the parking lot yesterday, how they had gotten into the car, or how they had returned to Wen Jin’s apartment.

Even today, as they arrived at the classmate reunion, Jing Feizuo remained in this dazed state.

The car had been parked in the lot for some time. Lin Xin, watching Jing Feizuo still sitting motionless in her seat, sighed in exasperation. “My dear Miss Jing, it’s time to get out of the car.”

Jing Feizuo snapped out of her reverie. “We’re here?”

Lin Xin reached for her bag in the back seat.

“Yeah. When I picked you up today, your girlfriend’s glare nearly killed me. I had to endure the whole drive under the constant fear of being assassinated just to get you here.” She glanced over and noticed the person beside her had already gotten out of the car. “Hey!”

When Jing Feizuo and Lin Xin arrived, the private room was already nearly full. Lin Xin had been right; most of the attendees were people she used to know well, or at least whose names she could still recall.

She whispered to Jing Feizuo, “Which one owes me money?”

Lin Xin gestured with her lips, as if sharing a secret rendezvous, “The one in the white shirt.”

Jing Feizuo glanced at the man in the white shirt.

The Arts Representative immediately sensed the intense gaze from the doorway. Before he could even greet them, he startled, “Jing Feizuo, I already paid you back, right?”

Jing Feizuo looked at Lin Xin.

The person next to him chimed in defensively, “I transferred the money to you back then. He still hasn’t paid me back my handling fee.”

Jing Feizuo: “……”

High school reunions always followed the same predictable pattern: reminiscing about the past, grilling each other about their current lives, and finally, sharing gossip about other classmates.

The format was cliché, but the content quickly sparked common ground among these long-separated friends. Given their friendly interactions back in school, everyone, including Lin Xin, chatted comfortably.

Everyone except Jing Feizuo.

The doctor who initially diagnosed her said she had autobiographical memory loss, likely triggered by psychological trauma. Jing Feizuo was quite surprised by this conclusion. While some painful events had indeed occurred during her high school years, she never believed such experiences could affect her memory.

Yet the diagnosis was undeniable, and she quickly accepted it, reacting with a somewhat detached indifference. After all, she had only forgotten some unimportant people or trivial events, which had minimal impact on her life—unless this high school reunion was somehow crucial to the survival of humanity.

Trapped by these fragmented memories, Jing Feizuo found herself stumbling through the lively discussions. She simply couldn’t recall what those “annoying classmates” her old friends were talking about looked like, or which couples had broken up and gotten married again.

In truth, she hadn’t planned to attend at all. It was only when Lin Xin mentioned that Ms. Xu would be there that she agreed.

But as fate would have it, the high school teacher who had once been such a great help to her suddenly fell ill and had to withdraw at the last minute, much to everyone’s disappointment.

Just another ordinary gathering to split the bill, Jing Feizuo thought.

“Try this truffle-baked shrimp,” Lin Xin said, noticing Jing Feizuo’s distracted air. She gently nudged the lazy Susan toward her and leaned in to whisper, “Let’s sneak out of karaoke later.”

Jing Feizuo shook her head. “It’s fine. I was free today anyway.”

She gazed at the shrimp before her, about to pick up her chopsticks, when the compartment door behind her was suddenly flung open, slamming against the wall with a jarring crash that startled everyone. All eyes turned to the entrance.

Three men stood in the doorway, their ties hanging loosely around their necks. The one in front, with slicked-back hair, was propping the door open with the muddy tip of his leather shoe. His crude posture clashed sharply with the compartment’s refined ambiance.

The man’s voice rasped like a dull knife scraping across glass. “Well, well, what’s this? You’ve already started eating?”

Jing Feizuo felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. Though the faces were unfamiliar, a primal sense of danger made her temples throb. She instinctively gripped her napkin, crumpling the silk fabric into a tight ball in her palm.

The Class President shot to his feet, his chair scraping harshly against the floor. “Who told you to come here?”

The slick-haired man ignored him, his gaze lingering over the group with a predatory gleam.

“Every class is having a reunion for the school anniversary,” he said, feigning exaggerated confusion. “Why did our Class President abandon us?” He clapped his hands suddenly. “We all heard Jing the Great Artist’s speech yesterday. I was just wondering… do the younger students know how stingy you used to be with your classmates?”

Caught off guard by the sudden mention of her name, Jing Feizuo turned to Lin Xin and noticed her friend’s knuckles were clenched white.

She whispered, “Who are they?”

“A bunch of lunatics. Don’t pay them any attention,” Lin Xin replied casually, but Jing Feizuo could see the veins bulging on her neck, betraying her barely restrained fury.

“Lin Xin, who the hell are you calling lunatics?!” the slick-haired man snapped, his ears sharp enough to catch Lin Xin’s words. He swelled with rage like an overinflated balloon. “Jing Feizuo got a windfall back then, yet she just stood by and watched us struggle in poverty…”

Lin Xin’s anger finally snapped. She slammed her hand on the table, overturning a teacup. The dark brown tea stain spread rapidly across the white tablecloth. “A windfall?! Is that what you call it?!”

The Class President, sitting behind them, chimed in sternly, “Zhang San, that’s enough! Do you think we’ve forgotten what you guys were up to back then? You were harassing Feizuo daily for money—all to buy limited-edition sneakers and treat girls from other schools!”

Jing Feizuo’s breathing quickened.

Fuzzy images flashed through her mind: a dimly lit stairwell, hands reaching out to her, the relentless chorus of “What’s wrong with lending a little money?” She pressed her fingers to her temples, where a vein throbbed wildly.

The slick-haired man suddenly grabbed an empty wine glass and smashed it against the floor, sending shards of glass skittering to Jing Feizuo’s feet.

“How much did she get back then? Five million! What’s wrong with us asking for a fraction of that?” He seemed determined to drown everyone in his foul-smelling spittle. “And what happened? She paid Wang Wei’s tuition, covered Lin Xin’s debts, but wouldn’t give us a single penny!”

Jing Feizuo remained silent, her vision suddenly turning bl00d-red. She saw her mother’s profile as she turned back to smile before boarding the plane, then the burning wreckage of the plane on the news. A sharp ringing filled her ears, drowning out the sudden eruption of shouting in the private room.

Lin Xin cursed and grabbed a steak knife, pointing it at the door. “Get out! Or I’ll call the police right now!”

The slick-haired man finally took a step back, but continued to glare at Jing Feizuo with a cold sneer. “We’re leaving. But Jing Feizuo, do you think hiding abroad for a few years will make it all go away? The school newspaper reporters are still very interested in your story…”

The Arts Representative grabbed a chair and lunged forward. “Enough!”

The man dodged out of the way and slammed the door shut with a bang. The moment the door closed, Jing Feizuo began violently retching. Lin Xin rushed to support her, only then realizing that her entire back was drenched in cold sweat.

Jing Feizuo heard someone calling her name with concern, but the voice seemed muffled, as if coming through frosted glass. Her chest felt heavy, and forgotten memories pierced her consciousness like shards of glass. The faces before her began to distort, and the lights blurred into a ghastly white haze, like an overexposed photograph. Her fingers tingled slightly, and her knees suddenly buckled, as if someone had drained all the bones from her body. Her consciousness flickered like a screen losing power, the last image being the ceiling spinning down toward her.

Jing Feizuo fainted.

When she opened her eyes again, the ceiling was still spinning, and several faces hovered above her, clustered together like the blades of a ceiling fan from her high school days.

Lin Xin, her eyelashes still wet with half-dried tears, asked the Class President beside her, “Why did she wake up so quickly? Should we still call 120?”

The Class President checked Jing Feizuo’s pulse again. “It seems like a simple fainting spell. The episode was brief, and her breathing and pulse are normal now. She’s probably fine.” She pressed Jing Feizuo back down as she tried to sit up, her tone firm. “Stay lying down for ten more minutes. Tell me immediately if you feel any discomfort.”

Jing Feizuo’s head was still spinning. After a moment, she said with a hint of disdain, “Just lying here on the floor?”

Lin Xin sniffled and placed her jacket under Jing Feizuo’s head. “Do as the doctor says!”

After the commotion, everyone lost the mood to continue. Lin Xin declined her classmates’ offers of help and supported Jing Feizuo toward the parking lot herself.

As she helped Jing Feizuo walk, Lin Xin grumbled indignantly, “Those jerks never got the money they wanted from you back then, and they’ve been holding a grudge ever since. Now that they see you’re doing well, they can’t stand it.” She muttered, “Men are so petty.”

Jing Feizuo looked at the sulking Lin Xin and chuckled. “You look like my maid right now.” She paused. “But you don’t seem smart enough to plot grand schemes for me.”

Lin Xin huffed, scrutinizing Jing Feizuo for a couple of seconds, as if checking if she was putting on a brave face. Only when she confirmed Jing Feizuo’s genuinely carefree demeanor did she relax and open the back car door for her. “Get in, my lady.”

Jing Feizuo leaned back in the spacious rear seat, staring blankly out the window. The street scenes blurred into streaks of light as they sped past. Lin Xin continued to chatter from the front, offering instructions, but Jing Feizuo felt as if everything were a hypnotic signal. Her eyelids grew heavier and heavier until, just like during every high school math class, they finally closed completely.

Lin Xin parked the car once again near the entrance of the upscale apartment complex. The blue glow of the electronic security screen flickered nearby, casting an air of stern vigilance.

She glanced in the rearview mirror and asked, “We’re at Wen Jin’s apartment complex. How do we get in?”

There was no response.

Lin Xin turned around in confusion and found Jing Feizuo slumped in the back seat, her head tilted to one side, breathing evenly. In her sleep, she unconsciously rubbed against the seat. Lin Xin scratched her head, torn between waking her up and letting her rest. But seeing the slight furrow in Jing Feizuo’s brow, as if even her dreams offered no peace, she couldn’t bring herself to disturb her.

The security guard had already glanced their way twice. Lin Xin sighed, opened her contacts, and scrolled through the list for a long time before finally finding Wen Jin’s number—saved after a drunken all-nighter with Jing Feizuo.

The call connected quickly. Lin Xin took a deep breath. “Hello? Wen Jin? This is Lin Xin. Um… we’re at the entrance of your residential complex. Jing Feizuo fell asleep. Can I drive my car in?”

After a brief exchange with the property management, Wen Jin replied, “Alright, you can drive in. Park by Building Two. I’ll come down.”

Lin Xin hung up and started the car, driving into the underground garage. By the time she found the sign for Building Two, Wen Jin was already standing nearby, looking like she’d been waiting for a while.

This woman, whose every move could shake the stock market and whose name resonated like thunder among the second-generation elite, stood before Lin Xin wearing nothing more than a casual down jacket over her pajamas, her hair still loose. She looked so approachable that Lin Xin felt momentarily disoriented.

But the coldness in Wen Jin’s voice snapped Lin Xin back to reality. “Where is she?”

Lin Xin got out of the car and pointed to the back seat. Wen Jin acknowledged with a curt nod and reached for the door, making no move to wake Jing Feizuo.

Startled, Lin Xin instinctively raised her voice slightly. “You’re not going to carry her up yourself, are you?”

Wen Jin remained silent, casting a cool glance at Lin Xin. That single look made Lin Xin’s hair stand on end. Glancing at Jing Feizuo, still sound asleep, she inwardly marveled at her friend’s deep slumber, which had once again saved her from a sticky situation.

Suddenly remembering something important, Lin Xin added, “She fainted today. When she wakes up, make sure she replenishes her electrolytes.”

Wen Jin’s brow furrowed. “What happened?”

Lin Xin hesitated for a moment before mumbling, “Ask her yourself when she wakes up.”

Wen Jin nodded without pressing further. Just as she was about to leave with Jing Feizuo, Lin Xin called out from behind.

Though Lin Xin frequently complained about Wen Jin behind her back, often using harsh words, she still felt intimidated when facing the woman directly.

After what felt like an eternity of mental preparation, Lin Xin finally summoned the courage to stop the business magnate. She blurted out in one breath, “Director Wen, I don’t know why she agreed to live with you, but relationships end all the time.”

Once she started, the words flowed more smoothly. “She didn’t cheat or deceive you during the relationship. It was consensual from the beginning, and she never wronged you in any way. I hope you’ll respect her wishes and at least not hurt her.”

Wen Jin didn’t respond. Instead, she asked, “Is your mother’s collaboration with the Wen Group still going smoothly?”

Lin Xin was taken aback by this unexpected reply. She paused, then realized that the respect born of awe and fear had vanished completely. She sneered coldly, “Director Wen needn’t concern herself.”

After seeing Wen Jin carry Jing Feizuo out, Lin Xin slammed the car door shut and sped away.

Wen Jin turned and walked toward the elevator, Jing Feizuo cradled in her arms.

The woman in her arms slept defenselessly, her head resting against Wen Jin’s shoulder, her soft breath brushing against her neck like an unconscious nuzzle from a small animal.

The apartment door opened, and the motion-sensor lights in the entryway automatically illuminated. Wen Jin walked straight to the bedroom. She leaned down and gently laid Jing Feizuo in bed, supporting her neck with her left hand while her right hand pulled away the jacket that had been covering her. She dimmed the bedside nightlight to its lowest setting, the warm yellow glow catching on Jing Feizuo’s fluttering eyelashes.

Wen Jin stood motionless by the bed, her index finger unconsciously tracing the curve of her collarbone. The lingering sensation of Jing Feizuo’s hair against her skin sent a tingling warmth through her veins.

She remained crouched by the bed, studying the sleeping Jing Feizuo—from her slightly furrowed brow and the small mole at the corner of her eye to her high, straight nose and the delicate, slightly flushed lips. Wen Jin felt her throat grow dry.

Her thoughts began to wander, and she was suddenly pulled into a whirlpool of memories.

The hospital’s heating was cranked up too high, making her throat feel dry. This was Wen Jin at fourteen, when she had been hospitalized for gastroenteritis. The curtains in her room were drawn, filtering the sunlight into a bleak, grayish-white glow.

Leaning against the bed, she stared at the patterns on the cabinet for a long time. It was her third day in the hospital, and her nominal father had only called once to tell her to “listen to the doctors,” send someone to drop off a bag of fruit and some cash, and then showed no further concern.

Footsteps echoed down the corridor, accompanied by the chatter of children. Wen Jin turned over, facing away from the door.

“Mommy, I want the bed by the window.”

The voice was crisp, like a glass bead falling on the floor. Wen Jin frowned and pulled the blanket higher.

The door creaked open, letting in a gust of cold air tinged with the scent of disinfectant.

“Oh, this room is already occupied… but the bed by the window is empty, just the one you wanted.”

Wen Jin heard a gentle woman’s voice, followed by rustling sounds. She didn’t turn around, but she could sense someone approaching.

“Big Sister, do you want a candy?”

A brightly wrapped piece of fruit candy suddenly appeared before Wen Jin. She looked up and met a pair of sparkling eyes—a little girl with a neatly braided ponytail and a nasal strip on her nose.

“Sweetheart, don’t bother her,” the girl’s mother said, approaching with an apologetic smile. “I’m so sorry, dear. My daughter gets clingy around pretty girls.”

Wen Jin shook her head without speaking.

But the girl refused to leave. She stood on tiptoe and placed the candy on Wen Jin’s bedside table. “This flavor is the best—it’s orange!”

Wen Jin stared at the candy. The wrapper featured an exaggerated orange illustration, its edges already wrinkled as if it had been clutched in someone’s hand for a long time.

“I don’t eat sweets,” she said.

The girl blinked. “Then what do you like? I have comic books and stickers…”

“Sweetheart,” her mother gently interrupted, “Big Sister needs to rest.”

The girl pouted but obediently returned to her own bed. Wen Jin sighed in relief and lay back down.

Outside the window, the snow began to fall again.

The girl’s mother visited every day, bringing warm meals and clean clothes. She always spoke in a soft voice and brushed her daughter’s hair with gentle strokes.

Wen Jin often pretended to be asleep, secretly watching them.

One morning, she was awakened by a rustling sound.

Opening her eyes, she saw the girl sitting cross-legged on the bed, facing her and drawing. A sketchbook lay open on the girl’s lap, and her pencil moved swiftly across the page.

“What are you drawing?” Wen Jin asked.

The girl startled, nearly falling off the bed. Her face flushed as she quickly closed the sketchbook. “N-nothing…”

Wen Jin didn’t press further. She got up to wash and brush her teeth. When she returned, the girl from the next bed had disappeared. Wen Jin glanced at the sketchbook on the bed. It contained a drawing of the scenery outside the window, with a small figure in the corner, long hair blowing in the wind.

Though it looked like a casual sketch, Wen Jin stared at the drawing for a long time, until sunlight finally streamed through a gap in the curtains, illuminating the small blue sun in the corner.

“Do you like it?”

Wen Jin jerked her head up. The girl had slipped back in unnoticed and was now grinning at her from the edge of the bed. “I used my new colored pencils,” she said.

Wen Jin looked away. “The sun isn’t blue.”

“But my heart feels blue right now. I hate coming to the hospital,” the little girl declared defiantly, then suddenly giggled shyly. “But since I’m sharing a room with you, Big Sister, the sun has turned red again!”

Wen Jin felt her cheeks flush. She didn’t respond, but the little girl didn’t seem to mind. She pulled a handful of hair ties from her pocket. “Can I braid your hair?”

Wen Jin answered quickly this time: “No.”

“Okay,” the little girl pouted, looking slightly hurt. “But Mommy says I’m really good at braiding!”

Wen Jin was about to say something when the little girl suddenly asked, “Big Sister, are you very unhappy?”

Wen Jin froze.

“I’m unhappy too when I have to get shots at the hospital,” the little girl continued, speaking to herself. “But Mommy says that since the unhappy thing has already happened, I just need to try hard to be happy again, and then I’ll be happy!”

Wen Jin chuckled at the little girl’s babbling, but the smile faded quickly. She lowered her gaze, her voice tinged with sadness. “I don’t have a mommy.”

The little girl paused.

“Then I’ll share my mommy with you,” she said earnestly, spreading her arms wide for a small hug. “Now we both have a mommy!”

Wen Jin knew it was just a child’s innocent jest, yet for some reason, her nose felt a little sore.

Unexpectedly, the girl wasn’t joking. Wen Jin didn’t know what the girl had told her mother, but from the day after this “innocent jest” was uttered, the girl’s mother began asking her what she wanted to eat each day, bringing her carefully prepared, warm meals, drawing hot water for her, and anxiously calling for medical staff whenever she felt unwell.

The girl even included Wen Jin in her protective circle. When relatives of her father’s new girlfriend came over with arrogant displays of wealth, the little one actually scolded them away.

Wen Jin should have rejected all of this, but she shamefully indulged in it completely.

One night, the girl suddenly developed a fever. Wen Jin heard her soft sobs as her mother held her close, murmuring comforting words. A nurse came to give her an injection, and the ward finally fell silent.

Wen Jin tossed and turned, unable to sleep. In the middle of the night, she heard rustling sounds and opened her eyes to see the girl’s mother quietly pouring hot water.

“Auntie,” Wen Jin suddenly called out.

The woman startled. “Ah, did I wake you?”

“No, I wasn’t asleep anyway.” Wen Jin shook her head and pointed to the girl. “Is she… alright?”

The woman smiled. “The fever’s gone, but my throat still hurts a bit.” She paused. “Would you like some hot water too? It’s quite cold tonight.”

Wen Jin was about to decline, but the woman had already poured a cup and handed it to her. The aroma wafted over—it wasn’t plain water, but warm milk.

“The doctor said you should drink more milk,” the woman explained. “I added a little honey to help you sleep.”

Wen Jin took the cup, the warmth seeping through the ceramic into her palm. She sipped slowly, the sweetness spreading across her tongue.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

The woman gently stroked Wen Jin’s hair, her voice filled with tender amusement. “My little rascal says you’re half my daughter now.”

In the darkness, Wen Jin’s tears finally flowed silently and uncontrollably.

Wen Jin was discharged a few days before the girl. Before leaving, she hesitated at the ward door, then turned back, pulled a brand-new box of colored pencils from her backpack, and placed it on the girl’s bedside table.

The girl was asleep, a nasal strip crookedly stuck to her nose like a cute little piglet. She clutched half-eaten milk biscuit in her hand, her long eyelashes shimmering a peculiar golden-brown in the light.

Wen Jin gently removed the biscuit to prevent it from staining the blanket.

The girl suddenly woke up, groggily calling out, “Big Sister?”

Wen Jin froze in place.

Rubbing her eyes, the girl sat up. “Are you leaving already?”

Wen Jin nodded.

The little girl looked a bit sad, but quickly smiled again. “Will you still get sick in the future?”

What kind of question is that? Wen Jin couldn’t help but chuckle. “I hope not.”

“No, that’s not what I meant!” The girl slapped her forehead in frustration, quickly clarifying, “I hope you never get sick again too! I just want to see you again.”

Wen Jin tucked the girl’s blanket around her.

“Rest well,” she said finally.

When Wen Jin stepped out of the hospital, the snow had stopped. Sunlight streamed through the corridor windows, so bright it was blinding. Standing at the entrance, she squinted, trying to recall the name taped above the girl’s bed. But the handwriting was too cursive, too free-flowing; she couldn’t decipher the girl’s name no matter how hard she tried.

Her thoughts drifted back. Wen Jin reached out and touched the now-grown girl.

They had met twice before officially getting acquainted—only twice, yet Jing Feizuo had visited Wen Jin’s dreams countless times. In those dreams, her face remained indistinct, merely a blurry silhouette.

Awakening from countless dreams, Wen Jin repeatedly regretted not asking for Jing Feizuo’s name.

Fortunately, miraculously, she had the chance to meet her again.

At the private exhibition, the moment their eyes met, Wen Jin suddenly realized that this person had always been present in her dreams—not out of youthful admiration, nor youthful gratitude, but because the mature woman she had become felt a genuine, undeniable flutter of her heart.

Wen Jin recalled the previous night, when Jing Feizuo had reminisced about their first meeting ten years ago, murmuring in surprise, “So that’s how we first met…”

“Our first meeting was much earlier than you think,” she whispered to herself, tucking the blanket around the sleeping woman. “We really did meet again, darling.”