After Abandoning Her, She Discovered That Her Partner Was a Paranoid - Chapter 22

Jing Feizuo searched on her phone: “Is it reasonable for the CEO of a major corporation to be absent from work for half a month?”

The search results varied wildly, but most shared a core sentiment: impossible.

She glanced at her phone screen, then at Wen Jin, who was packing her suitcase. “Is the Wen Group about to go bankrupt?”

Wen Jin paused. “There’s no indication of that yet.”

Jing Feizuo pressed her tongue against her back teeth. “Are you really coming to Europe with me? This biennial project will keep me busy for at least half a month. Can the Wen Group function without you?”

“I thought we made it clear when we agreed: wherever you go, we’ll stay together,” Wen Jin said, closing her suitcase. “My assistant will handle everything, and I can work remotely.”

Jing Feizuo sank into a chair, leaned back against the backrest, and sighed deeply. “Poor assistant.”

And me, she added silently to herself.

She remembered Wen Jin’s promise to follow her to Europe, no matter what. But given the Wen Group’s scale, Jing Feizuo had dismissed it as empty talk. Even after she’d resisted the half-year overseas assignment, the biennial project’s duration seemed too long for Wen Jin to simply “skip work.”

At the time, Jing Feizuo secretly rejoiced at the prospect of having at least half a month to herself.

She hadn’t quarreled with Wen Jin, but their bond had grown too intense lately, so close that it triggered an alarm in her heart: she needed space to breathe.

However, Wen Jin didn’t give her that chance.

This left Jing Feizuo feeling somewhat disappointed, yet also harboring a secret, unsettling joy.

What she thought and what she felt were two different things. In truth, with Wen Jin handling the arrangements, Jing Feizuo didn’t need to worry about a single detail.

Before long, she was lounging comfortably on a sofa in the airport’s VIP lounge.

Her fingers glided across the tablet, reviewing the exhibition plan, but her peripheral vision kept drifting to Wen Jin, who was taking a call nearby.

The woman stood tall in a sharply tailored black coat, her phone pressed to her ear. She occasionally murmured a response, her cold demeanor causing passing staff to unconsciously soften their footsteps.

Jing Feizuo suddenly recalled Lin Xin’s remark: some lounges offered top-tier drinks, but airlines often catered to status, not everyone could request them.

“President Wen,” she called out, deliberately interrupting with a saccharine tone, “I want a Dom Pérignon.”

Their journey together was now set in stone. Jing Feizuo was determined to make Wen Jin’s presence worthwhile, while also venting some of her lingering annoyance.

Wen Jin turned her head to look at Jing Feizuo, her sharp gaze instantly softening into indulgent affection.

After hanging up the phone, Wen Jin leaned over, resting her hand on the armrest of Jing Feizuo’s sofa. “If you’re drunk before boarding, you might not even be able to fasten your seatbelt.”

Jing Feizuo shrugged. “The flight attendants would be happy to assist.”

Wen Jin chuckled softly, straightened up, and spoke briefly to a nearby staff member.

Moments later, a staff member arrived with chilled champagne, condensation beading on the rims of the crystal flutes.

Jing Feizuo accepted a glass, deliberately brushing her fingertips against the staff member’s hand as she took it. Her eyes crinkled with a mischievous smile. “Thank you. Your watch suits you perfectly.”

The young staff member’s ears flushed crimson. Before he could respond, he felt an icy gaze piercing his back like a predator’s stare. Like prey caught in the crosshairs, he quickly retreated.

“I’ve sent the hotel address to your phone,” Wen Jin said, settling beside Jing Feizuo. Her fingers gently cupped the nape of Jing Feizuo’s neck, as if grasping the soft flesh of a cat. “Is preparing for our annual exhibition the first thing we’ll do after landing?”

Jing Feizuo swirled her wine glass, raising an eyebrow. “We?”

Wen Jin: “We.”

The champagne bubbles burst on her tongue. Jing Feizuo narrowed her eyes, sticking out her tongue in distaste.

“It’s not good.”

Wen Jin chuckled. “Like a cow chewing on a peony.”

Jing Feizuo huffed, deliberately leaning forward, tilting the glass dangerously.

“I really want to spill this on you. Which is more expensive, your cashmere coat or this bottle of champagne—”

Before she could finish, the boarding announcement suddenly blared over the intercom. Wen Jin seized the opportunity, gripping Jing Feizuo’s wrist and lifting her hand, pouring the entire glass of champagne into her own mouth.

“A pre-flight treat from my darling,” Wen Jin said, dabbing the wine from her lips with leisurely grace. “Not bad.”

Jing Feizuo wanted to get her drunk right then and there.

Having only taken a single sip, Jing Feizuo easily fastened her seatbelt.

Once the plane leveled out, she sat by the window, a cashmere blanket draped over her legs, staring at the night view outside. But her mind was already racing through the itinerary for when they landed.

“I’ll probably be really busy setting up the exhibition,” Jing Feizuo suddenly said. “My teacher said even though our booth is small, there are still a lot of details to manage.”

Wen Jin realized Jing Feizuo was answering the question she had asked before boarding the plane, and a surge of unexpected joy welled up within her.

She mentally searched for Jing Feizuo’s teacher and asked, “Luna?”

Jing Feizuo glanced at her across the aisle, surprised. “You know her?”

“In my university art elective, the teacher couldn’t stop talking about her,” Wen Jin chuckled. “Your teacher is so famous, she’s even in the textbooks. Even someone as artistically clueless as me has heard of her, like how even someone who never listens to music knows ‘Happy Birthday.'”

Jing Feizuo shook her head slightly.

“She hasn’t made many public appearances in recent years. This exhibition might be her last,” Wen Jin continued, her tone taking on a hint of prideful lightness. “This year’s exhibition is a joint showcase of masters. Normally, a small-time painter like me wouldn’t stand a chance, but my teacher insisted on securing a booth for me.”

Wen Jin felt an inexplicable sense of pride. “That’s because you’re incredibly talented.”

She was about to elaborate when the flight attendant arrived with their late-night snacks, interrupting their conversation.

The snacks were the desserts they had ordered earlier: Jing Feizuo’s favorite tiramisu and Wen Jin’s sparkling wine.

Wen Jin scooped up a small piece of cake and held it to Jing Feizuo’s lips. “Open up.”

Jing Feizuo instinctively took the bite, only realizing what she was doing when the sweetness hit her tongue. “Are you feeding a cat?”

“Cats are more obedient than you,” Wen Jin said, scooping up another spoonful. “Once at the studio, you worked twelve hours straight without eating.”

“Were you spying on me?”

“I was worried about you.”

Jing Feizuo choked. She ducked her head and tried to snatch the spoon from Wen Jin, but Wen Jin smoothly caught her wrist.

“Your assistant told me,” Wen Jin explained.

Jing Feizuo pursed her lips, muttering after a long pause, “Little traitor.”

After finishing the delicious midnight snack, Jing Feizuo began to feel drowsy.

She leaned back in her seat, but her head kept sliding off the headrest.

After several failed attempts, a pair of gentle hands cupped her cheeks, guiding her head to a more comfortable position.

Through her hazy consciousness, Jing Feizuo heard Wen Jin asking the flight attendant to lower the fold-out bed in the middle of the cabin.

Moments later, she felt herself being lifted into the air and then gently lowered onto the soft mattress.

“Sleep,” Wen Jin’s voice came from above. “We have six hours left.”

The moment Jing Feizuo landed on the bed, most of her drowsiness vanished.

She suddenly remembered her university days, countless times when she had slept soundly in class only to toss and turn sleeplessly in her dorm at night.

The person on the bed opened her eyes and saw Wen Jin’s face looming close.

Wen Jin was surprised. “Why aren’t you sleeping?”

“I still need to adjust to the time difference, or I’ll fall asleep during the exhibition setup,” Jing Feizuo yawned. “Besides, you’re not sleeping either.”

Wen Jin sat down. “Alright, let’s keep each other company.”

Jing Feizuo glanced at the unfolded double bed, her tone tinged with bitterness.

“This is the first time my own travel expenses have exceeded the cost of shipping my paintings. The most I’ve ever splurged on before was a seat that reclined flat,” she held up a finger, “and that was only once.”

Wen Jin smiled. “I was worried you’d blame me for not using the private jet.”

Jing Feizuo waved her hand dismissively. “That would be too decadent. I’m just afraid it’ll be hard to go back to simpler things.”

Wen Jin immediately countered, “Then let’s not make it difficult.”

Jing Feizuo gave her a wry smile. “I’ve been strictly adhering to our agreement these past few weeks—not a single photo taken.”

Wen Jin paused, her smile fading slightly as she understood the implication in Jing Feizuo’s words.

Still, she leaned in and kissed Jing Feizuo’s forehead. “I’ll keep my promise too. But it’s not been six months yet, so let’s enjoy this extravagant life for now.”

The sunlight at cruising altitude arrived much earlier than on the ground.

Jing Feizuo woke to the morning light filtering through the blackout curtains, finding herself curled up in Wen Jin’s arms.

Wen Jin held her with one arm while replying to emails with the other, the screen’s glow illuminating her sharply defined jawline.

“Morning,” Wen Jin said, immediately closing her laptop as she sensed Jing Feizuo stir. “Looks like you didn’t adjust to the time zone.”

Jing Feizuo stretched lazily, unconcerned. “I probably didn’t sleep for long anyway. Did you sleep?”

Wen Jin summarized succinctly: “Slept later than you, woke up earlier.”

Jing Feizuo studied Wen Jin’s face, which remained as vibrant and composed as ever.

She couldn’t help but marvel, “How do you not look tired at all?”

Wen Jin replied dryly, “I thought our bedroom activities would have already made it clear how much more stamina I have than you.”

Jing Feizuo glared at her.

By the time the plane landed at its destination airport, the city was already steeped in the exotic hues of night.

Jing Feizuo leaned against the window by the bed, watching the runway lights stretch long, wet streaks across the rain-slicked ground.

During the dozen-hour flight, she had indulged in a pleasant dream, savored two gourmet meals, and opened her curatorial proposal three times—only to close it each time in frustration.

Traveling with Wen Jin was simply too comfortable. She couldn’t bring herself to immerse herself in work as she usually did during trips.

The only thing she managed to accomplish was doodling a pig wearing a bow tie on Wen Jin’s tablet.

“Your luggage has been taken care of,” Wen Jin said soothingly, gently tapping Jing Feizuo’s wrist. “The car is waiting.”

Jing Feizuo murmured a lazy “Mm-hmm,” not bothering to reply.

She hated the sticky feeling of having her post-long-flight state forcibly shifted again. Glancing at Wen Jin’s unnaturally refreshed appearance, she thought the woman was practically defying biology.

After exiting the terminal, a black Bentley whisked them to the hotel Wen Jin had booked.

The room key card beeped, unlocking the door, and Jing Feizuo immediately caught the scent of roses.

Not the artificial fragrance of chemical concoctions, but the intense, authentic floral aroma, tinged with the green, stem-like freshness of real blooms.

She pushed open the door and froze in place—deep crimson rose petals carpeted the entrance hall, stretching all the way to the bedroom, where they formed an exaggerated heart shape on the bedsheets.

“…Did you arrange this?” Jing Feizuo asked from the doorway, her expression flat.

“The hotel must have misunderstood,” Wen Jin replied, shrugging off her coat and casually brushing aside the roses on the sofa. “They received two ‘important guest’ reservations and automatically upgraded us to the honeymoon package.”

Jing Feizuo didn’t believe a word. She rubbed her temples, pretending not to notice the adult toys arranged on the side table. “Didn’t you explain?”

“I did,” Wen Jin said, her voice dripping with sincerity as she launched into her slippery defense. “But they said, ‘The way Ms. Jing looks at you, it doesn’t seem like any explanation is needed.'”

Jing Feizuo stared at her, speechless.

When did this woman become so glib? she wondered.

Finally, Jing Feizuo gave up trying to reason with her. She opened her suitcase, grabbed her pajamas, and headed for the bathroom.

“I’m going to shower. I hope this room won’t look like a garden when I come out.” Remembering something, she turned back. “I don’t have your energy, so don’t even think about it tonight.”

The bathroom door slammed shut.

As the sound of running water filled the room, Wen Jin shook her head and chuckled. She bent down to pick up a crushed rose petal and slipped it into her coat pocket.