After Abandoning Her, She Discovered That Her Partner Was a Paranoid - Chapter 3

Even though Jing Feizuo had anticipated that Wen Jin’s train arrangements would be extraordinary, she still couldn’t help but gasp when she actually stepped into the train compartment.

This wasn’t a train; it was clearly a moving five-star hotel.

The spacious suite featured a genuine leather sofa in the center, a large bed on the left covered in snow-white sheets scattered with rose petals, and a black marble bathroom on the right with a bathtub half the size of the bed.

As the train sped north, the snowy landscape outside the window receded endlessly. It was a clear winter day typical of the north—the sky so blue it seemed brittle, withered branches draped with lingering snow, and sunlight pouring down, casting shadows of the bare trees onto the snow-covered ground like an ink-wash painting.

The train sliced through the winter sunlit earth like scissors cutting through silver silk.

“Oh my god…” Jing Feizuo threw herself onto the fluffy down comforter, gazing up at the warm yellow ambient lighting on the ceiling. The sheets still carried the scent of sun-drying. “How long would I have to work non-stop to afford a train ticket like this?”

Wen Jin stood by the bed, holding a teacup.

“It’s not that extravagant,” she said with a smile, setting the cup on the bedside table. “Did you rest well? Afternoon tea should be ready in the dining car.”

Jing Feizuo rolled over onto her stomach, propping her head up with her hands as she watched Wen Jin. “Is this your way of making up for the gym the other day? Trying to win me back with sweet talk?”

“And if it is?” Wen Jin leaned down, hooking her index finger under Jing Feizuo’s chin. “Is it working?”

Jing Feizuo burst into laughter. “Absolutely.”

The dining car was even more exquisite than she had imagined, its color scheme and decor exuding an air of lavish extravagance.

Jing Feizuo chose a window seat as Wen Jin expertly ordered from the waiter. “Earl Grey tea latte, rose pu-erh… and tiramisu.”

Jing Feizuo rested her cheek in her hand, her eyes curving into crescent moons as she smiled. “You remember my preferences so well?”

Wen Jin looked up and was suddenly met by those smiling eyes.

Jing Feizuo’s eyes naturally tilted upward at the corners, giving her a perpetually flirtatious look even when she wasn’t smiling. When she laughed, they transformed into hooks, especially the small beauty mark at the corner of her eye, which trembled slightly with her amusement, making her appear both innocent and alluring. She could effortlessly stir the most hidden desires in one’s heart.

Wen Jin was momentarily lost in thought until the waiter arrived with the tea set, pulling her out of her reverie.

She thanked him, accepted the tea set, and instinctively reached into her suit jacket’s inner pocket with her left hand.

Wen Jin paused, “I forgot my phone in the private compartment.”

Jing Feizuo teased, “I envy you being able to enjoy such a luxurious disconnection.”

Wen Jin pinched the tip of her nose. “I can’t afford that. Wait five minutes.”

Jing Feizuo watched Wen Jin’s retreating figure until she disappeared behind the dining car, then turned to gaze at the fleeting scenery outside the window.

Just then, a slightly hesitant male voice came from beside her. “Excuse me, but…”

She turned to see a young man standing in the aisle, holding a DSLR camera. The tips of his ears were flushed with nervousness, but his gaze burned with intensity.

Jing Feizuo asked, puzzled, “Is there something I can help you with?”

The man held out his camera. “Your profile against the window just now was so beautiful, I couldn’t resist taking a photo.”

Jing Feizuo glanced at the camera.

On the screen was indeed a perfectly framed shot. Her silhouette formed a striking contrast with the snow-covered plains rushing past outside, creating a natural masterpiece of light and shadow.

From a professional perspective, she couldn’t help but admire, “This is a really well-taken photo.”

The man’s eyes lit up. “The timing of this photo was perfect, so I wanted to share it with you. But if you don’t want it, I can delete all the negatives right here.”

Sensing Jing Feizuo’s hesitation, the man pulled out his phone. “Would you mind if I sent you the original photo by adding you as a friend?”

“She does mind,” a cold voice suddenly interjected.

Wen Jin had returned to the cabin unnoticed, still holding a tiramisu.

She strode over to Jing Feizuo, set down the dessert, and placed her slender fingers on Jing Feizuo’s shoulder, her gaze sharp as she stared at the man.

The young photographer was visibly startled by Wen Jin, nearly dropping his camera.

Wen Jin seemed oblivious to his panic. Instead, she adopted a professional smile and handed him a business card.

“I’m willing to pay for this photo. Please send it to this email address and then delete all the originals from your camera.”

Her tone brooked no argument. The man visibly stiffened, instinctively obeying her command. He fumbled with his camera, beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

Only after confirming that all the photos had been deleted did Wen Jin give a slight nod. “Thank you.”

Jing Feizuo had been observing the brief, accidental confrontation from the side. After the young man fled in a panic, she realized Wen Jin was still firmly gripping her shoulder.

The grip wasn’t painful, but it held her firmly in place.

Wen Jin’s icy aura hadn’t completely dissipated, lingering like the afterglow of a drawn blade—a side of her Jing Feizuo rarely witnessed.

Or rather, a side Wen Jin deliberately kept hidden from her.

Jing Feizuo had grown so accustomed to Wen Jin’s gentleness that she’d almost forgotten this formidable demeanor was the face Wen Jin most often presented to the world.

Lin Xin’s warning echoed in her mind, and Jing Feizuo suddenly felt a headache coming on.

At that moment, Wen Jin released her grip and casually sat down. “I passed by the dessert counter and saw the tiramisu was ready, so I grabbed it.”

“Mm,” Jing Feizuo murmured, her gaze fixed on her favorite dessert, yet she made no move to eat it.

The winter sunlight still streamed warmly across the table, but the dust motes suspended in the air seemed frozen in place.

Wen Jin’s gaze shifted from Jing Feizuo’s trembling eyelashes to her tightly pressed lips. “Are you upset?”

Jing Feizuo lifted her gaze, her tone neither pessimistic nor as lighthearted as usual.

“Even if you hadn’t come over, I wouldn’t have accepted his friend request,” she paused deliberately. “You know that.”

The train entered a tunnel, and the window instantly transformed into a blurry mirror. Wen Jin’s profile reflected in it, appearing unusually sharp.

After a two-second silence, Wen Jin continued, “The way he looked at you was too obvious. I couldn’t help myself…”

The tunnel was brief, and the light at the end suddenly flooded in. Wen Jin lowered her brow, her lips curving into a vulnerable arc, revealing a pitiful expression utterly incongruous with her sharp features.

“Please forgive me.”

This expression is too unfair, Jing Feizuo thought. It’s like a fierce leopard suddenly lying down and exposing its fluffy belly.

Jing Feizuo turned away. “My forgiveness comes at a high price.”

Sensing a softening in Jing Feizuo’s tone, Wen Jin finally exhaled in relief.

“I’ll pay any price. But nothing would be worse than you starting your trip in a bad mood.”

Jing Feizuo finally couldn’t help but laugh, turning back to meet Wen Jin’s gaze.

“Why are you being so sweet? What am I supposed to do now? I can’t bear to make you pay some terrible price either.” She picked up a spoon and scooped a corner of the dessert. “But these constant declarations of possession are so childish. Don’t let it happen again, President Wen.”

Wen Jin’s gaze softened completely.

After a satisfying meal, Jing Feizuo returned to her private compartment and curled up cross-legged on the plush sofa by the window, breathing onto the glass.

Her breath fogged a small patch of the window.

Wen Jin’s hand reached around from behind to gently tug at Jing Feizuo’s hair. She watched as Jing Feizuo used her finger to draw a crooked dog in the fading mist, then raised her camera, adjusting the focus on the window doodle against the snowy landscape outside.

“What are you taking a picture of?” Wen Jin couldn’t help but ask.

“Documenting,” Jing Feizuo replied without turning around, barely registering the slight tug on her hair. “Look, a Samoyed.”

Wen Jin stared at the round, fluffy outline on the window. “Is that supposed to be a Samoyed?”

“Not yet,” Jing Feizuo said.

As the train sped across a dazzling white snowfield, the window doodle suddenly projected onto the pristine snow, the snow filling in the misty lines with color.

Wen Jin watched as the white, fog-formed puppy opened its eyes wide, its mouth turned down in an expression of utter dejection.

Jing Feizuo chuckled. “Doesn’t it look just like you did in the dining car earlier?”

Ignoring Jing Feizuo’s teasing, Wen Jin released her hair, stepped back, and pulled out her phone, framing Jing Feizuo and the forlorn dog in the screen.

Wen Jin placed her photo of Jing Feizuo next to the one taken by the guy who had hit on her, then showed them to the model. “Which one looks better?”

“Hmm…”

Jing Feizuo’s gaze darted back and forth between the meticulously composed shot and the casual snapshot, unable to decide. Finally, she pointed to Wen Jin’s photo. “This one looks better.”

Wen Jin beamed. “Really?”

Jing Feizuo: “I’m so sorry, but I love you.”

Wen Jin laughed in exasperation. “So it was all a lie.”

Jing Feizuo burst into laughter, snatched Wen Jin’s phone, opened the photo editor, and casually cropped the image. “At least it should be framed like this.”

Wen Jin took back her phone and stared at the screen. The photo, now worth several times its original value, forced her to wrinkle her nose in reluctant agreement. “You’re right.”

Jing Feizuo, rarely seeing Wen Jin at a loss, found it amusing. “Is there anything you’re not good at?”

Wen Jin admitted frankly, “I’m completely clueless about color and composition.”

She paused, her tone tinged with regret. “If I had understood art better, would I have… met you sooner?”

These words felt like an unconventional confession, and Jing Feizuo felt a bashful awkwardness stir within her.

She shook her head in disagreement.

“The industry is always pushing out new stars every few months. After getting to know me, you might not even like my style. Besides, I’m not nearly as charming at work as I am at private exhibitions.”

Cutting off the hypothetical conversation, Jing Feizuo changed the subject. “Remember to send me that photo. The original file.”

She paused, then added, “Actually, what I said earlier was true. I really do prefer the photos you take.”

Jing Feizuo noticed that after she said this, Wen Jin’s head unconsciously leaned closer, like a tide drawn by the moonlight.

Amused, she unhesitatingly raised her hand, pressed her fingertips against that beautiful face, and gently pushed it away.

“Please maintain some decorum.”

Her fingers were icy cold, and when they unexpectedly touched Wen Jin’s cheek, she saw the other woman’s eyelashes flutter involuntarily.

Jing Feizuo turned to look out the window, her breath catching in her throat as she let out a genuine sigh of admiration. “So beautiful.”

Wen Jin looked up, following Jing Feizuo’s gaze.

Twilight had quietly descended, painting the sky and earth in a grand spectacle of shifting colors. Distant mountains had transformed into silhouettes of varying shades, the western sky burned with orange-red embers, while pale purple shadows of night had already emerged in the east.

Wen Jin tried to persuade her to stay, “Kissing under such a view would be quite romantic, don’t you think?”

“No,” Jing Feizuo replied, ignoring Wen Jin’s intentions and even looking away from her. Instead, she raised her camera again, capturing the fleeting light and shadows outside the window. “Only by recording it can we truly possess the romance.”

The sunset was fleeting. Before long, the sun had completely dipped below the horizon, and Jing Feizuo reluctantly lowered her camera.

Wen Jin teased, “You should have become a photographer.”

Jing Feizuo, who was scrolling through the series of photos she had just taken, offered an explanation.

“I only take photos that hold sentimental value. This is the first time I’ve ever watched a sunset from a train.”

Wen Jin suddenly grew curious. “When was the last time you rode a train?”

Jing Feizuo paused her photo review, looked up at Wen Jin, and thought for a moment.

“Before today, I’d only taken the train once. It was a fifteen-hour journey on a hard sleeper upper berth. The carriage was packed, and there was someone snoring loudly and someone else with stinky feet. Not a very pleasant experience.”

Jing Feizuo frowned as she recalled the memory. “Actually, my memories from before college are all quite hazy. But because that train ride was so awful, I remember clearly that it happened during my first year of high school.”

Wen Jin picked up on another detail. “Hazy memories?”

Jing Feizuo shrugged casually. “It’s like some kind of memory loss. But it’s not serious. The doctor said she’d even seen a patient who could only remember the past two years… The human brain is truly fascinating.”

Wen Jin’s expression turned complex for a moment, though it quickly vanished. Jing Feizuo still caught that flicker of emotion.

Assuming Wen Jin was worried about her, Jing Feizuo clarified, “It’s not that I don’t remember anything at all. It’s more like my memories are shrouded in mist—I have to really push through to recall them clearly. And this hasn’t happened since I became an adult.”

Wen Jin looked intently at Jing Feizuo, as if relieved. “That’s good.”

By the time they finished dinner, night had fallen.

The bed, covered with a goose-down duvet, looked as soft as a cloud.

After washing up, Jing Feizuo immediately kicked off her slippers and lazily sprawled across the cloud-like bed. “It feels like we just saw the sunset, and now it’s already bedtime. Honestly, spending our whole vacation on the train wouldn’t be so bad.”

Wen Jin, who was walking toward the bed, overheard and couldn’t help but disagree. “I guarantee you’d be bored by tomorrow.”

Jing Feizuo hummed softly, about to ask Wen Jin to close the curtains, when she was suddenly captivated by the snowy nightscape outside the window.

The snow-covered plains were bathed in moonlight, glowing with an ethereal blue luminescence. As the train sped past a village, scattered lights flickered like orange fireflies, their receding glow stretching into long, luminous streaks.

Instinctively, Jing Feizuo grabbed her phone from the bedside table, aimed the camera at the window, and adjusted the angle several times. Yet she hesitated to press the shutter button, shook her head, and put the phone down.

Turning to Wen Jin, who was preparing to get into bed, she asked in a conciliatory tone, “Could you get the camera from my bag?”

Wen Jin stopped, gesturing to the distance between herself and the bag, then shrugged.

Jing Feizuo whined playfully, “President Wen—”

Wen Jin surrendered. “Alright.”

After finally taking the perfect photo, Wen Jin was about to draw the curtains when Jing Feizuo suddenly called out, “Don’t move.”

Wen Jin instinctively straightened her back, only relaxing when she heard the click of the shutter.

Jing Feizuo lowered her head to review the photo, her lips curving into a smile. “Beautiful.”

Wen Jin raised an eyebrow. “Let me see.”

Jing Feizuo handed over the camera.

Wen Jin zoomed in on her profile on the screen. In the photo, she clearly hadn’t fully reacted yet—her brow was only beginning to furrow, her lips just starting to curve into a smile. Yet the stunned expression softened her sharp features, lending the image on the screen an approachable warmth.

Jing Feizuo flipped back to a previous photo—an empty landscape shot.

“When you see it with your own eyes, the scenery is breathtaking and awe-inspiring. But no matter how hard you try with a phone or camera, it’s impossible to capture that feeling,” Jing Feizuo said, flipping back to the portrait. “But when there’s someone in the frame, it’s completely different—so much more vivid.”

Wen Jin countered, “So am I just a model for your photos?”

Jing Feizuo paused, then replied meaningfully, “Of course not. You’re the protagonist of this photo.”

With that, she put away her camera and phone, stretched languidly on the bed, her silk pajamas sliding up to reveal a sliver of her slender waist.

Wen Jin’s eyes darkened.

She swiftly drew the sheer curtains, turned, and leaned over Jing Feizuo, one hand touching the exposed warmth of her skin while the other brushed aside the stray strands of hair framing her forehead. “You’re my protagonist too.”

Feeling Wen Jin’s fingertips tracing circles on her body, Jing Feizuo let out a soft, involuntary moan. “Mmm… we’re going out tomorrow…”

Wen Jin pressed closer, kissing Jing Feizuo’s neck. “We won’t be there that early. We have plenty of time.”

The train continued its journey, the rhythm of their intertwined breaths gradually merging with the rhythmic clatter of the wheels. In the flowing darkness, time seemed to stretch endlessly.