After Abandoning Her, She Discovered That Her Partner Was a Paranoid - Chapter 30

Wen Jin’s face suddenly drained of color, as if all the bl00d had been drawn from her body.

Shen Zhiyi observed her expression, frowning. “You really didn’t know? I thought, given your style, even if she hadn’t told you, you would have investigated thoroughly beforehand.”

Wen Jin didn’t respond, ignoring Shen Zhiyi’s sarcastic tone.

She picked up her coat and stood up, her voice cold as ice. “Excuse me, let’s talk another time.”

“Wen Jin!” Shen Zhiyi suddenly raised her voice, as if issuing a warning. “She doesn’t need your sympathy, so don’t go back to her playing the savior.”

Wen Jin froze mid-stride.

Shen Zhiyi continued, “There’s a reason she didn’t tell you.”

Wen Jin’s phone vibrated, playing a specially set notification tone. She glanced at the screen and saw a reply from Jing Feizuo: “It’s raining in A City too. Stay warm.”

Wen Jin stared at the message for a long moment, then closed her eyes.

When she opened them again, she slowly sat back down.

Her voice sounded weary. “How did you find out?”

“I really wanted to tell you that she told me herself,” Shen Zhiyi finally took a sip of the coffee she had been holding for so long. “But as a friend, I’ll be honest with you. We were still together around this time last year, and I found it in her calendar. She never mentioned it to me.”

As she set down her cup, she suddenly noticed something was off with Wen Jin’s demeanor.

Shen Zhiyi had seen Wen Jin in many different settings: her youthful exuberance in college, her initial awkwardness when she first took over the Wen Group, her ruthless decisiveness when dealing with enemies, and finally, the aloofness and indifference that came with becoming the true “Director Wen.”

But she had never seen Wen Jin so utterly defeated.

The grief was so thick it seemed to coalesce into a visible fog, enveloping her completely. Shen Zhiyi felt that in the next moment, Wen Jin would suffocate under its suffocating weight.

Wen Jin spoke with difficulty, “When did it happen?”

Shen Zhiyi understood what she was asking. “Eleven years ago. The horrific plane crash. It’s easy to find online.”

Wen Jin didn’t respond, and Shen Zhiyi remained silent.

The two women sat in silence, facing each other as the café’s background music shifted from one song to another. Sworn enemies had become friends once more.

It wasn’t until Shen Zhiyi noticed the mist surrounding Wen Jin had dissipated slightly that she attempted to ease the tension.

“So you really haven’t investigated her past.”

Wen Jin glanced up, her eyes half-lidded.

Of course, she wouldn’t reveal to Shen Zhiyi that she possessed nearly all of Jing Feizuo’s current information. She hadn’t delved into her past simply because she was waiting for a future moment when Jing Feizuo would personally describe her history to her.

It was as if she could then participate in those missed memories.

However, that future still seemed distant. Jing Feizuo not only hadn’t shared anything about herself but also seemed utterly indifferent to Wen Jin’s own experiences.

Wen Jin felt a sharp, stinging pain in her heart, as if it had been slashed by a blade.

Finally, she said, “I respect her privacy.”

Upon hearing this, Shen Zhiyi’s smile stiffened, as if struck by a sudden thought. “Are you still the Wen Jin I know?”

Wen Jin’s expression turned playful. “What do you think I would do?”

“Just like you used to be, you wouldn’t let anyone near you without knowing their background.”

Wen Jin looked at her with a half-mocking smile.

Shen Zhiyi gasped. “You’re the one pursuing her?”

Wen Jin glanced at her. “Is that so strange?”

“It’s not strange that someone would pursue her, but I always saw you as an ice-cold CEO waiting to be warmed by a little sun.” Shen Zhiyi took another sip of coffee, using the raised cup to hide the smug smile playing at the corner of her lips. “Besides, she was the one who pursued me back then.”

Wen Jin scoffed. “It’s been ages since we broke up. Are you still bragging about that?”

She had already glimpsed hints of this in Jing Feizuo’s notebook, but hearing it confirmed by Jing Feizuo herself still stung. Her words sharpened with resentment.

“And didn’t you initiate the breakup? Because you felt like you were being used as creative material?”

The atmosphere instantly tensed again.

Shen Zhiyi was both angry and deflated. “Did she tell you about us?”

Wen Jin almost lied and claimed credit, but the words caught in her throat.

“As a friend,” she finally said, “not really. I just saw her sketchbook. She said it wasn’t for creative material, but rather her way of searching for life’s meaning.”

Wen Jin’s voice grew softer, making it unclear whether she was trying to convince her friend or deceive herself.

Shen Zhiyi shot her a sidelong glance. “Why are you being so kind as to explain all this to me?”

“Do you think I see you as an enemy?” Wen Jin’s tone was loaded with meaning. “After breaking up with her, there’s no chance of us ever getting back together.”

Shen Zhiyi closed her eyes tightly, wishing she were in a bar right now. At least there, she could numb her clear-headed thoughts with alcohol.

“You know, after we broke up, I went to see a therapist. The doctor said my negative emotions stemmed from resentment, and that they would fade naturally if I focused on living my own life.”

Shen Zhiyi suddenly became candid, her gaze sincere as she looked at her friend. “Time has been quite effective in healing me. I no longer need to reconcile with her. But I hope you’ll keep your schemes to yourself and never use them against her.”

Wen Jin fell silent for a moment, then murmured, “It’s not about resentment.”

Shen Zhiyi didn’t catch the words. “Huh?”

“It’s nothing,” Wen Jin said, lifting her cup to conceal her expression behind the white porcelain. “I know what I’m doing.”

By the time Wen Jin left the café, the sudden downpour had stopped. The streets were slick with water, reflecting the city in distorted, inverted reflections.

She called her assistant, her tone leaving no room for argument. “Move up the contract signing. Reschedule my flight—I’m going back tonight.”

Forget testing the waters or elaborate plans. All Wen Jin wanted now was to be by Jing Feizuo’s side.

Closing her eyes, Wen Jin pictured Jing Feizuo. The image of her crescent-shaped eyes made her smile, but the corners of her mouth immediately drooped under a wave of bitterness, leaving only a sigh.

Jing Feizuo felt like she was coming down with something.

Her weakened immune system from her period, combined with jet lag after returning home, had been the perfect storm. The bone-chilling rain after her morning visit to the cemetery proved to be the final blow.

When she woke from her afternoon nap, the searing pain in her throat confirmed her suspicions.

Refusing to succumb to this random illness, Jing Feizuo forced herself to work through the afternoon, trying to alleviate her discomfort with medication and frantic hydration.

But illness strikes like an avalanche. When the thermometer flashed 39°C, Jing Feizuo finally realized that once the symptoms had surfaced, all resistance was futile.

She turned off the lights before nine o’clock, curled up in bed, her limbs icy cold while her head burned as if roasting over a fire. Her throat felt parched, as if stuffed with gravel, each swallow bringing unbearable pain.

Half-asleep, she vaguely thought about getting up for water, but the moment her feet touched the floor, her knees buckled, nearly sending her crashing onto the carpet. She gritted her teeth and braced herself against the bedside table, her fingertips brushing against the icy glass of a water cup, but she lacked the strength to even lift it.

Giving up, she collapsed back onto the bed, burying her face in the pillow.

Meanwhile, in the living room, the sound of the front door opening echoed. Wen Jin stepped inside; though it wasn’t late, the apartment was pitch-black.

She switched on the lights and called out tentatively, “Honey?”

No response.

Wen Jin raised her voice, “Jing Feizuo?”

Still silence.

Her heart leaped into her throat. Dropping her suitcase and without even removing her coat or shoes, she rushed toward the bedroom.

Pushing open the bedroom door, the warm glow of the bedside nightlight revealed a scene that shattered her heart into a million pieces.

Jing Feizuo lay completely submerged in the blankets, her long hair tangled across the pillow, her cheeks flushed with an unnatural crimson. Her eyes were closed, her brow furrowed, and her breathing shallow and rapid, as if trapped in a nightmare she couldn’t escape.

Wen Jin hurried to the bedside, pressing her palm against Jing Feizuo’s forehead. The burning heat made her breath catch in her throat.

Sensing the movement, Jing Feizuo forced her eyes open, her blurry gaze slowly focusing on Wen Jin’s face. Her voice raspy, she asked, “Why are you back? Didn’t you just leave this morning?”

Wen Jin didn’t answer. She picked up the thermometer and took Jing Feizuo’s temperature. The reading flashed red, making her eyelid twitch. She turned to the bathroom and wrung out a cold, wet towel.

“Thirty-nine point eight degrees,” she said, placing the icy towel on Jing Feizuo’s feverish forehead. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Jing Feizuo turned her face away. “You were on a business trip anyway. It’s just a fever.”

She didn’t want to admit that during those delirious hours, she had considered calling Wen Jin but ultimately hadn’t pressed the call button.

Her throat ached terribly, yet she stubbornly added, “I can take care of myself.”

Wen Jin was about to reply when Jing Feizuo was suddenly seized by a violent coughing fit. Wen Jin immediately helped her sit up, rhythmically patting her back. The intensity of the coughing tore at Wen Jin’s heart.

She held a cup of water to Jing Feizuo’s lips. “Sip this to soothe your throat.”

Jing Feizuo hesitated for a moment, but ultimately obeyed and swallowed. The warm water, lightly sweetened with honey, slid down her burning throat, offering a sliver of relief.

“Have you taken any medicine?” Wen Jin asked.

Jing Feizuo nodded. “I had some cold medicine this afternoon.”

“How long have you had a fever?”

Jing Feizuo’s voice drifted through the air. “It probably started after dinner.”

Wen Jin’s brow furrowed deeply. She hurried out of the bedroom and returned less than a minute later with a medical kit.

“Take this fever reducer,” she coaxed, holding out a pill to the person in bed.

As the bitter taste of the pill spread across the back of her tongue, Jing Feizuo felt an unprecedented sense of reassurance.

But the medicine hadn’t taken effect yet. Jing Feizuo could feel her body temperature continuing to rise.

Wen Jin replaced the lukewarm ice towel with a freshly soaked and wrung-out one. When the new towel touched her forehead, Jing Feizuo flinched slightly. Wen Jin immediately lightened her touch. “Too cold?”

Jing Feizuo’s words were barely a whisper. “No, it feels good.”

Wen Jin adjusted the towel’s position and began wiping the sweat from Jing Feizuo’s body with another damp cloth. Sensing the person beneath her hands trembling with discomfort, she almost instinctively pulled Jing Feizuo into her arms.