After Abandoning Her, She Discovered That Her Partner Was a Paranoid - Chapter 6

Jing Feizuo acted as if she hadn’t heard. She slowly turned on the faucet, meticulously washed her hands, then pulled out a paper towel and leisurely dried them.

Only after tossing the towel into the trash did she meet Shen Zhiyi’s gaze, her smile radiating detachment. “Miss Shen, you can call me Jing Feizuo.”

This coldness seemed to be what Shen Zhiyi had expected, but she didn’t let it bother her. Instead, she pressed on, “Did you paint Wen Jin?”

Jing Feizuo paused for a few seconds. “That’s none of your business. We’re over.”

Shen Zhiyi refused to back down. “What do you think Wen Jin’s reaction would be if she saw your sketchbook?”

Jing Feizuo remained unfazed by Shen Zhiyi’s provocation. “She respects my privacy.”

Shen Zhiyi let out a snort, as if she’d heard the most absurd joke. “Jing Feizuo, your understanding of your romantic partners remains as superficial as ever. It’s no surprise, really—you didn’t even know Wen Jin and I knew each other.”

She had long abandoned her earlier composure, a strained smile twisting her lips. Before Jing Feizuo could respond, she continued, “I sincerely hope she’s everything you imagine—respectful of your privacy and as magnanimous as I am.”

Jing Feizuo shot Shen Zhiyi a cold glance, unwilling to argue further. She stormed out, leaving Shen Zhiyi alone.

Shen Zhiyi stood before the sink, closing her eyes and chuckling softly. Her shoulders slumped slightly, as if she lacked the energy even for self-mockery.

When Jing Feizuo returned to the private room, Wen Jin was delicately picking up a glistening shrimp puff with silver chopsticks. Sunlight streamed through the carved window lattice, casting intricate patterns on the back of her hand that resembled the links of a chain.

“Try this—it’s quite good,” Wen Jin said, pushing the plate toward Jing Feizuo with feigned casualness. “Shen Zhiyi was worried you’d get lost and went to look for you. Did you see her?”

Jing Feizuo sat down and pierced the flaky crust with her fork. “I saw her just now.”

Sensing Jing Feizuo’s distracted mood, Wen Jin asked, “Are you tired?”

Jing Feizuo forced a smile. “I woke up too early. I just want to go back and catch up on sleep.”

Wen Jin shook her head, her expression a mix of helplessness and affection. “I knew it. I’ll call the driver to take us back to the hotel.”

Just as she reached for her phone, the compartment door slid open gently. Wen Jin, assuming it was Shen Zhiyi returning, rose to greet her old friend, only to find the Tea Server who had served them earlier.

The Tea Server offered an apologetic smile. “I’m so sorry. The owner had an urgent matter that required her immediate attention. She specifically asked me to convey her deepest apologies to both of you, saying she was truly sorry for the rudeness and would personally make it up to you next time.”

With that, she presented two tea cakes tied with red string as a token of apology, the knots still fragrant with tea.

Wen Jin accepted the tea cakes with a soft laugh. “She said she came here to relieve work stress, but it seems her way of relieving stress is to create new stress.”

Jing Feizuo nodded in agreement, casually picking up Wen Jin’s half-empty teacup and taking a sip, almost unconsciously echoing her words. “Yes, whatever business she touches turns to gold. No wonder she’s your classmate.”

“We were just about to leave anyway,” Wen Jin said, glancing sideways at Jing Feizuo, a hint of probing in her eyes. “Quite a coincidence, isn’t it?”

Her casual tone, like a slender thread, quietly wrapped around Jing Feizuo’s nerves.

Jing Feizuo’s heart skipped a beat, her gaze instinctively darting away before she forced herself to meet Wen Jin’s eyes again, a faint smile curving her lips. “Yes.”

Waking up early seemed to have stretched out the day. Jing Feizuo felt she had already accomplished so much, yet when she returned to the hotel, the morning light had barely transitioned into the languid afternoon.

Whether it was the early start or something else, today felt like a rare moment of exhaustion during this trip. The moment she pushed open the room door, she lost all desire to step outside again.

In the end, their lunch plans shifted from a fresh, stir-fried seafood feast at the Seaside Restaurant to a seafood platter delivered by the hotel’s restaurant.

After indulging in the meal, Jing Feizuo lazily settled into the sofa, her fingers idly swiping across her phone screen.

The hotel staff had long since cleared the table, but Wen Jin remained seated, meticulously polishing a dining knife.

The room’s lights were dimmed, and the curtains were half-drawn, allowing a sliver of sunlight to slice through and cast a sharp line of light and shadow across the carpet.

Wen Jin’s phone suddenly chimed, the screen lighting up and piercing the dim room.

Jing Feizuo glanced up briefly before casually lowering her head again, continuing to scroll through her phone.

But then Wen Jin said, “You used to know Shen Zhiyi.”

Her voice was calm, not a question but a statement.

Jing Feizuo’s fingers paused on the screen, the display still frozen on some trivial social media post.

She looked up, meeting Wen Jin’s gaze, a hint of surprise in her voice. “How did you know?”

Wen Jin’s eyes swept across her face, her reply measured. “I could tell.”

Jing Feizuo laughed, the amusement not reaching her eyes. “As expected of President Wen. Your insight into people is truly remarkable.”

Wen Jin saw the playful expression on Jing Feizuo’s face, gauging the impact of her words. She couldn’t decide whether to laugh or be annoyed. Jing Feizuo always operated this way, concealing her sharp edges within her words, maintaining an ambiguous distance that allowed her to retreat at any moment, leaving her true intentions inscrutable.

Wen Jin sighed softly, about to speak when Jing Feizuo continued, “She was my ex-girlfriend. We met at a banquet last year. It was a very brief relationship.”

The air hung still for a moment.

Wen Jin’s expression barely shifted, but the room’s light seemed to suddenly intensify, casting half her face in shadow and obscuring the depths of her gaze.

“I didn’t know you two knew each other,” Jing Feizuo said lightly, her voice as weightless as a feather drifting onto water. “And we broke up ages ago. I don’t feel anything for her anymore.”

Wen Jin closed her eyes tightly for a moment. “But her attitude toward you doesn’t exactly scream ‘no feelings.'”

“You’re overthinking it,” Jing Feizuo shrugged, her tone casual, though she unconsciously tightened her grip on the edge of her phone. “She treats me no differently than a stranger now. You’ve seen it yourself.”

Wen Jin let out a soft laugh.

“Do you want to know how I figured out you two knew each other?” Her gaze fixed on Jing Feizuo’s face. “Once, during a negotiation, Shen Zhiyi was offered a deal she’d been dreaming of, but she still had to pretend not to care. This morning, her restraint was identical to that moment.”

After a few seconds of silence, Jing Feizuo’s tone suddenly shifted, tinged with subtle mockery. “Oh—so you know her quite well, then.”

As she spoke, her lower lip curled slightly, as if in feigned grievance, while her lowered lashes concealed the emotions in her eyes.

Wen Jin, utterly impressed by Jing Feizuo’s ability to turn the tables, took a deep breath. Looking at the innocent yet cruel expression on Jing Feizuo’s face, she couldn’t bring herself to be angry.

Finally, Wen Jin exhaled, her tone pointed: “I’ve never been jealous of Lin Xin.”

Jing Feizuo tilted her head, gently shaking Wen Jin’s arm with a hint of playfulness in her voice.

“Then you definitely shouldn’t be jealous of Shen Zhiyi either. The past is the past.” She paused, then added, “I’ve never pried into your past relationships, have I?”

Wen Jin remained silent for a moment, then rubbed her temples, finally conceding defeat. “You’re right.”

Jing Feizuo blinked, then suddenly asked, “Does Shen Zhiyi know you well too?”

Wen Jin gave her a long, meaningful look, a faint smile playing on her lips, but her eyes remained inscrutable. “Guess.”

Jing Feizuo didn’t guess. She closed her eyes, intending to rest, but accidentally drifted off to sleep.

Sleep is a time trap. The extra hours gained from waking up early were swiftly skipped over during her afternoon nap.

When Jing Feizuo woke up, she found herself inexplicably moved to the bed, covered by a soft blanket. She squinted, her consciousness still lingering between dream and reality, hazy and sluggish.

She rolled over, her arm reaching out to empty space.

Wen Jin wasn’t there.

This realization jolted her brain slightly awake. She slowly sat up, her bare feet sinking into the plush carpet.

Drawing back the curtains, the evening light streamed into the room, yet it couldn’t dispel the lingering effects of her long afternoon nap: her throat felt parched, and her head felt as heavy as if it were filled with lead.

Jing Feizuo gulped down a glass of water and stood there for a few minutes, mentally rebooting, before frowning and reaching for her phone on the sofa. Unlocking it with her fingerprint, a message immediately popped up.

It was from Wen Jin, sent two hours earlier: “A project just flew into G City. I’m heading out to handle it temporarily. Text me when you wake up.”

Jing Feizuo couldn’t help but mutter, “The Empire’s affairs truly span the globe.”

After replying to the message, her fingertips hovered over the illuminated screen. A sudden, secret impulse surged within her. With practiced ease, she navigated to a hidden corner of her phone, entered a password, and unlocked an encrypted folder.

The folder opened, its shifting light reflecting across her face. Inside, a dozen faces were neatly arranged on the screen, resembling a miniature photography exhibition. Each photo was a carefully selected “masterpiece.”

Different people, different scenes, different moments—but this one was her favorite.

Jing Feizuo suddenly paused, her fingers gliding across the screen as she selected a newly exported photo from her album: Wen Jin from this morning.

In the frame, the upper half showcased the indigo and orange hues of dawn, while the lower half captured the shimmering, sunlit waves. Wen Jin stood centered in the composition.

Though backlit, Wen Jin’s pupils seemed to have absorbed a sliver of the rising sun’s radiance, her gaze piercing directly into the lens, as if peering into Jing Feizuo’s very soul. A soft, almost indulgent smile curved her lips.

She lingered on the screen, admiring the photo for a long time before finally dragging it into a folder.

Watching it settle into the neat row of images, Jing Feizuo’s lips curved into a faint smile. Her fingertips glided across the screen as she began to scroll through the photos again, one by one. Her heartbeat remained steady, her breathing light and even, as if she were strolling through a meticulously curated exhibition. Each image held a memory, and she was both the curator and the sole audience.

A peculiar sense of excitement surged from the depths of her heart, finally dispelling the lingering drowsiness.

Just then, the door lock clicked open.

Jing Feizuo’s body twitched involuntarily, but she didn’t exit the folder or even lock her phone. She simply lifted her head slowly and looked toward the doorway.

Wen Jin stood in the doorway, holding the paper bag from the dessert shop Jing Feizuo had mentioned earlier. Her gaze settled on Jing Feizuo.

As she removed her suit jacket, she casually asked, “What are you looking at?”

“Your photos,” Jing Feizuo replied, shaking her phone. Her voice was languid yet sincere, the drawn-out syllables sounding almost flirtatious. “Hmm… the meaning of my life.”

The air seemed to freeze between them.