Chapter 14: Excitement

~A Place to Sit and Shake Your Arms and Legs~

Zhao Xiangwan softened her tone to lower Feng Ma’s guard. “Feng Ma, what’s your name?”

Surprised by the question, Feng Ma hesitated.

[I’ve worked here so long that everyone calls me Aunt Feng. I almost forgot my own name.]

Ji Jinmao, impatient, snapped, “Just answer the police!”

Feng Ma flinched. “Feng Hongying.”

Zhao Xiangwan continued, “You said you caught a cold. When did it start?”

Feng Hongying was surprised by Zhao Xiangwan’s questions. Shouldn’t the police be more concerned about Ji Zhao’s whereabouts? What did her name and illness have to do with it?

However, with Ji Jinmao watching closely, she didn’t dare to be careless. “I started feeling unwell yesterday, dizzy and with a headache.”

Zhao Xiangwan asked, “Didn’t you tell Mr. Lu? Why didn’t you ask for leave to rest?”

Feng Hongying smiled bitterly. “My boss trusts me, making me a top-level manager. I earn 50 yuan a day—how could I dare take leave with such a high salary?”

Zhao Xiangwan’s calm but intense gaze unsettled Feng Hongying. She had just relaxed, but now she grew nervous, lowering her head and pursing her lips.

[This officer seems sharp. Did she notice something? No, I can’t say anything. If President Ji finds out I upset Ji Zhao, making him leave the terrace and go inside, I’ll lose my job. President Ji treats Ji Zhao like a treasure, shielding him from discomfort. But he can’t control him forever. Without President Ji around, anyone could take advantage of Ji Zhao’s naive nature. What I did was nothing… yes, nothing at all.]

Despite mentally preparing herself, when she met Zhao Xiangwan’s gaze again, guilt crept in.

Zhao Xiangwan asked, “You had a cold and stayed in the house?”

Feng Hongying: “Yes.”

Zhao Xiangwan: “Why lie?”

Feng Hongying: “Officer, you can’t accuse an innocent person. I took cold medicine, felt sleepy, and stayed in my room all day. I didn’t go out.”

Xu Songling, knowing Zhao Xiangwan never accused someone without reason, scolded her. “Feng Hongying, lying to the police has consequences! Tell us the truth.”

With his stern face and sharp eyes, Xu Songling looked intimidating, making Feng Hongying tremble.

Zhao Xiangwan pressed on, “What did you say to Ji Zhao?”

Feng Hongying: “I… I don’t know what you mean.”

[How does she know I spoke to Ji Zhao? I was sick, feverish, and uncomfortable. I saw Ji Zhao sitting quietly on the terrace through the window, and it annoyed me. The poor work tirelessly for three meals a day, while the rich do nothing and still receive endless service.]

Zhao Xiangwan’s amber eyes lightened. “When people are sick, their emotions are fragile. There’s nothing wrong with talking to Ji Zhao, but concealing his whereabouts is a crime!”

Feng Hongying stepped back in panic, gripping her chest. “No! I don’t know when Ji Zhao left.”

[Ji Zhao doesn’t understand the world. He’s 21 but treated like fragile glass. He’s not allowed out or to make friends—just drawing and daydreaming all day. He’s good-looking but useless. In my hometown, no girl would marry a man like him! I only repeated a story I heard from Luo Yihui about a foolish landlord’s son. Who knew Ji Zhao would get upset? I did nothing wrong. When his father was alive, he lived comfortably. Now that he’s gone, Ji Zhao won’t survive long—too many predators around him. Even Duan Yong and Luo Yihui aren’t good people.]

A foolish landlord’s son?

Zhao Xiangwan, raised in the countryside, understood the reference—a story used to mock wealthy but clueless young men. The details didn’t matter; finding Ji Zhao before something happened was the priority.

With that in mind, she fired questions at Feng Hongying rapidly, not giving her a chance to respond.

Zhu Feipeng, watching, was amazed. Zhao Xiangwan was using micro-expression behavioral interrogation! Excited, he didn’t dare blink.

“Where did Ji Zhao go—back inside or downstairs?”

“So, he went inside first. Did he go to the studio, bedroom, or hall?”

As Feng Hongying’s eyes flickered, Zhao Xiangwan caught the key detail.

“Ji Zhao went to the studio. Did Duan Yong follow him? Yes or no?”

“Oh, no. Where did Duan Yong go? Guarding the door or leaving?”

“So, Duan Yong wasn’t with Ji Zhao. Did he stay upstairs or go down?”

“He went downstairs. Where did he get the key? Stole it or was given it?”

“You gave him the key!”

[How does she know I saw Duan Yong sneak downstairs? I gave him the key, but he forced me! He caught me stealing bird nests from the kitchen and blackmailed me! That bastard—he got someone killed!]

Feng Hongying grew paler, sweating. She stayed silent, yet the officer in front of her knew everything!

Zhao Xiangwan suddenly raised her voice: “Why did Duan Yong go downstairs? Speak!”

Terrified, Feng Hongying stammered, “D-Duan Yong and Liang Dongrong, the room attendant on the 11th floor, were having an affair. They sneaked downstairs whenever they could.”

Ji Jinmao’s face darkened. He paid all these people, yet none were reliable! He turned to Lu Manning. “Go to the 11th floor and find them.”

Understanding the urgency, Lu Manning hurried off in her high heels.

Feng Hongying’s eyes darted around, and the extreme tension made her dizzy head clearer.

[When Ji Zhao entered the studio, he would stay there for three or four hours. Duan Yong, not wanting to wait for him, immediately left as soon as Ji Zhao entered. He was so impatient that he didn’t even wait for Luo Yihui to return. I was foolish too. I knew Ji Zhao wasn’t normal, so why did I provoke him with “the stupid son of a landlord”? If I hadn’t said that, he wouldn’t have gone to the studio. If he didn’t go to the studio, Duan Yong wouldn’t have run off. If Duan Yong hadn’t left, the stair railing wouldn’t have been opened. If the railing hadn’t been opened, Ji Zhao couldn’t have gotten out…]

Feng Hongying helped Zhao Xiangwan clarify her thoughts.

Zhao Xiangwan turned to Xu Songling and explained, “After Luo Yihui left, Feng Hongying’s words upset Ji Zhao. Ji Zhao then left the terrace and headed straight for the studio. Duan Yong, thinking it was fine, left the top floor and went upstairs to meet Liang Dongrong. To make it easier for him to return, he simply hung a padlock on the fence.”

Xu Songling understood and nodded, “Well done!”

Zhao Xiangwan continued, “However, I don’t understand why Ji Zhao, who was supposed to be painting, came out and followed Duan Yong downstairs. Duan Yong locked his head and hung it for a while. After Ji Zhao opened the fence, everything was returned to its original state. Clearly, Ji Zhao is a disciplined person.”

Ji Jinmao clenched his teeth and looked very displeased.

Ji Zhao refused to communicate with others, living in his own isolated world. Ji Jinmao and his wife tried many ways and consulted various doctors. After much effort, Ji Zhao became recognized as a genius painter, but Ji Jinmao knew that his son was different from others.

Usually, his wife accompanies Ji Zhao, but recently Luo Danfeng had a gynecological surgery and needed to recover at home, so she called Luo Yihui, who had been by her side, to help.

A personal assistant, a bodyguard, a butler, a direct elevator, and a locked staircase—Ji Jinmao thought he had arranged everything perfectly. After the thank-you banquet for the art exhibition, he planned to go upstairs and take his son home.

But… it’s just such a coincidence!

Luo Yihui failed at a critical moment and had to go to the toilet due to a stomachache;

Feng Ma encouraged Ji Zhao to leave the terrace and enter the studio;

Duan Yong thought Ji Zhao wouldn’t come out after entering the studio, so he opened the staircase railing and went to the eleventh floor to find his lover;

Ji Zhao, unsure of why he didn’t paint, followed Duan Yong downstairs.

Ji Jinmao grabbed Feng Hongying’s collar furiously, his chubby cheeks trembling, and his voice strained between his teeth: “What did you say?! Why provoke Ji Zhao?” She must have said something, otherwise Ji Zhao wouldn’t have entered and left the studio so quickly.

Feng Hongying, already afraid of Ji Jinmao, remained silent, even as her neck was strangled, and she struggled to breathe.

Ji Jinmao, in his anger, tightened his grip with a fierce glare.

Zhu Feipeng, fearing someone might get hurt, pulled the two apart.

Feng Hongying collapsed to the floor, gasping and coughing.

She must have said something to make Ji Zhao upset! Ji Jinmao glared at Feng Hongying, and suddenly a thought flashed in his mind: Yes, when Ji Zhao was a child, he would climb a tree whenever he felt sad. He would sit on a branch, stretch his arms, swing his feet, and feel free. That was the only way he’d feel happy.

The thought struck him, and Ji Jinmao became excited, asking loudly, “Where are the big trees? Where can I find a place in the hotel to sit and stretch my arms and legs?”

There are a few small trees on the top floor of the hotel and bonsai in the lobby, but they aren’t big enough to sit on.

The hotel is surrounded by glass walls, making it impossible to climb.

The guest room lacked air circulation, which Ji Zhao disliked.

Ji Jinmao appeared to have an idea but couldn’t recall it and became frustrated, running around anxiously, grabbing his hair.

The people around him were confused, unsure of how to comfort him.

Only Zhao Xiangwan could hear his thoughts, and his mind was racing.

Ji Zhao prefers being outdoors, not indoors. But aside from the top floor, the hotel is covered with glass curtain walls, making it impossible to access fresh air anywhere else.

He wasn’t on the top floor; he was downstairs.

He was looking for a place where he could stretch his arms and legs.

Wait, stretching his arms and legs?

An idea suddenly struck Zhao Xiangwan, and he shouted, “The billboard!”