His eyes were beautiful—clear, clean, and focused. The black pupils, like black holes, absorbed all the light, making people feel happy just by looking at them.

Zhao Xiangwan slowed down and spoke clearly: “Try it, paint the grass green.”

Once willing to communicate, Ji Zhao was very obedient. He blinked, and the small patch of grass instantly turned green.

In the black-and-white world, a bright green spot appeared. Even if it was small, Zhao Xiangwan felt a sense of accomplishment.

Ji Jinmao didn’t understand and quietly nudged Xu Songling. “What does that mean? Does Zhao Xiangwan always talk like this?”

Xu Songling glared at him. “People talk differently. What’s the problem?” Ji Jinmao shrank back, not daring to speak.

After silencing Ji Jinmao, Xu Songling remembered the main issue. “Take him to Tianranju Hotel and gather all the waiters who saw Weng Pingfang’s lover. Let Ji Zhao draw a portrait.”

Zhao Xiangwan signaled Zhu Feipeng to drive and turned to Ji Zhao. “Come with us.”

Ji Zhao had a good impression of Zhao Xiangwan.

No one understood his panic or helplessness, but Zhao Xiangwan did. Listening to her didn’t seem bad.

“If you agree, nod.”

Ji Zhao nodded.

Zhao Xiangwan felt like she was caring for a neighbor’s child. Fortunately, this child was obedient and not annoying.

Ji Jinmao, standing aside, felt emotional. Professor Hanks was right—Ji Zhao needed to interact with more people. He already knew to nod in agreement!

Zhao Xiangwan grabbed paper and pen from the filing cabinet, took Ji Zhao’s drawing folder from Ji Jinmao, and headed to Tianranju Hotel with Ji Zhao, Zhu Feipeng, and He Mingyu.

As soon as casually dressed Ji Zhao entered, the waiters’ attention was drawn to him. Excited, they surrounded him, openly admiring him.

[Does the Public Security Bureau have such a handsome officer?] [Prettier than movie stars!] [Oh my god, his skin is whiter than mine, and his eyes shine like stars.]

When young women gather, their excitement naturally turns into chatter.

“Is he a police officer?” “Where are you from? How old are you?” “Officer, are you married?”

The previously quiet hotel conference room became crowded and noisy.

The wind began to blow in Ji Zhao’s world.

Snow lifted from the ground, covering the exposed green, making the tiny grass patch disappear.

Zhao Xiangwan sensed something was wrong. She stepped forward, blocking the waiters with a cold expression. “Don’t interfere. One at a time!”

Zhu Feipeng also extended his hand, shielding Zhao Xiangwan and Ji Zhao. “Step back!”

The two young officers’ stern demeanor startled the waiters, who quickly backed off.

The strong scent of cosmetics faded, and the little skylark in Ji Zhao’s world peeked out again.

Zhao Xiangwan found the skylark hiding in Ji Zhao’s world quite cute and smiled slightly. “Don’t let the wind blow. Isn’t it cold?”

[I don’t want it to.]

Hearing Ji Zhao’s inner voice, Zhao Xiangwan realized he couldn’t control the wind in his mind. She comforted him, “It’s okay. I’ll stop the wind.”

Ji Zhao paused, then nodded slightly.

Zhao Xiangwan’s smile deepened.

If you agree, just nod. Ji Zhao was learning quickly.

After calming him, Zhao Xiangwan handed him paper and a pen. “Draw what they describe, okay?”

Drawing was Ji Zhao’s instinct. He nodded, secured the paper on the board, and spun the pencil between his fingers.

His slender, pale fingers had strong joints, and the pen seemed alive in his hands.

“The man is in his forties, tall, with long arms and legs, well-dressed, and very clean.”

With a few strokes, a tall and reserved man took shape.

The waiter exclaimed, “Yes, that’s right! He’s well-maintained and hasn’t changed much.”

“He has a long face, long eyes, and slightly upturned eye corners.”

A pair of sharp, wrinkled phoenix eyes appeared on the paper.

“His forehead is broad—he looks smart.”

With a few more strokes, a wide forehead and a widow’s peak were added.

“His lips are thin, and he purses them when silent.”

With narrowed eyes and pursed lips, the man appeared elegant yet reserved.

Half an hour later, Weng Pingfang’s lover—who met her weekly—came to life on paper.

Tall, phoenix eyes, thin lips, broad forehead, middle-aged, official-looking…

Zhu Feipeng pointed at the portrait. “Isn’t this the man I saw at the Four Seasons Hotel?”

He Mingyu also recognized him and turned to Zhao Xiangwan. “Do you know him? Who is he?”

Zhao Qingyun had kept her face partially hidden at the hotel. If not, the employees would have immediately noticed her resemblance to Zhao Xiangwan.

Zhao Xiangwan frowned.

Zhao Qingyun was a married man and a provincial party committee official. He was well-known, so his affair had to be kept secret. No wonder he disguised himself so thoroughly.

However, meeting Weng Pingfang once a week was too frequent. No matter how well he covered himself, different people would notice various features—his forehead, his eyes, his nose, and mouth. Eventually, his entire face would be recognized.

Zhao Qingyun probably didn’t realize someone like Ji Zhao existed—someone who could sketch a vivid portrait from a few descriptions.

If Zhao Qingyun was the man meeting Weng Pingfang, was he the murderer?

If so, why did he kill? Was it a crime of passion after a quarrel, or was it premeditated to sever an illicit relationship?

If not, who was the murderer? A business rival? Weng Pingfang’s husband? Someone else?

Countless thoughts raced through Zhao Xiangwan’s mind, leaving her confused.

Though she disliked Zhao Qingyun, the idea that he might be a murderer unsettled her.

Ji Zhao seemed to sense her emotions. He tapped the back of her hand lightly with his pencil.

She felt a gentle touch, and in her mind, she saw a little skylark perched on a branch, chirping as if asking, “What’s wrong? Are you unhappy?”

For some reason, Zhao Xiangwan suddenly felt calm.

“I know this person. His name is Zhao Qingyun. He is a deputy department-level cadre of the provincial party committee.”