Chapter Fifty-Eight: Memory Interference

Chapter Fifty-Eight

Upon hearing this, Zhao Fusheng fell into deep thought.

For a moment, the room was so silent that even the fall of a needle could be heard.

Fan Bisi, County Magistrate Pang, and the others, seeing her remain silent, instinctively held their breaths, fearful of disturbing her train of thought.

Piecing together the timeline from Wu Dajing’s words, Zhao Fusheng managed to form a clear sequence: Wu Dajing and Wu Datong had grown up together as brothers. Wu Datong's family was poor, and he remained unmarried well into adulthood, only having a son, Wu Liren, after turning thirty. Perhaps after gaining a son, he ventured out to seek his fortune.

In these times, even leaving a small village for the county town was seen as exposure to the wider world. Wu Datong’s luck was good; he found a worthy employer, prospered, and eventually returned home in fine clothes, taking several concubines for his son.

From then on, this branch of the Wu family began to stand out in Goutou Village, and Wu Liren was elected as the village chief, indicating their status as one of the wealthier households.

After Wu Liren took wives and concubines, his family grew quickly—he fathered many children over the years, but curiously, all of them were sons; not a single daughter.

At this point, Zhao Fusheng focused her attention on the Wu family, not because a vengeful spirit had appeared, but because a strange and unsettling air pervaded the story.

Having sorted through her thoughts, she turned her gaze back to Wu Dajing.

“I understand the situation with Wu Datong’s family. Continue with the story of Wu Lifu and Wu Jiu,” she said, then waved her hand, “But spare me the details of their petty grievances.”

Even if Wu Dajing didn’t explain, Zhao Fusheng could guess that their quarrels were simply the accumulation of trivial disputes. But since Wu Dajing began the story with their fight and mentioned Wu Liren, it suggested that the bizarre events in the village began after the two sought out the village chief to mediate their argument.

“Did they go to Wu Liren’s house and discover something amiss?” she inquired.

Wu Dajing started in fright and collapsed to the floor, only regaining his composure after a long pause to exclaim, “Milady, could you be a deity descended to earth? Your guess is spot on.”

He was utterly convinced, speaking with fervor, “Those two have been squabbling for days, and everyone in the village knows it and enjoys the spectacle. Then, about half a month ago, they met by chance in the field, argued, and fought so fiercely that there was almost bloodshed. Some villagers dragged them to the village chief’s house, hoping he would mediate.”

At this, fear crept onto Wu Dajing’s face. “I heard the commotion outside and followed. From a distance, I saw the main gate of the chief’s house tightly shut.”

At his words, Zhao Fusheng sensed something was wrong. From the original host’s memories, she knew that in these poverty-stricken and backward times, theft was common. Still, if someone was at home, rural people rarely bolted their doors—unless the entire family was leaving, then the door would be firmly locked.

Yet on a bright day, with so many people in Wu Liren’s household—over twenty sons—there should have been no fear of ordinary thieves.

“Was it just closed, or was it locked?” Zhao Fusheng pressed.

Wu Dajing immediately understood her meaning and praised her insight. “It was merely closed, not locked! The family didn’t seem to be out; the door was barred from within, not locked from the outside.” He added, “Even if someone needed to go out, there were servants at home, and with so many sons, it would be impossible for no one to stay behind. Why lock the door?”

“Did you encounter something supernatural after that?” Fan Bisi, sensing the oddity, prompted.

“No—” Wu Dajing’s face twisted in terror. “It would’ve been better if we saw a ghost, but we didn’t see anything at all.”

County Magistrate Pang felt utterly lost. He instinctively glanced at the elderly man beside him, who was blushing fiercely, his hands clenched tight.

Everyone had hoped to use this ghost case to test Zhao Fusheng’s reaction, and so far, they’d only gleaned an outline: the village chief’s family in Goutou Village had encountered a haunting, the situation was dire, but, unexpectedly, there was yet no sign of a ghost.

Were they not within the Demon Suppression Bureau, County Magistrate Pang would have flown into a rage and had Wu Dajing thrown into prison for disrespect.

He held his breath, dreading Zhao Fusheng’s anger.

Yet, as he fretted, Zhao Fusheng calmly asked, “So what did you see next?”

Her tone was even, showing no sign of anger at being misled.

County Magistrate Pang felt immense relief and looked at her, catching her gaze, which was tinged with a faint smile. He felt as though she could see straight through him and, abashed, lowered his head.

“The villagers knocked for ages, but no one responded, so everyone started speculating,” Wu Dajing continued.

At that point, the people of Goutou Village no longer cared about the quarrel between Wu Lifu and Wu Jiu; their attention turned to whether something had happened to the Wu family.

Including servants, there were dozens in that house, and yet not a single one had stirred, even with all the ruckus outside. Surely, even the heaviest sleeper would’ve been awakened.

After much discussion, they began to suspect that the chief’s family had been robbed during the night.

“These days, it’s said that kidnappers have drugs that can be slipped into well water, making people lose consciousness without realizing it,” Wu Dajing explained. “The Wu family has a well—maybe someone drugged it, and the whole household passed out.”

“That’s just speculation,” Zhao Fusheng replied coolly.

Wu Dajing quickly agreed, then, with a hint of pride, added, “At that point, someone suggested I come up with a solution.”

He was rather pleased to mention this. Being an elder of status in the village and a childhood friend of the chief’s father, the villagers naturally looked to him when trouble struck the Wu family.

“What did you suggest?” Zhao Fusheng prompted.

“I thought…” He hesitated, his cloudy eyes flicking nervously, “I was worried about something happening to the Wu family—they’d just had a funeral not long before. If another tragedy struck, what then? So I proposed having several strong men force the door open to see what was going on inside.”

The old man clearly knew how to protect himself.

Zhao Fusheng couldn’t help but laugh, “And what did you find?”

“The house was empty!” Wu Dajing’s smile faded, terror resurfacing in his eyes. Remembering that scene, he shuddered. Before Zhao Fusheng could ask further, he repeated, “The Wu family was gone. The whole place was deserted. No one was there!”

County Magistrate Pang and the others were stunned into silence.

The old man had rambled for so long, but at last, he had reached the heart of the matter.

“No one?”

Zhao Fusheng frowned. She was no expert in criminal investigation, but she knew enough to ask, “Did you check if any other doors or windows showed signs of being opened?”

The Wu family’s estate must have been large, with more than one entrance. At first, the case sounded bizarre, but since there was no sign of a vengeful ghost, it couldn’t yet be ruled out as a man-made event—she needed to eliminate other possibilities one by one.

“That—I didn’t really check—” Wu Dajing admitted, glancing nervously at County Magistrate Pang and the elderly man beside him. “We’re just simple villagers, not skilled in such matters—”

County Magistrate Pang realized that he’d come unprepared. Flustered, he replied, “I’ll immediately send officers to Goutou Village to investigate and report back to you, Milady.”

“No rush,” Zhao Fusheng said, shaking her head.

Confronted with a possible ghost case, she displayed remarkable patience and composure.

Her instincts told her this case was far from ordinary.

The Wu family was shrouded in mystery; there might not be a vengeful ghost yet, but it clearly had some connection to the supernatural—County Magistrate Pang had not misdirected the case.

“Wu Datong, Wu Liren, seven or eight wives and concubines, over twenty sons…” she listed the key figures in her mind, setting aside Wu Lifu and Wu Jiu, whose quarrels seemed unrelated for now.

“It feels like something is missing…” She sensed she had overlooked something.

Zhao Fusheng prided herself on her sharp memory and always prepared a mental draft before taking action, ensuring she was methodical and minimized mistakes.

Since her rebirth, especially with these ghost cases involving her very survival, she had become even more cautious. Normally, she would not forget a single detail.

Perhaps it was the influence of the vengeful spirit’s possession—her rebirth had not only improved her physical strength but seemed to have sharpened her memory. Why, then, did something elude her now?

Realizing something was off, she stopped fixating on what she’d forgotten and instead recalled another incident: when Wu Dajing recounted the events earlier, he, too, had shown signs of confusion, as if he’d lost some memory.

That indirect recollection brought clarity, and she suddenly remembered the missing piece: Wu Datong’s son!

“Wu Datong had two sons,” Zhao Fusheng said, a smile spreading across her face. “Besides Wu Liren, he had a younger son.”

As she spoke, she felt an itch behind her ear and reached up to scratch, discovering a scab, roughly the size of a fingernail, had formed there. She picked at it and peeled it off.

The wound must have only recently healed, and removing the scab brought a brief, stinging pain.

She rubbed her ear, puzzled as to when she’d been hurt. The only time she’d fought recently was with the Beggar Ghost in the alley—perhaps she’d been injured then.

Fortunately, the wound was minor, and after removing the scab, no blood appeared. She didn’t give it much thought. She intended to flick the scab to the floor but, on a strange impulse, unfolded it.

This, after all, was evidence from her first encounter with a ghost—how could she discard it so casually?

With that thought, she tucked the piece of scab between the pages of a file, using it as a “bookmark.”

After this, she looked up at the others, who all wore blank expressions.

“My lady, what son?” they asked in confusion.

From their reactions, Zhao Fusheng was now certain something supernatural was at play.

It appeared that Wu Dajing’s lapse of memory was no accident, but the result of a sinister force.

He had grown up alongside Wu Datong and knew him intimately, yet when it came to Wu Datong’s offspring, he seemed unable to recall.

Not only Wu Dajing, but even those in the Demon Suppression Bureau—who had just heard her question—now looked equally bewildered when she mentioned Wu Datong’s other child.

They might not respect her from the heart, but she knew they were in awe of her and would not dare to feign ignorance on a ghost case. The only explanation was that some terrifying power had erased their memories of Wu Datong’s younger son.

Thus, the crux of the mystery lay with this “younger son” of Wu Datong.

Through her conversation with Wu Dajing, Zhao Fusheng quickly identified the core issue.

The others still seemed perplexed, but as she looked at Wu Dajing, he, too, struggled with his memory. After a moment, he suddenly exclaimed, “Oh—yes, yes, Wu Datong had another son.”

He seemed embarrassed, tugging at his trousers and rubbing his outer pant leg absently. “Yes, there was another son.”

Zhao Fusheng did not immediately press for details about this younger son, instead shifting to another topic: “So many people could not have vanished in a single night without a sound—unless they left of their own accord. Since you didn’t check the doors and windows, did anyone hear anything unusual the night before?”

“No,” Wu Dajing replied firmly. “The village isn’t large, and my house is close to Wu Liren’s. When there are arguments among the women in his house, I can hear them through the wall.”

He shook his head. “That night, there was no sound at all.”

“What about during the day? Did anyone see members of Wu Liren’s family leave?” Zhao Fusheng asked.

“Also… no,” Wu Dajing replied, less certain this time. But then he added, “But, my lady, it was the busy autumn season. Everyone was occupied with work and not wandering about. The fields were full, and the Wu family is large—if they had left, someone would have noticed.”

But many days had passed, and all sorts of rumors had spread, yet no one in the village claimed to have seen the Wu family depart.