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墨書 Inktalez
"Are you Zhao Dayong?"
The man nodded. "That's me."
Ruan Fuxi replied, "Then I haven't found the wrong person."
With a puzzled expression, Zhao Dayong listened as Ruan Fuxi continued, "I am the daughter of the victim from the traffic accident ten years ago. I would like to understand more about what happened back then."
Upon hearing her words, Zhao Dayong felt a whirlwind of emotions. He felt guilty towards the victim and her family. He had always tried to be an honest person and never imagined that one moment of driving could lead to such a disaster.
Yet, Zhao Dayong also felt wronged; he believed he was a victim of circumstances beyond his control. He couldn’t fathom how he had hit someone that day, as he had no recollection of the incident at all.
To this day, he couldn’t remember what he had done during the accident or even that he had caused someone's death. He wouldn’t have admitted to it if the police hadn’t retrieved surveillance footage proving that it was indeed his car involved in the incident.
During his seven years in prison, his parents had worked odd jobs in their sixties to support his two children. His wife toiled day and night, waiting for him to return home. Throughout those years, they endured the whispers and judgments from others, making life incredibly difficult for them.
Thinking about his family's struggles over the years left a bitter taste in Zhao Dayong's mouth.
"I’ve already shared everything I know," he said. "What else do you want to understand?"
He felt it was absurd that he had spent seven years in prison for an accident he couldn’t even remember. It seemed like an endless string of bad luck.
Moreover, he had already stated ten years ago that there was nothing hidden in his account.
Ruan Fuxi nodded. "I understand. I just want to ask if you encountered any strange people or experienced anything unusual before the accident."
Zhao Dayong was at a loss; it had been so long since then that he didn’t see what else there was to ask about.
As he observed Ruan Fuxi's serious expression, Zhao Dayong carefully recalled the events from ten years ago. While he reminisced, Ruan Fuxi's spiritual energy swept over him, detecting an anomaly in his soul—something had been tampered with in the past. This only strengthened Ruan Fuxi's suspicions.
Zhao Dayong furrowed his brow and spoke up, "I really can't remember any strange people."
Not discouraged, Ruan Fuxi pressed on, "Did you bleed or get a haircut that day?"
To control someone, it often involves using their birth date, blood, nails, and hair.
Zhao Dayong thought for a moment before responding, "Now that you mention it, I do remember something. I got a haircut that day at the barber shop, and the stylist accidentally cut my ear, causing quite a bit of bleeding."
The reason Zhao Dayong recalled this so vividly was that the stylist had expressed concern about being scolded by the boss and privately negotiated to compensate him with a decent sum of money.
Ruan Fuxi asked, "Had you seen that stylist before?"
Zhao Dayong replied, "No, he said he was new."
Ruan Fuxi acknowledged this information. Just then, a cough echoed from inside the house.
Zhao Dayong continued, "I've told you what I know. My father is unwell, and I need to take care of him. Do you have any more questions?"
Ten years ago, he had a decent job, but now he was just a criminal with a record, unable to find good work and struggling financially at home.
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