I just parked my car, for heaven's sake

After hanging up the phone, everything was put back in its original place.

However, Old Yang remained standing where he was.

Lin Mo glanced at Old Yang and immediately pulled him back to the rocking chair under the banyan tree.

Old Wang next door mostly thought Old Yang was suffering from dementia—forgetting what he had done or what he was about to do, only to suddenly snap back to clarity.

He sighed and looked at Lin Mo.

"Young man, I’ll leave Old Yang to you. I’m going back to check on my own family."

With that, he turned and left. After all, at their age, some things were better left unexplored, and there wasn’t much he could do to help anyway.

Old Yang sank into the creaking rocking chair, his spirit seemingly drained, his cloudy eyes filled with confusion.

He let out a dry, hoarse sigh.

"Tell me, do I really have dementia?"

Lin Mo didn’t even look up.

"Old Yang, when did you call me this week to ask me to come pick up the vacuum tubes over the weekend?"

"Wednesday," Old Yang replied without hesitation.

Mentioning this, his thoughts immediately sharpened.

"I remember it clearly. That day, a batch of overseas goods had just arrived—all old, rare items.

I specifically saved a bag of Russian-made tubes for you, thinking you’d love them, so I gave you a call."

After saying this, Old Yang seemed to perk up, his back straightening slightly.

Only then did Lin Mo raise his eyes and nod.

"See? You remember Wednesday’s details better than your own ledger. That’s not dementia." He paused, his tone dead serious. "This is... hypnosis."

Lin Mo’s grave words startled Old Yang.

"Don’t spout nonsense to scare me! Hypnosis? If someone had that skill, wouldn’t they use it on movie stars or young girls? Why bother with an old man like me?"

Lin Mo scoffed. "How do you know they haven’t? But after hypnotizing women, wouldn’t they need a wealthy backer too?"

He counted on his fingers.

"You live alone, own a shop—solitary and well-off. If not you, who else? You sold your entire precious set of equipment just like that. If that’s not hypnosis, what is?

Or, to put it in more superstitious terms, you might’ve been bewitched by something.

And you just called your son—he’s not in debt. Dementia doesn’t make people act erratic."

As absurd as it sounded, to someone of the older generation, especially when hearing it from a trusted source, it made a strange kind of sense.

After all, he’d never shown signs of forgetfulness before.

Not long after, a black luxury sedan pulled up.

Liu Zheng stepped out, while Old Bai, the driver, went to find parking.

"So, what’s the issue this time?" Liu Zheng’s gaze locked onto Lin Mo as he strode over.

Lin Mo didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he introduced Old Yang first.

"Old Yang, this is Officer Liu Zheng. He’s currently investigating a case that’s... somewhat similar to your situation."

Liu Zheng cooperated smoothly, pulling out his badge and holding it up for Old Yang to see.

"Take a look, Uncle. I’m an undercover detective. Lin Mo mentioned your situation might be connected to my case, so I came to check."

Old Yang squinted but couldn’t make out the small print. Still, the badge’s leather casing and embossed national emblem were impeccably crafted, weighty and official. Combined with Lin Mo’s credibility, most of his doubts vanished.

"Officer Liu," Old Yang greeted, rubbing his temples. "But I... I can’t remember many details. It’s like I just woke from a dream. I have no idea why I sold those treasures."

As he spoke, he absentmindedly reached into his pocket and felt a stiff piece of paper.

Pulling it out, he found a neatly folded pawn ticket.

Lin Mo took it, unfolding it to reveal bold, clear handwriting:

"One audio set—pawned for 120,000."

Liu Zheng leaned in for a look and sucked in a sharp breath.

"120,000 for a sound system?"

He whipped his head toward Lin Mo. "The one at your place—"

Lin Mo shrugged, unfazed.

"Also from Old Yang, though not that expensive.

This full set, if flawless, would start at 170,000 on the market."

Hearing this, Old Yang’s pride in his collection flared up again, unstoppable.

"Of course it’s worth more! A businessman from Hong Kong once offered 200,000, and I still refused!"

Lin Mo held up the pawn ticket.

"Here’s the question," he said, waving it slightly. "I asked the pawnshop. They paid in cash. So where’s the 120,000 now?"

The question doused Old Yang’s brief resurgence like cold water.

He shook his head blankly, utterly lost.

"Not just the money—I don’t even remember how this ticket got into my pocket."

The trail seemed to have gone cold instantly.

It felt like hitting a dead end.

Just then, Lin Mo caught a subtle movement from Liu Zheng out of the corner of his eye—a slight lift of his hand, fingers twitching imperceptibly.

A faint ripple of energy pulsed through the air, like a pebble disturbing still water.

Liu Zheng’s ability.

Lin Mo had noticed it before. Since then, he’d been careful to suppress any energy fluctuations of his own.

What if there were others with abilities like Liu Zheng’s?

He couldn’t risk exposing traces matching his alter ego, the North Mystic Sage.

If he had to release energy, he’d modify it to something else.

After a moment’s thought, he broke the silence.

"Old Yang, close up shop first. Then let’s check your place. There might be clues there."

"My place?" Old Yang hesitated, still confused.

But Lin Mo quickly eased his worries.

"Aren’t you worried your things might’ve already been taken? Do you even remember what your home looked like when you left this morning?"

At that, Old Yang realized he couldn’t recall.

It was like a fog had settled over his mind.

With no other options, Old Yang finally relented. "Alright, I’ll take you there."

Just then, Old Bai returned from parking the car.

"Where to now?"

"Get the car. We’re heading to Old Yang’s place."

Old Bai: "What?! You’re messing with me! I just parked the damn thing!"

Old Yang waved a hand. "No need. My place isn’t far. We can walk."

Old Bai exhaled in relief.