The Memory Manipulator

Chapter Il: The First Crack

In front of the monitoring screen in the third interrogation room of the Municipal Public Security Bureau, Lin Mo stared at the split screen: on the left was the real-time monitoring playback of the banquet hall of the International Conference Center in the neighboring city,and on the right was a blurry figure captured by the convenience store on the west side ofChenxi Square.

Timestamp: October 23, 15:17: 03.

On the left, Zhao Bin, dressed in a sharp dark gray suit, stands in front of the backdrop for the "Regional Economic Development Summit," receiving a microphone. A smile plays on his lips, and as he turns slightly, a bright red guest badge is visibly pinned to his lapel. A flurry of camera flashes erupts from the audience. The image zooms in, and his watch is clearly visible—a silver dial with a black leather strap. The time is synchronized with the monitoring system: 15:17.

On the right, a figure wearing a dark blue jacket and standing about 1.75 meters tall is seen rushing out of the convenience store's surveillance camera range. The jacket appears almost black under the cheap camera's rendering, but a faint reflection is visible at the cuff — the reflection of a silver watch strap.

"Pause," Lin Mo said.

Technician Xiao Wang pressed the space bar. The image froze on that reflection.

"Can it be enhanced?"

"Give it a try." Xiao Wang's fingers flew across the keyboard, adjusting contrast, sharpening, and zooming in on specific areas. The pixels gradually pieced together a shape: it was the outline of a watch, the texture of the strap material — metal links , not leather.

"Keep releasing it."

On the left, Zhao Bin begins to speak, his gestures forceful. The leather watch strap on his right wrist bends slightly with the movement.

On the right side of the screen, the figure disappears at the edge of the monitor. In the last frame, the left hand wearing a watch touches the wall — the left wrist.

Lin Mo leaned back in his chair. The conference room air conditioner emitted a low hum, creating an odd duet with the ticking of the pocket watch in his pocket. He took out the paper crane that he had unfolded and then refolded; this time the wings were symmetrical, but the head was tilted to one side.

"Found it," Xiao Li pushed open the door, holding a freshly printed document. "Zhao Bin's completed itinerary during the summit. From 3:00 PM to 3:30 PM, he was in the main venue, with at least seven photos and videos from different angles as evidence. After 3:30 PM, he entered the sub-forums and stayed until 5:00 PM. He went to the restroom twice during that time, but each time for no more than four minutes. From the conference center to ChenxiSquare, even by speeding, it would take an hour and forty minutes one way."

"Therefore, it's physically impossible," Lin Mo said.

"Unless he can create clones."

"Or," Lin Mo placed the paper crane in front of the monitor screen, casting its shadow onto the frozen image of his back, "someone created a 'clone' for him."

The meeting room fell silent for a few seconds. Only the soft hum of the computer fans could be heard.

"Captain Lin," Xiao Li hesitated for a moment, "Those three witnesses..should we question them separately again? Maybe one of them is lying?"

"It's not a lie," Lin Mo shook his head. "It's that their memories have been standardized."

He pulled up electronic versions of the three testimonies and projected them side-by-side onto the large screen. The three texts almost overlapped, with the differences highlighted:

Chen Jianguo (retired teacher): "After knocking over the flowerpot, the murderer looked back once and then continued running."

Li Wen (supermarket cashier): "He knocked over the flowerpots, didn't stop , and just ran away."

Zhang Hao (truck driver): "He almost tripped over the flowerpot and stumbled before running away."

"Look here." Lin Mo circled the key sentence with a laser pointer. "Regarding the 'reaction after knocking over the flowerpot,' the three people gave three different descriptions. But during the initial questioning, they all insisted that their version was 'the only correct one."

What does this prove?

"This means that at some point after the incident, someone or something reinforced some details in their memory while blurring or covering up others. It's like a teacher grading a test and changing all the wrong answers to the standard answers—but while grading, they accidentally left a few pencil marks that weren't erased."

Xiao Li seemed to understand but not quite.

Lin Mo switched the screen and brought up a map of the area around the square. "I want you to do one thing: visit every shop and every household within a 300-meter radius of the square. Ask a simple question—between 3 and 4 pm yesterday, did you hear or see anything unusual ? It doesn't have to be a murder; anything unusual is fine."

"Abnormal? For example?"

"For example, an unfamiliar vehicle parked for an extended period of time. Uninvited guests such as mechanics, investigators, or salespeople. Sudden power outages, strange noises, or unusual broadcasts or music." Lin Mo paused. "Also, has anyone seen these three witnesses appear in the same place at the same time during this period ?"

Xiao Li stopped writing: "You suspect they're colluding?"

"No." Lin Mo looked out the window; the night had already swallowed the last rays of light. "I suspect they were 'collectively interviewed'."

At 9:47 p.m., Lin Mo stood at the door of Chen Jianguo's house.

This is an old staff dormitory area on the edge of the ancient town, with three-story red brick buildings and peeling paint. The Chen family lives on the first floor, with a small courtyard. Several pots of wilted chrysanthemums are planted in the courtyard, one of which is lying on its side, with soil scattered all over the ground—it looks like it was kicked over in a hurry.

Lin Mo didn't ring the doorbell. He first went around to the window and looked inside through the gap in the curtains that weren't fully drawn.

The living room lights were on. Chen Jianguo sat in a wicker chair, his back to the window. A book lay open on the small coffee table in front of him, but he wasn't reading it. He just stared at the wall, motionless. The television was on, muted, its blue light flickering on his face.

Lin Mo noticed the wall clock: 9:48.

The pocket watch in his pocket read: 9: 45.

It's almost here. This time, the world's time has moved ahead of his.

He stepped back to the door and rang the doorbell. He waited a full half minute before hearing dragging footsteps from inside. The door opened a crack, and Chen Jianguo's face appeared in the shadows, looking even more gaunt than in the afternoon.

"Officer Lin? So late..."

"Excuse me for bothering you, but I remembered a few details I need to confirm." Lin showed his identification, his voice gentle. "May I come inside to talk?"

Chen Jianguo hesitated for a moment, then stepped aside.

The living room looked older than it did from the outside; the furniture was all from twenty years ago, but it was very clean. There was a faint smell of medicine in the air. Lin Mo's gaze swept over the book on the coffee table—a "Local Plant Guide"—and he turned to the page on "Asteraceae."

"Does Teacher Chen like growing flowers?"

"I used to like it." Chen Jianguo didn't sit down, but stood by the coffee table, his fingers unconscious stroking the pages of the book. "Now… I don't have the energy.'

Lin Mo nodded and sat down on the sofa. He deliberately chose a backlit spot so Chen Jianguo couldn't see his expression. "I've been thinking about the question I asked you this afternoon. Regarding the direction of the shadow,"are you sure the shadow was behind the killer when he ran?"

Chen Jianguo's Adam's apple bobbed: "I...I was too nervous at the time, I might have remembered it wrong."

"It's okay. Human memory can automatically correct itself." Lin Mo took out a small notebook from his pocket and turned to a blank page. "Like sometimes, we remember something that happened in the summer, but when we check the photos, we find that we were wearing a sweater at the time. The brain will modify the details to make it 'reasonable."

Chen Jianguo remained silent.

"Professor Chen," Lin Mo raised her head and looked directly into his eyes, "After the incident, did you speak with the other two witnesses—Ms. Li Wen and Mr. Zhang Hao?"

"No!" The answer came too quickly, like a conditioned reflex. "We don't know each other at all."

"Has anyone else spoken to you about what happened that day? Like... someone who did the survey? A community worker? Or," Lin Mo paused, "a psychologist?"

Chen Jianguo's pupils contracted very slightly when he heard the last three words.

"…No."

How have you been sleeping lately?

"It's...it's alright."

"I heard," Lin Mo said, closing his notebook and speaking casually, "that a new psychological clinic recently opened in town. The doctor there is quite famous and specializes in treating post-traumatic stress disorder. Many people who have been traumatized go there for consultation. Have you considered going to see him?"

Chen Jianguo's hands began to tremble. He hid them behind his back. "I'm fine. I don't need it."

"That's great." Lin Mo stood up, walked to the overturned chrysanthemum pot, bent down and righted it. "The flowerpot broke?"

"The wind was strong this afternoon, and it was blown over."

Lin Mo looked at the bottom of the flowerpot—the crack was new, but there were two different layers of dust around the edge . One layer was dry, and the other was wet. It looked like it had been knocked over, righted, and then knocked over again.

He straightened up and dusted his hands off. "One last question, Professor Chen. Your daughter... works in another city, right?"

Chen Jianguo suddenly looked up, his face deathly pale.

"I heard she had a baby last year, so you're a grandfather now." Lin Mo smiled." Congratulations."

There was no joy of congratulations. Only fear, pure, icy fear, seeped from the old man's eyes and flooded the entire room.

"I...I'm not feeling well," Chen Jianguo's voice trembled. "Officer Lin, could you..."

"Of course," Lin Mo walked to the door, then turned back. "By the way, could I borrow your'Illustrated Guide to Local Plants? I'm quite interested in chrysanthemum varieties."

Chen Jianguo practically shoved the book into his hand.

Lin Mo accepted it, thanked him, and left.

The moment the door closed behind him, he heard a suppressed, beast-like wail coming from inside.

He stood in the dark stairwell, not leaving immediately. The pocket watch was in his hand,the cover open. By the light of the streetlamp outside the window, he saw a line of very small characters engraved on the inside of the dial:

"Time doesn't lie, but those who measure time do."

This was engraved by that young man seven years ago. After he left this watch to Lin Mo asa "memento".

Lin Mo closed the watch and opened the illustrated guide. On the page for the Asteraceae family, there was a folded note. He unfolded it; on it were two lines written in troubling hands:

"He asked me who I would choose if I had to pick the murderer. I said Zhao Bin's name. And then I actually saw it."

On the back of the note, there was a blurry stamp mark. Lin Mo held it up to the light to examine it carefully.

The imprint is incomplete, but some words can be made out: "... psychological counseling...clinic ", and a logo — an abstract bird with outstretched wings.

It's exactly the same as the sculpture in Sunrise Square.

The pocket watch was in his pocket, ticking away.

This time it moved very accurately, perfectly synchronized with the rhythm of the motion-sensor lights turning off in the hallway.

Before darkness engulfed him, Lin Mo carefully put away the note and looked up at ChenJianguo's dark window.

The first crack has appeared.

Next, we'll see how deep the darkness this crack will lead.