With three superpowers at his fingertips, he could dominate the 1970s.

When Ji Buzhi came out of the command center, it was already dark.

It's that old problem.

Ever since he was rescued that day, this problem has been like a fine thorn, not painful, but constantly reminding him that something is wrong.

He hurried back to his makeshift tent, bent down and crawled inside, quickly pulling the curtain shut. The tent was a mess, with a cot, biscuit wrappers, a few changes of clothes, and the old wooden crate he had brought with him.

Ji Buzhi dragged out the wooden box and opened the lid.

The box contained a dozen or so thread-bound ancient books, their pages yellowed, edges worn, some even rebound with coarse hemp thread. These were borrowed from the bureau's archives, and were what he had been looking at repeatedly these past few days.

He sat cross-legged and began flipping through the books one by one.

The first book was "Tales of Strange Arts and Wonders." He quickly skimmed the table of contents—soul-capturing, clone techniques, telekinesis… nothing.

The second book was "The Secret Canon of the Mysterious Sect." He flipped through the pages, his fingertips tracing the lines of vertical, small characters—exorcising evil, suppressing malevolent forces, summoning lightning… but still nothing.

The third book, the fourth book, the fifth book...

He flipped through each book extremely quickly, his eyes darting back and forth between the table of contents and the main text, like someone panning for gold in the sand, knowing full well that the chances were slim, yet still unable to resist sifting through it again and again.

As he finished reading the last book and closed it, Ji Buzhi leaned back and lay flat on the military bed, staring blankly at the tent ceiling.

"Something's not right..." he muttered to himself, his voice echoing muffledly in the cramped space.

He lost that memory. The ability to erase memories—this skill—is not recorded at all in these ancient books.

Ji Buzhi turned over and lay on her side, her fingers unconsciously clutching the hem of her clothes on the pillow.

He remembered that day. A scene that kept recurring in his dreams.

Moreover, in his dream, the overwhelming sense of danger felt like an invisible giant hand gripping his heart, causing his consciousness to plummet rapidly into the darkness. And then—and then nothing happened.

Jiang Zhiyu said that she saved him.

But how did she save him? He had no recollection of it at all.

It wasn't the kind of vagueness where "it's been too long to remember," but rather a complete blank.

And he's not the only one like this.

He even went to find the little boy who had been rescued with him that day. He asked him, "Do you remember how you were rescued that day?"

The little boy shook his head blankly: "I don't remember."

"And what about before that?"

"Before..." the little boy frowned and thought for a long time, "I think I was running before, and then I don't remember."

His situation was exactly the same.

Ji Buzhi sat up in bed and rubbed his hair in frustration.

From that dream onward, he seemed possessed, constantly probing anyone who came to the station with questions like, "Have you ever heard of someone who can erase memories?" "Is there any record of such an ability in ancient books?" "Have you ever encountered anything similar?"

No matter how many times I asked, no one knew.

He almost went to ask Zhuge Liang. But he swallowed the words back, because Zhuge Liang had such a sharp eye for people, and he was afraid that if he opened his mouth, he would be seen through.

However, he forgot that the old Zhuge Liang didn't need him to speak at all.

-

"Come in."

When Ji Buzhi lifted the curtain of Zhuge Yunhe's tent, the old Zhuge was sitting at the table drinking tea.

Zhuge Yunhe didn't even look up, and simply said, "Sit."

Ji Buzhi sat down opposite him, his gaze unconsciously drifting to the stack of documents on the table before quickly looking away. Old Zhuge then raised his head, slowly blowing on the steam rising from his teacup, and glanced at him.

"Since yesterday, you've been digging through ancient books and asking around the bureau," Zhuge Yunhe said in a nonchalant tone, "asking about what? Methods for erasing memories?"

Ji Buzhi's body stiffened.

Sure enough, nothing could be hidden from this old man.

He stubbornly insisted, "I was just looking around and asking questions..."

"Just browsing?" Zhuge Yunhe put down his teacup, leaned back in his chair, his gaze authoritative without being angry. "Ji Buzhi, you've been asking around here for almost two days now. Count how many people you've asked. Xiao Zhang, Lao Zhou, Secretary Liu, Xiao Sun from logistics, and that little boy who was rescued—have you asked everyone from the bureau?"

Ji shrank back and muttered something under his breath.

"Speak louder."

"I said... I was just curious..."

Zhuge Yunhe stared at him for a few seconds, his gaze like a dull knife, not sharp, yet leaving no room for escape. Ji Buzhi felt extremely uncomfortable under his gaze, and finally couldn't hold back any longer, blurting out:

"Old Zhuge, let me tell you the truth. That day, I felt like I was about to die."

His voice suddenly lowered, carrying an unusual seriousness.

"That feeling wasn't just ordinary danger, it was... how to put it, it was like a huge abyss was gaping open and waiting for me, and I was falling straight down. Then Jiang Zhiyu said she saved me. But how she saved me, I have absolutely no recollection. Not just vague, it's a complete blank."

He looked up, a rare hint of vulnerability in his eyes: "I asked the little boy, and he doesn't remember either. The same memory of both of us has vanished into thin air. Old Zhuge, don't you think that's too strange?"

Zhuge Yunhe remained silent for a moment, picked up his teacup, took a sip, and then slowly spoke: "So you want to find the answer in ancient books?"

"I just want to figure out what method she used." Ji Buzhi rubbed his hands together. "I've flipped through more than a dozen ancient books, and not a single one records it. I was even thinking that if I could learn it..."

"You can't learn it."

Zhuge Yunhe interrupted him, his tone calm yet resolute.

Ji Buzhi was taken aback: "Why can't you learn it?"

"Some things you can't learn just by reading books." Zhuge Yunhe looked at him, his gaze deep. "Some skills are innate. Just like some people are born strong, and some are born with excellent hearing and eyesight. These things can't be taught or learned."

Ji opened his mouth as if to say something, but Zhuge Yunhe stopped him with a raised hand.

"Stop asking around," Old Zhuge's tone suddenly became stern. "You're just asking questions out of curiosity, but what will other people think if they hear about it? Will they think you suspect her? Will they think our department is investigating her?"

Ji Buzhi's body trembled slightly.

"I know who Jiang Zhiyu is," Zhuge Yunhe said, his voice lower but each word as firm as a nail. "And so do you. She saved your life, that's a fact. As for how she saved you, that's not important. What's important is that you're alive, and she was still willing to save you."

He patted Ji Buzhi on the shoulder, the pressure neither too light nor too heavy: "Sometimes, don't let your curiosity get the better of you, especially at this crucial moment. Don't forget what's most important right now."

Ji Buzhi lowered his head and mumbled an "Oh".

"Alright, go on." Zhuge Yunhe picked up his teacup again, his tone returning to its usual casualness. "Don't let me see you flipping through those tattered books again."

Ji Buzhi stood up and shuffled towards the door. He stopped in front of the curtain, his back to Old Zhuge, and said in a muffled voice, "Old Zhuge… I really don't remember. Nothing happened during that time."

Zhuge Yunhe watched his retreating figure and remained silent for a moment.

"What's gone is gone," he said softly. "Since you knew it was dangerous then, and she saved you, then she's your savior. Why dwell on it so much?"

Ji Buzhi didn't say anything more, lifted the curtain and went out.

The night wind outside the tent swept in, carrying the scent of earth and dust.

His heart felt like it was stuffed with cotton, heavy and suffocating.

He listened to Old Zhuge's words, but he couldn't suppress his own feelings. It wasn't that he doubted Jiang Zhiyu—he never doubted her. Although that girl had a bad temper and a sharp tongue, she truly risked her life to save people. He had witnessed it all with his own eyes.

But that's precisely why he wanted to understand it even more.

What exactly happened during that time? How capable was she to snatch him back from the brink of death in such a desperate situation, and make him have no memory of the whole process?

And then there's the old Zhuge Liang's reaction.

Old Zhuge didn't deny it. He didn't say, "There's no way to erase memories, you're overthinking it," nor did he say, "Impossible, you must be mistaken." He simply told himself to stop asking around, to stop being curious, and to keep it from reaching Jiang Zhiyu's ears.

What does this mean?

This means that Zhuge Liang knew.

Old Zhuge knew Jiang Zhiyu possessed this ability, and that it wasn't something an ordinary person could learn. Therefore, his reaction wasn't surprise or doubt, but protection. He wanted to protect Jiang Zhiyu's secret, and also protect Ji Buzhi from revealing it.

Ji Buzhi slowly walked towards his tent, his steps heavier than when he arrived.

"Hidden so well..." he muttered to himself, whether in admiration or self-deprecation, it was hard to tell.

But the deeper it was hidden, the more curious he became.

What should we do?

He recalled the look in Jiang Zhiyu's eyes when she touched her chin—a look like a cat spotting a fish, or a hunter eyeing its prey. Every time he saw that expression, he knew what mischief this girl was up to.

But what about him? He wasn't plotting anything bad, he just...

Ji Buzhi crawled into the tent, looked at the wooden box that had been turned upside down, and remained silent for a long time.

Finally, he sighed, rearranged the ancient books one by one, and closed the box.

I'm not going to flip through it anymore.

It's not that he doesn't want to, it's that he doesn't dare to. Old Zhuge is right, if he continues to cause trouble like this, what if it really gets to that girl's ears—he subconsciously touched his neck.

Never mind, my life is more important.

But the moment he closed his eyes, that blank memory resurfaced in his mind. Like a tightly closed door, he stood outside, knowing that the answer lay behind it, yet unable to push it open.

Ji Buzhi turned over, buried his face in the pillow, and let out a muffled sigh.

Curiosity is a sweet torment.

Outside the tent, Zhuge Yunhe put down his teacup and stared intently at the corner of the curtain that had been lifted by the wind.

He knew all too well that this kid was no ordinary person. From the day he brought him into the station, he knew that the kid's biggest flaw was his excessive curiosity. The advantage was that he had a keen sense of smell and was good at spotting anything unusual, but the disadvantage was that he couldn't control himself.

But it doesn't matter anyway.

As long as he doesn't go too far, Jiang Zhiyu won't do anything to him. Although that girl has many tricks up her sleeve, she's not an unreasonable person. Besides, Ji Buzhi is just curious, not intentionally spying, so he still knows his limits.

He shook his head, a slight smile playing on his lips.

Young people are naturally curious, which is normal. But there are some things that are better left unknown than known.