"Hmm, what clues did you find?"
"Miss Mo, based on the clues you provided, we organized more than a dozen historians and literary scholars to examine various official and unofficial histories. We discovered that there had been large-scale population disappearances across the country about seven hundred years ago. However, at that time, most people had religious beliefs, and some attributed the disappearances to disrespect for gods, while others attributed them to mysterious rituals. Regardless of the reason, it can be proven that the large-scale population disappearances that occur once every ten years have been going on for several years. Miss Mo, thank you very much for your help."
You're welcome, serving the people!
"..."
The police officer looked at the chief, who nodded. He coughed twice and continued, "Ms. Mo, it's like this. The case now spans hundreds of years, which is beyond our current scientific understanding. The case is currently at a standstill. Could you give us some more hints?"
Linghu Lan: "Song Qushan!"
"What?"
"Song, Qu, Shan!"
After saying that, Linghu Lan hung up the phone and continued eating her instant noodles. The noodles were soggy and didn't taste good at all, but she still ate them silently.
Even if you endure hardship, you'll still be an ordinary person.
She glanced silently at the form in her hand, "Internship Form of the Second Affiliated Hospital of the Fourth Medical University," and realized it was time to become a doctor.
...
The phone was already ringing with a busy signal.
The police officer pressed the hang-up button in a daze and looked at everyone in the conference room.
He had been on speakerphone, and Linghu Lan's voice was clearly audible to everyone in the conference room.
"What do you all think!" The bureau chief was very excited; this was a bizarre case.
Such a bizarre case has actually come to their department, and all those involved in solving it will be remembered in history.
"Song Qushan! That name sounds familiar."
"Song Qushan? Could it be the famous historian and archaeologist, Mr. Song?" one of the historians present asked hurriedly.
"It should be Mr. Song. Does Miss Mo mean that we should invite him over to re-examine history?" One of the literary figures seemed bewildered, his words carrying a hint of displeasure at being questioned.
"That's one possibility, but the news reported today that Mr. Song's mansion caught fire, and we still don't know how Mr. Song is doing."
"Let me make a call and ask." A historian who was very familiar with Song Qushan quickly took out his mobile phone and dialed a number.
The police chief thought for a moment and said, "Before we are certain, we must keep the mission confidential."
“Okay!” the historian replied.
After a while.
The phone went unanswered.
The historian could only dejectedly press the button on the phone.
"Nobody's here!"
The chief nodded and instructed a police officer, "Find out which hospital Old Song is in, and I'll go visit him in person."
"yes!"
...
At the hospital.
Song Qushan lay on a hospital bed.
The area was crowded with members of the Song family.
Looking at Song Qushan, who was like the setting sun, everyone was in disbelief. This man, who was full of energy in the morning and seemed to be able to live for another five hundred years, was now as withered as tree bark. No one could believe it.
"Who? Who did this to the old man?" One of Song Qushan's sons looked around, his eyes flashing with a fierce light.
He wasn't seeking justice for Song Qushan, but rather wanted to eliminate one person from dividing the property.
The Song family is large and wealthy, with a vast amount of property. If there is one less person to divide it, each person will receive a significant amount more.
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