SFTD -Chapter 388 White Spots Reappear (Part 29)

Officer Peng glanced up at Xu Biao and nodded, seemingly satisfied that these files had already been streamlined.

“These contain information from the Third Hospital residential building, along with records from the Gulou community before Yang Duxiu moved there. I pulled out everything that might be connected.

As for his childhood records, I’m still searching. According to the information we currently have, he was adopted by a couple with the surname Yang. The exact adoption date hasn’t been found yet, and there are discrepancies in the later household registration records as well.

My guess is that the adoption happened during the Cultural Revolution. Otherwise, the later records wouldn’t be this chaotic. You can look through these first while I continue searching the older archives.”

Zhou Hai was instantly drawn in by her words and raised a hand to stop Sister Peng.

“Sister Peng, what interests me most is the information from before the adoption. Let them sort through the later records. I’ll go with you to look.”

She shrugged and instructed the two young women to extract and photocopy all information related to Yang Duxiu’s household registration from the files. Then she led the two men toward the older archives.

They entered a small room filled with the smell of mildew. Sister Peng checked a small note in her hand, found the correct filing cabinet, and rotated the circular handle on top. After a moment, the cabinet slid open.

“There are two names in the records from before Yang Duxiu was adopted. I’m not sure which one is accurate yet, so we need to search both.”

As she spoke, Sister Peng wrote the two names on slips of paper and handed one to Xu Biao, assigning him a range of file numbers to search. Zhou Hai was given another range, while she began searching another cabinet herself.

As Zhou Hai flipped through the household registration archives, he realized Sister Peng had been right—everything here was handwritten.

The two names were Su Muke and Su Xiangrong.

That narrowed the search considerably. He only needed to look through families with the surname Su.

Time passed without notice. Zhou Hai’s neck had become stiff, so he lifted his head and stretched before setting aside one completed ledger and continuing to the next section.

The moment he opened another volume, he found a household with the surname Su.

The head of household was Su Liman, Hui ethnicity, occupation listed as foreign language teacher at Southeast No. 6 Middle School. His wife was also Hui, named Mu Anni.

Zhou Hai’s eyes widened instantly.

They were both teachers at No. 6 Middle School.

Below their names was a purple-red cancellation stamp. Both household registrations had been cancelled on the same day: February 10, 1974.

Did the two of them die together?

Were they persecuted… or something else?

Without dwelling on it, Zhou Hai hurriedly turned the page. The moment he saw the next name, his breathing caught.

Su Muke.

Relationship to head of household: eldest son.

Date of birth: July 16, 1963.

There was no additional information afterward.

Zhou Hai immediately shouted toward Xu Biao and Sister Peng.

“I found it!”

The two quickly set down the files in their hands and hurried over. After examining the record, Sister Peng compared it against the slip of paper she carried.

“This really does seem to match. The name and birth date line up perfectly.”

“We still need to find the other one,” Zhou Hai said. “And we should investigate Su Liman as well. After all, yesterday’s victim was biologically related to Yang Duxiu.”

“Alright, let’s keep searching. Once we find one lead, things become easier.”

As she spoke, Sister Peng checked the filing gap near the binding of the record Zhou Hai had found. A faint row of numbers could be seen inside. She copied them down, then quickly located several additional archive books.

The files were not far from where Zhou Hai stood. Before he could even understand what Sister Peng intended to do, she seemed to have already found something.

“Found it! Here, take a look!”

She handed the archive ledger to Zhou Hai.

It was another handwritten record, even older-looking than the previous one, written in neat brush-calligraphy script.

The entry listed the head of household as Su Maxiu, Hui ethnicity, occupation: doctor.

Directly beneath were:

Eldest son: Su Liya, born June 3, 1923

Second son: Su Liman, born April 22, 1939

Below that were the household registrations of Su Liya’s wife and his four sons:

Su Muyu

Su Muyang

Su Muchun

Su Muyan

Zhou Hai carefully examined the lower section of Su Liman’s page and noticed a line of dark-blue fountain pen writing.

It was clearly added later.

It recorded a transfer-out date.

At the bottom of the household’s front page, under Su Maxiu’s information, there was also a purple-red cancellation stamp dated February 10, 1969.

It seemed that Su Maxiu—Su Muke’s grandfather—had died shortly after Su Liman reached adulthood.

Meanwhile, beneath the remaining household entries for Su Liya and the others, every record showed “transferred out.”

The timing, however, was highly intriguing.

Every single transfer occurred in April 1969.

As for where they had gone, there was no detailed explanation—only a blue stamp stating that the household registration had been relocated.

Zhou Hai could not understand the meaning of the stamp, so he turned toward Sister Peng. Before he even asked, she thought for a moment and explained:

“That era was extremely turbulent. Many people were sent down for labor reform, while others were simply transferred back to their original villages or towns. Intellectuals like them—especially those holding positions of authority in their work units—were mostly sent away. As for exactly where they went, it’s very difficult to investigate now.”

Xu Biao thought for a moment.

“I heard my mom talk about that period before. Families with bad class backgrounds were often sent for labor reform together.

But even though things were chaotic, the management system was still very strict. Everyone’s household registration followed their grain ration booklet. Since food distribution was rationed under the planned economy, no matter what someone was doing—even labor reform—they still had to transfer their grain allocation records with them.

Do you think we could trace them from that angle? After all, transferring grain rations required proof from the household registration office. Would there still be records of that somewhere?”

Sister Peng looked at Xu Biao and laughed.

“You may look chubby, but your brain works pretty fast. I actually do know something about that. Years ago, an old woman came looking for information about her husband. During that period he’d been taken away and never came back. This was back when I had just started working.”

“What happened afterward?”

Sister Peng paused, recalling the memory.

“At the time, we found a retired senior archivist who dug through the storage rooms and located some old records. In the end, they really did trace the transfer information using that method. Alright, I’ll stop keeping you in suspense. You two look anxious enough already.”

As she spoke, Sister Peng pulled open a rolling cabinet at the northernmost side of the room. Holding the household registration ledger, she searched for a while before locating a wooden box.

Xu Biao quickly stepped forward to help carry it to the table.

After setting down the household records, Sister Peng opened the box and began searching by date.

“The records were categorized according to the different official stamps. All of this organization was done by the older generation before us. Thanks to that, some information can still be recovered today. Though honestly, very few people come looking for this sort of thing anymore.”

At that moment, Sister Peng found a receipt stub.

Her hand suddenly stopped.

“Looks like we found it!”