Chapter 15: Lie Game (Part 2)
The girl’s expression remained unchanged as she calmly revealed the answer:
“The third is the lie—Miaomiao gets a point.”
“Huh?”
Lin Zhiyi never could’ve guessed that one.
“Right now…”
Cheng Xiran paused, her gaze drifting slightly toward the window, deliberately avoiding the other two’s eyes.
“I’m… not entirely uninterested in romance…”
The classroom fell abruptly silent.
Lin Zhiyi’s breath hitched, half-convinced he’d misheard.
He stared at the class monitor, her eyes evasive; she’d turned her face aside, the tips of her ears tinting pink, starkly clear in the light slanting through the window.
A fawn seemed to bound wildly in his chest.
“You actually said it out loud.”
Xu Miaoyan’s voice shattered the tender moment.
“Cheng Xiran, you’re in heat?”
She earned a furrowed glare and a sharp “Miaomiao!” in return.
“Got a crush already?
Who?”
She pressed.
“Not telling.”
Cheng Xiran shook her head, lips curving in a suppressed smile.
She pouted.
“Tch—knew you’d say that.”
“It’s a boy… someone a bit like me.”
Cheng Xiran finished, then glanced at Lin Zhiyi, eyes twinkling:
“I really don’t remember the camera model.
Like how I use my phone daily but couldn’t tell you its specs.”
Lin Zhiyi shrugged.
“Fair enough~ I guessed wrong.”
He volunteered.
“My turn next.”
“Please.”
Cheng Xiran smiled, gesturing for him to begin.
Lin Zhiyi pondered, eyes sweeping the two girls, then spoke:
“1. As a kid, I got lost once—police uncle brought me home.”
“2. I can’t cook—tried, but it either burns or tastes awful.”
This was the lie; if he couldn’t cook, he and sister Lin Yingyuan would’ve starved ages ago.
The one who couldn’t cook was actually Lin Yingyuan; the failed attempts were real, but he’d swapped roles.
They say the best lies are nine parts truth, one part fiction.
“3. I’ve never learned to whistle—got teased by friends in elementary.”
“You really can’t whistle?”
Cheng Xiran asked, curious.
“Zh… wait, stacking questions?”
Lin Zhiyi laughed helplessly.
“Isn’t that against the rules?”
“Haha, sorry sorry—that doesn’t count.”
Cheng Xiran waved it off with a light chuckle.
Xu Miaoyan chimed in steadily:
“Where’d you get lost, and why?”
“Argued with Dad, ran off—halfway, I regretted it, but being stubborn, I kept going.
Ended up somewhere unfamiliar; strangers stared oddly, sky darkening—I got scared.
A passing big sister asked, called the cops; they took me home, told me to talk it out with Dad.”
“What’d your dad do—beat you?”
Cheng Xiran asked.
Does that even help you spot the lie? Lin Zhiyi wondered, but answered earnestly:
“No—he apologized.
That period…”
He faltered, debating how much to share, then pivoted:
“We weren’t close then, but it got better later.”
He didn’t tell them his parents were both gone.
After Mom died, he and Dad barely spoke for years.
Xu Miaoyan followed up:
“Second one—what dish?”
“Tomato-egg stir-fry, and green pepper potato shreds.”
Lin Zhiyi replied.
Simple starters; he’d had Lin Yingyuan try those first—eggs scorched, potatoes drowned in vinegar.
Undeterred, she’d retried many times, but the results were unwatchable.
Frustrated to tears, she’d quit.
They voiced guesses; Cheng Xiran first:
“I suspect two.”
“Not sure… three, maybe.”
Xu Miaoyan mused.
“One and two feel real.”
“Cheng Xiran gets a point.”
For some reason, Lin Zhiyi’s tongue tripped on her name; he revealed:
“I can cook—two’s the lie.”
Hadn’t expected her to nail it—was it luck?
So far: Cheng Xiran one, Xu Miaoyan one, Lin Zhiyi zero.
Next: Xu Miaoyan, her tone loose and composed.
“One: I’ve never joined school group activities—like spring outings; skipped every one.”
Lin Zhiyi leaned toward believing this; zero outings seemed extreme, but her vibe was independent.
Plausible—keep listening.
“Two: I’m scared of the dark—need a nightlight to sleep.”
“Three: I love snacks—pack loads in my bag daily.”
“Clarifying one: ‘Group activities’ don’t count exams, right?”
Lin Zhiyi probed for wordplay.
“Of course not—exams aren’t activities,”
She lifted her chin proudly.
“I wouldn’t cheat like that.”
“Why skip them, then?”
“No reason.”
She replied flatly, as if explanation sufficed.
Lin Zhiyi pointed at her, to Cheng Xiran:
“President, she’s cheating.”
Cheng Xiran bit back a smile, silent.
“What do you do when classmates go out?”
He pressed.
“Sometimes crowded spots, sometimes quiet ones.”
She said.
Oh, profound.
“Miaomiao,”
Cheng Xiran interjected.
“Next event like that, come with us?
The three of us.”
Xu Miaoyan paused, murmuring an ambiguous “Mm”—unclear if assent or dodge.
Lin Zhiyi wondered: Does that count as Cheng Xiran’s question?
“No more from me.
I pick one.”
Cheng Xiran said.
“You’re aloof, but not that isolated.”
“Three’s the lie,”
Lin Zhiyi felt he’d caught it.
“School rules ban snacks—disciplinary’d confiscate; can’t be in your bag daily.”
Xu Miaoyan said nothing, simply rummaging her bag.
Out came chips, then milk, a pack of Oreos, candies—clearly more inside.
She tossed the Oreos to Lin Zhiyi:
“Have one.”
Pushed the milk over:
“Pairs with this.”
“…Thanks.”
Thoughtful—even the combo.
Lost, but no sting.
“Answer: One’s the lie.”
Xu Miaoyan said.
“I founded a club once: Library Reading Society.
Just a figurehead president—never met members—but it counts as group activity.
Cheng Xiran was right, even if her reasoning was bull.”
Cheng Xiran smiled faintly.
Lin Zhiyi crunched a cookie, thinking: Six—that mystery prez was you.
Not shocking…
Cracked one of Ninghai High’s Seven Unsolvables—something past-life me couldn’t.
^^… Not much of a feat.
“You misunderstand ‘group activity’?”
Lin Zhiyi asked.
“How’s that participating?”
“Interpretation’s mine.”
“Roger.”
Lin Zhiyi, mouth full, let it slide.
Scores: Cheng Xiran two, Xu Miaoyan one, Lin Zhiyi zero.
“One more round,”
Xu Miaoyan suggested.
“That was just warm-up.”
You just want first place.
Lin Zhiyi sipped milk, thinking.
If he’d known Xu Miaoyan’s second-round lie would be that, nothing could’ve dragged him in.