Chapter 16: Lie Game (Part 3)

After the intermission, it was Cheng Xiran’s second round.

She straightened, tone earnest:

“First: I have a habit of covering all my new books in book jackets, sticking different-colored sticky notes on them by subject.”

This one was true; Lin Zhiyi was certain—he’d noticed it while secretly watching her in class, her books stacked neatly with those colorful tabs.

“Wait,”

Xu Miaoyan interrupted.

“Doesn’t this break the rules?

Lin Zhiyi’s in your class, so he might already know if it’s true or false.”

“How could it, Miaomiao—you’re overthinking.”

Cheng Xiran rebutted, puzzled.

“Our seats are far apart in class.

He wouldn’t notice, right?”

Sorry, I totally did.

Sorry.

“If someone pays attention, they would,”

The judge angel turned straight to Lin Zhiyi:

“So, Lin Zhiyi—do you know?”

“No idea.”

Lin Zhiyi lied guiltily, but his tone stayed even.

He’d fibbed—not to cheat the game, but what else could he do?

Admit he was a shady little mouse, peeking at his crush all day?

Xu Miaoyan let out another meaningful chuckle.

Laugh all you want—think you know everything, Miss Know-It-All!

Lin Zhiyi shot her a glare.

Cheng Xiran continued:

“Second: I used to deliberately step in puddles on rainy days, but Mom scolded me, so I never did again.”

“Third: I’ve used psychological suggestion to successfully hypnotize a friend.”

Huh?

Something off with the third?

It clashed wildly with the first two.

Would a typical high school girl know hypnosis?

Absurd on its face—obvious fake.

So, ruling out three, between one and two—he couldn’t botch a coin flip, right?

Wait—his mind snagged: could he really dismiss the third?

Why would Cheng Xiran drop such a blatant lie?

She was methodical; what’d she gain?

And if anyone could pull off hypnosis…

He had no rational basis for the trust, but somehow, on her—it didn’t seem impossible.

Lin Zhiyi’s sole theory: reverse psychology.

An obvious oddball as red herring, smokescreen for a mundane, easily overlooked fib.

The truth was singular!

The seemingly innocuous second was the lie!

“Was the friend you hypnotized a boy or girl?”

Xu Miaoyan asked.

“…Boy.”

Her follow-up:

“His age?”

Cheng Xiran hesitated, then:

“About my age.”

Hmph—Xu Miaoyan suspects three’s fake too.

But I’ve seen through it all!

She’s on layer one, stuck at surface; I’m Lin Zhiyi on layer five, master of human nature!

Cue applause!

“Why step in puddles?”

Lin Zhiyi asked.

Cheng Xiran’s pretty eyes met his, brimming with amusement:

“’Cause it seemed fun back then.”

“Three’s the lie.”

Xu Miaoyan declared firmly.

“Two!”

Lin Zhiyi countered, even surer, with a grin.

“Hahahaha…”

Cheng Xiran dissolved into laughter.

“Miaomiao’s right—I haven’t hypnotized anyone.

Lin Zhiyi, you overthink things.”

Lin Zhiyi’s smile froze; heat rushed to his cheeks—he felt utterly foolish.

Current scores: Cheng Xiran and Xu Miaoyan both two; Lin Zhiyi still zero, the doormat.

Epic fail?

How am I this bad?

Sweat beaded at his temple; he wiped his forehead, and Xu Miaoyan casually pulled tissues from her bag, handing them over.

Lin Zhiyi took them: thanks, but don’t be so empathetic now—makes me look denser.

Dabbing sweat, he asked, puzzled:

“Why pick such an obvious fake?

So easy to spot.”

Cheng Xiran blinked at him, “Hm?”

“I didn’t overplan—the game’s just to learn about each other.

Something different—isn’t that more fun?”

“Your reaction was fun.”

She smiled.

“…”

Fine—the fool was me.

“Cheng Xiran, you’re smiling a lot today.”

Xu Miaoyan remarked cryptically.

Lin Zhiyi’s second set was straightforward.

“One: I can’t handle spice—mild for normals is extra-spicy for me.”

“Two: Last three years, every birthday, I’ve had chocolate cake from the same shop.”

“Three: As a kid, I mistook a stranger guy for Dad and followed him almost onto his car.”

Three was the lie.

It’d happened, but he’d mistaken a woman for Mom; tweaking details turned truth to fib.

Xu Miaoyan fired first:

“Chocolate cake size?

Price?”

Lin Zhiyi gestured roughly:

“Don’t remember price—about this big.”

“I’m not super spice-tolerant either.”

Cheng Xiran murmured agreement, then turned to Xu Miaoyan:

“Miaomiao, you handle it well?”

“Yep—legendary spice king.”

She chin-lifted, unmodest.

“Ultra-spicy fire ramen’s just okay for me.”

“How’d you realize you followed the wrong person?”

Cheng Xiran asked, intrigued.

“Kept tailing, then called ‘Dad.’

He looked down—total stranger.

No clue where real Dad was.”

“Did that make you lost—cops bring you home?”

Cheng Xiran teased.

Lin Zhiyi blinked.

“No, hahaha—callback?

Tying to round one’s story—nice.”

“I pick two.”

Xu Miaoyan said.

“Me too,”

Cheng Xiran agreed.

“Three feels real—I’ve had something similar.”

“Sorry—three’s the lie.

Half-true: Mom took me out, we got separated.

So I tailed a lady thinking she was her.”

“Ah, got it.”

Cheng Xiran nodded.

“Tweaked fakes like that—tough to spot.”

“So the cake’s real?”

Xu Miaoyan pressed.

“Yeah.”

“You that ritualistic?”

She eyed him skeptically.

“Doesn’t seem your style.

That good?”

“Tasty, sure—but not my ritual.

A friend sends it; otherwise, I might skip birthdays.”

Actually, Lin Yingyuan noticed his love for it—orders yearly in advance.

“Girl friend?”

Cheng Xiran asked.

“Mm… sort of.”

Lin Zhiyi said.

After all—not friends; sister.

“‘Sort of’?

You unsure if she’s a girl?

Oh, online pal, then.”

Xu Miaoyan concluded.

No, you’re veering off.

But explaining’d tangle more; Lin Zhiyi let it lie.

“So I snag three?

Epic comeback!”

Cheng Xiran and Xu Miaoyan at two; Lin Zhiyi surged to three—overtaking both!

“Don’t celebrate yet—I’ve got one more.”

Xu Miaoyan said coolly.

“Go ahead—I’ll pick opposite the class monitor’s.

Gotta crimp your odds.”

“Be my guest.”

Xu Miaoyan stayed unruffled, launching her finale.

“First: I hate boiled eggs—tasteless.”

“Second: As a kid, I had an accident—hit by a car.”

“Third: Truth is, I don’t know—who in this room is crushing on whom.”

She enunciated the third, stressing “someone” and “crush,” tone laced with intent—like subtext galore.

Lin Zhiyi and Cheng Xiran locked eyes, both paling; he didn’t know her deal, but for him—it was naked extortion.

Xu Miaoyan’d pulled a positive conspiracy: three had to be the lie, yet he couldn’t call it.

Like low on HP with a curse mark—he had to zip it.

Doubting three meant implying Xu Miaoyan did know someone’s crush here.

Why assume that? Needed grounds—what explanation?

And opening that can of worms? Atmosphere’d turn awkward.

He could play dumb, but if Cheng Xiran pursued?

Unthinkable fallout.

Worst case: confessing to her face “I don’t like you.”

Would their budding friendship survive?

She might even think him presumptuous: who you like’s your business—why assume I’d care?

Or that I need your “like”?

Just picturing it chilled his scalp.

Vile, Xu Miaoyan—vile!

Where’d this win-at-all-costs come from?

Lost the game, so snipe me!

Spewing anything for victory—no wonder friendless!

Damn… but he knew: he’d bend to her will.

This high schooler had him pinned.

Lin Zhiyi lost all question urge, throwing the win with a sham answer.

In his mildest tone, he fake-smiled:

“I doubt two’s real—how’d you not die if hit by a car?”

Xu Miaoyan hit a weird funny bone, erupting in unmasked guffaws, clutching her belly, shoulders shaking endlessly.

Her laugh was lovely—like shattered moonlight bells, sweet and crisp; a tad loud, but impossible to hate.

“Eggs are fine…

I pick one.”

Cheng Xiran’s eyes darted, phrasing odd—why ignore three?

Xu Miaoyan finally subsided, wiping tears, beaming unprecedented joy as she declared:

“So I win—three’s the lie.

I do know someone’s crush here.

No rule break: you never told me—I guessed.

Proof needed?”

“No need—I believe you,”

Cheng Xiran said instantly, tinged with pique.

“Miaomiao, you played dirty.”

Xu Miaoyan clinched victory by five.

She eyed Lin Zhiyi, as if demanding his verbal concession.

“You win.”

He said blankly, silently flipping her off with his eyes.

“Good.”

Xu Miaoyan smiled contentedly.

“Per rules: winner makes reasonable demands of losers.”

First to Cheng Xiran:

“Cheng Xiran—snacks for me, next club day.”

“Easy.”

She exhaled, agreeing readily.

Then, to Lin Zhiyi, measured:

“New guy—remember I said skip club if you want?

Changed my mind: my demand—never miss a meeting from now on.”

She paused.

“Reasonable, right?”

Lin Zhiyi blinked—unexpected, but fair.

He nodded.

“No problem.”

“Cheng Xiran handles snacks—you do drinks.”

She added casually.

“That’s two demands?”

Lin Zhiyi noted.

“True,”

Xu Miaoyan nodded.

“Then skip drinks—just show up.”

“Fine—I’ll bring ’em anyway; you treated me, right?”

Lin Zhiyi shook the half-drunk milk carton; his gaze swept Cheng Xiran and Xu Miaoyan, smiling:

“Not ’cause I lost—but ’cause I want to treat you.”

Out of nowhere, Zhao Qingning’s words from yesterday echoed.

“You’re my friends.”