Chapter 14: Lie Game (Part 1)

Cheng Xiran stood behind the joined desks, her gaze shifting between Lin Zhiyi and Xu Miaoyan.

“You two are my only friends—I really hope you can get along.”

I’m one of Cheng Xiran’s only two friends?

Lin Zhiyi thought, a quiet spark of delight flickering in him.

“Fine,”

Xu Miaoyan shrugged.

“New guy, truce?”

“Sure.”

Cheng Xiran watched them steadily; in her cool gaze, Lin Zhiyi read satisfaction.

“Then I’ll keep reading.”

Xu Miaoyan flipped open her book, pages rustling softly.

“Oh, right.”

Cheng Xiran clapped as if struck by inspiration.

“Let’s play a game.”

Xu Miaoyan wasn’t thrilled.

“Not interested—want to read.”

“Come on, Miaomiao.”

Cheng Xiran circled the desk, leaning close.

“You love games, don’t you?”

“I like video games, not social ones.

Worlds apart—hope you think twice next time before lumping them.”

“No reading—join the game.”

Cheng Xiran grabbed her shoulders, shaking; Xu Miaoyan’s book wobbled in her grip, brows furrowing as she swatted the hands away irritably.

“Stop!

Fine, fine—I’ll play along, happy?”

Cheng Xiran’s smile deepened; she turned to Lin Zhiyi, eyes expectant.

“You in?”

Under that stare, Lin Zhiyi found refusal impossible.

“Sure.”

He said evenly.

She nodded lightly, smiling, tone bright.

“Good.”

The look caught him off-guard; before, she’d been the aloof class monitor in his mind—ever-distant, keeping all at arm’s length.

But with friends, her smiles came easier, more often.

“This game’s simple and fun—just talk to play.”

She pulled out a chair and sat, clearing her throat to sound official.

“This’ll be our first club activity.”

“What game?”

Lin Zhiyi played along.

“I doubt it,”

Xu Miaoyan propped her chin on one hand.

“Fun games take teams of designers, tons of time, effort, cash.

A mouth-only round can’t be that great.”

“Miaomiao, hush.”

Cheng Xiran said, displeased.

Xu Miaoyan: “…”

Lin Zhiyi marveled: she actually shut up— that effective?

He thought: Last thing that worked so quick was “Open Sesame,” maybe?

Cheng Xiran recomposed her smile, announcing:

“The game is ‘Two Truths, One Lie.’”

“As the name implies,”

She held up three fingers.

“Each player says three statements: two truths, one lie.”

“The other two think it over and spot the lie.”

“Questioners can ask about the speaker’s words; the speaker answers honestly to help judge.”

She paused, recalling details.

“Right… oh, and the goal’s to learn about each other, so statements must be personal—no ‘Qin Shi Huang unified the six states in 221 BC’ stuff about others.”

“Ah, and one more rule: no sharing things others here might already know.

If I know it and Miaomiao does, but you don’t—neither of us can say it.

For fairness.”

“Rules clear.”

Xu Miaoyan nodded.

“Just play straight?”

Cheng Xiran tilted her head, puzzled.

“What do you mean?”

“Games without stakes feel flat.”

Xu Miaoyan pondered, refining.

“How about: guess right, +1 point; no one guesses, speaker +3.

Winner makes a reasonable demand of losers.”

Cheng Xiran mulled it, nodding.

“Sounds fun— I accept.

Lin Zhiyi?”

“No objections.”

He said.

“Good—let’s start for real.”

Cheng Xiran’s lips curved faintly.

“Since I proposed, I’ll demo first.”

She thought a moment, cleared her throat, and began.

Her first: “I don’t like noisy places—if I could, I’d stay in quiet ones forever.”

Second: “I’ve self-taught photography—to capture beautiful moments of people and things I like.”

Third: “Right now, I’m focused on studies—no thoughts of romance.”

As she said the last, her fingers toyed with her hair.

“Done.”

She smiled.

“Questions—two each max.”

Lin Zhiyi rubbed his chin, eyes on Cheng Xiran’s face, weighing her three statements.

The first rang true: Cheng Xiran was quiet, like him—solitary amid break-time bustle.

Second: plausible.

Third… he went quiet.

He didn’t want to doubt the third.

First off, it was likely true—a subtle hint from the beauty class monitor, drawing a line: don’t read too much into clubbing together…

Classic her.

Second, if false—it meant she did like someone.

The topic hung there, but he found himself reluctant to probe; hearing another’s name from her…

His heart clenched.

So that’s how this game works…

He sighed inwardly, self-mocking: people lie to themselves, and deceit is born.

The liar isn’t always the speaker.

He felt hypocritical: he’d drilled into himself that he didn’t like her anymore—yet hearing her say she liked someone else…

Still stung.

“What model’s your camera?”

He refocused, asking first.

Xu Miaoyan glanced up, expression unreadable through her bangs.

Cheng Xiran cupped her cheeks, elbows on the table, eyes to the ceiling, pondering long before answering uncertainly:

“Nikon… Z8?

Not sure—picked at random.”

“Last time you went shooting?”

“Last weekend—hiking.”

Cheng Xiran smiled.

Sounds nice.

The words echoed unbidden as he met her eyes.

“Questions done.”

He looked away.

“Miaomiao?”

Xu Miaoyan cut in, direct:

“I pick three.”

“You didn’t ask?”

Cheng Xiran prompted.

“No need.”

She said firmly.

“Oh… Lin Zhiyi?”

He smiled.

“Two.”

Keeping it light.

“Out shooting last weekend, but so vague on the model—suspicious.”

He skirted his true thoughts, fooling the heavens and himself in the bargain.

Cheng Xiran clapped.

“Then the answer…”

.