Chapter 12: Your Hometown

If the phrase "the rules are absolute" still applies to this second "game," then the instructions on the mask must hold the key to solving it.

But how?

And when would the harpoons fire?

"The clock never stops…"

Could it be at 1:15?

Qi Xia glanced at the clock on the table. It was already 1:05. If the harpoons were set to fire at 1:15, they had less than ten minutes left.

"Turn toward your hometown one hundred times…"

The nine people in the room were from different hometowns, and "one hundred turns" was no small number.

If they were thinking in the wrong direction, they could easily waste these ten minutes.

But in this room, aside from themselves, what else could "turn"?

Qi Xia’s gaze fell on the clock in the center of the table.

He leaned over and gently touched the clock, only to find it firmly fixed to the table, immovable.

"If the clock can’t move, is it the chairs?"

Qi Xia looked down at the chair beneath him. It was an old, musty-smelling chair, casually placed on the floor with no mechanisms.

If not the chairs, then the only thing left was…

Qi Xia reached out and tried to rotate the table. Sure enough, a faint sound of chains came from within.

However, the table was heavy, and even with considerable effort, he could only turn it a few centimeters.

"One hundred turns…"

This number was not something two or three people could achieve. All nine people in the room would need to work together to rotate the table and possibly gain a chance at survival.

Lin Qin, Acutely captured Qi Xia’s Action, so he called for everyone to stop.

Everyone gathered around the table and realized that it could indeed be rotated.

"You’re really something, con man," Qiao Jiajin nodded. "If we rotate this table a hundred times, we should be able to open that invisible door."

Qi Xia glanced at the clock again. Though time was tight, the problem had become more straightforward.

Rotating the round table toward their "hometown" one hundred times boiled down to two answers: left or right.

But with everyone’s hometowns scattered across different directions, how could they determine whether to turn left or right?

"Qi Xia, do you already know when the harpoons will fire?" Lin Qin asked, still covering her nose and mouth.

"The hint says 'the clock never stops,' so it’s probably at 1:15," Qi Xia replied softly.

Qiao Jiajin’s expression changed. "That means we have less than ten minutes left? Let’s start turning!"

Dr. Zhao moved the corpse lying on the table to the side and sat down, testing the table’s weight. "But we only have one chance. If we turn this heavy table a hundred times in the wrong direction, what then?"

"That’s still a fifty percent chance of survival!" Qiao Jiajin said urgently. "If we don’t move, we’re dead for sure. If we turn it, we at least have a fifty percent chance. Let’s hurry!"

With that, he began turning the table to the left with all his strength.

Despite his slender appearance, Qiao Jiajin was incredibly strong. He alone managed to turn the table half a rotation.

"What are you waiting for?! Help me!" Qiao Jiajin shouted at the others.

The rest of the group knew he was right and began helping him turn the table.

There was no clear answer, so they had to gamble.

But Qi Xia remained still.

He didn’t know which direction to choose.

Left or right?

Why was the keyword "hometown"?

They were all Chinese, so was it "east"?

North at the top, south at the bottom, west on the left, east on the right—so the answer was "right"?

But what about those from the west?

Or perhaps their hometowns were related to the "Zuo Zhuan" from the Spring and Autumn period, making the answer "left"?

Qi Xia closed his eyes, considering using the two corpses to shield himself. But if everyone else died, what would happen in the next game?

"It’s not time to give up on them yet."

Qi Xia muttered to himself, then reached out, grabbed a piece of paper from the rotating table, picked up a pen, and walked to a corner. He sat down and began writing furiously.

The others, though confused, kept turning the table, having already rotated it over a dozen times.

"If he hadn’t introduced himself as a 'con man,' I’d have thought he was a mathematician," Qiao Jiajin said to Tian Tian.

Tian Tian, still dizzy from spinning earlier, nodded vaguely.

This time, Qi Xia didn’t write out equations. Instead, he roughly sketched a map of the country.

"Hometown…?"

His mind raced, and suddenly, an idea struck him.

"Wait, wait…" Qi Xia’s eyes widened. "If the 'host' is so powerful that they can find people with similar experiences from so many provinces, then 'province' must also be a key point."

He turned to the group, who were still rotating the table, and asked seriously, "Did any of you lie about your hometown earlier?"

Everyone shook their heads.

After all, "hometown" was tied to accents and speech patterns, making it hard to lie convincingly.

"Good," Qi Xia nodded slightly. "Now, please tell me your hometowns again, one by one."

Officer Li was the first to speak. "I’m from Inner Mongolia."

Qi Xia marked a black dot on Inner Mongolia on the map.

"I’m from Sichuan," Zhang Chenze, the lawyer, said coldly.

"I’m from Shaanxi…" Tian Tian said.

"Dali, Yunnan," Xiao Ran, the kindergarten teacher, said.

"Guangdong," Qiao Jiajin said.

"Ningxia," Lin Qin, the psychologist, said.

"I work in Jiangsu," Dr. Zhao said.

Qi Xia marked everyone’s hometowns on the map and added his own: Shandong.

Now, all eyes turned to Han Yimo, the writer, who hadn’t mentioned his hometown from the start.

"Han Yimo, are you from Guangxi or Taiwan?"

Han Yimo was stunned. "How did you know?"

"Time is tight. Just answer me."

"I’m from Guangxi…"

Qi Xia nodded. At this point, only two provinces were left for Han Yimo: Guangxi and Taiwan.

If his answer wasn’t one of these two, he would have been lying outright.

Fortunately, he told the truth.

Qi Xia marked the last province on the map, which now had nine black dots.

"Just as I thought."

Qi Xia muttered, then shouted, "Stop! Turn to the right."

"Right?"

Qi Xia rushed to the table, threw the paper onto it, and began turning the table in the opposite direction.

Though confused, the others followed his lead.

Dr. Zhao glanced at the map and the nine black dots on the table.

"Why 'right'?"

[--------------------------------------------]

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Chapter end