"If the rule 'the rules are absolute' still applies to this second 'game,' then the message written on the mask must be the solution."
But how can it be cracked?
When will the harpoons be fired?
"The clock never stops..."
Could it be at 1:15?
Qi Xia turned his gaze to the clock on the table. It was already 1:05, and if "one and a quarter" referred to the time the harpoons would be fired, then there were less than ten minutes left.
"Turn a hundred times towards the direction of home..."
The hometowns of the nine people here were all different, and "one hundred times" was no small number.
If they went down the wrong path in their thinking, they could easily waste this precious ten minutes.
But in this room, aside from themselves, what else could "turn"?
Qi Xia's gaze lingered on the clock in the center of the table.
He stretched out his hand and gently touched the clock, but found that it was firmly fixed to the table, unable to move at all.
"The clock doesn't move... Could it be the chair?"
Qi Xia looked down at the chair under him. It was an old, moldy-smelling, ordinary chair, casually placed on the ground with no apparent mechanism.
If that was the case, then there was only one thing left...
Qi Xia reached out and turned the table. Sure enough, a faint sound of chains came from within the table.
But the table was heavy, and with considerable effort, he could only turn it a few centimeters.
"One hundred times..."
This number was definitely not something that could be completed by just two or three people. The nine people in the room had to work together to turn the table if they had any hope of survival.
Lin Qing, the psychologist, quickly noticed Qi Xia's actions and shouted for everyone to stop.
The others walked over to the table and saw that it could indeed be turned.
"You really are something, scammer," said Qiao Jiajin, nodding. "If we turn this table a hundred times, we should be able to open that invisible door."
Qi Xia glanced at the clock again. Although time was tight, the problem now became more straightforward.
Turning the table towards the "direction of home" for a hundred times meant only two possible answers: turn to the left or turn to the right.
But everyone here came from different regions—how could they determine whether it should be left or right?
"Qi Xia, do you already know when the harpoons will be fired?" Lin Qing covered her mouth and nose, asking.
"The hint says the clock 'never stops,' so it should be at 1:15," Qi Xia said softly.
Qiao Jiajin's face changed. "Doesn't that leave us with less than ten minutes? Let's start turning!"
Dr. Zhao moved the body on the table to the side, slowly sat down, and tested the weight of the table. "But we only have one shot. If we turn the table a hundred times, what if we get the direction wrong?"
"Well, there's still a 50% chance of survival!" Qiao Jiajin said urgently. "If we don't move, we're definitely dead. If we turn it, we have a 50% chance to live. Hurry up!"
Saying this, he used all his strength to start turning the table to the left.
Although Qiao Jiajin appeared weak, he was surprisingly strong, and with just one person, he turned the table halfway.
"What are you waiting for? Come on, help me!" Qiao Jiajin yelled at the others.
The remaining people understood that he was right, and they joined in turning the table.
At this point, there was no clear answer—they just had to take a chance.
But Qi Xia remained motionless.
He didn't know where to focus his thinking.
Left or right?
Why was the keyword "home"?
Since everyone here was Chinese, was it "the East"?
North is up, south is down, left is west, right is east. Was the answer "right"?
What about the person from the west?
Or maybe everyone's hometowns were related to the "Zuo Zhuan" (a classical text from the Spring and Autumn period), and the answer was "left"?
Qi Xia closed his eyes, planning to hide behind the two bodies if necessary. But if all the others died, what would happen next?
"It's not time to give up on them yet."
Qi Xia thought to himself, then stretched out his hand, grabbed a piece of paper from the rotating table, and picked up a pen. He walked to the side, found an empty space, and began to write furiously.
The others, though puzzled, didn't stop. They had already turned the table several times.
"If he hadn't introduced himself as 'the scammer,' I'd think this guy is a mathematician," Qiao Jiajin said to Sweet.
Sweet, feeling dizzy from turning, could only half-heartedly nod.
Qi Xia didn't use long division but instead roughly sketched a map of the country on the paper.
"Home...?"
His brain raced, and suddenly, he had an idea.
"Wait a minute..." Qi Xia's eyes widened. "If the 'organizer' is so powerful that they can find people with similar experiences from so many provinces, then 'provinces' must be a key clue!"
He turned around and looked at the others who were still turning the table. Seriously, he asked, "Did any of you lie about your hometowns?"
Everyone shook their heads.
After all, hometowns were closely tied to accents and speech habits, and lying about them would be easy to expose.
"Good," Qi Xia nodded slightly. "Now, one by one, tell me again where you're from."
Li Jingguan spoke first: "I'm from Inner Mongolia."
Qi Xia drew a black dot on the map where Inner Mongolia was.
"I'm from Sichuan," lawyer Zhang Chenze said coldly.
"I'm from Shaanxi..." Sweet said.
"Yunnan, Dali," said preschool teacher Xiao Ran.
"Guangdong," Qiao Jiajin said.
"Ningxia," psychologist Lin Qing said.
"I work in Jiangsu," Dr. Zhao said.
Qi Xia marked everyone's hometown on the map, and wrote down his own "Shandong."
At this point, all eyes turned to the writer Han Yimo, who had never mentioned his hometown.
"Han Yimo, are you from Guangxi or Taiwan?"
Han Yimo froze. "How did you know?"
"Time is tight. Answer me now."
"I'm from Guangxi..." Han Yimo replied.
Qi Xia nodded. At this point, there were only two provinces left for Han Yimo.
Guangxi and Taiwan.
If his answer wasn't one of these two, then he had lied in a huge way.
Fortunately, he told the truth.
Qi Xia marked the final province on the map, and now there were nine black dots on the sketch.
"Just as I thought."
Qi Xia muttered. "Stop. Turn right."
"Right?"
Qi Xia quickly ran to the table, threw the paper on it, and began to turn the table in the opposite direction.
Though the others were puzzled, they followed suit.
Dr. Zhao glanced at the map on the table and the nine black dots.
"Why right?"