Chapter 105 Chapter 105
But Lia only won this one round. She fooled everyone in the first round, completely deceiving them. But then everyone became highly alert. Kush, in particular, was traumatized by her trickery.
From then on, whenever Lia was present, he would be like a radar, never letting her go. Even if she drew the identity of "police officer", no one would believe what she said. So starting from the second round,
No matter what identity she drew, there were only two outcomes: either she would be "killed" in the middle of the night, or voted out during the day. No one could survive the second round. Before the fourth round began, Lia clasped her hands together, bowed, and begged for mercy: "Everyone,
I was wrong, really wrong. Can you let me off this time?" Kush's eyes glared, and she said firmly, "Only a madman would say that." The next second, she was voted out without any suspense.
After being sent packing for three or four rounds without a trace of presence, Lia finally gave up and simply withdrew from the game and became a judge. The judge's perspective is also very interesting. Unlike the players who are in the game,
The judge possesses a bird's-eye view of the truth from the outset. From this perspective, the unfolding situation, each individual's strategy, response, and personality all stand out with stark clarity. Kush is a classic disruptor.
No matter what identity he drew, he would make up a bunch of nonsense, talking faster than his brain, and making a coherent argument, messing up the clues that had finally become clear.
At the other extreme are the typical cautious players. Even if they draw a crucial role like "Police Officer," they wouldn't dare reveal their identities. They'd be extremely cautious with every word and action, fearing they'd become the target of public criticism.
Sometimes, he'd rather give up control than be killed. Surprisingly, Kwon Ji-yong is the most strategic of the group. Is this a quality inherent in being a seasoned artist?
He possessed a natural sense of judgment and control. Even when drawn as the most boring "Citizen," he could unravel the chaos, discerning a clear thread from the limited information, and steer the situation in his favor. But when he assumed the identity of the censor, he became a completely different person, lying and misleading with such composure and composure that even the most sensitive of eyes would be unable to detect the difference.
His desire to win is not obvious, but Lia sees it very clearly from the sidelines: He habitually tries to understand the overall situation and control the situation, integrating performance with reality, like some kind of innate instinct.
That wasn't what you might call "good at playing games" in the ordinary sense. Some people have a desire to win but no strategy, but he possessed both: ambition and the patience and ability to realize it.
The game magnifies the subtler aspects of everyone's personality. It's like a survival game in an extreme environment, where the cautious become even more cautious, and the smart become even smarter.
After several rounds of this, the glasses emptied and refilled, and before they knew it, it was already late at night. Except for Lia, the judge, and the bodyguard who hadn't touched a drop of alcohol, everyone else was more or less tipsy.
Kush and Kento, who had drunk the most and lost the most, were now struggling to walk. Seeing this, the bodyguards had no choice but to help them up, one on each side, and send them back to their rooms to rest.
After the three left, the suite suddenly became much quieter, with only Quan Zhilong, Yongpei, Dasheng and Lia left. Quan Zhilong was sitting on the sofa in a daze.
He had no expression on his face, nor did he appear to be drunk. He just sat there quietly. His exposed skin was slightly flushed from the alcohol; his forearms, neck, and even a small patch of skin behind his ear were all a bit pink.
If Lia wasn't so familiar with his sober self, she might have thought he wasn't drunk. She carefully recalled the game they'd just played. He hadn't lost much, and each time he'd only taken a small, symbolic sip. Logically, he shouldn't have been drunk.
—So, the person who was worried about her drinking capacity at the beginning turned out to be the one who couldn't hold a candle to it? Thinking of this, she suddenly found it a little funny. She was just thinking about whether to take this opportunity to get up and say goodbye, but Dasheng suddenly spoke.
"Um..." He said awkwardly. Lia looked at him: "Hmm?"
Dasheng glanced at Quan Zhilong, seemed a little hesitant, then quickly turned to Yongpei, who was leaning on the armrest of the sofa, and put his arm on his shoulder very naturally: "Brother Yongpei seems drunk, I'll take him back to bed."
Yongpei subconsciously wanted to argue when he heard this: "I'm not drunk..." Dasheng didn't give him the chance to speak, and pulled him up and walked quickly out the door. When he reached the door, he didn't forget to turn back and add: "Brother Zhilong, please!"
Then he closed the door cleanly and quickly like the wind. "Click——" Lia: "......?" * Lia didn't know what other people looked like when they were drunk, but Quan Zhilong was...very well behaved.
The once bustling suite was now just her and him. The living room was silent, the low hum of the air conditioner the only background noise, along with his steady, shallow breathing.
He seemed to have not yet reacted, just sitting quietly, his eyebrows downcast, his expression gentle. She suddenly couldn't remember what he was like in normal times.
The man who always seemed to be wrapped in a hard shell, the man who was at ease but always kept a distance. He had never revealed such a blank expression.
Even when he showed weakness, it was so perfectly executed that it was hard to discern his true feelings. And now, he just sat there quietly, a look of even a hint of vacancy in his eyes—like a sleepy yet noble cat.
Lia had no experience nursing someone drunk, so she had no idea what Dasheng meant by "please." If he'd walked slower, she could at least have asked.
She had no choice but to act on her instincts. She walked a few steps to his side and asked softly, "Would you like to lie down on the bed for a while?" Quan Zhilong heard the voice and slowly raised his head, his eyes falling on her face. He looked at her, seemed to hesitate for a moment, and then nodded gently.
He just nodded, but he still sat there motionless. Lia was a little unsure if he understood, so she asked again. He didn't respond immediately. After a few seconds, he murmured "hmm" softly, but remained motionless.
Lia sighed and moved closer, reaching out to hold his arm. He didn't resist and stood up obediently. Although his steps were not very stable, his center of gravity was mostly supported on himself.
He just let her hold his wrist and lead him in the direction of the bedroom. When they reached the door of the living room, Lia let go of her hand: "Can you go in by yourself?" He glanced at the room, then looked at her, without saying a word or moving.
She paused, raised her hand and pushed open the door: "Go in and sleep?" This time, he finally nodded and walked into the room obediently. But he didn't go to the bed, but went straight to the bathroom.
Lia was stunned for a moment, not realizing what he was trying to do, and followed him subconsciously. As soon as she reached the door, she saw him standing in front of the sink, squeezing toothpaste carefully.
His movements were slower than usual, but surprisingly careful—the toothpaste was squeezed neatly, with just the right amount. Lia leaned against the doorframe, watching silently. —Well, he's still a clean cat.
She didn't say anything, just waited quietly for him to complete the whole process.
After Quan Zhilong finished washing up, he seemed satisfied. He turned around and saw her still standing at the door. He was stunned for a moment, as if he finally realized something, and then he walked towards the bed consciously.
Lia breathed a sigh of relief and stood there, watching him sit down on the bed and lie down slowly and evenly. She walked over and pulled the quilt over his shoulders. He closed his eyes, as if he was really getting sleepy.
She lowered her eyes and stared at him silently for a few seconds. The room was so quiet that only the faint sound of breathing could be heard. It was so quiet that she suddenly realized that the red wine she had drunk at the beginning seemed to be taking its toll.
It was as if the air had suddenly become thinner, and her senses had slowed down. She subconsciously bit the tip of her tongue, but instead she could smell his scent even more clearly—the scent of toothpaste, mixed with the aftertaste of perfume, and a barely perceptible hint of cigarette smoke.
He looked incredibly peaceful in his sleep. Despite his thin frame, his features were remarkably sharp: a clean forehead, a straight nose, and thin, yet sculpted lips. With his eyes closed, he lost his sharpness and assumed a more harmless, quiet air.
At this distance, he looked quiet, almost fragile, the line of his collarbone faintly visible on the edge of the quilt, a hint of his defenselessness. And she seemed to have some emotion growing silently within her.
She stared at him for a long time, so long that she didn't even notice she was slowly leaning in. Lowering her head, she moved closer, the distance gradually closing. She could even feel his breath, gently caressing her cheek.
Just one more centimeter—and she'd be able to touch him. She looked at the face, so familiar it was almost blurry, and her heartbeat suddenly stopped. It was as if someone whispered in her ear: —No. She stopped moving abruptly.
Her consciousness seemed to be suddenly pulled back to reality from a soft mist. She finally realized the distance between her and him, so close that it was almost inexplicable. What was she doing? This thought was like an alarm, instantly exploding in her mind.
The next second, she turned as if being chased, tiptoed out of the room, and closed the door behind her. …The door closed softly. The footsteps faded away, and the room fell silent. In the darkness, Quan Zhilong opened his eyes.
The ceiling hung silently above him, his own breathing the only sound audible. He stared at it for a moment, the drunkenness in his eyes completely dissipating, leaving only the calmness of sobriety. —The beauty trap had failed.
He covered his eyes with his hands and laughed softly.
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