"Liar…"
Qi Xia silently repeated those three syllables in his mind; once his identity was confirmed, he, with unruffled composure, set his card face-down.
Only a minute ago, he had entertained the notion that every soul might depart alive. Yet now, fate had shifted irrevocably. Though he was unacquainted with the eight individuals before him, destiny ordained that only they would meet their end.
"If no one objects, please remember the rule: in this game there exists one and only one deceiver…" declared Goat Head, as he pointed toward the alluring young woman seated to Qi Xia's left. "Thus, beginning with you, we shall proceed in a clockwise manner."
"Ah? Me?" the girl was momentarily startled before pursing her lips.
Observing the order, Qi Xia realized that commencing with the lady on his left and proceeding clockwise was hardly to his advantage. He would ultimately be the final narrator. In moments of acute tension and oppression, people tend to recall solely the first and the last speakers. Yet to raise objections now would be unduly abrupt—one must take matters as they unfold.
The alluring girl furrowed her brows, her large eyes flitting restlessly, and at last, with a sigh, she acquiesced, "Very well, I shall begin. Yet I have never been skilled at storytelling; pray, pardon any shortcomings in my narration…"
At that juncture, the assembled crowd fell silent in anticipation.
With a graceful gesture, the alluring girl swept a stray lock behind her ear and declared, "I am called Tiantian—a professional of my craft. We earn our keep through our skill, and I take no shame in it." Only then did all eyes note that Tiantian was scantily attired, wearing nothing more than a soiled, plunging miniskirt that left little to the imagination. Yet she seemed unperturbed by her scanty garb.
"Much of my tale is too unseemly to divulge in full… Simply, you may call me 'Action'; to call me 'Description' would leave me at a loss—after all, who of refined sensibilities would choose my line of work? In any case, I was at work before coming here. Yet the client I encountered was most peculiar… Though our establishment clearly provided a proper venue, he insisted on retreating to his car, asserting it would heighten the thrill… Thus, in the name of earning a living, I reluctantly accompanied him.
It was my maiden foray into car-bound labor; to my surprise, the seemingly opulent automobile proved exceedingly cramped, and I was soon drenched in sweat. I cannot fathom what exhilaration such a shoddy setting might yield, especially as his phone rang incessantly—and he adamantly refused to answer, driving me to sheer vexation."
Tiantian seemed on the verge of launching further invective at the client, but upon inadvertently catching sight of the corpse upon the table, she recoiled in shock, then drew a deep breath and declared, "Ah, well—such is the lot of my chosen trade, I concede. I had never imagined that an actual 'earthquake' would befall us; initially, I attributed the vigorous shaking to our own excess, only to discover it was a genuine tremor."
At the very mention of the word "earthquake," the countenances of all present shifted ever so slightly, as if stirred by a recollection.
"Our car had been parked in an alleyway… directly overhead loomed a vast billboard… at that very moment, with my head leaning out of the window, I caught sight of it," Tiantian illustrated with a trembling gesture at her crown, her voice quavering, "that immense billboard, for reasons I cannot fathom, let out a resounding crash and shattered, descending straight onto the car—and I soon lost consciousness."
She then exhaled deeply and remarked, "When I awoke, I discovered I was here—I was utterly petrified…"
Tiantian's face assumed an expression of plaintive grievance, one evidently perfected to captivate the hearts of men. The tattooed man seated beside her hesitated for a moment before asking, "Friends, shall we proceed with our recounting?"
The man in the white lab coat blinked in surprise and queried, "What do you mean?"
"'This miss,'" declared the tattooed man with steely conviction, "has already lied; let us proceed directly to a vote."
"You…! What are you saying?" Tiantian gasped in shock, "Where have I lied?"
Fixing a steely gaze upon her, the tattooed man declared, "It is your name—you claim to be 'Tiantian,' yet all bar hostesses adopt aliases. Names like 'Tiantian,' 'Xiaofang,' or 'Lili' are ubiquitous. By concealing your true name, you have already deceived us."
With that pronouncement, Tiantian's face blushed crimson. "You… what absurdity is this? I am called Tiantian indeed! My true name has lain dormant for years!" She then scanned the room and further added, "At my place of employment, only the name 'Tiantian' is known; no one would recognize me by my given name!"
At that moment, the assembled crowd fell into contemplation, while Qi Xia's countenance turned somber. From Tiantian's earlier narrative, he discerned no hint of deceit—her recounting was measured, her tone placid. This casual, conversational cadence could imply but two possibilities: either she had rehearsed her story long ago, reciting it ad infinitum, or she was indeed speaking the truth.
Yet now, the tattooed man had offered Qi Xia an alternative perspective—namely, the possibility of a nomenclatural deception. Such a deception need not invoke logical complexity or even plausibility, for none of the participants had ever met one another; names were known solely by the speakers' recitations. Qi Xia recalled Goat Head's words with care: "Among all the storytellers, one is a liar." The rule did not mandate that deceit must be manifested in a false narrative—a false name would suffice as well.
Seeing herself suspected, Tiantian's eyes grew wide with nervousness as she stuttered, "If you still disbelieve, then my true name is Zhang Lijuan… I am from Shaanxi… you may try calling me by my given name, but I shall not consent—I insist on being addressed as 'Tiantian'… I, I…"
Upon hearing these words, Qi Xia silently shook his head. It became evident that this woman was not as cunning as one might have presumed. In essence, she could not have contrived this deception in advance, nor could she have ad hoc conceived the ploy of a false name. For Goat Head had decreed that there is but one liar among us—and that, inevitably, must be none other than Qi Xia himself.
Should the others fail to grasp the gravity of the 'Tiantian' conundrum, then he would have secured an invincible stratagem. In forging an alias, the surname "Qi" proved unsuitable—it was neither rare nor obscure, too readily remembered to be of use. In other words, all that he recounted must be crafted to attract as little notice as possible. Thus, he resolved to assume the name "Li Ming." For the rest of his tale, he could recount matters in the ordinary course, ensuring that even the most discerning observer would find no discrepancy.
Thus, the game was nearing its conclusion.