"Cop, you're lying," Qiao Jiajin hissed coldly.
"Hmph. I knew you'd say that—but what proof do you have? Just because someone attacked me?"
"Of course not," Qiao Jiajin smirked. "But think about it. Everyone's stories had connections—repeated characters. Geographical differences aside, the tales made sense. But your story and Lawyer Zhang Chenzé's share a key figure: the swindler who stole two million yuan. Yet your versions contradict each other. That means one of you is lying."
Officer Li paused. "Where exactly is the contradiction?"
Qiao Jiajin pointed at Zhang. "Lawyer Zhang said she was preparing for trial—that means the suspect was already in custody in her version. But in yours, the suspect was still at large. How do you reconcile that?"
Officer Li considered this. "You make a fair point, but I think you're getting influenced by this 'game.' Remember: each storyteller was in a different city. Even if the events sounded similar, they were separate happenings—so of course their outcomes differed."
Qi Xia watched the two argue in silence. That was fine—let them bicker. As long as either one cast a vote against the other, the "liar" would win. The rules were absolute: one liar, and if anyone votes wrongly, everyone dies—including the liar. Despite Officer Li's explanation, Qiao's accusation lingered in everyone's mind—it was the first sign of an actual discrepancy among their stories. Qi Xia couldn't help but think Qiao Jiajin was sharper than he originally seemed.
After a moment, a young woman spoke up.
"Um… it's my turn."
Everyone turned to look at her. She'd burst out screaming at the sight of the corpse earlier, but now she seemed much calmer—though she avoided looking at the body.
"Hello. My name is Lin Qin, and I'm a psychotherapist."
Qi Xia paused at her name: "Lin Qin." In ancient Chinese, it literally means "apple." A poetic and memorable name—perfect for this kind of setting. Her tale, loaded with that name, would stick in their minds—and perhaps mark her as suspicious.
Lin Qin covered her mouth and nose as she continued. "I'm from Ningxia. Before arriving here, I was waiting for a client—an early childhood teacher."
The group glanced at Xiao Ran, who quietly sat beside her. Another connection appeared.
"According to her, teaching preschool is incredibly challenging now. You can't hit or threaten kids. Parents treat teachers like babysitters, children treat them like servants. Monitors are installed in every classroom so parents can watch in real time. Raise your voice at a child, and one phone call prompts a meeting with the principal."
"But parents send their children to establish values—so how can a teacher correct mistakes without firmness?" she sighed. "This client said she had been feeling lost and frustrated for a long time."
"So I prepared an approximately month-long therapy plan."
"But, for some reason, she never showed up. I waited in my office instead."
"When the earthquake hit, I had no chance to escape—my office was on the 26th floor. The higher the floor, the stronger the tremor. I thought the whole building was swaying."
"I didn't know Ningxia could have earthquakes—this one made me feel it."
"I vaguely remember the ceiling collapsed. Everything went black, and I lost consciousness."
The group murmured as they processed her account. Qiao Jiajin jumped in first.
"I have two questions."
"Go ahead," Lin Qin said, her voice muffled.
"You said each classroom had 'monitors.' What did you mean exactly?"
No one expected Qiao to focus on that. Lin Qin, trained in empathy, answered patiently: "I think the cameras were installed so parents could observe their children remotely."
"Oh—closed-circuit cameras…" Qiao muttered, thinking aloud. "A posh preschool, is it?"
He continued: "And the teacher you met—that was Xiao Ran?"
"I don't know," Lin Qin shook her head. "We only exchanged WeChat. I planned to meet her before learning more."
"WeChat?" Qiao frowned.
Officer Li cut in. "You two—stop it. Xiao Ran is in Yunnan; Lin Qin is in Ningxia. Who travels that far to see a therapist?"
Qiao defended himself: "I only pointed it out. It's the first time someone mentioned another participant in their story."
Dr. Zhao nodded in agreement. "Xiao Ran—did you see Lin Qin for the reason she stated?"
Xiao Ran hesitated. "Not exactly the same…I was seeing her because I'd been criticized by a parent, and I was depressed…"
"That alone indicates coincidence," Dr. Zhao said. "They're in different regions—no need to force connections."
Silence settled, until Lawyer Zhang spoke up.
"Ms. Lin, half of your story retold someone else's—that preschool teacher's. Isn't that against the rules?"
Lin Qin blinked. "I mentioned her to help illustrate the kind of work I do…"
"Don't get me wrong," Zhang replied with a small smile. "But if that teacher's story was fabricated, it would conflict with Xiao Ran's. That would expose your lie."
"You…" Lin Qin stammered. "Dr. Zhao and Officer Li both said this could just be coincidence—different provinces."
"Coincidence," Zhang repeated, arms folded. "Think about it: why were we nine strangers brought together? If we can all find cracks in each other's stories, it must mean they're linked. We were chosen so connections would emerge—only then can we spot the liar. Otherwise this game would be nonsense—because the liar's advantage would be overwhelming."
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Would you like me to continue translating the next chapter, or help refine the pacing or chapter titles?