Chapter 29

Chapter 29

Number Sixteen, Shu Ke, was an exceptional student. He almost always ranked first in his class and among the top three in his entire grade. Most other students entering their second year of high school would have spent summer vacation attending extra classes or reviewing their lessons. Shu Ke, however, could travel abroad with his parents because he was a genuinely gifted, intelligent boy who maintained excellent grades without intensive tutoring.

His father, Shu Yanjun, taught at a university, while his mother, Xiang Meiling, was a middle-school teacher. Born into a scholarly family with parents who loved reading and learning, Shu Ke had naturally received an excellent education from early childhood. It was no surprise that he became one of the highest-ranked students in his school.

Earlier, when Che Dongming suggested that the sharpest minds should choose later positions, Shu Yanjun had quietly told his son,

“Shu Ke, you’re very intelligent, but don’t take the last position. You’re still in high school. You shouldn’t have to bear that much responsibility and pressure.”

Shu Ke understood his father’s meaning. The person going last might decide the outcome of the game. Win or lose, their answer would indirectly cause someone’s elimination, which meant death. Worse, that person could be one of Shu Ke’s own parents. It truly was more than he could bear.

Even though he considered himself an adult, when it mattered, he had followed his father’s advice and chosen Number Sixteen, a relatively late position.

Now, however, he was dumbfounded.

Shu Ke would have held an advantage in any contest of knowledge or intellect. He had never imagined that he would be asked to guess the name of a dish.

As a high-school student, he had never even visited a produce market, let alone cooked anything.

He had eaten plenty, of course, but he only liked dishes containing meat and had no interest in vegetables. Yet now he had to guess the name of a vegetarian dish.

Including his own, only four questions remained. Shu Ke knew he could not afford to waste another one. But the possibilities had already been narrowed so far that he had no idea how to reduce them further. As for guessing blindly, he could barely name a single vegetarian dish…

What am I supposed to do? Shu Ke thought anxiously. He glanced at the timer on the display before him. Only twenty seconds remained.

No one else dared hurry him now. In his place, they would not have known what to ask either. Perhaps all he could do was guess a dish and trust to luck.

With five seconds left and several people beginning to urge him on, Shu Ke finally thought of a question.

“Is the dish mainly green?”

Liang Chen considered it briefly. “No.”

“Then at least we can eliminate every dish made primarily from leafy green vegetables,” Shu Ke said, inwardly relieved. At least I didn’t waste the question. That narrows the possibilities a little further.

“Now it’s Number Seventeen’s turn. Only three questions remain!” Tina sounded increasingly excited. The game had clearly reached its climax.

Number Seventeen was the doctor, Che Dongming. He pinched his chin and thought for a moment, then the corner of his mouth lifted in a faint smile.

“Is it sugared tomatoes?”

“No,” Liang Chen answered. The piercing alarm sounded again.

“You’re guessing blindly now? There are plenty of four-character vegetarian dishes! Only two questions remain. Think it through more carefully!” Shu Yanjun said anxiously.

“It doesn’t matter. We’ve already won.” Che Dongming looked toward Chen Nuo.

Chen Nuo paused. After a moment’s thought, he understood what Che Dongming meant. At the same time, Tina announced, “Number Eighteen may ask his question now.”

Chen Nuo had been trying to recall all the four-character Chinese vegetarian cold dishes served in the buffet restaurant over the past two days that were not primarily green. He could remember pickled-pepper wood ear, roasted pepper century egg, sugared tomatoes, peanuts in aged vinegar, homestyle cold jelly noodles, green pepper and corn, mustard three-shred salad, soy-sauce tofu, cold dressed eggplant, pickled-pepper bamboo shoots, chili-oil rice noodles, osmanthus lotus root, and dozens more. Those were only the dishes he could name. There were others he had never seen or eaten, whose names he did not even know.

In short, even after narrowing the range this far, twenty or thirty four-character names still met all the conditions.

Che Dongming could not have failed to realize that. Yet he had casually asked whether the answer was sugared tomatoes, only for Liang Chen to reject it immediately.

That was only natural. Three questions had remained, but they had more than thirty possible answers. The odds of guessing the exact four Chinese characters by sheer luck were far too low.
Then why had Che Dongming said, “It doesn’t matter. We’ve already won”?

Within seconds, Chen Nuo grasped his idea.

At this stage, the only possible way to win was to exploit a loophole in the rules.

The first rule stated that the noun had to be “common knowledge” familiar to everyone present. In other words, it had to satisfy the condition that every single person knew it.

But the members of the tour group came from every corner of the country, and dietary customs varied from region to region. A dish considered commonplace in one area might be completely unfamiliar to people from another city or province.

Take chili-oil rice noodles, for example. The dish was common knowledge in provinces such as Shaanxi and Guizhou, yet people in some other regions might not even recognize rice noodles of that kind, let alone know the dish’s name.

The same dish could also have different names in different places. Soy-sauce tofu, for instance, could also be called cold dressed tofu. Regional customs produced different names.

That was the weakness Che Dongming intended to exploit. His earlier remark had plainly been a signal telling the others how to respond when the answer was revealed.

No matter what answer Liang Chen eventually announced, all someone had to say was, “I’ve never heard that dish called by this name,” or, “We don’t call it that where I’m from.” Liang Chen would immediately find himself at a disadvantage.

Of course, they might not be telling the truth. In the modern globalized world, any reasonably large city offered food from around the world, never mind dishes from other parts of the same country. Every major city had restaurants serving Sichuan, Cantonese, Huaiyang, northwestern Chinese, and many other cuisines. People also traveled widely now and had encountered all kinds of things.

But as long as someone insisted they had never heard of a dish, even the all-powerful K Organization would probably struggle to prove they were lying. They could deliberately frame Liang Chen and make him lose.

So Tang Ying and I can simply guess any dish we like? According to Che Dongming’s strategy, the challengers really couldn’t lose. Liang Chen had already lost the moment he decided to write down the name of a dish. He had probably underestimated how devious people could be and left them a loophole to exploit.

By the time Chen Nuo finished thinking, more than half his sixty seconds had elapsed. He could not devise a better approach, so he asked,

“Is it peanuts in aged vinegar?”

“No,” Liang Chen answered.

This time, the alarm was accompanied by several anxious, frightened voices.

“What do we do? There’s only one question left!” Ruirui cried in panic. “There are so many possible dishes. How could Tang Ying possibly guess the right one?”

“Damn it! The restaurant changes its dishes every meal. Who knows which one it is? That bastard Liang Chen is too cunning!” Hong Long cursed.

Those were the less intelligent members of the group. Others had clearly understood Che Dongming’s meaning. They remained calm, smiles playing at their lips as if victory were already in their grasp.

Yet Chen Nuo felt a chill.

The reason was Liang Chen. He was utterly composed, without the slightest hint of panic. Chen Nuo even sensed that he was struggling not to smile.

That made no sense.

Che Dongming’s remark could hardly have been more obvious. Most of the group understood him, and Liang Chen was certainly no fool. He had to know what strategy they intended to use against him.

Yet he was not worried at all. There was only one possible explanation: Che Dongming’s strategy was also part of Liang Chen’s calculations.

Of course. As the person setting the question, Liang Chen had enjoyed more than ten hours to consider every possibility carefully. Someone “pretending not to know the name of a particular dish” would have been one of them.

He had anticipated it all along.

That meant the four-character dish Liang Chen had written down had to be one he could guarantee everyone knew, leaving no room for objections.

But had the buffet restaurant truly served a dish that everyone from every part of the country would recognize without exception? Something men and women of every age could name, with one name used nationwide?

If so, what was it?

“Now Number Nineteen will ask the final question,” Tina said.