Tricked 118: A New Train of Thought

Having settled the focus for the evening, everyone returned to their rooms to fetch their notes and documents.

Jiang Yan also headed back to her room.

Before she even opened the door, the lively chatter inside drifted clearly through the door.

“Can I sleep with you tonight?” That was little Yu Renwan’s voice.

“No.” Cold rejection from little Jiang Yan.

“I only sleep on the same bed as people who look like me.”

At that, Jiang Yan pushed open the door and entered.

The small room was now crowded with seven children. Little Yu Renwan looked dismayed. Pink-dressed Taotao had somehow produced a mirror and was now holding it up to his face, studying himself and comparing with little Jiang Yan, some rare gloom crossing his outspoken features.

Black-clad Taotao sat obediently in the corner of the bed, head down, little hands folded on his lap. Having once lived with Jiang Yan in the imperial tomb, he knew perfectly well his face was shaped by Jiang Yan’s aesthetic, an innate advantage; he had no need for appearance anxiety.

After Jiang Yan entered, the children gradually quieted down.

Perhaps due to the energy field’s design, despite it being only four or five hours since morning, the children were all sleepy. Little Yu Renwan yawned and got up, little Huanhuan waved goodbye, and after the others left, only the two Taotaos stayed behind.

Jiang Yan said, “Why haven’t you two gone?”

Pink Taotao sat upright, arms crossed. “Look who I am—I’m definitely meant to be welcomed back to the palace.”

So he had to wait for Mu Wang to pick him up.

Jiang Yan turned to black Taotao.

Black Taotao nodded eagerly, clearly agreeing with pink Taotao’s point.

Jiang Yan said, “I’ll message Mu Wang then.”

Message sent, Jiang Yan turned away. Just then, black Taotao started nodding again—he nodded so hard his whole body rocked, prompting Jiang Yan to raise an eyebrow and lean in to check. Now he’d nodded right into sleep, chin sunk to chest, cheeks flushed with slumber.

Half a minute later, a knock came. Jiang Yan straightened to answer the door.

“He fell asleep,” she indicated black Taotao.

So Mu Wang bent down for a look, pink Taotao came over to do the same, the whole scene somehow comical.

A few minutes later, Mu Wang finally withdrew his gaze, scooped black Taotao up, and as he stood, pink Taotao bounded onto his back. With both kids clinging to him, Mu Wang carried them away.

“Sister, I’m off. I’ll come back later.”

Jiang Yan: “Mm.”

After the door closed, Jiang Yan sat back on the bed. Shen Xiaoxiao snuck some glances at her.

“Tut tut.” She tested the waters.

Jiang Yan shot her a look; Shen Xiaoxiao instantly dropped the pretense and sat up straight, staring at her phone.

Jiang Yan ignored her and walked to little Jiang Yan’s side.

Sometime along the way, the little girl had already fallen sound asleep—her breathing even, perfectly still.

Jiang Yan said plainly, “Go brush your teeth.”

Little Jiang Yan: “Huff—”

Jiang Yan bluffed, “Your eyelashes just moved.”

So little Jiang Yan slowly got up and shuffled off to brush her teeth.

Shen Xiaoxiao looked at Jiang Yan in astonishment—after all, when the girl brazenly vowed not to brush her teeth, Jiang Yan hadn’t even been in the room.

But Jiang Yan didn’t care to explain. She picked up her slip of clues.

The first evening, she’d acquired a slip with the game’s clear conditions—

[The completion period of this park is three days.]

[Please guess the title of the animation corresponding to the sixth event before entering it.]

[Each guest has three chances to answer. Enjoy the game, big friends and little friends, and answer earnestly!!]

Judging by the gold-haired, blue-eyed dolls and the various princes and princesses, the animation’s domain was broad.

It might not just mean Hua Country’s animation—it could be foreign as well.

What made it most troublesome was that it might be a long-running animated series, or just a single feature-length film.

In sum, the possible answers were bewilderingly broad, possibly obscure and niche, even weird ones.

But Jiang Yan didn’t plan to worry about that.

After all, popularity or obscurity made no difference—she hadn’t watched any of the famous ones, either.

With that thought, Jiang Yan tilted her head, eyeing Shen Xiaoxiao, who looked up in confusion, growing tense under Jiang Yan’s scrutinizing gaze.

“W-what is it, Sister Jiang Yan?”

Jiang Yan asked, “Have you watched cartoons before?”

Shen Xiaoxiao stared blankly for a moment. “Huh?”

Jiang Yan repeated, “Have you watched cartoons?”

Understanding this time, Shen Xiaoxiao nodded quickly. “Yes! Lots!”

Jiang Yan: “Then you’ll have to do most of the work this round.”

Shen Xiaoxiao didn’t quite get the meaning, nodding blankly.

Half a minute later, Jiang Yan asked, “Is there something everyone watches?”

Shen Xiaoxiao blinked.

Jiang Yan’s gaze pressed her.

Shen Xiaoxiao felt something was off, though she couldn’t say just what, so she replied seriously:

“Not necessarily, I suppose. But the popular ones—those you’d at least know by name, like Nezha Conquers the Dragon King, who doesn’t know that one!”

Jiang Yan: “Everything has exceptions.”

“For example, me.”

Shen Xiaoxiao froze. Just then, the door was knocked; she jumped up to open it, and everyone else entered. As discussed, everyone would meet in this room tonight to discuss the sixth event.

Chairs were ready; after entering, everyone sat down and placed their slips and clues on the table.

Thoughts churned; for a while, no one spoke.

Shen Xiaoxiao thought back on what Jiang Yan had said, feeling uneasy, as if something catastrophic was on the way.

Shen Huanhuan noticed her look. “Xiaoxiao, what is it?”

“Why are you staring at Sister Jiang Yan?”

Shen Xiaoxiao said, “Sister Jiang Yan was just talking to me about cartoons…”

Zhao Kepu looked delighted. “You have a lead?”

“No, no,” Shen Xiaoxiao hurriedly replied, “not really. I just misunderstood what Sister Jiang Yan meant—”

Jiang Yan: “No, you didn’t.”

Shen Xiaoxiao’s words died in her throat.

Jiang Yan said plainly, “I’ve never watched any cartoons. Have you all watched them?”

Zhao Kepu: “……”

Yu Renwan: “……”

Shen Huanhuan’s hand froze halfway as she twisted her water bottle cap. For a long time, she just held the bottle, then, as she finally touched it, her hand trembled, and the bottle slipped from her grip.

Jiang Yan reacted quickly and caught it.

Looking up, she saw—perhaps for the first time—genuine dismay on Shen Huanhuan’s face.

【Huanhuan looks just like I did last night.】
【I knew it, we’re doomed. If you figure out the answer tonight, please ping me on my homepage; if not, I give up…】
【?? I missed last night, but Sister Yan’s never watched a cartoon? Huh??】
【It’s true. Sister Yan doesn’t even know Nezha or Huluwa QAQ】
【How can anyone not know those—Nezha! It’s him, the young hero Nezha!】
【Sister Yan must’ve been poor as a kid—no TV, no picture books, no bedtime stories…】
【……】
【I can’t take it, I’m out. If you get a lead tonight, ping me; otherwise, forget it.】

On a muggy summer night, Jiang Yan fanned herself with her hand.

It didn’t make any difference to winning or losing the game whether she said this earlier or later. Revealing it too soon wouldn’t help her build up cartoon knowledge, and could even unsettle the team and disrupt solving earlier events.

Shen Huanhuan, unwilling to give up, confirmed, “Not even a little? Not a single episode?”

Jiang Yan: “Not a single one.”

Yu Renwan: “Just this afternoon at the candy house—when the red-haired princess was lying by the pool, Jiang Jiang, you didn’t recognize her?”

Jiang Yan: “What would I recognize about a human-faced fish?”

Everyone: “……”

Only Mu Wang’s expression remained unchanged. Realizing whether or not someone had watched cartoons mattered, he quietly raised his hand. “I haven’t watched any either.”

Shen Xiaoxiao blurted, “With you it doesn’t matter so much.”

A little harsh, but Mu Wang pretended not to hear.

The room grew very quiet.

The tension became almost unbearable.

It was because Jiang Yan had long been the linchpin—the core of the group. Most of the key deductions had come from her, even if the physical clues weren’t always her finds. In other words, the key to clearing the stage had always rested with her.

But now, with Jiang Yan resigning from the task, the key had to be passed on, and no one could take on the burden right away.

Ability was one thing, but more importantly, it was a matter of courage—

—the courage to bear others’ lives.

Several minutes passed before Shen Huanhuan finally sighed. She lifted the water bottle she’d uncapped and took several big gulps before saying, “It doesn’t matter.”

“Sister Jiang Yan might not have seen cartoons, but we have. We’ll keep looking for clues together and analyze which animation they align with.”

“It’s normal not to have watched—just another kind of risk in the energy field. We didn’t know ahead of time we’d need to guess an animation either,” Shen Huanhuan rallied everyone, “Our top priority is to find what the first four stories have in common.”

“Sister Jiang Yan already pointed us in the right direction. Let’s push on together!”

The heavy mood broke. Everyone clustered in to discuss, and the room grew more animated.

Shen Xiaoxiao wrote out a list of cartoon titles on paper, calling on everyone to help her match them to the four stories, hoping to find a way in through possible answers.

But after a long round of searching, not a single one of the dozens of titles fit.

“The common points are way too broad,” she complained.

“All the stories have parents, and from the perspective of the children—they’re obedient and sensible, but their lives are unhappy, each in their own way.”

“That seems to be the only commonality!”

Shen Xiaoxiao’s view matched everyone else’s, including the livestream. Now, the people watching were more anxious than the players themselves.

【Exactly…】
【That’s all I can find in common, too.】
【Keep thinking, keep thinking, you can do it!】
【I’m really at a loss, what other common ground could there be? There’s just this!】
【Yeah…I really can’t see what animation would fit.】
【Ugh, I’m losing hope here.】

The discussion continued for more than three hours. Under the energy field’s influence, everyone grew drowsier and drowsier—even coffee couldn’t keep them awake.

“The Three Little Pigs?” Shen Xiaoxiao mumbled. “Tadpoles Looking for Mama?”

“All about mothers…”

“Maybe it has to do with the number of kids, something with six—what animations have six kids…”

By the time the clock needle hit midnight, Zhao Kepu was the first to collapse onto the table.

No matter how much Shen Xiaoxiao shook him, he wouldn’t wake, and finally she herself fell limp in her chair, eyes closing.

Only Jiang Yan and Mu Wang seemed immune.

With discussion now impossible, Jiang Yan put down her stack of clues, signaled to Mu Wang to help carry Zhao Kepu away, then escorted Shen Huanhuan and Yu Renwan back to their rooms.

Upon returning, she carried Shen Xiaoxiao to the bed, turned off the main light, clicked on her desk lamp, and went back to the files.

She had all the paper clues laid out beside her.

The stories fundamentally revolved around love—love between parent and child.

Love that was hopeless, that was shrewd, that was controlling, and love never attained.

Everyone’s analysis had focused on this, and Jiang Yan had thought the same, but clearly—judging by the night’s dead ends—it wasn’t getting anywhere.

So…

Jiang Yan’s brows knit tight, flipping through the papers again and again. At length, her eyes lingered on a hospital diagnosis.

She’d already read this diagnosis countless times tonight—it never seemed amiss.

—It was An’an’s mother’s infertility report.

Unable to conceive, An’an’s mother and her husband adopted An’an, who was later sold by his gambling father to traffickers.

Jiang Yan stared at the diagnosis. Having seen these familiar words so many times, her mind wandered. After half a minute, she shook it off and set the file aside.

But just as she reached for another file, a thought struck.

She slowly turned her face back toward the infertility paper.

—If she couldn’t find answers within the story itself, why not start at “why do these stories begin at all?”

At once she rifled through the clues. Five minutes later, she set everything down and quietly exhaled.

Jiang Yan reached out and gently shook the sleeping little girl at her side.

For a full three minutes, the girl slowly blinked awake, peering around in bewilderment before turning to Jiang Yan.

Her small face grew wary. “You’d better actually need something.”

Jiang Yan: “I really do.”

She lowered her eyes and spoke a few words. The little girl had just shut her eyes again, but at the words, they snapped back open.

Jiang Yan: “Tomorrow, watch for these three things. If they show up in the fifth event, then we’ve got it.”

The girl scrutinized her for a moment, then slowly closed her eyes—

“Got it.”

“But tomorrow night, I’m not brushing my teeth, and you’re not allowed to stop me again.”