Han Yimo never expected that when he took the initiative to chat with Wen Qiaoyun, hoping to persuade her to surrender, he ended up being the one convinced instead, after just a few exchanges.
He had wanted to argue back, but he had to admit—Wen Qiaoyun’s reasoning was just too solid.
It only made sense for him to lose this match. Otherwise, how could he possibly explain beating someone like Wen Qiaoyun?
There are always people in the world who ask how you won, but rarely anyone who asks how you lost.
“Qiaoyun jie… I was trying to show loyalty to you all along,” Han Yimo said. “If this is what it takes for you to believe me, I have no objections.”
“Good,” Wen Qiaoyun nodded. “You know I have the ability to win this match. The reason I’m persuading you to surrender now is just to avoid taking things too far.”
“Yes…”
Han Yimo was about to agree, when suddenly a thought struck him.
Even though Wen Qiaoyun had correctly guessed the coin’s side three times in a row, could it just have been sheer luck?
Could it be that she was just incredibly lucky—lucky enough to make him lose five rounds straight, and lucky enough to guess correctly three times?
Was all of this simply a bluff…?
Although the probability was extremely low… what if it had actually happened?
“No… I need to verify this one more time,” Han Yimo thought to himself.
Only after thoroughly analyzing everything could he confidently maintain his position as the protagonist.
After all, in many novels, intelligence battles are still battles.
“Qiaoyun jie,” Han Yimo picked up the coin from the table, his expression serious. “I need to do one final test. If you guess correctly this time, I’ll hand over my ‘zi’ without hesitation.”
Wen Qiaoyun paused briefly after hearing this, then nodded. “Alright.”
Han Yimo then placed the coin in his palm, casually flicking it into the air. It barely rotated mid-flight, simply going straight up and down before landing back in his hand.
“Guess it!”
Wen Qiaoyun’s expression flattened. She stared at Han Yimo’s hand for a few seconds before speaking. “Han Yimo, what effect do you think you achieve by tossing it straight up and down like that?”
“Huh?”
“The coin didn’t even flip,” Wen Qiaoyun shook her head flawlessly. “Toss it again. I’ll give you another chance.”
“Oh, right!” Han Yimo finally realized she had been looking out for him. He quickly mimicked her earlier posture, pinching the coin between his thumb and index finger, then flicking it high into the air.
Instantly, the coin began to spin rapidly, flipping over several times mid-air before landing in Han Yimo’s palm.
Wen Qiaoyun had kept her eyes fixed on the air the entire time. After the coin landed, she slowly smiled.
“Qiaoyun jie, this time, if you guess correctly, I’ll admit defeat without hesitation,” Han Yimo said.
“I guess it’s…”
“Wait!” Immediately after Han Yimo spoke, he slapped his hand down onto the table. “Guess now.”
“Tails,” Wen Qiaoyun replied.
Han Yimo paused slightly, then opened his palm. The coin indeed showed “Yi.”
“Truly impressive…” Han Yimo said. “No wonder you’re an ancient master.”
Wen Qiaoyun finally relaxed completely.
She hadn’t expected Han Yimo, as a writer, to be this naive.
How should this all be explained?
Perhaps it should start with this specially designed coin.
One side of the coin was extremely smooth, while the other was rough.
In the center of the room hung a single lamp.
When the coin was tossed under the lamp, the smooth side would reflect the light in rapid circles across the room. By watching those light circles, one could naturally determine how many times the coin had rotated.
But of course, this required knowing which side was facing up before the toss. Otherwise, even knowing the number of rotations wouldn’t help—you’d still have to guess.
Therefore, when Han Yimo had initially tossed the coin straight up, Wen Qiaoyun had deliberately guided him into tossing it again.
Even though that toss had been straight up and down, Wen Qiaoyun still hadn’t been confident in guessing correctly. Only when he placed the coin between his thumb and index finger could she determine heads or tails based on the number of rotations.
Such an obvious rule, yet Han Yimo hadn’t noticed it at all.
Could it really be because of his claustrophobia, making it hard for him to notice the quickly flashing light in the dark?
Wen Qiaoyun also knew there was another crucial reason she had persuaded Han Yimo to surrender.
She suspected that if the match continued, there would be no winner at all.
It was a strange intuition.
This feeling came from the fourth round, when both of them had guessed incorrectly together.
She had clearly watched the boar toss a coin that was heads up. It rotated twelve and a half times—logically, it should have landed tails. Yet when she guessed tails and Han Yimo followed suit, they lost.
Even the boar hesitated for a few seconds after revealing the coin, which was still heads.
In the next round, she had closely watched the referee’s toss again. The coin started heads up, rotated a total of nineteen times, and should have landed heads. Yet as Wen Qiaoyun made what she believed was the correct choice, and Han Yimo followed her to choose heads, she suddenly sensed something was wrong. She immediately used the “Swap Card” to exchange their guesses.
They won. The correct answer was tails.
Indeed, it seemed only by avoiding Han Yimo’s choice could she truly win.
It was an abstract result—not that whichever choice she made was correct, but rather that whichever choice Han Yimo made was wrong.
There seemed to be a strange force surrounding Han Yimo. Even when the answer was correct, as soon as he made his choice, the correct answer would instantly become wrong.
It was as if some supernatural force had intervened in this gamble.
But why would there be supernatural forces here? Was this what they called an “Echo”?
Chu Tianqiu had clearly said that obtaining an “Echo” wasn’t easy in that place… Wait.
Suddenly, Wen Qiaoyun understood. They were no longer in that strange black space—they had already entered the external game arena.
In other words, anyone’s abilities could now be used freely here.
Therefore, this supernatural interference was very likely Han Yimo’s “Echo.”
Wen Qiaoyun figured this out in just two rounds. She knew that in the following rounds, Han Yimo would surely bet exactly according to her choices. Since she no longer had the “Swap Card,” both of them would only head toward failure, with neither able to reach seven points. In other words, this game had no winner.
If they wanted to take the other’s “zi,” they would naturally need alternative methods.
Therefore, Wen Qiaoyun decisively agreed when Han Yimo called for an end to the match. She demonstrated guessing the coin correctly three times, subtly implying to Han Yimo that she had completely figured out the game’s secret. Then, when his mindset wavered, she seized the opportunity to persuade him again. Her entire series of actions was smooth and convincing, completely unlike deception.
She had assumed Han Yimo would raise some fatal doubts, but he merely chose to toss the coin one more time.
So, in this so-called “coin toss” match, which part truly relied on luck?
If it was really a game of “luck,” why did both of them hold three cards in their hands?
Unfortunately, Han Yimo would never think this deeply. He simply sighed in frustration and handed the “Ma” card from his pocket to Wen Qiaoyun.
“I admit defeat, Qiaoyun jie.”
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