Ten Day Ultimatum

"Depart from here justly?..." Qi Xia repeated, his expression contemplative, his thoughts elusive.
Mortal Pig pushed the two bowls forward. "Choose. Choose the one that dictates the survival of one of us."
Lin Qin and Ole Lu exchanged uneasy glances, their brows furrowed in concern. Both could see the bowls held an even mixture of black and white stones, making it impossible to discern any pattern.

At this point, everything boiled down to {luck}—or so it seemed.
Qi Xia remained utterly still, tilting his head slightly, as if straining to discern the color of the stones by sound alone.
After a long pause, he spoke. "Mortal Pig, you choose for me."

"What—?" Mortal Pig's voice faltered in disbelief. "What did you just say?"
"I said, choose for me." Qi Xia's tone was serious and unwavering. "Pick two pieces, and I will choose one of them."
Mortal Pig, clearly baffled, furrowed his brow. "Qi Xia, we’re {staking our lives} here. Don’t you intend to control your own fate?"

"It doesn't matter," Qi Xia replied nonchalantly, as if the gravity of the situation barely fazed him. "You said you wanted to {stake your life} to feel truly {alive}, but think about it — I’ve been the one playing all along. You’ve hardly participated."
Mortal Pig fell silent, absorbing the truth of Qi Xia’s words.
"So," Qi Xia continued, his voice calm yet decisive, "I’m giving you a chance to {participate}." He gestured toward the bowls. "This game is between you and me, and I want to see what you’ll choose."

Mortal Pig stroked his chin thoughtfully, brushing the coarse pig fuzz as though it were a well-groomed beard, an odd semblance of wisdom flickering across his features. He mulled over Qi Xia’s words, his mind running in circles, but no matter how he unraveled it, Qi Xia’s intent remained elusive.
This was supposed to be an evenly matched game. Yet, if he—the opponent—were to pick the stones, the balance would tip into unknown territory. It made the stakes even higher — for Qi Xia, at least.
In a moment where one's {life was at stake}, the man before him had handed over his fate to his enemy.

Was this an act of surrender? Or a calculated ploy?
"Don’t hesitate, Mortal Pig. It’ll be easier for me to choose after you’ve made your selection, won’t it?" Qi Xia remarked.
"Easier for you to choose... after I’ve made my selection?" Mortal Pig echoed, his brow furrowing in thought.

After a moment of contemplation, Mortal Pig’s expression shifted to one of grim determination. "I understand. Then allow me to send you on your way."
Qi Xia gave a slight nod, falling into silence.
Mortal Pig extended his hand toward the bowls and, with deliberate precision, picked out two white pieces.
For Qi Xia, these two white pieces were harbingers of doom. No matter how he inquired or reasoned, white could not transform into black.

Just as he was about to hand the two white pieces to Qi Xia, a sudden realization struck Mortal Pig. His hand hovered mid-air as he paused, a frown creasing his brow.
Wait a moment… that’s not right.
Could it be Qi Xia anticipated he would choose two white pieces?

This was a {gamble}, a high-stakes race where death was the consequence of defeat. Why else would Qi Xia display such unshakable confidence in letting me make the choice?
Sudden understanding dawned on Mortal Pig. He slowly retracted his hand, an expression of enlightenment crossing his face. Ah… he’s attempting to extract information from me.
Mortal Pig's thoughts crystallized in an instant. He now grasped the underlying meaning of Qi Xia's seemingly innocent remark: {It would be easier for me to choose after you’ve made your selection}.

It was a clever manipulation.
The moment he hands the two white pieces to Qi Xia, Qi Xia would renege on his earlier declaration. He wouldn’t choose between the pieces presented to him — instead, he’d set them aside and make his selection from the remaining bowls.
This subtle move would tip the balance. By removing two white pieces, the bowls would hold forty-eight white and fifty black stones. With this shift, Qi Xia’s odds of drawing a black piece—and securing victory—would increase, if only slightly.

Qi Xia wasn’t part of the {Earthly Branches}, meaning any promise or suggestion he made was purely tactical — not enforceable.
Since it wasn’t a {rule}, Qi Xia didn’t have to abide by it.
Meaning… he could {renege} at any moment.

‘You’re good at scheming…’ Mortal Pig thought, a chill creeping up his spine as he realized just how close he had come to handing victory to his opponent. The two white pieces had nearly sealed his fate.
Instead, he cautiously selected two black pieces, hoping to outwit Qi Xia by reversing the expected move. But doubt lingered, gnawing at him. Wouldn’t giving two black pieces now be equally dangerous?
Mortal Pig gazed intently at the stones — white in his left hand, black in his right. Every option seemed to edge Qi Xia closer to victory, and that realization pressed on him like a tightening noose.

Had Qi Xia calculated all of this in advance? It seemed almost impossible, but the circumstances forced Mortal Pig to confront the uncomfortable truth: no matter what he chose, it appeared Qi Xia would gain an advantage.
‘Should I just give him the white pieces?’ Mortal Pig mused, mind racing. Picking white might nudge the odds, but not enough to guarantee victory. Black pieces, though… that’s too risky.
No… that's not right.

Mortal Pig shook his head.
Neither two black pieces nor two white pieces would suffice. Qi Xia's strategy was an enigma, and Mortal Pig realized he couldn’t outmaneuver him with predictable choices. He needed a different approach, one that didn’t tip the scales in either direction.
Mortal Pig recalibrated his plan. He abandoned the idea of giving two matching stones and instead chose one black piece and one white piece. If he couldn’t diminish Qi Xia’s chances, he’d reset the game to its fundamental odds: a fifty-fifty chance.

In a situation this volatile, keeping the balance might be the most frustrating outcome for Qi Xia, forcing him to rely entirely on chance. And Mortal Pig knew that in a game of life and death, even a shred of unpredictability could be paralyzing.
‘Yes… that’s it…’ Mortal Pig nodded with satisfaction, placing one black and one white piece into Qi Xia's hands.
"Qi Xia, I've made my choice," he said, his tone firm. "Now, this fatal query returns to you."

"Fatal query…" Qi Xia’s fingers brushed the stones gently, a thoughtful expression etched on his face.
Mortal Pig, on the other hand, felt a rare sense of relief. In his mind, he’d made the optimal choice.
By presenting one black and one white piece, he had created a situation that seemed to strip Qi Xia of any calculated advantage. Now, Qi Xia faced the challenge of selecting one piece to question Lin Qin or Ole Lu ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ about, knowing one would be compelled to lie and the other to tell the truth.

He couldn’t determine the color of the stone, nor could he know whether the person questioned would lie or speak honestly.
In this doubly deceptive situation, Qi Xia's chances of winning were significantly diminished.
Ole Lu and Lin Qin, observing the black and white stones in Qi Xia’s hands, were drenched in cold sweat. They weren’t fools — they fully grasped the gravity of the situation.

Qi Xia's earlier intricate plans and carefully crafted strategies had seemingly evaporated. The game had reverted to its core uncertainty: a single, decisive question, wrapped in deception and misdirection.
With one black and one white stone, and two individuals — one truthful, one deceitful — his survival now hinged on an extraordinary stroke of {luck}.
Ole Lu, his anxiety palpable, pursed his lips and wiped the sweat from his brow. His hands were icy with nervousness.

"Qi Xia, who do you want to ask?" Mortal Pig inquired, his voice tinged with anticipation.
Qi Xia turned his gaze from Ole Lu to Lin Qin, his expression one of intense concentration.
Who among them was the truth-teller?

After thirty tense seconds, he made his decision. "I choose Lin Qin."
Lin Qin’s entire body trembled at his words, her fear palpable.
"Very well," Mortal Pig said, signaling to Lin Qin. "Remember the rules — your answer must be either {black} or {white}. Any deviation or hint will result in immediate death."

Lin Qin nodded, her face ashen.
Mortal Pig turned to Qi Xia and said, "You may begin, Qi Xia. You have only one chance to ask — your survival depends entirely on this question."