William Baker was trying even harder to figure it out than he was: “It seems like... we know there are 13 of us in total, but only 12 sets of tableware.”

　　Brian Baker: “...Why are you copying down the question?”

　　William Baker: “...When I run out of things to write on exams, I usually emphasize the key points of the question to add a few more words.”

　　Brian Baker: “...”

　　The damn key points of the question.

　　He pointed at another pile of circles: “What’s this?”

　　William Baker: “G=mg, g=9.8N/kg...”

　　Brian Baker: “What does this have to do with optics?”

　　William Baker: “Mainly... I don’t know what tableware has to do with optics either.”

　　Brian Baker: “...”

　　William Baker, afraid his brother would get pissed off, quickly added, “There is some optics, too.”

　　Brian Baker couldn’t be bothered to read the long-winded nonsense and asked directly, “Where did you write up to?”

　　William Baker replied awkwardly, “Here, I wrote about refractive index, parallel light, spherical surfaces, lenses, focal length, imaging... These all count as optics, right? I even drew two simple diagrams of mirror imaging.”

　　Brian Baker’s face was expressionless. William Baker thought for a moment, then decided to pull his brother away from the answer wall and changed the subject: “Let’s not talk about these unpleasant things. Besides answering questions, we did some other stuff.”

　　In fact, after the answer wall updated, they had turned the whole room upside down.

　　The question said: This is Hunter A’s cabin. He has 13 sets of tableware, but only enough food for 12 people.

　　But after searching the attic, cabinets, jars, and bottles, they found neither Hunter A nor the missing set of tableware. As for food...

　　That was just wishful thinking.

　　“We searched for over two hours,” William Baker said dispiritedly. “Just this crappy little house, two hours! You can imagine, we really searched everywhere. There’s nothing, this question is bullshit.”

　　Brian Baker asked, “Are you sure you searched everywhere?”

　　“Actually, not quite.” A skinny man in a hospital gown nearby coughed a few times and interjected, “There are two places we didn’t touch.”

　　He raised his bony finger and pointed at the two locked rooms.

　　On the doors of the two rooms, one had a hen hanging on it, the other a rooster. Their necks twisted, pitch-black eyes staring motionlessly out the window.

　　Maybe because the chickens looked so creepy, every time they made a sound, it either broke the rules or signaled the end of the round, so no one dared to touch them.

　　“We looked for the keys, but couldn’t find them.”

　　Brian Baker nodded, walked over to take a closer look at the two padlocks, then turned to scan the walls.

　　William Baker, afraid his brother would grab an axe and smash the doors, quickly said, “Bro! I’ve played more games than anyone here. For doors that are locked like this, it’s best not to force them.”

　　Brian Baker asked coolly, “Do I look like an idiot to you?”

　　William Baker shrank his neck and didn’t dare say anything.

　　After a moment, he awkwardly asked, “Then why are you looking at the wall?”

　　“Who’s touched the hunting gear?” Brian Baker asked.

　　Everyone turned their eyes to the tattooed man.

　　“What the hell are you all looking at me for!” The tattooed man was annoyed by the stares. “Last time you wrongly accused me of hiding a knife, now what are you blaming me for?”

　　“Accusing you?” Brian Baker frowned.

　　“So many people crowded together, who the hell knows where the knife came from.” The tattooed man cursed a few times, irritated. “Forget it, I can’t explain anything to you idiots!”

　　Brian Baker looked at him coolly.

　　The tattooed man: “...”

　　After two seconds of silence, the tattooed man said, “Fine, fine, you... whatever, ask what you want!”

　　Brian Baker jerked his chin at the wall: “Hang the hunting gear you took down back where it was. I want to see the positions.”

　　The tattooed man glared at him: “Am I crazy? Take them down just to hang them back up?”

　　...

　　Three minutes later, the tattooed man was carrying an armful of hunting gear, hanging them back one by one.

　　Brian Baker had his hands in his pockets, following behind.

　　“I’m not a dog, can you stop acting like you’re walking me down the street?!”

　　The tattooed man grumbled, but still obediently put the last item back, then spat in the air and walked away.

　　“Bro, what’s up with the hunting gear?” William Baker asked.

　　Brian Baker pointed at the last wall and said, “There are two empty nails.”

　　“So?” William Baker was still confused.

　　“What happened to the things that were hanging on those nails?”

　　The room fell silent.

　　Suddenly someone said, “Yeah... two things are missing. No one’s hiding them, right?”

　　Everyone shook their heads.

　　Old Baker: “It was like that before.”

　　Everyone looked at him.

　　“Well... before the exam, didn’t I go out for a walk?” Old Baker said to Brian Baker, “You were sleeping, so I didn’t wake you. When I was leaving, I wanted to see if there was an umbrella in the house, and those two nails were already empty. I’m sure of it.”

　　“You mean, from the moment we entered the house, two pieces of hunting gear were already missing?”

　　“Then who has them?”

　　“Hunter A?” William Baker guessed. “So... there actually is a Hunter A, but he’s not in the house, he went out hunting?”

　　Everyone started to panic a little: “We can’t go outside, and if he doesn’t come in, how are we supposed to find him?”

　　Brian Baker: “Time’s not up yet, right?”

　　...

　　Everyone was half-convinced by the time theory, but Brian Baker had already pulled up a chair and was sitting by the fire.