Chapter 318 Are They Really That in Sync?

Chapter 318 Are They Really That in Sync?

If the first challenge with the ring toss had relied heavily on luck, the second round, Pictionary left absolutely no room for chance.

Whether you got the answer right came down to three things: how clearly the artist could draw, how extensive the guesser's vocabulary was, and how fast both of them could think on their feet.

Each phrase had a thirty-second time limit. The person drawing had to figure out instantly how to illustrate it in the most straightforward way possible so their partner could understand immediately.

Even more critical was this: the guesser had to actually know the phrase. Otherwise, no matter how perfect the drawing was, they would never get it right.

In the first round, Dorian and Asher had both agreed that the person throwing the rings was more important than the one calling out positions.

So they'd settled it with rock-paper-scissors to decide who would throw.

Now, for this round, they both agreed that the guesser was more important than the artist.

Asher suggested, "In that case, let's do rock-paper-scissors again."

But this time Dorian lifted her chin, her voice dripping with confidence. "Who needs rock-paper-scissors? Did you already forget our language test scores that just got posted? If we're talking vocabulary, I'm obviously the better choice."

Hearing her throw their grades in his face, Asher immediately threw up his hands. "Fine, fine, you're the genius. You guess."

On the other side, Amelia looked at Michael and asked, "Do you want to guess or draw?"

Michael had never in his life played Pictionary at a carnival booth.

He'd never imagined he'd be acting out phrases in front of a crowd like this. For a billionaire, this kind of scene was not only rare, it was completely out of character.

He was just worried that if he performed poorly, he'd drag Amelia down.

"You guess," Michael said, looking at her.

"Okay." Amelia squeezed his hand, her gaze steady and warm. "Then trust me. I'll get every single one."

In this group, including Dorian and Asher, there were five couples advancing to the second round.

Usually the phrases for this game were fairly common, and thirty seconds wasn't long but it wasn't exactly short either.

If a couple had good chemistry, they could knock out a phrase in ten or fifteen seconds. If they didn't, they might not get it even with a full minute.

The first couple only managed to get four correct within the time limit.

The second couple actually got seven right, but their last phrase came out the instant after time ran out, so the host ruled it a failure.

The third couple—a pair of PhD students who looked appropriately intellectual—performed impressively well.

The guy drew, the girl guessed, and every gesture was precise and intuitive. The girl's reactions were lightning-fast. Their final score was eight out of ten.

When Dorian and Asher stepped up, every eye in the crowd locked onto them.

Dorian and Amelia's performance in the first round had left everyone stunned.

Two girls who looked like high schoolers had displayed absolutely jaw-dropping skill.

Especially that last girl, Amelia—she'd been like something out of a video game. If they hadn't seen it with their own eyes, no one would have believed it.

So naturally, everyone was even more eager to see how they'd do in this round.

But the moment the timer started, Dorian and Asher's performance caught everyone off guard.

Forget chemistry—these two were on completely different wavelengths.

When Asher saw the first phrase, he was full of confidence. This one was easy!

He quickly sketched out the shape of a tongue on the whiteboard, then used bold lines to split the tip into two forks.

Next, he drew an open mouth with several curved lines coming out of it to indicate speech.

Finally, he drew a heart on the right side of the board and slashed a thick line through it to show "not sincere."

Dorian stared at the board, her brow furrowing. "Double-tongued?"

Wrong.

Asher shook his head and erased the heart, redrawing it even more dramatically—this time the forked tongue took up nearly the entire board, the mouth's lines were more obvious, and he added several wavy lines to represent sound.

Dorian hesitated. "Say one thing, mean another?"

Wrong again.

Only five seconds left. Asher just went for it and drew the tongue like a snake's, impossibly long, and scribbled a wavy line underneath, frantically gesturing for Dorian to look.

Dorian finally ventured, "Speak with a forked tongue?"

"Finally!" Asher practically shouted.

They'd made it with one second to spare, but at least they'd gotten through.

The first phrase had been that brutal, and the rest weren't much better.

Asher felt like he was drawing his heart out, but Dorian either ran out of time or only got it right at the very last second.

Their thought processes were clearly on entirely different wavelengths. Their chemistry was basically nonexistent.

Still, they managed to get seven correct and squeaked through.

The whole ordeal left them both worn out. By the end, Asher was practically bouncing up and down, scribbling frantically, looking like he was about to pass out from frustration.

So when Amelia and Michael stepped up and the crowd saw that Michael was the one drawing, everyone was surprised.

In Pictionary, the artist had to draw big, exaggerated, crystal-clear illustrations.

But Michael stood there in his dress shirt and slacks, his demeanor calm and composed, his expression cool and unreadable. He looked like the last person who'd ever draw anything wild.

Could Amelia really guess correctly with him as the artist?

The timer started. The first phrase flipped over—[On the same wavelength].

The people around them froze.

The crowd frowned. Michael thought calmly for one second.

He drew two heads side by side on the board, then connected them with a wavy line, like a radio signal.

Next, he drew a heart inside each head and filled them in with the same color. He added a tiny "=" next to the hearts to show they were identical.

Finally, he sketched a small radio beside the wavy line, making it look like the two were tuned to the same frequency.

The onlookers were baffled. What was this supposed to mean? Two heads? A wavy line? A radio? Hearts the same color?

Amelia's gaze lingered on the wavy line, then shifted to the two identically colored hearts. Her mind rapidly pieced the elements together—same frequency, same feelings.

She spoke. "On the same wavelength."

It had taken her three seconds.

The entire crowd went dead silent.

Wait—he'd only drawn two heads, a wavy line, two matching hearts, and a radio, right? How did she get that? Was it really just from those details?

Were they seriously that in sync?