The Seven-Hundred-Million-Dollar Trick - Chapter 7

It was three in the afternoon. Sunlight shone on the coast, the breeze was cool, and waves lapped gently at the edge of the wooden viewing platform.

I leaned against the railing and waited.

Within ten minutes, dozens of people had gathered nearby. They sized each other up, each with their own schemes, while keeping an eye on me.

Most were young or middle-aged men, but there were old men carrying fishing rods and plump older women, too.

Leaving aside the danger, it was a fascinating sight. The crowd exerted a silent pressure, though no one had become openly aggressive yet.

Across these lives, I’d noticed that when people gathered, they always fell quiet for a moment, as if settling something between them without words.

Then, suddenly, they erupted.

It reminded me of my childhood.

When Dad first died, everyone came to offer their condolences politely. A week later, idle men were making filthy remarks outside our door. Mum and I were too lost in grief to fight back.

A few days after that, people started stealing our chickens, ducks, and vegetables.

It kept getting worse. Three months later, an old bachelor crept into the house at night and tried to sexually assault my mother.

I was only a little boy, but I drove him out with a meat cleaver.

Afterward, I couldn’t rest, day or night, terrified of the trouble I might have brought on us.

Miraculously, the malice vanished overnight.

That was when I first began to understand, dimly, that people were like coins. Every one had two sides.

Only the lucky always got heads.

In full view of the crowd, I suddenly broke into an exaggerated smile.

I took out the coin. A ripple ran through them.

With a flourish, I held it between thumb and forefinger, the way I would present a prop during a show. I brought it close enough for them to inspect every detail.

Then, before anyone could anticipate it, I turned and threw.

A golden flash traced a graceful arc into the sea, raising a splash of white.

“Fuck! Are you insane?”

After a stunned pause, the crowd roared.

A few young men jumped straight into the water. But this was a treacherous stretch of coast, the seabed dropping steeply into unfathomable depths. Most people didn’t dare follow. They paced the shore, frantic.

Some even fell to their knees and wailed in despair.

I exhaled, as if breathing every last impurity out of my body. Suddenly I felt light enough to float.

“Well, everyone. May I go now?”

Nobody answered. Nobody so much as looked at me.

I shrugged and turned away.

The breeze stirred my hair. I slipped a relaxed hand into my pocket and let the coin fall back into my palm.

Along with the excitement, I felt an urge to laugh.

That was all it took?

It was the simplest sleight of hand imaginable. While my thumb and forefinger held the coin, my other three fingers loosely concealed the imitation-gold ring.

Magic is an art made of light, angles, and timing.

In the brilliant sunlight, they couldn’t distinguish the object I threw. All they saw was a golden reflection.

The coin had slipped into my sleeve. When I put my hand in my pocket, I let it drop and caught it again.

Few people enjoyed magic anymore because high-frame-rate cameras and 4K video exposed every subtle move. Once the mystery was gone, the public saw it as little more than juggling.

Only face to face could you understand the wonders that misdirection and skillful hands could create together.

Even checking the roadside cameras wouldn’t help. Most ran at twenty-five frames per second: one image every 0.04 seconds. With the speed I’d built through years of practice, that wasn’t much of a problem.

Then my vision lurched.

My body pitched over the railing toward the water.

I looked back in terror. An older woman had pushed me—a plump face, permed curls, prosperous and kindly at first glance.

Now her teeth were bared. She was shoving me toward the sea as if driven by some ancient, unquenchable hatred.

At the last possible instant, I caught the edge of the platform. My whole body dangled above the water.

She started prying my fingers loose.

One. Two. Her face was hideous with effort, her strength astonishing.

When that failed, she raised one of her Zuli Jian walking shoes and ground it back and forth on my hand.

“You’ve got it wrong!” I shouted. “I don’t have the coin! I threw it away!”

That only enraged her further. She stamped and shrieked.

“Who told you to throw it away? Who said you could?”

She acted as though we were mortal enemies.

I was more bewildered than ever. What had I done to her?

When I still wouldn’t let go, she kicked my head and face over and over, howling and flailing like a child denied a treat.

“If you didn’t want it, why couldn’t you give it to me?”

“How can you be so selfish?”

“That was money! My money! What gave you the right to throw my money away?”

I stared at her, speechless.

Fortunately, others had noticed. Heads turned in our direction.

“Help!” I screamed.

But the people approaching had the same eyes as hers: cold, hostile, brimming with hate.

A chill went through me. I understood.

Holding the coin made people resent me. Throwing it away made them loathe me.

To this woman, to everyone else, there had been a chance to seize it and become rich overnight.

However faint, hope was still hope.

And I had casually taken theirs away.

Malice crashed over me like the sea.

My grip was failing. I took a breath, ready to end this life.

Then someone grabbed my hand.

I looked up.

Zhao Cheng.

I stared. The image of his bloodied face in that wreck flashed before my eyes.

He had cost me a life. I had paid him back in blood. After everything we’d been to each other, surely we were even.

Why was he saving me?

The crowd jostled him, and he swayed at the edge.

“Let go!” I shouted.

He didn’t. Veins stood out on his skin. Half his body hung over the drop, only his lower legs hooked around the railing, but still he held on.

We hit the water together.

…The sea was very cold.