As they exited the Mirage Pavilion, Wang Cang Hai turned to Wan San and said, “Master Wan, would you like to test my latest invention?”
Wan San immediately recalled all the bizarre “rideable” or “drivable” contraptions Wang Cang Hai had made him test before. There was the glider shaped like bat wings, which required lying flat on the controls and frantically pedaling to keep it awkwardly flapping and gliding—an experience that nearly scared Wan San to death. Then there was the coal-powered four-wheeled locomotive that could shoot forward two miles in the blink of an eye, making Wan San feel like his heart would leap out of his throat. The mere thought of these experiments sent a shiver down his spine.
“Can I say no this time?” Wan San asked sincerely.
“You can’t,” Wang Cang Hai replied flatly.
This latest invention, the “Pangolin Rail Car,” was an unusual contraption. The car was pointed at one end and rounded at the other, with one large wheel and two smaller ones. There were no doors or curtains; to board, one had to climb in through the roof. The seating consisted of four tightly packed spaces—two rows with two seats each—leaving no room to spare.
Wang Cang Hai, disapproving of Wan San’s sweaty odor, took the front seat alone and instructed Wan San to sit in the back. Just as Wan San settled in, Wang Cang Hai lifted his arm and slammed the roof hatch shut with a loud clang.
Looking up, Wan San noticed that the roof had a skylight made of translucent material. To his surprise, it appeared to be made from giant clam shells.
“Wang Cang Hai,” Wan San exclaimed, “you’re a spendthrift! You actually used giant clam shells to make a window for this ridiculous toy car!”
Giant clam shells were rare and precious, valued as highly as pearls. A piece this large, polished so thin and translucent, would cost a fortune in both materials and craftsmanship.
Wang Cang Hai smirked faintly. “I make money to spend it. Not everyone is a miser like you.”
Wan San opened his mouth to retort, but before he could speak, Wang Cang Hai added, “The toy car is starting up. Don’t be scared.”
Wang Cang Hai released the brake and gave the wheel a couple of spins, setting off a series of mechanical clicks from the axles and gears. The Pangolin Rail Car began sliding down parallel iron tracks, picking up speed as it descended a steep slope and entered a pitch-black tunnel.
The incline was sharp, and the car’s speed increased rapidly. Wan San’s heart pounded like a drum as the vehicle plunged into the darkness. With no lighting in the seemingly bottomless tunnel, he could do nothing but grip the seat handles tightly. Overwhelmed by fear, he let out a scream and asked, trembling, “Wang Cang Hai, are you still up there?”
“I’m here,” came Wang Cang Hai’s calm, unaffected voice.
“Has anyone tested this car before? Is it safe?” Wan San pressed.
“There’s no such thing as a completely safe mode of transportation,” Wang Cang Hai replied. “During the first test, I got thrown out of the car, so I added the roof and skylight afterward.”
I shouldn’t have asked, Wan San thought, realizing that talking to Wang Cang Hai only made him more terrified.
Sensing Wan San’s growing fear, Wang Cang Hai attempted to reassure him. “Don’t worry. As long as your seatbelt is fastened, you’ll be fine.”
“Seatbelt!” Wan San shrieked. “You didn’t even tell me there’s a seatbelt! Where is it?”
“It’s on the seat. Didn’t you see it?” Wang Cang Hai frowned. “Are you an idiot? Without the seatbelt, how could you sit comfortably?”
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