Beijing, late autumn 2018.
The northeast monsoon wind howled through the skyscrapers, carrying the dry, biting cold characteristic of the North. I pulled the collar of my cheap coat higher, feeling each gust of wind seep through the thin fabric and touch my skin. It was good, though; this cold helped me stay more alert. I like being alert.
I didn’t choose Beijing for its reputation as a magnificent capital, or for the opportunities people often whispered about. Simply put, I wanted to get far away, as far as possible from the place I called home. My parents divorced when I was young, and each had found new happiness, a new family. Whoever I lived with, I was like a thorn in their side, a redundant presence reminding them of a past they wanted to bury. So I left, to give them peace, and more importantly, to gain my own freedom.
This year I am twenty, a sophomore at a mid-tier university. Calling it mid-tier sounds academic, but in reality, it was just an ordinary choice. But I don’t care. Any university would do, as long as there was a place to stay, an excuse to leave that place I disliked so much.
I knew I was different since I was a seven or eight-year-old kid. I have the ability to control gravity and move objects. It sounds grand, but for a child, it was merely a more interesting game than others. I could make a spoon fly, make a marble levitate, or make myself as light as a leaf when jumping from a height. But I’ve always been a quiet person, and with an almost instinctive caution, I knew this was something I couldn’t let anyone else know. This world isn’t ready for axtraordinary things, or at least, I didn’t want to test its patience.
The older I got, the more I understood the value of concealment. Superpowers are not a sin; I never thought that. It’s a gift, an advantage favorably bestowed upon me. The problem is knowing how to use it, wisely and discreetly. I still remember the smug satisfaction when I made the math formula paper gently fly into my desk drawer, or how the upperclassman bully suddenly tripped just as he was about to grab my collar. Small, secret victories. After all, I’m not entirely a good person. Who doesn’t have a bit of selfishness lurking in their soul? It’s just that I have more effective tools to carry out that selfishness.
Life in the dormitory isn’t bad either. A room for four, cramped space, and a mixture of all sorts of smells. My three roommates, each different. One bookworm glued to his computer all day, one dandy constantly preening and dating, and one slacker who only knows games and sleep. I’m not close to any of them, nor do I feel the need to be. What they say, what they do, I hardly pay attention.
Occasionally, when I have free time or need some pocket money, I take on food delivery jobs. I weave through the crowded streets of Beijing on my old electric bike, my ears ringing from the incessant honking and a cacophony of street vendors, my nose filled with the smell of exhaust fumes mixed with the strong aroma of street food. That hurried flow sometimes makes me feel suffocated, but it’s also a way to kill time, to not have to face the terrifying stillness within myself.
I am tall and thin, one meter eighty-one, with very short hair. People say my face has a scholarly look, but with a hint of toughness. Perhaps it’s due to my eyes. I often observe everything quietly, analyzing, evaluating. I’m not handsome in the way people usually exclaim over, but I know I have a certain attraction, or rather, a mystery that makes others curious, even though I don’t intentionally create it.
At school, or even among my roommates, quite a few look down on me. A quiet country bumpkin, shabbily dressed, attending a less-than-prestigious university. I hear them, I see them, but I can’t be bothered. They are just ordinary people, with ordinary thoughts, ordinary limitations. In my eyes, they are nothing to worry about. With my abilities, if I wanted to “fix” them, it would be as easy as turning my hand. A sudden trip, an object falling on their head, or simply making them lose their weight, one step would be enough to hit the ceiling. But I don’t do that. Not because I’m good-natured, but because I don’t think it’s worth it. Wasting energy on useless things is something I don’t want to do, simple as that.
Today, the weather is a bit gloomy. After a boring class at school, I decided to take a walk around the campus instead of going straight back to the dormitory. The campus is as old as itself, a few rows of bare trees, a small stagnant pond. I stopped by the pond, looking at the calm water surface. A dry leaf fell from somewhere, gently landing on the water. A thought suddenly came to me. It’s been a long time since I experimented seriously. Usually, I only use my abilities for trivial things, enough to not let them fade, enough to maintain control.
I looked around. Deserted. Good. I focused my mind, directing my attention to the leaf. A familiar warm energy began to spread from within my body, passing through my eyes, reaching the target. The leaf twitched slightly, then slowly drifted towards me, as if an invisible thread was pulling it. This feeling is wonderful. The feeling of mastery, the feeling of transcending ordinary laws. I added a little more intention. The leaf glided faster.
“Meow!”
A sudden cry sounded right next to my ear. I flinched, not out of fear, but because my concentration was broken. The carefully controlled flow of energy suddenly wavered. The leaf, which was gliding gently on the water, was suddenly thrown into the air, spun a few times, and then plopped down, splashing tiny droplets of water. A calico cat, appearing from nowhere, was rubbing its head against my trouser leg, looking friendly.
I let out a soft sigh of relief, but also a little annoyed. The recent incident, though small, was a reminder. Just a little distraction, and control can slip away. What if it wasn’t a leaf then, but something more dangerous? What if someone happened to see it? I bent down and gently scratched the cat’s chin. It nuzzled my hand, looking pleased. These simple creatures sometimes bring rare moments of peace.
“You ruined my work, you troublemaker,” I muttered, but without any intention of blaming it. The incident by the pond didn’t make me fear my abilities. I’m not afraid of it. I just find it troublesome if it causes unnecessary problems. This secret is my trump card, my weapon. I must guard it even more carefully.
On the way back to the dormitory, thoughts swirled in my head again. Beijing is vast, with many opportunities, but dangers also lurk like invisible shadows in every alley. I have no illusions about an easy life, especially with a secret like mine. Just one slip, and darkness can swallow the different one. But I believe, with the superpower I possess, I will not let myself be endangered, even though sometimes, the price to pay can be very high. I am an observer, a player with my own rules.
The city lights up. Neon lights of all colors cast upon the old walls of the dormitory. I walked into the room; my three roommates were still engrossed in their own worlds. No one noticed my return, just as no one knew what had just happened in my head, or by that quiet pond. I lay down on the stiff bed, looking up at the peeling ceiling. Another day passed. I am still Chung Khôn, the one who carries a secret, a power. And I will continue to live my life, my way, cautiously, steadfastly, and always ready for whatever comes next. Because I know, this world, no matter how complicated, is just a grand stage. And I am the main character on that grand stage.
Nhz Stories 