Mingmei Yip - The Nine Fold Heaven

I thought one of the girls was the magician from the previous act but could not be sure, since the tall woman, instead of a black tuxedo, was now wearing purple tights with her hair tied up. The other girl, in turquoise tights, was smaller in statute, and the man, in white, was tall and muscular.

In a moment, all three were swinging elegantly and performing body-twisting gymnastics to Johann Strauss’s “Tales from the Vienna Woods” waltz. Next their movements took on speed and complexity as the trio began to change swings, and the man did a double somersault. The audience burst into cheers and enthusiastic clapping.

If the audience thought this was the climax of the show, then they were wrong. The MC went to the middle of the tent and announced, “Ladies and gentlemen, now please don’t blink your eyes so you can watch our trapeze artist somersault through burning hoops.”

Instead of applause, the audience emitted a collective sigh like a huge deflated balloon.

The MC smiled. “Don’t worry. Miss Melodie is perfection itself. Are we all ready to have our eyeballs stunned?”

“Yes,” boomed back the audience.

“She better not fall!”

Three burning hoops dropped down and hung in midair, suspended from ropes. At first, Melodie swung back and forth, spun around, and somersaulted as the audience held its collective breath.

Probably charged by her unstoppable adrenaline, the purple girl, after she landed on the small wooden platform for a few seconds, leaped through the air, sailing smoothly through the three fiery hoops. But just then all the lights inside the tent went off!

There was a shocked silence, then a low murmur from the audience.

Someone shouted, “Turn the lights back on!”

In a few seconds, to everyone’s delight, the tent was lit up again. But our shock was not over.

The daredevil was gone! But spread on the ground was her purple outfit. Then I realized the trapeze artist “Melodie” was no other than my former friend and rival, the magician Shadow, performing another version of her famous “jump to disappear” act.

Now though the lights were back on, everything was a blur to me as I made my way out amidst the crowd.

I decided to see the show again to be certain it was Shadow and not an imitator. So the following evening, after I bought the ticket, instead of going through the main entrance, I sneaked around to the back area, quietly moved aside a flap, and peeked inside. There was no doubt. This tall and imposing magician/trapeze artist was the recurrently vanishing Shadow. When I’d last seen her she was thrashing and choking on stage in a tank of water, now she was sitting calmly in front of a mirror and meticulously painting her brow. Times must not have been easy for her of late, because she’d lost some weight and had a careworn expression. Yet she was still beautiful, despite her recent hard times.

Other performers milled around or made last-minute changes to their outfits to ready themselves for their next plunge into the illusory, aerial world inside the tent. With their heavy makeup and shiny costumes, in contrast to Shadow, they looked somewhat crude close-up. Mirrors were propped erratically at various angles, making the performers appear to possess multiple selves as their faces were reflected at odd angles. The impression they created in the eerie yellowish light of the improvised powder room was of ghosts floating.

Shadow was still fussing with her face powdering, adding layer after layer until her face became a mask. I decided that for now I would leave her face-to-face with her own mirrored illusion and not accost her until after the show, then maybe even take her out for a nice dinner so she could start to regain some of her vanished pounds. Shadow would not be performing in such a dingy place unless she had run out of money. Had she come here for work since our last show together was ruined?

My magician friend had been able to leave Shanghai and get this job in Hong Kong, though it was barely above being a street performer. I had come out the better of the two of us, because I had more money than I could spend, at least for now, but I guessed that she barely made enough to feed herself.

I’d find out more after tonight’s show.

Back in the tent and seated among the audience, I patiently waited through the clowns, animals, and magicians for the long-awaited entrée—the trapeze. Like last night, Shadow, now “Melodie,” and her aerial partners started their performance with immaculate precision and the audience became instantly enthralled. Though the performance was the same as last night’s, I had a sense of foreboding, an inexplicable feeling that something was going to go wrong. I had no idea what. But as a spy, I had stayed alive by not ignoring such feelings.

Seeing Shadow, I thought of our days together back in Shanghai, when I’d performed my contortionist knife-throwing with her as my target. And I thought of how she’d paid me back in our last show together. She was supposed to jump into a water tank and then appear dry among the audience. Instead, she pretended to drown and then disappeared.

So tonight, would she again ruin the show to spite the other girl, probably her new rival?

Soon we collectively held our breaths as we watched the beautiful daredevils flipping, twirling, somersaulting, and crossing high in the air. Lively music mixed with gasps and scattered applause.

Finally, when burning hoops were put out for the climatic act, I felt my neck tightening and my armpits sweating. I already knew the procedure: Shadow would jump through all the hoops unscathed, the light would go off seemingly by accident, then back on. All that would be visible of Shadow would be her costume on the floor until, seconds later, she’d reappear on the trapeze waving at the audience.

When the flaming hoops had appeared, something different happened. The girl suspended on the wooden plank next to Shadow held up a megaphone and addressed the crowd, “Ladies and gentlemen, those of you who have already seen our unbelievable Miss Melodie should know that she is also invulnerable. So, should we take down the safety net?!”

Voices exclaimed simultaneously. “Yes, take it away, that’s more exciting!”

Other voices gasped. “Oh, no, don’t! What if she falls?!”

The other girl said, “She won’t. Melodie is the best. Just be ready to watch the surprise of your lifetime!”

I couldn’t tell from Shadow’s expression if she looked confident or alarmed. Did she expect this, or was it a malicious trick by her partner? Several workers appeared and removed the safety net. The band struck up the same rousing tune as last night, Shadow’s cue to start. Like last night, Shadow performed a few flips and twirls in the air to build up the audience’s anticipation for her ultimate show—sailing through the rings of fire. All eyes were fixed on her, anticipating the impossible aerial choreography about to unfold.

Alas, this time the light went off only a second after she had leaped toward the hoops. In another second it was back on and, of course, Shadow was not to be seen frolicking in the air between the hoops. Her costume was on the ground, just like last time, but this time it appeared as if she was still in it, sprawled motionless. I fear that this was not another trick but something gone seriously wrong!

But I was not sure. I hoped that the body on the sawdust was just a dummy—like in her famous show in Shanghai. In a moment, two uniformed men rushed out with a stretcher, and a collective scream burst out from the audience. No doubt the manager had seen what had happened and did not want the audience to think that there had been an accident. Just then the orchestra changed to play an extremely cheerful and playful tune. The clowns from the warm-up show reappeared with two pretty girls dancing around the ring, trying to cheer up—or distract—the audience.