Chapter Two: The Dead Man's Wheel

The car left the bridge. The city opened below. The gap stretched into an eternity. A camera helicopter hovered directly ahead, and Shen Mo sat inside it with the megaphone at his mouth. “Not enough,” the director said. The landing was half a car-width off. In midair Lu Xiao pulled the handbrake and punched the throttle. The wheels had nothing to grip, yet the chassis rotated at an impossible angle. Han Che's hands seemed to cover his own. The rear tire caught the edge. It burst. The undercarriage dragged a river of sparks across the asphalt, but the car landed. Cheers rose around him like an invisible audience. Beyond the rain, twelve dead drivers lined the guardrail. Half of Han Che's face was missing. He nodded once.