Chapter 88: Are You a Fool? No, I Scatter Wealth

Chen Fan didn't know how to hawk his wares, nor could he bring himself to loudly peddle them along the streets. The saying goes that even fine wine fears a deep alley, and so, with no voice raised and both hands buried deep in his pockets, he trudged on in silence. Dusk was fast approaching, and Chen Fan realized he couldn't continue like this—he couldn't go home empty-handed. At the very least, he had to earn his travel expenses. With a slap to his forehead, he decided to entertain himself.

His hands, left and right, moved in a rhythmic, steady motion—not too fast, not too slow—performing balloon magic tricks along the street. These were ordinary balloons like those sold at roadside stalls, and at first, no one paid much attention. But as the street became flooded with balloons, undulating like a lively koi fish, it was impossible not to be distracted. Though the balloons quickly disappeared from sight, people's curiosity was not quenched. A few onlookers even began to follow Chen Fan, eager to uncover the mystery.

"This guy clearly has no balloons in his hands, where is he pulling them from?"

"Yeah, yeah, and the balloons vanish as soon as they float up into the sky. I saw it clearly, just like bubbles being blown."

"Could he be a magician hired by some TV crew for a street performance?"

"Hey folks, did you see those balloons ascending into the air?"

"Let's follow him, maybe we can get an autograph or something. I heard those celebrity autographs are worth a lot."

"Really? Maybe I should bring out my Angela poster at home and have him sign it?"

"Come on, who asks someone to sign another celebrity's poster? Save it, we can't even be sure he's the real deal. Let's take a closer look first."

Only when Chen Fan turned around did he realize that a dozen people were trailing him—all men, no less.

"Hey, hey, this is not the outcome I wanted," Chen Fan muttered, feigning nonchalance as he put away his magic and slipped his hands back into his pockets.

Most of the crowd dispersed once the performance ended, though a handful remained persistent, still following Chen Fan.

"Is the show over?"

"The crew must be packing up now, right?"

"Should we go up and ask?"

"Folks, double-tap 666, this guy conjures balloons out of thin air!"

"Isn't it a bit abrupt? Could cause some confusion."

"Who cares? Celebrity-chasing is all about passion. Maybe he's got some screen time to his name."

Chen Fan could still hear their chatter, but he had already broken into a run, darting through several intersections before finally pausing to catch his breath.

The elder, who had been silent for a long while, popped out from his trouser pocket and slipped into his chest pocket. "Isn't this exactly what you wanted? You caused a stir, and now you can openly perform and earn a living."

Chen Fan wiped the sweat from his brow. "The way those people were staring at me was so weird, like I was a monkey in a zoo. I dread them catching up and bombarding me with questions. With so many people around, it's hard to get away."

The elder mocked him, "Hahaha, so you do know how to be afraid. What now? Maybe conjure a few canes?"

"Canes? What's the point? Illusions aren't real objects, I can't sell them," Chen Fan replied, perplexed.

"Because you’re a blockhead!" The elder burst into laughter.

"Why not call me a fool, or say I’m selling swords?" Chen Fan retorted, conjuring a stack of coins in one hand and a toy sword in the other.

"Always messing around with these weird tricks. You almost ruined my grand marketing scheme," Chen Fan said, dropping the items onto the ground, refusing to bicker any longer.

The elder shrugged. "You'd better think carefully about what kind of act is both entertaining and unlikely to arouse suspicion. I'm just supplying the goods, no after-sales support."

Chen Fan curled his lip. "I never expected you to come up with anything fresh. I'll figure it out myself."

"I've got it! Let's sell Chaos Roses," Chen Fan exclaimed, slapping his forehead after a brief pause.

The elder corrected him, "Not 'we,' but you. I don’t sell things."

"Hmph, you won’t get a share of the profits anyway. I’ll do it myself." Chen Fan extended his hands and conjured several bouquets.

"Are you sure about selling these? It’s not Valentine’s Day. Who do you plan to pitch them to—"

Chen Fan shook his head. "You don’t understand. If the price is right, someone will buy. I plan to sell each bouquet for just one yuan. I believe no one will refuse."

"Eh? They vanished so quickly?" Before he could even call out to sell them, the roses in his hands disappeared.

"I'll try again."

Chen Fan focused his energy and conjured two more bouquets, but before three seconds had passed, they too vanished.

"What’s going on?" Chen Fan quickly turned to the elder.

The elder squinted. "Seems your magic is running low—the illusions don’t last as long anymore."

Chen Fan rolled his eyes. "Are you messing with me? Why didn’t you mention there was a limit to the magic? If I’d known, I wouldn’t have done the balloon trick. What do I do now?"

"Not 'kid,' it's 'old man,'" the elder replied calmly, lighting a cigar to steady his nerves. "First time I’ve seen someone use up all their magic. Must be because you performed tricks in your dream, and conjured so much money—it burns through a lot."

Chen Fan was speechless. The illusion's duration was now as fleeting as lightning, disappearing before anyone could even make out their shape.

"So what should I do now?"

"Nothing, really. I’m not a power bank, and it’s not a phone. You’ll just have to wait for the magic to recover on its own," the elder said, helplessly.

"How long will it take to recover, and to what state?" Chen Fan pressed.

The elder scratched his head and did some rough calculations. "Three to five days without using it should bring it back to full strength."

Chen Fan couldn’t help but roar in frustration. "So what’s the point of telling me that? In a few hours, this card will have nothing to do with me."

"Young man, what’s got you so worked up?"

Chen Fan was startled. The abrupt voice came from behind, and he spun around mid-air, landing with a few shaky steps before he steadied himself.

"Who are you?" Chen Fan was baffled, his voice distorted by surprise. The man was half a head shorter than him but looked sturdier, holding a selfie stick—Chen Fan had no idea what for.

"Was it you who was spreading balloons along the street?"

The man spoke in a mishmash of Cantonese and Mandarin, with a prominent mole on his forehead. His attire was decent, and his face didn’t seem malicious. Yet the selfie stick held aloft left Chen Fan puzzled.

"Yeah, what do you want?" Chen Fan mimicked the man's tone in reply.

"Ah, that’s perfect." Before Chen Fan could figure out the man’s intentions, he came over and wrapped an arm around Chen Fan, angling the phone on the selfie stick toward their faces.

"Folks, here’s the master who just performed balloon magic on the street. Want to see a close-up? Double-tap 666 and send gifts, flood the comments!"

Now Chen Fan understood—the guy was an outdoor streamer. No wonder he kept holding up the selfie stick.

"Hey, look at all the enthusiasm. Want to show off a bit more for everyone? I may not be a top streamer, but I’ve got tens of thousands of followers. How about it? Care to consider?"

"Damn, but I don’t have any magic left," Chen Fan said, frowning.

The man, seeing Chen Fan’s hesitation, assumed he wanted an appearance fee. He quickly slipped a red bill into Chen Fan’s pocket, out of sight from the camera.

"Well, that’s a pleasant surprise!"