Chapter 19: Adding Fuel to the Fire

The Titanic was the culmination of all human wisdom and wealth. Just as China had long believed itself to be the center of the world, the Westerners saw themselves as humanity’s standard-bearers. After the advent of the Industrial Revolution, Europe underwent a profound transformation—the age of exploration arrived in a whirlwind, and the continent began a rampant expansion and plundering. Even now, everyone remained gripped by a feverish enthusiasm.

European pride swelled to extremes, and thus the Titanic was born—a symbol of their arrogance! The attention of the entire Western world was riveted on this ship, as though she were a beautiful dancer, captivating all eyes.

So far, this pride and sense of superiority remained undiminished. Such was the feeling among the captain and everyone connected to the vessel.

Despite a lady’s accidental death en route to New York, and despite a crazed Asian man preaching about the end of the world and the ship’s impending doom, no one gave these matters a second thought.

Ma Jun was quite pleased with this state of affairs! Even though he himself had become a celebrity—a rather unpopular and even discriminated celebrity.

The events in first class that night spread swiftly throughout the ship; now everyone knew Ma Jun as an overzealous religious fanatic.

A priest even sought Ma Jun out, hoping to convert him. The priest suspected Ma Jun might have been reading a pirated Bible, but he nevertheless admired Ma Jun’s fervent faith.

These things were nothing compared to Ma Jun’s real headache: his attempts to scrounge food and drink from Jack were now being met with resistance. The third-class passengers didn’t like Ma Jun.

Thankfully, Jack was a true friend. After Ma Jun handed over three packs of “premium cigarettes,” Jack agreed to solve his meal problem.

Jack had once thought Ma Jun was insane, but when he pressed him for answers, Ma Jun simply said he had no comment about what happened that night.

Ma Jun spent most of the day lingering on deck, wandering about. Everyone he met cast him looks of disdain. Especially the captain, who made it clear that Ma Jun was not at all welcome on the Titanic. If there were any possibility, he’d have Ma Jun put ashore at once.

That night, the sea was calm; the cold air hung with a faint white mist, as if the ship sailed through a giant icebox.

Most passengers were resting, and the deck was deserted save for a few crew members loitering and grumbling.

Wrapped in a black coat, a cigarette dangling from his mouth, Ma Jun strolled toward a few crewmen, smiling as he said, “Hey, do you wish to confess your sins to me? I’ll act as your priest for now. Once you’ve confessed, the Lord will forgive you and grant you entry to heaven.”

“Get lost,” one of the crewmen spat, “You idiot, stay away from us!”

“The Titanic won’t sink—not even if God Himself comes down!” another scoffed.

Ma Jun persisted, trailing after them, chattering incessantly, repeating his prophecy, urging them to kneel and repent.

At last, a tall crewman lost patience and, after muttering a racial slur, threw a punch at Ma Jun. Still smiling, Ma Jun dodged effortlessly and sent the crewman sprawling. “See—God protects me. To attack me is to attack the Lord. You’ll go to hell for this!”

“We’d really like to toss you into the ocean!” another crewman cursed. “You bastard.”

Undeterred, Ma Jun carried on with his relentless babble.

Soon, the crewmen realized they were powerless against him—he was too much to fight, impossible to escape. In exasperation, they abandoned their patrol and retreated to their quarters.

Ma Jun was overjoyed. He stowed his coat in the cosmic ring, vaulted up to the upper deck, and made for the lifeboats.

Now the deck was empty; only two dozing lookouts remained in the crow’s nest, and no one could stop Ma Jun.

A large axe appeared in his hand, and he set about hacking at the lifeboats with gusto.

After more than two hours of work, he had smashed all twenty lifeboats. Still unsatisfied, he doused them with gasoline and, with a flick of his lighter, set them ablaze.

Then, walking some distance away, he lit a cigarette and watched the blaze light up the night, nodding with satisfaction.

Before long, the fire raged out of control. A group of crewmen discovered it, rousing their companions to battle the flames. Another group subdued Ma Jun.

By dawn, the fires were finally extinguished. The Titanic herself remained largely unscathed, but all twenty lifeboats were now useless.

“You heretic! When we reach New York, you’ll be executed!” roared the white-bearded captain at Ma Jun, enraged by the culprit before him.

With such a troublemaker aboard, even if he couldn’t bring down the Titanic, he incited an overwhelming fury among all.

Ma Jun was handcuffed and locked in a room, treated as a prisoner.

“Ah, how comfortable! At last, I have a room to myself,” Ma Jun said optimistically, grinning as he sat in a chair. “Xiaohua, you said tonight’s the night we hit the iceberg. You weren’t lying, were you?”

“No, I wasn’t, you rascal uncle!” Xiaohua replied with a meaningful glance.

“Now I can rest well. Too bad the lifeboats are too big for the cosmic ring,” Ma Jun mused. “Looks like I’ll have to act again later. Then, I can watch the Titanic sink from afar!”

“You really are ruthless, uncle! After what you’ve done, everyone aboard might perish!” Xiaohua said.

“Only a disaster like this can shake the world. My prophecies will be recorded in bold strokes in history!” Ma Jun felt not a shred of guilt.

That night, after waking, Ma Jun slipped the handcuffs into his cosmic ring, donned his coat, lit a cigarette, and swaggered out of the room. The crew hadn’t bothered to keep close watch, never imagining he could escape his restraints.

Ma Jun found a suitable spot, hacked off two large doors, put them in his ring, then scavenged a few more items from the ship, and headed to the deck.

It was a Sunday night, clear and windless—so still that not a breeze stirred. The Titanic sped across the dark, frigid ocean, making 22.3 knots, about 45 kilometers per hour.

Despite numerous iceberg warnings, for some reason Captain Smith paid them no heed, only instructing the lookouts to stay sharp. Poor lookout Frederick Fleet strained his eyes into the distance until they ached, but saw nothing.

Ma Jun hid quietly at the bow, behind the mooring ropes, peering through his binoculars.

“There’s the iceberg!” he whispered with delight after an indeterminate time.

Soon after, the lookout spotted it too, frantically ringing the alarm and snatching up the phone, “Iceberg dead ahead!”

Chaos erupted among the crew. But it was too late! The Titanic, after all, was torn open by the iceberg.

“What’s happened?”

Moments later, the entire ship was awake. Crowds swarmed the deck; some, not grasping the danger, played with chunks of ice.

When the captain learned the Titanic’s true condition, his face changed dramatically—he seemed to age decades in an instant, though he was old enough already.

At that moment, Ma Jun ran to the prow, climbed onto the railing, lit a torch, and prepared to deliver his speech.