As the Ferrari sped around the curve, its engine thundered, leaving a trail of tire smoke behind. The car’s drift wasn’t flawless, but that hardly mattered—Zhao Ying Jun had handled everything herself. Steering, shifting gears, timing—every aspect was under her control, and Lin Xian hadn’t interfered at all.
“You’ve really got a knack for this,” Lin Xian commented, impressed by Ying Jun’s swift progress. It had been less than half an hour since her first hands-on drifting lesson, yet here she was, confidently navigating the turns on her own. Although her technique still needed refining—she tended to slow down too much in the turns and didn’t hug the track edges closely—her rapid improvement was undeniable. Just half an hour earlier, she’d been struggling with the basics like gear shifting, and now she was pulling off drifts like a natural.
“Your instinct for driving is excellent,” Lin Xian complimented sincerely. “Maybe you can’t explain the mechanics or the feeling behind your actions, but you’re already shifting and steering like it’s second nature.”
“Really?” Ying Jun’s face lit up with a smile at his praise. “I thought I was still making a lot of mistakes.”
“You’re doing incredibly well,” Lin Xian reassured her, his tone genuine and free from any hint of patronization.
Up until now, Lin Xian had considered another driver, known only as Yellow Finch, the best female driver he’d encountered. He recalled an encounter with her; she was in Ying Jun’s Ferrari, which she had seemingly stolen. They met unexpectedly on an overpass, and she had driven with exceptional skill, effortlessly overtaking Lin Xian and his companion, Su Su, who was driving a McLaren at the time. Yellow Finch’s driving was not just skilled but intuitive, a blend of natural talent and extensive practice. Despite being in her thirties—a time when society might expect her to be more domestic—her driving rivaled Lin Xian’s own, which had been sharpened by numerous perilous experiences.
Yellow Finch’s driving style was eerily similar to his, and Lin Xian had once thought this might be a deliberate provocation. However, she had disappeared as mysteriously as she had appeared, leaving behind a trail of unanswered questions that Lin Xian was eager to resolve.
Watching Ying Jun tackle another curve with growing assurance, Lin Xian wondered about a potential connection between her and Yellow Finch. Could they be linked across time or space? He briefly entertained the idea that Ying Jun and Yellow Finch could be the same person in different eras, akin to how, in a distant future, someone might resemble Chu An Qing.
However, he quickly dismissed this theory. Their physical appearances were distinctly different—Ying Jun’s features were sharp, her face almond-shaped, while Yellow Finch had softer features and a round face, not to mention her striking blue eyes, a rarity in the country.
As Ying Jun completed another turn, Lin Xian noted her meticulous attention to detail, even in her choice of earrings that matched her outfit perfectly. He remembered Yellow Finch’s last sighting on a rainy night; she had worn a beige coat with blue earrings—an odd fashion choice that Ying Jun would never make.
“What if you tried wearing a beige coat with blue earrings?” Lin Xian asked suddenly, curious about her reaction.
Ying Jun frowned, clearly not fond of the idea. “That would be a weird mix. I don’t think I could pull that off.”
“You don’t think so?”
“No,” Ying Jun replied, glancing at Lin Xian. “Do you like such mismatched styles?”
“Not really,” Lin Xian quickly responded. “I just saw someone dressed like that recently. It struck me as odd.”
“It does sound strange,” Ying Jun agreed. “In fashion, sticking to three or four colors is usually best. Anything more and you start to look like a Christmas tree.”
Lin Xian laughed, recalling how he once teased his friend Gao Yang for his colorful, over-the-top outfits.
Their conversation was interrupted by the high-pitched whine of another engine—a red McLaren zoomed past, cutting in front of Ying Jun’s Ferrari with a provocative flick of its turn signals.
“Didn’t we book this track exclusively?” Ying Jun asked, confused, turning to Lin Xian.
Lin Xian rubbed his forehead, recognizing the car—it belonged to Su Su, the same woman from the blind date set up by his friend Chu Shan He. Knowing Su Su’s competitive nature, he wasn’t surprised she’d challenge them.
“What’s she trying to communicate with those turn signals?” Ying Jun pointed out, puzzled by the gesture.
“Maybe she’s just asking to share the track in her own way,” Lin Xian suggested, though he wasn’t convinced of his own explanation.
Ying Jun looked skeptical. “Can you really convey all that with a couple of lights?”
“I’m guessing,” Lin Xian admitted with a shrug.
As the McLaren’s driver rolled down her window, her passenger shouted, “Pretty boy! Nice driving!” It was clear they recognized Ying Jun. Su Su, spotting her, muttered “Disgusting!” under her breath. She couldn’t stand the thought that Ying Jun had outdriven her during their last encounter.
“Wasn’t she your blind date?” Ying Jun asked, eyebrows raised.
“Yes,” Lin Xian confessed, a bit embarrassed.
“No wonder she’s behaving like this,” Ying Jun laughed.
“Exactly,” Lin Xian agreed, trying to refocus on the task at hand. “Let’s not get distracted. Racing side by side is risky. We should slow down and let her take the lead.”
But before he could say more, Ying Jun pressed the accelerator, the Ferrari’s engine roaring as she pursued the McLaren.
“Hey, hey,” Lin Xian exclaimed, tightening his seatbelt, taken aback by Ying Jun’s sudden competitiveness. Normally reserved and composed, she was now showing a fiery side.
As the cars wove through the track, Ying Jun’s natural talent shone. Although Su Su had more experience and a slight edge in skill, Ying Jun was quickly catching up.
“Let’s not push it,” Lin Xian suggested. “Safety first. You’ll surpass her with a bit more practice, no need to prove anything now.”
“I’m not concerned about winning or losing,” Ying Jun responded, her voice firm. “I’ve faced defeats before, but I refuse to lose to her.”
Lin Xian looked into her determined eyes, reminded of a conversation they had while driving a Bentley GT. Ying Jun had once told him, “I don’t live for them. I don’t need to prove anything to them. That’s what I want you to understand too, Lin Xian. Do what you love, for your own satisfaction, not to show something to someone else.”
Now, seeing her determination, Lin Xian felt a renewed understanding of her words.
Placing his hand over hers on the steering wheel, he said, “You know, the Ferrari has a ‘death mode.'”
He flipped the Manettino switch to the most extreme setting, disabling all electronic aids. “Hit the gas, and don’t let up,” he instructed, guiding her hand on the gear shift. “We’ll take this on together.”
Ying Jun nodded, a determined smile crossing her face as the Ferrari surged forward, ready for whatever challenge lay ahead.
This novel is translated and hosted on bcatranslation