Zhu Jinyan's voice crackled urgently through the communicator, desperation threading every syllable.
"Li Ziqing, slow down! The turn is right ahead—you'll never make it at this speed!"
But inside the cockpit of the midnight-black Bugatti, Li Ziqing's expression remained calm, her eyes fixed unblinking on the illuminated stretch of track. Her knuckles tightened on the steering wheel, yet her composure was unnerving—unyielding.
In the grandstand, a wave of panic rippled through the crowd as the speedometer needle edged dangerously close to 200 km/h. Gasps and cries erupted.
"Why isn't she listening?" one spectator cried, his voice trembling. "Doesn't she realize she's seconds away from disaster?"
"She's going to crash—she'll die at that speed!" another shouted, horror etched across his face.
Among the crowd, Tian Jia's eyes gleamed with a dark, hidden satisfaction. Though she pressed her hands together as if in prayer, her heart whispered venomous wishes. Fall, Li Ziqing. Fall, and never rise again. Outwardly, however, her voice quavered with feigned concern as she edged closer to Zhu Jinyan.
"Li Ziqing, please!" she cried, her tone sweetened with false worry. "Slow down! You're putting yourself in danger—listen to him!"
Li Weiqiang, lurking in the shadows of the spectators, smirked cruelly at the unfolding chaos. To him, this was divine retribution, and he savored every second.
Yet Zhu Jinyan felt none of that malice. The weight pressing on his chest was suffocating. He cursed himself for ever agreeing to be her strategist. If something happened to her now, it would be on him—his failure, his guilt. For all his arrogance on the track, this time he felt powerless.
I should have stopped her. I should have made her quit before it came to this.
"Miss Li!" Zhou Yichen's voice suddenly rang out as he rushed to grab the spare communicator, Butler Yao close at his side. Their urgency was raw, stripped of pride.
"Please—we beg you—slow down!" Zhou Yichen's voice cracked, almost breaking into a shout. "Your life is worth more than this! Don't let your stubbornness blind you to the danger!"
But there was no sign that Li Ziqing heard them, or perhaps she simply chose not to.
In the private viewing area above, Gao Boheng shot up from his seat, eyes wide with dread as the car thundered forward.
"This is insane!" he barked, turning toward his companion. "Ruan Zeyuan must be out of his mind, goading her into a race like this. Young Master Shen, we need to intervene before it's too late. If something happens to her, Ruan Zeyuan won't escape the fallout."
But Shen Zeyan remained seated, his gaze steady, his posture unnervingly calm. He did not flinch as the Bugatti devoured the track at breakneck speed, headlights piercing the night.
When he finally spoke, his tone was low and measured, carrying an odd weight of certainty.
"Don't worry," he said softly. "She's more skilled than you think."
Gao Boheng gaped at him, incredulous. His eyes darted back to the monitor where the black Veyron hurtled toward the approaching bend, the sharpest on the entire track.
"More skilled?" he demanded, almost shouting. "All I see is suicide! At that speed, no one alive can make that turn. She's not racing—she's throwing her life away!"
Shen Zeyan's voice was steady, almost chilling in its calmness, as if he had already foreseen the outcome.
"She'll push the car to two hundred kilometers per hour. Just before the curve, she'll pull the emergency brake and snap the steering wheel seventy-five degrees in the opposite direction. The centripetal force will carry her through the turn, allowing her to maintain speed. She'll overtake Ruan Zeyuan on the terrain and shoot straight into the mountains ahead."
Gao Boheng blinked, stunned into silence. His brows knitted in disbelief. Two hundred? On that turn? Impossible. The very thought made his stomach tighten. Racing wasn't simply about speed—it was about control, precision, calculation. That kind of maneuver, if mistimed by even a fraction, would end in fire and blood. Yet, as he glanced sideways, Shen Zeyan sat with unnerving composure, eyes fixed on the screen, lips curved in the faintest trace of confidence.
"How could anyone…" Gao Boheng muttered under his breath, shaking his head. He could not imagine that level of audacity. That level of skill.
But his words trailed off as the black Bugatti Veyron tore down the straight, its headlights piercing the night. The monstrous engine roared like a predator preparing to strike. As it approached the deadly curve, the spectators in the grandstand collectively held their breath. The tension was suffocating, every heartbeat echoing like a drum.
And then—
The tires screamed. Smoke burst from beneath the car as Li Ziqing yanked the brake and spun the wheel with a surgeon's precision. The Veyron tilted dangerously, its rear fishtailing, before it snapped back in line, hugging the inside of the curve so tightly that it looked as though the car would tear itself apart.
Gasps rippled across the grandstand.
But the impossible happened.
Like a black panther leaping from a cliff, the car shot out of the curve unscathed—still accelerating, its taillights streaking red fire into the darkness.
Gao Boheng's hands trembled as he gripped the railing. His mouth went dry, disbelief melting into awe. "This… this isn't racing. This is—art." His chest heaved, and he felt his pulse racing in rhythm with the beastly engine on the screen.
Butler Yao and Zhou Yichen, unable to watch, had shut their eyes tight, bracing for the inevitable crash that never came. When they dared to look, the Bugatti was already streaking ahead, alive, untouchable.
On the other side of the communicator, Zhu Jinyan almost lost control of his legs, sweat streaming down his forehead. His voice cracked with a mixture of relief and outrage.
"Li Ziqing! Are you trying to kill me? I nearly had a heart attack! Do you have any idea what you just put me through?"
Her voice came back cool, playful, with the faintest chuckle dancing in her tone. "Zhu Jinyan, stop whining. Instead of worrying about your heart, start calculating my winnings."
The grandstand fell silent for a beat. And then it erupted.
"Did she really just take that curve at two hundred?"
"My god, she didn't even flinch!"
"She overtook the owner of a Koenigsegg Jesko Absolute!"
"Is that man going easy on her? No way, no one could—"
"Don't hold back, brother! Give it everything!"
The crowd buzzed with excitement, disbelief, and admiration. Yet, in a corner, Li Weiqiang and Tian Jia's faces darkened with venomous hatred, their eyes narrowing as Li Ziqing's car streaked across the screen. To them, her victory was not triumph—it was humiliation.
Meanwhile, Ruan Zeyuan's grip tightened on his steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. Victory had seemed assured only moments ago. He had mocked her in his mind, dismissing her speed as reckless bravado destined to end in a crash. Yet now—now he watched in disbelief as the "novice" surged ahead, her black Veyron nothing short of a phantom cutting through the night.
Fury burned in his chest. He jammed his foot against the accelerator, teeth clenched, but before he could act, a cold voice slithered into his communicator.
"You've hit the wall this time. She's not only a skilled racer but a master of calculation."
Ruan Zeyuan froze, his eyes widening. That voice—unmistakable.
"Young Master Shen?!" He spat out in shock. "How the hell did you get into my communicator? I don't give access to anyone!"
On the other end, Shen Zeyan's chuckle was low and derisive. "This is my club, my turf. Do I need your permission to access my own systems?"
For the first time, a bead of sweat rolled down Ruan Zeyuan's temple. Still, he forced a laugh, masking his unease. "Fair enough. But I have to admit, I'm surprised. Earlier, you refused to meet me, and now here you are, all invested in my little match. Don't tell me, young master Shen—you're interested in our little game?" His laughter rang hollow in the static. "Ha! Just watch. This race is mine."
There was silence. For a long moment, only the crackle of static filled the line. And then Shen Zeyan's voice came, quiet and sharp as a blade. "She's two hundred meters ahead of you."
Ruan Zeyuan's pupils shrank. His gaze darted to the distance ahead, disbelief twisting his face. Two hundred meters—already? That wasn't possible.
The realization hit him like ice water: he hadn't just underestimated a girl. He had underestimated a strategist, a predator disguised in elegance.
"Stop praising that little brat, young master Shen!" he barked, frustration bleeding into his words. "Tell me exactly how I win!"
Shen Zeyan's reply came with lethal calm. "Give up, Ruan Zeyuan. You challenged her on your terms, provoked her into this race. Now, you will pay the price. Work for her, serve her—surely that's better than idling away in Shanghai, isn't it?"
Ruan Zeyuan's eyes blazed with fury. His pride roared louder than his engine.
"Never!" he snarled. "I'll make her pay for her arrogance!"
And with a violent slam of his foot, he pushed the accelerator to the floor, the Jesko Absolute screaming in defiance as it thundered after the shadow of the black Veyron ahead.
The race pressed deeper into the mountains, and the course grew more unforgiving. Jagged cliffs loomed on either side, the road narrowing into a treacherous ribbon of asphalt that twisted through rugged terrain. The headlights of the cars cut through the darkness, their engines roaring like beasts locked in a primal duel.
Ruan Zeyuan, tightened his grip on the wheel as he pushed his Jesko Absolute harder. The gap between him and Li Ziqing began to shrink with each passing second. His smirk deepened.
The hairpins are just ahead, he thought, eyes gleaming with anticipation. Let's see how long that little girl can keep up. Seven hairpin turns—she won't stand a chance.
In the stands, murmurs of excitement spread like wildfire.
"The hairpin section is coming," someone whispered with certainty. "There's no way she can cross all seven at that speed. She'll have to slow down."
"Are you sure?" another voice interjected sharply. "Didn't you see her take that last turn? That wasn't luck—it was skill."
A scoff followed. "One turn is nothing. Seven consecutive hairpins? That's a completely different beast."
Their debate buzzed in the background like static, fueling the atmosphere of suspense that gripped every spectator.
Inside the Bugatti Veyron, Zhu Jinyan's voice cracked through the headset, laced with nerves. "Oh no—Li Ziqing! The hairpin turns are just ahead, and the blue Jesko is right on our tail. If you slow down, he'll overtake us for sure! The road's so tight, only one car can pass at a time. What do we do?"
His words were rapid, desperate. He hadn't expected victory when the race started—but after watching Li Ziqing defy death at the last turn, he now found himself clinging to hope.
Li Ziqing's hands remained steady on the wheel. Her eyes, sharp and unwavering, were locked on the winding road illuminated by the faint glow of track lights. "Don't worry," she said, her voice calm and unshaken. "I'm not lowering my speed."
"What?" Zhu Jinyan's pitch rose in disbelief. "Li Ziqing, this isn't just a bend—it's seven hairpins! Seven! Are you insane? Even professional racers would—"
"I'm oversteering," she cut him off, her tone almost casual, as though she were explaining the rules of a game. Then, with a deliberate press of her foot, she pushed the accelerator further. The Veyron's engine roared in response, the speedometer climbing—200… 205… 210 km/h—as the first hairpin approached like a yawning abyss.
In the private viewing room, Gao Boheng leaned forward, eyes wide as the screen captured the deadly approach. His throat went dry. "Oversteering? What does she mean?"
His question hung heavy in the air, until Shen Zeyan finally broke his silence. His gaze remained fixed on the screen, his expression unreadable, though the faint curl of a smirk tugged at his lips.
"When a driver oversteers," he began, his voice calm and authoritative, "they manipulate both the handbrake and the foot brake at the same time. It forces the car's tail to swing out, while the front tires carve sharply into the curve. It's not just steering—it's drifting. It demands precision so sharp that a single miscalculation ends in disaster."
Gao Boheng swallowed hard. "So she's… drifting through seven hairpins? At two hundred kilometers per hour?"
Shen Zeyan's eyes glinted under the dim light, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. "Her feet command the pedals, her hands control the balance, but it's her instinct that carries her through. She's not just driving—she's dancing with the road."
As he spoke, the Bugatti Veyron screeched into the first hairpin. The rear of the car slid dangerously close to the cliff's edge, smoke curling up from the tires. For one agonizing heartbeat, it seemed the vehicle would spin out of control. Gasps erupted from the crowd, and even Zhu Jinyan screamed, "Li Ziqing!"
But then—the car snapped back into line, shooting out of the curve with predatory grace. The second hairpin loomed, then the third. Each turn seemed tighter, deadlier, but Li Ziqing's control was absolute, her black Veyron flowing through the serpentine road like liquid shadow.
The grandstand was on its feet now, the cheers and cries blending into a chaotic symphony.
"She did it—again!"
"This is impossible—she's not human!"
"No one takes hairpins at that speed! No one!"
Behind her, Ruan Zeyuan felt his throat constrict. His eyes widened as disbelief cracked through his confidence. The Koenigsegg Jesko Absolute was built for domination, yet at this moment, it felt like a lumbering beast chasing a phantom.
For a split second, he was so mesmerized by her audacity that he almost forgot his own race line. His hands fumbled at the wheel, and he nearly clipped the guardrail before jerking back into control. His heart pounded like a war drum. Wasn't she supposed to be a novice? Didn't her butler say she had never touched a steering wheel before today? How can a fifteen-year-old girl… race like this?
The thought clawed at him. No—this isn't just skill. This is mastery. She could stand on the international stage. She could crush professionals. She could…
The realization stabbed deeper with every hairpin she conquered. One turn. Then another. Each tighter than the last, yet she slipped through them seamlessly, her Bugatti hugging the asphalt with predatory grace. She wasn't fighting the mountain—she was one with it, her every motion perfectly anticipating the treacherous road ahead.
By the time she cleared the sixth hairpin, the crowd had erupted into chaos.
"Is she even human?!" someone screamed, clutching their head in disbelief.
"She—she just outmaneuvered the Jesko Absolute! In the hairpins!" another roared, his voice drowned out by cheers.
"Oh my god, the way she drifted… she made it look beautiful!"
Phones shot into the air, shaky hands recording every impossible second.
"I can't believe it! I recorded the whole thing—Li Ziqing's my idol now! She's not just stunning, she's… she's a legend in the making!" a boy almost jumped in exitment as he gripped his phone towards the screen displaying Li Ziqing's current footage and speed.
"Didn't we just restarted the poll for school belle online after the last scandal?" another chimed in breathlessly. "I regret it now. No one deserves that title more than Li Ziqing."
"I'm voting for her immediately," someone else declared. "And I'm uploading this video to the Renren school forum right now. Everyone has to see this!"
"Yes, me too! From today onwards, Li Ziqing isn't just the school belle—she's untouchable!"
As the black Bugatti roared into the final hairpin, her silhouette framed against the night, the crowd held its breath as one. And when she tore out of the curve flawlessly, engine screaming in triumph, the entire grandstand erupted into thunderous applause.
Ruan Zeyuan, meanwhile, felt the icy grip of regret coil around his chest. He had challenged her to humiliate her, to make her retreat in disgrace. But now, all he could think was one bitter truth: He had unleashed a storm he could never hope to control.
"Wow! You were absolutely incredible, Li Ziqing! Beyond amazing!" Zhu Jinyan's voice crackled through the communicator, full of raw excitement. His admiration was unrestrained, his words tumbling out in a rush. For the first time, he felt genuine pride in his choice of affection—his liking for Li Ziqing wasn't just shallow infatuation anymore. At this moment, she was dazzling, untouchable. But in the very same breath of admiration, he felt the chasm between them widen. Even if he practiced his entire life, he knew he could never hope to master driving like she just had.
Tian Jia's face darkened instantly. Every syllable of Zhu Jinyan's praise was like a blade, cutting into her pride and stirring the venom in her heart. Her nails dug into her phone as her grip tightened, her eyes burning with unbridled rage. Under her breath, she spat out a curse—low, venomous, almost trembling with suppressed fury. "B*tch…"
The roar of the engines and the scream of tires soon gave way to the deafening silence of victory. As Li Ziqing's Bugatti blazed across the finish line, the crowd seemed struck dumb. For a heartbeat, no one moved, no one breathed—until the murmurs began to ripple, disbelief written across every face.
"She… she really did it?"
"She defeated that other man?"
Shock turned into awe. Awe turned into cheers. The arena erupted into thunderous applause, the echo rolling through the mountains like a storm.
Zhou Yichen had been holding his breath without realizing it. His nerves had knotted so tightly that he almost felt faint. But as soon as the car slowed and screeched to a halt, his chest loosened, and exhilaration surged through him like a flood. Without hesitation, he sprinted forward.
The door opened, and Li Ziqing stepped out, calm as ever, the wind teasing strands of her hair. Zhou Yichen nearly tripped over himself in excitement. "Miss Li! That was—absolutely incredible! You actually defeated Ruan Zeyuan! Do you realize what you've just done? He's been racing for nearly a decade, and you—" He broke off, laughing in disbelief, his admiration almost childlike.
Li Ziqing smiled faintly, her composure radiating in stark contrast to the frenzy around her. With a mischievous lilt in her tone, she quipped, "Mr. Zhou, I suggest you start preparing a contract for Mr. Ruan."
Zhou Yichen burst into laughter, unable to contain himself. Butler Yao, who had watched quietly all this while, also chuckled warmly, his sharp eyes softening. Though this was his first day meeting her, he couldn't deny the surge of pride swelling in his chest. He had served prominent families, brushed shoulders with powerhouses, but never had he encountered a girl of such brilliance—so young, yet carrying the poise of a seasoned veteran.
Other girls her age… he thought silently, they spend their days gossiping, shopping, or obsessing over appearances. But this one? She races like the wind, negotiates with the cunning of a fox, and helps her mother build an empire. Truly remarkable.
Before he could reflect further, a whirlwind named Zhu Jinyan barreled past him. The boy dashed straight to Li Ziqing and, without thinking, threw his arms around her.
Li Ziqing stiffened instinctively, caught off guard by the sudden embrace. But when she felt the pure, untainted excitement radiating from him—no ulterior motives, just admiration—she didn't push him away. Instead, she allowed the hug, her lips curving in the faintest of smiles.
"Li Ziqing!" Zhu Jinyan's words tumbled over each other, his voice thick with emotion. "You were unbelievable! I can't believe it—you actually won! Where—where on earth did you learn to drive like that?" His eyes shone with wonder, the kind usually reserved for heroes in fairy tales.
Li Ziqing's gaze softened, but her reply was subtle, deliberately evasive. "Mhm… does it really matter where I learned? What's important is whether you want to learn, too."
Zhu Jinyan blinked, stunned. "Me? Learn?"
"Yes," she said, her tone smooth as silk, a playful glint in her eyes. "If you want, I'll teach you."
The effect was immediate. Zhu Jinyan's jaw dropped, and then, like an overexcited child offered his favorite candy, he nodded so fast it was almost comical. "Really?! You'd really teach me?!" His voice cracked with delight, unable to contain his glee.
Li Ziqing chuckled lightly at his eagerness.
The others standing nearby within earshot—looked on in astonishment. Zhu Jinyan, usually so composed in his own arrogant way, was practically bouncing with joy, his reaction entirely out of character. Yet none of them found it ridiculous. Instead, they understood. Everyone knew how obsessed he was with cars and racing. To be taught by the very girl who had just stunned the entire crowd—it was only natural he would react like this.
Meanwhile, Tian Jia, standing not far from the finish line, caught sight of the heartwarming scene unfolding before her—the embrace, the laughter, the admiration surrounding Li Ziqing. To everyone else, it was joyous, triumphant. But to Tian Jia, it was a knife straight through the heart.
Her hands curled into fists so tightly that her nails bit into her palms. Her chest rose and fell with ragged breaths as tears welled in her eyes and streamed down her cheeks before she could stop them. Furious at her own weakness, she wiped them away roughly, as though erasing evidence of her pain. Yet no amount of force could extinguish the fire of fury igniting inside her.
Why? her heart screamed. How could she appear out of nowhere and take everything?
Every smile Zhu Jinyan directed at Li Ziqing, every word of admiration he lavished on her, was like salt rubbed mercilessly into Tian Jia's wounds. In that moment, her resentment crystallized into something darker.
Turning sharply on her heel, her steps heavy with heartbreak and disappointment, she muttered under her breath, her voice trembling with venom, "Li Ziqing… I'll drag you to hell if it's the last thing I do."
Not far away, in the private grandstand, Gao Boheng leapt to his feet, his face alight with exhilaration. "Let's go meet her, Young Master Shen!" he exclaimed, his tone brimming with unrestrained enthusiasm. "That was beyond extraordinary. I've never seen anything like it in my life!"
Shen Zeyan rose more slowly, his movements measured as he brushed invisible dust from his tailored jacket. His expression was calm, yet his dark eyes glimmered with intrigue.
"She's no ordinary girl," he remarked, his voice low but carrying an undeniable weight. "Not only did she defeat Ruan Zeyuan—someone seasoned in racing—but she also turned the tables, binding him into a year-long contract at her service. She has skill, courage, and cunning. A rare combination."
He adjusted his cufflinks with his usual precision, though his thoughts were far from mundane. Shen Zeyan was not a man easily impressed, but this girl… this fifteen-year-old girl had shaken the entire arena and forced even him to take notice.
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Thank you for the comment Maritel ❤️😊🥰🙏