The words had barely landed before the group broke into a chorus of knowing sounds, amused looks flowing between the two of them. Just then, someone called out to Ban Sheng from a short distance away. He turned and looked at Lin Weixia:

“Wait here. Don’t wander off.”

Lin Weixia nodded. After he left, she felt a presence draw up beside her. She looked up — it was the red-haired young man. He watched Ban Sheng from a distance and said:

“First time I’ve ever seen him bring a girl along.”

Lin Weixia didn’t respond. Three meters away, the referee was shaking the flag in hand and going over the rules in a repetitive loop: “One full loop around the mountain — whoever gets back to this rest station in the shortest time wins—”

“What are the stakes?” Lin Weixia asked him.

Red Hair scratched the back of his neck and answered: “Loser hands over a car — or if you’d rather not do that, you get on your knees and call the winner your dad.”

“Not worried your man’s going to lose, are you?” Red Hair asked, then seemed to remember something and snorted. “He’s never lost. As long as he’s here, I’m always finishing second.”

“This time I absolutely cannot finish second again,” Red Hair said, grinding his teeth.

“So what — you came to talk him out of doing this mountain race?” Red Hair continued.

He was just about to say that Ban Sheng was the sort of person who couldn’t be moved — too proud, too hardheaded, not the type anyone could change — when Lin Weixia shook her head and answered gently:

“I came to keep him company.”

Red Hair blinked. When he looked at Lin Weixia again, something had shifted in his expression — a slow, knowing amusement. He was just about to say something when Ban Sheng appeared from nowhere, standing two meters away, gaze sharp and dangerous, his voice going flat:

“Lin Weixia. Come here.”

Lin Weixia walked over at the sound of her name. She came to stand in front of Ban Sheng and saw immediately that his expression was off — his eyes carrying a visible edge of displeasure. She was about to speak when her wrist was seized.

He pulled. Ban Sheng steered her directly into the patch of reeds behind the race base. The reeds had gone dry and yellow in the cold, but the stalks still stood, their height enough to conceal the two of them from view.

In the winter countryside, insects still sounded faintly somewhere nearby. Ban Sheng worked his jaw, his breathing growing heavier:

“Stop giving him reasons to linger.”

Lin Weixia felt entirely wronged. She hadn’t done anything — the other person had come over to talk to her of his own accord. She reacted instinctively:

“I didn’t —”

Cold moonlight descended and draped itself over Lin Weixia’s face, giving her an almost otherworldly beauty. Her lips were soft and faintly red, her hair dark against the night. No one could look at her and not be affected. Ban Sheng lifted his hand and pressed his thumb against her lips, a little roughly, and smeared away the lipstick she had applied.

Her lips were very soft. Warm to the touch. Quickly, the tip of Ban Sheng’s thumb was stained with a deep, forbidden red.

Once the lipstick was gone, her natural lip color was exposed — paler pink, softer than before. Ban Sheng found this even more striking, which only made him more quietly irritated.

Before long, someone noticed Ban Sheng had slipped behind the reeds with the girl he’d brought. When they emerged, one of the men snickered:

“Ban bro — you two weren’t just out here doing something improper, were you?”

Ban Sheng always kept his composure in public and rarely said anything truly crude. But now he let out a cold, furious laugh, his eyes sharp as blades, and said each word slowly and separately:

“Your mother.”

The look in Ban Sheng’s eyes made the man go cold all over. He was still scrambling to figure out how to apologize when the people beside him were already bowing their heads on his behalf:

“Ban bro, don’t take it to heart — he just has a terrible mouth.”

Ban Sheng couldn’t be bothered to spare them another look. Just then the referee blew the whistle and called all participants to line up. The referee repeated the rules and the stakes one more time for the group. One of the young men in attendance scratched his ear impatiently and said:

“Come on, can we move it along? No one here is doing this for the first time — I’ve got somewhere to be after this.”

The crowd laughed. The referee blew his whistle in resignation and announced that participants were free to choose their own co-navigators. Lin Weixia had been listening carefully to the referee explain what a co-navigator was.

It turned out each participant needed someone in the passenger seat — a second pair of eyes, so to speak, responsible for anticipating risks and alerting the driver to road conditions ahead. In practice, among these players, it was more about having someone there to stop the driver from losing all sense of self-preservation.

The regular players all chose people they knew — other veterans, or people the teams had brought along, both men and women.

“Let me try it.” Lin Weixia rested her hand over Ban Sheng’s little finger, curling it lightly and giving a small shake. That was her particular way of coaxing — she’d done it the same way since high school.

Ban Sheng left no room for discussion and said flatly:

“No.”

Lin Weixia knew what he was worried about. She held his gaze and asked:

“Would you let anything happen to me?”

Ban Sheng fell completely silent. He didn’t take the bait. Lin Weixia pressed on, a quiet steadiness in her clear eyes, without a trace of fear:

“I’m not scared.”

After a long standoff, Ban Sheng finally agreed to let Lin Weixia ride as his co-navigator. Standing not far away, Qiu Minghua had watched the whole thing play out and understood perfectly what Lin Weixia was doing.

She was putting herself at risk to make Ban Sheng quit his addiction.

Just before they got in the car, Qiu Minghua said one thing to Lin Weixia:

“All these years, you’re the only one who’s ever been able to keep him in line.”

“And he only lets you.”

The referee swung the flag and gave the signal. Five or six different model race cars roared to life, engines thundering, and shot away into the distance. Ban Sheng sat in the driver’s seat, shifting gears with practiced ease, pressing the accelerator. The car moved at several times its usual speed, vanishing like a ghost into the pitch-black night.

Ban Sheng drove fast. Lin Weixia sat quietly beside him the whole time without speaking. She noticed that he genuinely enjoyed this — the sensation of his heart hammering in his chest.

The faster the car went, the more effortlessly Ban Sheng moved. His eyes lit with a feverish energy. The car tilted through a sharp bend. Lin Weixia’s throat went dry. She pressed her nails quietly into the seatbelt but kept her face still.

The navigation showed a steep, narrow curve ahead — the section Ban Sheng loved most, the place where everything teetered and the road felt like the world turning upside down.

It was also the section that decided who won.

Ban Sheng’s adrenaline climbed to its peak. He was just about to floor the accelerator when his gaze swept across Lin Weixia — and caught the faint, barely perceptible whiteness at the edge of her lips.

It was like a bucket of ice water dropped over him without warning, snapping his reason back into place.

Did he dare gamble with Lin Weixia’s life?

Ban Sheng bit down hard on his back molars. Rather than flooring it, he eased off the gas and let the car slow to a crawl — because Lin Weixia was sitting in the seat beside him.

His mountain racing vehicle had effectively become a sightseeing shuttle.

One car after another passed him easily. Lin Weixia asked: “Not racing anymore?”

“I am racing — I’m just giving you the scenic tour of Jiujia Mountain on the side,” Ban Sheng said, completely unbothered.

So Ban Sheng drove the race car at a meandering pace around the course, giving Lin Weixia a leisurely loop of Jiujia Mountain. Lin Weixia looked up at the sky — a deep, dark blue, a few stars scattered above. Not far off, fireworks bloomed into the air.

Magnificent color arced across the space in front of them both.

Ban Sheng was the last car to roll back into the rest station, moving at a pace that would have embarrassed a tortoise. The two of them got out of the car. The crowd gave Ban Sheng an exaggerated thumbs-up:

“Legendary. Having a significant other really does change a man. I’m genuinely in awe.”

Ban Sheng paid zero attention to the teasing. He tossed the car keys cleanly to Red Hair and pulled Lin Weixia away by the hand.

Red Hair had finally won once, had finally gotten one over on Ban Sheng — only to realize it had been given to him on purpose. Ban Sheng handed the keys over with the casual air of someone granting a favor. Even in defeat, his posture was so unhurried and elevated it felt like the victory had been donated to Red Hair as charity.

The more Red Hair thought about it, the more infuriated he became. His pride stung, his sense of humiliation surged. In the middle of all the noise, he called out and stopped Ban Sheng who was just about to leave:

“No. One more round.”

He met Ban Sheng’s sharp gaze without flinching and changed the terms, waving over the referee to reset the course.

“Swap co-navigators,” Red Hair said. He turned, his gaze landing on her, and pointed: “I want her.”

Ban Sheng’s jaw flexed — the tell of his rising anger. He looked down at Red Hair with contempt, let out a scornful laugh, and said slowly:

“You think you’re worthy.”

Red Hair wasn’t ruffled. He smiled and kept his tone civil: “Ban bro, have you forgotten the rules? The winner decides when things end. No one else calls it.”

“And those rules — you made them yourself.”

The people around them exchanged uneasy glances. Everyone knew Red Hair and Ban Sheng had a history of bad blood, but seeing it aired openly in front of the whole crowd like this was a first. Ban Sheng held Lin Weixia’s wrist, the vein along his neck rising against his skin. He was just about to let go of Lin Weixia’s hand when her instincts kicked in — something felt wrong.

Afraid of what Ban Sheng might do in a moment he couldn’t take back, Lin Weixia caught the cuff of his sleeve and said, calm and clear: “It’s fine. If I’m in the car with him, he’ll value his own life regardless.”

Ban Sheng was silent for a long stretch. The menace in his expression was dense. Headlights from across the field swept over his face and spread shadow beneath his eyes.

Ban Sheng walked straight over, pulled open the car door, and looked back at Red Hair. His voice was even, and measured:

“She loses a single hair — I throw you in the ocean and feed you to the sharks.”

The black car door slammed shut with a thunderous sound. Red Hair’s cousin — his usual co-navigator — shuddered, hands trembling, and climbed shakily into Ban Sheng’s car.

Two race cars roared to life at the referee’s signal and launched forward. The black GTR was like fire burning from its tail — aggressive, untamed — and vanished from everyone’s sight in an instant.

Red Hair let out a yell and tore after him. His driving was fast, the kind of fast that made hearts race without feeling safe. Halfway through, a few sudden, steep drops made Lin Weixia’s stomach lurch and she nearly vomited — but she held it down.

The windshield blocked out the screaming wind, but you could still feel exactly how fast they were going. Lin Weixia didn’t say a word. Red Hair, however, couldn’t keep quiet and started talking:

“Honestly — this is the first time I’ve ever seen him like this. I used to think he was some kind of emotionless machine. But now looking at it—” Red Hair glanced at her, “—you’ve found his weakness.”

Lin Weixia pressed her lips together and gave no response.

Red Hair talked on, and began to push the speed higher. He stole a glance at Lin Weixia in the passenger seat — her expression detached, her eyes steady — and said, surprised:

“Aren’t you scared?”

Usually, any girl who got in his car would be crying within the first stretch. If he was in a decent mood he might say a word or two to comfort them. If he wasn’t, he’d just kick them out.

Above, a handful of stars blinked faintly against the dark winter sky, their reflections floating in the car window like a winter oil painting. Lin Weixia pulled her gaze back inside the car, turned to him, and asked, her amber eyes serene:

“Would it help if I were?”

Red Hair raised an eyebrow — that wasn’t the answer he’d expected. Up close, he saw that Lin Weixia’s eyes were genuinely beautiful. Clear. The corners tapered to a soft, tear-drop shape. Also arresting.

Red Hair’s interest sharpened. His expression turned playful as he looked at her: “I’ve changed my mind.”

“What?” Lin Weixia looked taken aback.

Before she could process it, Red Hair yanked the steering wheel. The car spun around and shot down the mountain at speed, his lips curling up in a satisfied grin.

“Where are you taking me?” A wave of dread rose in Lin Weixia’s chest.

Red Hair grinned at her, showing all his teeth: “What else? We’re going on a date.”

Lin Weixia looked at his face. For one brief second she really wanted to say something scathing. She held it back. The blue shadow of the car wound its way down the mountain. Red Hair, in an excellent mood, put on some music. When he settled back into his seat, he happened to glance in the rearview mirror — and saw Ban Sheng’s black GTR, locked tight onto their tail.

Red Hair immediately shifted gears and floored it. He was the kind who didn’t value his own life. The car lurched forward in a burst of acceleration and quickly shook the other car loose. He was thrilled with himself, carrying Lin Weixia as he barreled down — certain he had left Ban Sheng behind.

He was still congratulating himself when the road ahead split at a fork — and Ban Sheng’s car shot out directly across the intersection, blocking the path entirely. Red Hair swore and hit the gas, barreling toward the other car, intending to force it out of the way.

He had the recklessness to go full speed and be willing to take damage to force a collision. But he’d overlooked one thing —

Ban Sheng was more reckless than him.

The black GTR sat motionless and sideways across the road, posture more arrogant than his by far, seeming to say: go ahead and try it.

Red Hair’s fury ignited in an instant. He pressed the accelerator hard, engine screaming toward the other car — Lin Weixia’s heart shot into her throat. With only three centimeters to go, the car screeched to a halt. The force of inertia hurled Lin Weixia forward, nearly slamming her head into the dashboard.

Out of the darkness, a tall figure strode toward them in long, heavy steps. Before anyone could react, Ban Sheng’s face — set with cold fury — was there. He reached through the window and dragged Red Hair out of the car. He swung a punch. Red Hair’s mouth instantly split and bled.

Ban Sheng took Red Hair by the collar and, with the dispassionate efficiency of someone moving a sack of dead weight, shoved him back against the car. The dark, unhinged energy Ban Sheng sometimes carried had surfaced again.

Lin Weixia yanked off her seatbelt, got out of the car, went around to the other side, and grabbed a fistful of the back of his jacket, her fingers pressed white: “Ban Sheng, I want to go.”

With his fist less than a centimeter from Red Hair’s nose, Ban Sheng heard Lin Weixia’s quiet voice — and stopped cold. He left Red Hair with one last look and turned, taking her with him.

The car was still halfway up the mountain. Ban Sheng drove them down, slowly this time, and once they had put some distance between themselves and Red Hair, pulled over on a wide stretch of road.

The window rolled down. Ban Sheng reached for the pack of cigarettes on the dashboard, gave it a soft tap, and a cigarette fell into his palm. He dipped his head, bit down on the cigarette, and flicked the lighter. A blue-red flame lit the sharp planes of his face.

He took a drag. The hand holding the cigarette rested out the open window. When he spoke, his voice was low and flat:

“I regret it.”

He regretted bringing her here.

What Ban Sheng was staring at was Lin Weixia. And what she was focused on wasn’t that. Lin Weixia pulled a few tissues from the storage compartment, took the hand he had resting on the steering wheel and placed it in her own lap, dark lashes lowering as she began to slowly wipe the blood from his knuckles. She spoke:

“Ah Sheng, I really don’t know what happened to you.”

“You think racing makes you happy, right? Like it lets you escape from everything. But there are so many other kinds of happiness in this world, you know. Would you be willing to — let me walk ahead with you.”

Ban Sheng was leaning back against the headrest, a shadow of something unreadable resting beneath his cold, pale eyelids. At the sound of Lin Weixia’s voice, he opened his eyes and stared up at the dark felt ceiling of the car. Then his gaze moved to her face.

He met a pair of sincere and earnest eyes.

His throat moved. He seemed to be about to say something. His voice caught for a moment: “I—”

In the pause as he spoke, Lin Weixia bent forward to tuck the tissues back into the storage compartment. A small sound — a soft chime. Something tumbled to the floor. Ban Sheng’s brow twitched.

Lin Weixia bent down and picked it up — a string of purple bells. The instant Ban Sheng saw them, his face changed — like the sky before a storm breaks — and he asked in a flat, cold voice: “Where did you get those?”

Lin Weixia had no idea what was happening. She held the string of bells and gave it a small shake. The bells rang out with clear, sweet, continuous notes. She tilted her head and looked at the bells with a smile:

“Just now, a girl gave it to me. If you like it—”

She turned — and met a face gone an ashen, unnatural white. Ban Sheng’s temples were throbbing. He felt as though all the blood in his body had reversed course. He rubbed at his eyes in sharp, agitated strokes, and said in a low, flat voice:

“Get out.”

Lin Weixia was completely lost. She stared blankly at him: “What?”

Ban Sheng was like a different person. His breathing had deepened. He raised his eyelids and looked at Lin Weixia. His eyes made something inside her recoil — they felt cold and strange. He said each word separately, his voice laced with revulsion:

“Get out. Do I need to say it twice?”