Chapter 73: The Black Hole Within

Ha, that's far from all. Lin Zhiwei muttered inwardly, the triple hairpin turn drawing ever closer. Suddenly, she accelerated, throwing Jilly into chaos. They were nearly at the deadly bend, yet this kid didn’t slow down at all—no matter, Jilly gritted his teeth and refused to fall behind.

Seeing he’d taken the bait, Lin Zhiwei’s lips curled into a sly smile. She gently twisted the throttle and surged ahead...

Down the mountain, the crowd watching had been struck speechless. The earlier chorus of screams had faded into a tense hush; everyone stared, their hearts in their throats.

Lin Zhiwei’s rear wheel was almost entirely off the ground. She used the moment’s weight shift to brake so hard the back tire swung outward, the bike’s body tilting perilously. From the drone’s perspective, it looked as though she was about to flip, skimming the ground.

Several girls, terrified, covered their eyes, unwilling to witness what might be a harrowing scene.

Jilly didn’t dare try to overtake; with such a steep angle, a crash was inevitable. To try and pass now would mean courting death alongside this madwoman.

Just as everyone held their breath, Lin Zhiwei used her elbow to press against the pavement, leveraging the friction for balance and shooting through the turn at breakneck speed. It was an operation at the very edge of possibility—astonishing, almost perfection.

“I can’t look!”

“She’s definitely going to crash…”

“Maniac…”

…

“Look! She made it through safely and is two car lengths ahead of Jilly!”

“Damn, victory in her grasp—amazing!”

“That’s a death-defying move!”

…

The outcome was clear. The crowd at the foot of the mountain erupted in heated debate, marveling at Lin Zhiwei’s elbow-bracing maneuver through the turn. This was the kind of elite skill reserved for professional racers; Crazy Lin was nothing short of legendary.

World Trade Tower, Mob Lounge.

Night had fallen. In the bar, only Chu Chuo sat, idly spinning his glass, his obsidian ring tapping against its rim. Amid the soft and languorous bossa nova, he was like a predator waiting to pounce. He knew Lin Zhiwei wouldn’t come. Squinting, he drained a Tequila Sunset and checked his phone:

“Where did she go? Is she with Ling Zi Heng?”

Moments later, the reply came: “Young master, Miss Lin is on She Mountain Road.”

She Mountain Road? Chu Chuo hung up, incredulous. What was that girl doing in such a remote place at night?

“Young master?”

“Get the car ready.”

Chu Chuo grabbed his jacket and left the bar. Well, he’d go see that girl for himself. Ling Zi Heng knew nothing yet. The sinister smile spread across his lips—what luck, all handed to him effortlessly.

Meanwhile, Lin Zhiwei and Jilly had finished the race. Jilly leaned against his motorcycle, reluctantly taking off his helmet and shaking his head, “You’re a maniac, truly. But hey, I learned something new today.”

“Damn, did you pay tuition?” Lin Zhiwei removed her helmet, exhaled deeply, and teased.

Jilly: “What’s the point of tuition, we go way back.”

He took out a cigarette and reached over. Lin Zhiwei pushed him away. “No thanks.”

“Come on, are you even a man?” Jilly lit up, mocking.

Of course not, Lin Zhiwei thought, but her face remained calm. “Old Hu’s health isn’t great—I’ve got to set an example.”

Jilly snorted. The red half-mask’s silk ribbons fluttered wildly; his expression hidden, yet his smoking posture was undeniably suave.

Though every race took place at night, under the heavy darkness, only Lin Zhiwei and Jilly wore masks. Lin Zhiwei had always suspected Jilly’s identity was no ordinary one.

Now, with the crowd dispersing under the faint streetlights, Lin Zhiwei quietly sized up Jilly. Judging by his build, he was likely handsome—just too rough. His quick temper and readiness to start a fight made him hard to handle.

“Heading back to Old Hu’s to park? Want to grab a drink with the guys?” Jilly stubbed out his cigarette.

“Next time. Drinking while masked? Careful you don’t blow your cover.” Lin Zhiwei glanced at him.

Jilly was startled, not expecting Lin Zhiwei to speak so directly. He sighed, “Says you. You’re the most mysterious one here.”

“There’s nothing mysterious about it. We all use aliases and never mention our real lives. Racing is just a way to escape the chains we were born with.” Lin Zhiwei leaned on her bike, gazing at the distant mountains, her words earnest.

Jilly couldn’t argue. True enough, the greatest joy these years was making friends who understood him. Take off the mask, and everyone lived cautiously, confined. He asked, “So, coming or not?”

“I’ll stick around alone for a bit. If I’m interested later, maybe another round—who knows when the next time will be.”

“Alright, text me. I’m out.” Jilly donned his helmet, waved, and with a twist of the throttle, vanished into the night.

Lin Zhiwei hopped off her bike and sprawled beside it, reckless and free, replaying the images of her cornering moments.

Elbow-bracing through turns was a technique Old Hu had strictly forbidden her to attempt. Never mind the immense difficulty and danger—one misstep could mean disaster. Even the strain on her elbows and ankles could cause irreparable damage.

But inside her, the black hole swelled in that instant she rounded the bend, threatening to consume her. In the next second, her body and mind acted of their own accord, chasing that fleeting rush, seeking the limits of front-wheel grip.

Every time she felt the front tire bite and the steering oversteer in those curves, she felt utterly liberated, completely herself.

Yet recalling it afterwards left her drenched in cold sweat, thinking how reckless she’d been.

She sat up, legs crossed, her mind in chaos. The empty parking lot was silent, dim and indistinct. She hung her head, unable to tell how many selves inside her were roaring, desperate to awaken.

A black Bentley glided to a gentle stop at her rear, a brand-new electric model, almost noiseless. Ever alert, Lin Zhiwei didn’t notice at all, her thoughts overwhelming her, dissolving into the quiet, dangerous night.

Chu Chuo approached, motioning his entourage to keep their distance and not disturb them.