Chapter Fifty-Seven: Speed and Passion

With a jolt, the plane landed safely at the capital’s airport. Wang Dongliang was so taken with Cheng Xiaoyu that he seemed genuinely reluctant to part, trailing after him with regret as they disembarked.

The moment Cheng Xiaoyu turned on his phone, he received a text from Zhou Peipei. Their flight was delayed, and the car sent to pick them up had gotten into a fender-bender on the way, now stuck dealing with the aftermath. Zhou told them to catch a taxi on their own.

Cheng Xiaoyu looked up at Su Yuxi ahead, who was also reading her messages. After a glance, she stopped walking. Cheng Xiaoyu caught up and said, “No one’s coming for us. We’ll have to get a taxi ourselves.”

Su Yuxi nodded to show she understood, and now walked side by side with him.

Not far away, Wang Dongliang noticed the two of them together—a striking beauty and Cheng Xiaoyu—and hurried over, sidling up to Cheng and whispering, “Did you get her number?”

Cheng Xiaoyu grinned, sneaking a glance at Su Yuxi, and replied softly, “What number? You mean her? We’re relatives. Of course, I have her number.”

Surprise flashed across Wang Dongliang’s face, but he quickly turned it into a smile. “You gave me your card earlier but I forgot to save your number. Give it to me now. Let’s keep in touch in the capital—I’ll treat you to dinner.”

Cheng Xiaoyu didn’t refuse and recited his number. Wang Dongliang jotted it down, then asked, “Where are you two heading?”

Having just arrived for the first time, Cheng Xiaoyu didn’t know the address and was too embarrassed to ask Su Yuxi, so he blurted out, “Somewhere around Houhai.”

Wang Dongliang glanced at the elegant Su Yuxi by Cheng Xiaoyu’s side, then remembered his company had sent an Audi A6 to pick him up. It would be no loss of face. “That’s on my way. Let me give you both a lift.”

Cheng Xiaoyu demurred, saying they could just get a taxi, though inwardly he regretted it. Knowing Su Yuxi’s temperament, she likely wouldn’t accept the ride.

Wang Dongliang insisted warmly. Without Su Yuxi’s approval, Cheng Xiaoyu could only evade. As soon as they stepped out of the terminal, a swarm of illegal cab drivers surged forward, soliciting rides. Glancing at the official taxi stand, packed with a dense crowd, Cheng Xiaoyu felt overwhelmed and asked Su Yuxi, “How about we just take one of these black cabs?”

Su Yuxi, unaccustomed to such chaos—she rarely even took taxis—felt just as daunted by the sea of people and nodded. “Alright.”

Seeing them about to take an illegal cab, Wang Dongliang redoubled his efforts to persuade them, his sincerity almost moving heaven and earth. Left with no choice, Cheng Xiaoyu asked Su Yuxi, “Why don’t we just take Brother Wang’s car?”

Wang Dongliang looked at Su Yuxi with hopeful anticipation. She wasn’t the type to fuss and agreed, “That’s fine.”

Wang Dongliang was overjoyed.

Cheng Xiaoyu muttered, “If you’d just said so earlier…”

Wang Dongliang chided him, “This is what you call a lady’s restraint and prudence—a virtue to be praised.” Then he asked, “What’s your name, miss?”

Su Yuxi replied glibly, “Xu Qinning!”

Cheng Xiaoyu was left speechless, feeling he didn’t know this “sister” as well as he thought.

The two shook off the black cab drivers and followed Wang Dongliang to the parking lot, where he called his driver. Before they found him, they spotted the tall man who’d sat in front of Cheng Xiaoyu on the plane. He seemed surprised to see Su Yuxi with them, puzzled how she, who’d been silent the entire flight, ended up with these two—and half wanted to approach her, half couldn’t bring himself to.

Just then, the Audi A6 2.0 that was there to pick up Wang Dongliang pulled up. He hurried over, opened the trunk, and offered to help Su Yuxi with her suitcase. She politely refused, loading it herself, and thanked him with a smile as he opened the car door for her.

Wang Dongliang felt as though bathed in a spring breeze by Su Yuxi’s smile. The tall man nearby, though, was awash in regret—he should have struck up a conversation earlier. When Wang Dongliang shot him a dismissive look, it only stoked his frustration. He hurried to a nearby BMW 740, told his driver to follow the Audi.

As they neared the toll station, the Audi was moving along at a leisurely pace when the BMW behind suddenly accelerated and cut in front. The Audi’s driver, a Black man, slammed the brakes, startling everyone, but as the car wasn’t going fast, there was no collision. Wang Dongliang, seated up front, rolled down the window and shouted, “Are you out of your mind? What kind of driving is this? Have you no decency?”

The BMW slowed, its rear window rolled down, and the tall man’s smug face appeared. “Oh, sorry, didn’t realize it was you, Director Wang! If I’d known, I wouldn’t have cut in. But why’s a business-class passenger like you getting picked up in an old Audi?”

Wang Dongliang recognized the persistent rich kid, glanced at the BMW’s license plate—a string of eights, nothing special for the capital, but not someone to cross lightly. He grumbled and rolled up the window. “Some of these rich kids, thinking a little family money means they can swagger around like kings, really ruins your day.”

Cheng Xiaoyu, having seen the tall man’s smug face, agreed, “People like that are bound to get their comeuppance. A few wads of cash and they think they can do whatever they please. Our school tries to teach character but it’s useless—last year at S University, a rich kid crashed a Ferrari and nothing happened to him.”

Wang Dongliang glanced back at Cheng Xiaoyu, thinking he looked familiar, and then realized he resembled a popular internet meme. He laughed, “You know, our site covered that incident. Later we were ordered to delete any posts about family backgrounds—leave them up and the site gets shut down. That rich kid must have some real clout! And you really do look like that meme!”

Cheng Xiaoyu replied evenly, “Don’t all fat people look the same? If I had a Ferrari, I wouldn’t be crammed in a car with you.”

Wang Dongliang laughed, “True enough. You do judo, right? Gotta be sturdy. You’re adding weight for the nation—worthy of praise!”

As they spoke, the car cleared the toll station, but the BMW was still waiting by the roadside. When the Audi caught up, the BMW pulled ahead again, deliberately slowing to block their way.

The tall man’s name was Zheng Long. His family did real estate in the capital; his father was a notorious old hand in the city. They’d started with hauling sand and gravel, gradually making it in the property business—nothing major, but enough to be considered shady nouveau riche. Ordinary people didn’t dare cross them.

Zheng Long was the only son, spoiled rotten by his mother. He’d grown up around ruffians and picked up plenty of bad habits, arrogant from an early age. Earlier this year, after a fight over a woman, his father sent him to Shanghai to cool off. Only after his mother wept rivers did his father allow him back for the New Year. If not for his criminal record, he would have gone after the “Director” right away. Thinking of Su Yuxi’s flawless face and perfect legs, Zheng Long burned with desire—he had to meet this girl.

Wang Dongliang, fuming at Zheng Long’s provocation, was helpless; the BMW outperformed his underpowered Audi, and with three burly men onboard, it was even slower. Each time he tried to overtake, the BMW would swerve, nearly causing a collision.

The driver, already hot-tempered, cursed fluently in the local dialect, more indignant than Wang Dongliang. Wang, feeling he was losing face in front of the beautiful Su, shouted, “Just overtake him! If something happens, I’ll take responsibility!”

But Cheng Xiaoyu sensed trouble—road rage could be fatal—and urged, “Brother Wang, don’t stoop to his level. Let’s pull over and talk this out.”

Wang Dongliang, reining in his anger, realized it would be hard to explain if the company car got wrecked—he couldn’t risk their lives. He slowed, turned on the hazards, and pulled into the emergency lane on the airport expressway.

Seeing the Audi pull over, the BMW did likewise. Once both cars stopped, Wang Dongliang got out and walked toward the BMW, Cheng Xiaoyu following.

Zheng Long, a streetwise native, could tell at a glance who was worth provoking. This was just a small-engine Audi with ordinary plates, no special permits on the dashboard—just regular folks. Besides, no one in the capital’s real estate scene dabbled in internet tech; that kind of business was too slow to make real money. The real players cozied up to state monopolies or made fortunes on land deals. As Wang Dongliang approached, hair tousled by the wind, Zheng Long’s face was all swagger.

Wang Dongliang knocked on the BMW’s window, putting on a friendly smile. “What’s the meaning of this, brother?”

Zheng Long, with his narrow eyes, flat nose, and thin lips—features that gave him a villainous look—dismissed him. “Meaning? The road’s wide enough; I’ll drive however I please. If you’ve got guts, try hitting me.”

Wang Dongliang noticed a burly, tattooed bald man in the passenger seat and immediately lost his nerve. He quickly backed down, pulled out a pack of Zhongnanhai cigarettes, and offered one to Zheng Long. “Brother, it’s the New Year—no need for hard feelings. If I did anything wrong, I apologize. Give me your number. It’s always good to make more friends.”

Zheng Long took the cigarette, his real interest never in Wang Dongliang. “You’re pretty tactful. Why’s that girl in your car?”

Wang Dongliang realized what he was after and hesitated, then looked to Cheng Xiaoyu. “She’s a relative of Xiaocheng here. I like the kid, saw they were having trouble getting a cab, so I offered them a lift.”

Cheng Xiaoyu, watching Zheng Long toy with the cigarette, wore an ambiguous smile.

Zheng Long sized him up. “Who is she to you? You don’t look like much of a good guy.”

Cheng Xiaoyu thought, I’m a lot more decent than you, you country bumpkin, but only sneered, “What’s it to you?”

Zheng Long flicked his cigarette out the window, his face turning vicious. “That girl leaves with me today. Ask around the capital who my father Zheng Jun is before you speak again.”

Wang Dongliang blustered, “How can you be like this? I’m calling the police! Is there no law left?”

Zheng Long laughed. “Police? And for what? The road’s wide—why can’t I drive here? I’m sticking with you today, just try to shake me.”

Cheng Xiaoyu shot a glance at Zheng Long, then pulled Wang Dongliang back toward the Audi. “Forget it, don’t lower yourself to his level.”

Wang Dongliang kept muttering, “I’ll just call a few friends on the force, have this little punk dealt with,” but made no move for his phone.

Cheng Xiaoyu smiled, “No need. Let me make a call.” He stepped aside and phoned Zhou Peipei, who was still waiting to board her flight. Hearing the story, she was annoyed but told him to wait.

A few minutes later, his phone rang—a local number. Cheng Xiaoyu answered, and a spirited voice greeted him. “Hello, Xiaoyu?”

“Yes, who is this?”

“Auntie asked me to call. We haven’t met—I’m your cousin Su Weilan. Where are you exactly? I’ll come take care of this punk for you.”

Cheng Xiaoyu gave his location and asked, “How much trouble can you handle?”

Su Weilan, thinking he was about to start a fight, chuckled. “As long as you don’t kill anyone, it’s fine.”

“Thanks, cousin,” Cheng Xiaoyu said, then hung up and returned to Wang Dongliang. “Brother Wang, let’s get back in the car—it’s handled. Sorry for the trouble.”

Wang Dongliang smiled awkwardly. “No problem. I could’ve made a call too, but it’s the holidays—didn’t want to bother anyone.”

Cheng Xiaoyu laughed, “Exactly, no need to trouble you over something so small.” Then he moved to the driver’s side and said to the Black driver, “Let me take the wheel.”

The driver, seeing Wang Dongliang get in too, didn’t suspect a thing and climbed into the back seat.

Wang Dongliang, not noticing the switch, kept his eyes glued to the BMW. “Let’s go before he realizes—just floor it.”

Cheng Xiaoyu answered quickly, “Got it!” Left foot on the brake, right foot stomping the gas, he revved the engine for two seconds—a launch control start. Tires smoked and the Audi shot forward with a roar.

Wang Dongliang’s face went pale. Glancing over to see Cheng Xiaoyu driving, he nearly lost his soul. “Xiaocheng, what are you doing?”

Cheng Xiaoyu didn’t look back. “Ever heard of the Second Ring Thirteen?”

Wang Dongliang’s voice trembled, “No, and don’t do anything crazy!”

Seeing the Audi making a break for it, the BMW tried to block, but Cheng Xiaoyu wasn’t the type to back down. He floored it, not yielding an inch. The cars nearly scraped together before the BMW hesitated and fell back.

Wang Dongliang pleaded, “Pull over, Xiaocheng!” Cheng Xiaoyu just laughed. “Brother Wang, if anything happens, I’ll take the fall—I’m the Second Ring Thirteen.” He cracked the window, letting the icy wind cool his racing heart.

Wang Dongliang gripped the handle, voice shaking, “It’s not that I’m scared, but safety first!”—conveniently forgetting he’d been the one to call for a crash.

The BMW, being faster, soon overtook them and cut in front.

Cheng Xiaoyu sneered, then suddenly jerked the wheel right and floored it, making a move to overtake. The BMW immediately swerved to block, forcing Cheng Xiaoyu to brake.

But Cheng Xiaoyu was spoiling for a fight, and this was his chance. He overtook aggressively, ignoring the BMW’s lane changes. The BMW, not expecting such boldness, reacted too late—both cars scraped together with a dull thud, sending a mirror flying.

Now the BMW conceded, giving way.

By this point, Wang Dongliang was drenched in cold sweat, speechless. Su Yuxi, in the back, remained unbothered, listening quietly. The Black driver, unsure how things had escalated, was just relieved he wasn’t behind the wheel.

In the BMW, Zheng Long’s face was livid. He hadn’t expected these nobodies to be so bold. He ordered his driver to catch up and called his father’s men for backup.

Cheng Xiaoyu wasn’t finished. Seeing the BMW closing in again, he mirrored their tactics, blocking every attempt to overtake. Fortunately, the airport expressway was six lanes wide—otherwise, there would have been a pileup. Other drivers, seeing their duel, watched with interest—since neither car could reach high speeds, it was more spectacle than danger, and many filmed the whole thing.

Zheng Long, frustrated by repeated failures, cursed his driver. Driven to recklessness, the man finally made a mistake—missing the brake, the BMW’s nose plowed into the Audi’s rear. In the mirror, Cheng Xiaoyu saw the BMW’s headlight shatter, airbags burst, and the hood crumple. A tow truck would be needed.

Wang Dongliang clung to the handle, sweating, and managed a weak smile at Cheng Xiaoyu. “So this is how you solved it, Xiaocheng?”