"Vroom!" The roar of engines exploded through the air.
On the empty racetrack, a row of riders crouched low over their motorcycles at the starting line, poised and ready. The cheers from the stands surged like waves, electrifying the entire arena.
The starter waved a small flag, then suddenly raised it—followed by the sharp crack of the starting gun.
The pack of racers shot forward like arrows loosed from a bow. Among them, Rider No. 7, clad in red racing gear, swiftly carved through the first turn, seizing the lead. The others clung fiercely to her tail, the competition intense.
The crowd’s roars swelled, each cry louder than the last. After several laps of relentless pursuit, No. 7 finally broke free, streaking across the finish line.
The stadium erupted once more. The racer planted one foot on the ground, steadying the bike, then casually unclasped her helmet and pulled it off.
A cascade of wavy hair tumbled down, soft yet bold against her shoulders. Her striking face was alight with confidence, her glass-like eyes flicking toward a spot in the stands, one brow quirking slightly.
The leaderboard flashed on the big screen. Her gaze swept over it.
NO.1 — Nan Sangning
"Congratulations! You’ve won the championship! Please head to the awards area—we’ll begin the ceremony shortly!" A staff member jogged over, beaming.
Now that the race was over, the sharp, domineering aura she’d carried on the track had softened.
Sangning smiled, her voice gentle. "Alright."
The staffer blinked, stealing another glance, unable to reconcile this sweet-looking girl with the ruthless No. 7 who’d just blocked every challenger on the circuit.
Sangning dismounted, helmet tucked under one arm, and made her way toward the podium.
Suddenly, a voice called out, "Hey, wait up!"
She turned to see a guy in green racing gear hurrying after her.
"I’m No. 23—second place. You blocked me back there."
Sangning glanced at his number and remembered—in the final ten seconds, this guy had been glued to her tail, but she hadn’t given an inch, shutting him down until he was trapped in second.
Her eyes narrowed, wary.
Was he here to pick a fight over losing?
"Yeah, what about it?" Her tone was cool.
No. 23 stepped closer, eyes bright. "Uh, well… your skills are insane. I didn’t expect you to be a girl. So, I was wondering… could I get your WeChat? Maybe we could be friends—"
Sangning froze, momentarily thrown by his sudden shift in attitude.
Then a frosty voice cut in from behind.
"No."
She turned. A tall, broad-shouldered man in a sharp suit stood there, his handsome face set in a scowl. Cradled in one arm was a three-year-old girl dressed in pink, her delicate little face mirroring her father’s displeasure.
He Siyu stepped up beside Nan Sangning, draping an arm over her shoulders as he leveled a cold stare at the guy.
"This is my wife."
The little girl puffed up. "And my mommy!"
No. 23 scratched his head, embarrassed. "Oh—sorry, my bad." He quickly retreated.
Sangning turned to He Siyu. "Why’d you come down?"
"What, did I interrupt something?" He shot her a sidelong glance.
Sangning: "…"
Two years ago, after getting her license, Sangning had developed a sudden interest in racing. With Nan Corporation stabilizing, she’d had more free time and started competing. At first, it was just for fun, but she’d quickly excelled, eventually entering professional races. Today was her first championship.
He Siyu had dabbled in racing during high school—a rebellious phase—but once he started his business in college, he’d dropped it. Now that Sangning enjoyed it, he had no objections. When work allowed, he even joined her. But he hadn’t expected her to attract admirers on the track.
Were these idiots blind? Couldn’t they see the ring on her finger?
Sangning eyed him. "He Siyu."
"What?" His tone was defiant.
She deadpanned, "Don’t make me ruin this happy moment by fighting with you."
He Siyu: "…"
He finally shut up.
An'an looked between her parents, then sweetly stretched her arms toward Sangning. "Mommy, hug!"
Sangning took her into her arms.
"Mommy’s the best! Mommy’s the champion!" An'an cheered.
Sangning kissed her cheek. "An'an’s such a good girl."
A portly event organizer hurried over, extending a hand to He Siyu.
"Mr. He! The awards ceremony is about to start. As the primary sponsor of this event, we’d be honored if you could present the trophy."
Assistant Lin, trailing behind, immediately declined. "Apologies, but Mr. He doesn’t participate in public engagements."
He Siyu avoided any event that thrust him into the public eye—unless it was an industry-related product launch. He found the attention tedious.
The organizer chuckled awkwardly, not daring to insist. "Ah, well, in that case—"
"Fine." He Siyu cut in.
The organizer froze. So did Assistant Lin.
He Siyu tilted his chin toward Sangning, who was now perched on her bike with An'an in her lap. His tone was lazy.
"My wife won. She’s insisting I show up."
Assistant Lin: ???
The organizer gasped. "She’s your wife? My apologies for not realizing! Wonderful! This is perfect—thank you, Mr. He!"
Today’s race was definitely hitting the trending list now.
Amid the noise of the crowd, Sangning and He Siyu could barely hear each other from just a few meters apart.
And An'an was bouncing with excitement.
"Mommy!" An'an suddenly wrapped her arms around Sangning’s neck, solemn. "If you and Daddy get divorced, I’m staying with you."
Sangning: ???
"Why would Mommy divorce Daddy?"
An'an scrunched her face. "But in the dramas, happy couples always split up! And then their poor daughter gets treated like garbage by the evil stepmom!"
Sangning: "…"
"Stop watching that nonsense," Sangning said, pinching her cheek.
"But you watch it too!"
Sangning: "…"
She straightened, feigning seriousness. "Grown-ups and kids are different. Grown-ups can watch it. Kids can’t. If kids watch too much, their teeth will rot and fall out, and they’ll never eat candy again."
An'an clapped her hands over her mouth. "An'an won’t watch anymore!"
Sangning patted her head. "Good girl."
"What are you two whispering about?" He Siyu strolled over, hands in his pockets.
An'an shook her head. "Nothing! I didn’t say anything!"
He Siyu narrowed his eyes. This little troublemaker was definitely up to something.
He glanced at Sangning.
She shook her head. "An'an just said she wants to take photos on the podium later."
Best not to stir the pot. If He Siyu found out An'an was planning their divorce, he’d blow up again.
He Siyu smirked, pleased. "Sure. I’ll hand you the trophy, and we’ll take a family photo."
Nan Sangning looked surprised. "You're giving out the award?"
"Well, since the money's already spent, I might as well show my face."
She gave him a strange look. "You’re quite the penny-pincher."
The sarcasm was unmistakable, but for once, He Siyu didn’t rise to the bait.
With a raised brow, he tilted his chin slightly. "Let’s go, my champion wife."
