Song Xueyan: I am furious!
At 10:00 PM, the signal flare exploded above the stadium. The roar of engines resounded through the sky, and several blurred shadows dashed out one after another.
The pitch-black heavy motorcycle looked like a hunting lion, speeding across the ground. As the final turn approached, the robust and powerful frame leaned into the curve. The imposing front of the bike grazed past the flickering, dark red streaks of light under the dim lamps on both sides, taking the absolute lead.
The tires screeched across the finish line with a sharp, piercing sound, like firecrackers popping on a summer night.
The most dazzling racer of the night propped his long legs on the ground and raised his hand to remove his matching helmet. He looked very young. His profile, exposed to the audience’s view, was smooth and fair. Sweat dripped down from his high-bridged nose, glided over his Adam’s apple, and disappeared into his chest, carrying a kind of untamed, wild beauty.
Screams erupted in the arena, and one roar in particular pierced through the microphone with overwhelming force—
“Yan Qi! You are, f***ing, so handsome!”
This shout was like a midnight thunderclap, shaking Yan Qi to his core. He coughed softly, turned his head to look in the direction of the voice, and unexpectedly crashed into a pool of clear, cold spring water.
Song Xueyan was huddled together with Fu Yangle. His shoulder was draped by Fu Yangle’s arm, and he was holding a small orange-red flag, staring straight over.
The gaze was so earnest that it seemed as if, looking out into the distance, he only saw him. Yan Qi turned his head back abruptly, his heart beating in a rhythm he hadn’t yet calmed down within the noisy and chaotic stadium.
Racing on a summer night, wrapped up tightly—whether it was the heat or his racing heartbeat, it was all a normal reaction. With sweat-drenched bangs clinging to his forehead, Yan Qi wiped them back, patted his brow along the way, and shook off Song Xueyan’s gaze and that strange feeling in his heart.
He paused for a few seconds, then suddenly realized, “Damn, I didn’t expect Song Xueyan to actually know Yangle-ge!”
The person in charge of towing the bike ran over. Yan Qi lifted his long legs, got off the bike, and walked a few steps to the side, getting closer to the spectator area.
“My Qi!”
A clear, bright voice came from behind. Yan Qi turned around and saw a young racer walking over with a face full of spring-like joy.
This person was An Shigo, a popular young actor currently in the limelight.
Before, when he had just moved to Nandu, there was a time when Fu Yangle invited them for a midnight snack. Besides An Shigo, the other person accompanying them was Tang Wanbai. An Shigo also enjoyed biking, and they had raced together a few times.
Yan Qi was a bit puzzled; they were all Fu Yangle’s acquaintances, so why had he never seen Song Xueyan? He didn’t even know the two of them knew each other.
“I came in second tonight. I’m awesome, but you were even fiercer.” An Shigo walked up to Yan Qi. “To not lose face in front of my idol, my brain was about to burst. I really wanted to grow a pair of wings and fly a few laps around the stadium!”
Song Xueyan’s gaze followed him like a shadow, and Yan Qi tried his best to ignore it. “Who is your idol?”
“In the spectator area.” An Shigo nudged him gently and said with a sour tone, “Your future first on-screen love interest.”
In that very second, whether it was an illusion or not, Yan Qi felt that the gaze that had been fixed on him suddenly turned icy. He subconsciously turned to look at the audience, only to find that Song Xueyan had already lowered his head, “changing his affection” to look at the flag in his hands.
Brightly colored flags and small flowers were scattered messily on the ground and the seats. Amidst the lively, blooming crowd, Song Xueyan remained silent, a thin and quiet presence. Just a moment ago he had seemed out of place, but now he seemed a bit downcast.
Strange, why would he think that? It was completely inexplicable.
Yan Qi immediately looked away and bit his lip with his canine teeth, using a bit of force to help himself recover his composure quickly and stop his wild imagination.
Just then, the familiar roar sounded again—
“Yan Qi! Tonight, you are my god!”
The sparks from the tires rubbing against the ground flared up again, crushing their way from the track to the stands. The whole stadium burst into laughter.
Seeing this, Fu Yangle took the lead and shouted: “Yan Qi!”
Audience: “Bullsh*t!”
Fu Yangle: “Stud!”
Audience: “Yan Qi!”
The scene inside was heated, but the person who was the center of attention blushed. Yan Qi turned and ran a few steps to the fence of the spectator area, leaped over with one hand, and agilely vaulted into the stands. Amidst the chaos, he successfully captured the supporter and forcefully muted his microphone.
“Wow, wow, wow!”
Fu Yangle let out two tragic screams, hurriedly hugging Song Xueyan’s legs with both hands, shrinking half of his face behind Song Xueyan’s waist, leaving one beautiful, spirited eye glaring at Yan Qi. He complained, “How can you treat your most enthusiastic fan so rudely?”
Yan Qi looked around and didn’t see his cousin, so he raised an eyebrow and, with uncharacteristic audacity, said, “Shut up, you’re embarrassing yourself!”
“You brat, you’ve gone too far!” Fu Yangle shook Song Xueyan, clamoring, “Baby, get him!”
Song Xueyan pursed his lips. Before he could speak, Yan Qi grabbed the conversation.
Yan Qi crossed his arms and took the initiative, “It’s so late, why isn’t Teacher Song at home meditating? Why did you run all the way here?”
He was still drenched in sweat, looking as moist as a silvery spring in the dim light. Perhaps because he had a good run tonight, his dark, bright eyes were still brimming with smiles. Just like the hot and sticky summer night, he was passionate and vibrant.
Song Xueyan’s eyelashes trembled as he said, “This isn’t your territory. Whether others come or not, it’s none of your business.”
For some reason, Yan Qi felt that the tone of Song Xueyan’s voice was no longer as still as stagnant water; it contained thorns a slender, sharp presence that was hard to define but undeniable.
“What a coincidence.” He stepped forward, a touch of mischief on his face, “I actually can control it.”
Fu Yangle leaned into Song Xueyan’s ear and muttered, “It’s private property. The owner, Wang Yuchuan, is Qi’s ‘son’ by nothing more than coincidence.”
As soon as he finished speaking, a loud cry cut in quite appropriately—
“Dad!”
Song Xueyan raised his eyes and saw a young man walking over with long strides.
The man wore a floral shirt a truly floral one and all the flags and flowers in the stadium couldn’t outshine this piece of fabric on him. His hair was styled into a deep green “idol” cut, and if one looked closely, one could see glitter like crushed diamonds. Earrings, necklaces, bracelets, rings he lacked nothing. His entire person radiated a kind of exquisite, fastidious, and flamboyant vibrancy, as if he had come to compete in a beauty pageant and was determined to take first place.
Why bother with racing models? This one person is enough, Song Xueyan thought with a blank expression.
Wang Yuchuan crowded up to Yan Qi, reached out to hook Yan Qi’s shoulder, and said with a grin, “Dad, you were so handsome! I was bleeding for you tonight!”
Yan Qi pressed his fist against his nose and laughed, “So clean, where’s the blood? Did you eat it?”
“I was afraid of staining you, wasn’t I? If you want to see it, I’ll spray a jet for you right now.” Wang Yuchuan’s tone softened, more clingy than a professional sugar baby. “You’re so handsome, I’m even willing to be gay for you once.”
Yan Qi grabbed his neck and took the opportunity to push him down, also playing along, “Then drop your pants right here.”
Wang Yuchuan laughed loudly while leaning on Yan Qi’s shoulder. His gaze shifted and happened to meet Song Xueyan’s eyes.
Holy sht, he’s so fing good-looking! But… his gaze is so cold. Why does it look like he’s looking at a dead person?
The lust that had just risen died in the cradle. Wang Yuchuan rubbed his neck, which felt inexplicably chilly, and leaned in to whisper to Yan Qi, “Dad, why is this little immortal looking at me like that?”
Yan Qi glanced at Song Xueyan, found his expression was as usual, and said lightly, “You’re too flamboyant; it hurt his eyes.”
Wang Yuchuan whimpered aggrievedly, then pulled Yan Qi over to show him the recording of tonight’s race. The two seemed very close, their shoulders touching when they talked, almost becoming a two-headed monster. Yan Qi rested his arm on Wang Yuchuan’s shoulder, looking very relaxed.
Song Xueyan withdrew his gaze and turned to Fu Yangle, “I’m going to the restroom.”
Fu Yangle was chatting on WeChat and didn’t even lift his head as he gave two “Mmhms.”
The aisle was not spacious. When he left, Song Xueyan’s shoulder inevitably grazed Yan Qi’s shoulder and back. The movement was as light as a breeze, yet Yan Qi seemed to sense it. He turned his head to look at Song Xueyan’s back—white stained with cyan, like a serene and delicate bamboo screen painting.
He stared for a while, then suddenly pulled away, “I’ll look later, I’m going to go change my clothes.”
“Huh?” Wang Yuchuan turned his head and could only see Yan Qi’s back, “Oh.”
The restrooms in the stadium were on a separate floor, all single-occupancy rooms equipped with bathroom heaters and disposable toiletries for racers to wash up and change after games. But right now, the racers were all out having fun, so there was no one in the restrooms.
Song Xueyan walked to the sink and looked at himself in the mirror. On the surface, he still looked that cold and detached, but only he could tear through this facade and pick out the foul, rotting meat hidden inside.
—Jealousy and greed surged up, and after being forcibly suppressed, they became even more unruly and difficult to tame, restlessness itching to burst out. However, he had worn this mask for many years, and it had long since become stubborn and rigid. The vicious and fierce emotions failed to revolt, screaming and struggling under his skin, squeezing into a ball of scarlet fire that scorched him.
The way Yan Qi talked to An Shigo and his laughter while joking with Wang Yuchuan crossed his mind, repeating maliciously. Song Xueyan closed his eyes, his hands supporting the marble countertop clenching tightly, making a grating sound.
Suddenly, clear footsteps rang out like a bronze bell, jolting the unsettled Song Xueyan awake. He quickly withdrew his hands, let his fingers hang naturally by his sides, and opened his eyes to look up.
Almost at the same second, Yan Qi walked in from around the corner and met Song Xueyan’s gaze in the smooth, bright mirror.
He was still wearing his racing suit, his tall and lean frame wrapped tightly. His broad shoulders and narrow waist made his exceptionally excellent proportions even more apparent than usual. Song Xueyan quickly withdrew his gaze, put his hand under the sensor faucet, rubbed them randomly, pulled a paper towel to wipe them haphazardly, and turned to leave.
Yan Qi did not stop him. It was not until Song Xueyan brushed past him that he spoke: “Are you unhappy?”
There was nine-tenths certainty in these words, and the remaining tenth was not hesitation, but a polite room for maneuver.
If there had been a second mirror directly in front, Song Xueyan would have definitely checked his expression naturally and quickly; unfortunately, there wasn’t. He said in his usual tone, “You guessed wrong.”
“I didn’t guess, you told me yourself.” Song Xueyan glanced over, and Yan Qi raised his chin slightly, “The corners of your eyes are red.”
Song Xueyan was startled. Before he could look away, Yan Qi continued, “Did you cry?”
He was like a child with a strong thirst for knowledge, his tone without any malice, even revealing a kind of innocence. “From the spectator area to here, you didn’t talk to anyone along the way, nor did you take out your phone. Why did you suddenly become unhappy? Late-night existential dread? Or did someone’s presence offend you?”
Too sharp.
Song Xueyan did not dare to be careless and reminded him coldly, “Don’t pry into other people’s emotions without authorization.”
“I’ll return the favor,” Yan Qi leaned back slightly, tilting his head to look at Song Xueyan. This movement had a strong sense of oppression, making him look somewhat aggressive.
“Don’t keep staring at me.”