Chapter Twenty-Seven: Wilmin

At long last, the car had been delivered. Mo Shu’s mother dabbed at the happy tears glistening in her eyes. His father, meanwhile, kept grumbling, “Why buy something so expensive? The car at home is still good for a few years yet.”

But for all his words, his father couldn’t tear himself away from the new car. He circled it over and over, pressing the seats, tapping the hood, utterly besotted and unable to look away.

Mo Shu felt a sweet warmth in his heart. Who could have imagined that at twenty-one, he would, without any foundation, strike out on his own and make a living in the exacting world of racecar driving?

“Compete well, and take steady steps forward,” his father went on, unable to resist offering earnest advice, even in his joy.

“Alright, old Mo, our son’s doing so well—can’t you say less and talk about something happy?” his mother teased.

“Ah, you’ll spoil him eventually.”

“And as if you don’t? You’ve got a sharp tongue and a soft heart.”

The old couple bantered back and forth, their affection undimmed by age. It seemed the lavish gift had put them both in rare spirits; for once, they left their son to the side, lost in their own playful bickering.

A thousand pieces of gold cannot buy a kindred spirit; true understanding is rare in life. If one could find companionship as deep as his parents’, Mo Shu felt there would be no regrets left in life.

Naturally, his thoughts turned to Wang Yining. Though they’d only known each other a short while, Mo Shu had a quiet premonition—this girl would be the one for his whole life.

And as the saying goes, speak of the devil and he appears—Mo Shu’s phone buzzed with a message.

“Tomorrow you and I will set out with the team for Germany to study. Reply when received.”

“Got it! Why so sudden? If we’re in Germany, does that mean we can finally share a king-size bed?”

“Scoundrel…”

Though her words were a cool rejection, on the other side of the phone Wang Yining found herself pondering. A king-size bed? Perhaps… not a bad idea.

The next afternoon, Mo Shu, Wang Yining, and Wang Yu, led by Zhang Aimin, began their journey to Stuttgart, Germany.

Stuttgart is one of the world’s most renowned automotive cities, home to several of the globe’s leading car manufacturers. But the four of them weren’t visiting a carmaker this time. Instead, they were headed to Black Gold Petroleum Industries, the world’s top lubricants producer, which had recently signed a sponsorship deal with the Star Racing Team.

“Black Gold, Black Mirror… could they be the same company?” Mo Shu muttered anxiously.

“Oh, come on, genius, you’re overthinking it. Black Gold Petroleum is a multinational corporation—its top executives in China are appointed directly from the German headquarters. They’ve got nothing to do with our local private companies,” Wang Yu replied with a look full of disdain.

“Oh, that’s good. I just have this uneasy feeling about this trip.” Mo Shu couldn’t shake a sense of apprehension from the moment their journey began.

“Maybe you just didn’t get enough rest. Once we board, try to get some sleep,” Wang Yining said, her eyes full of concern.

“Mmm…”

Mo Shu wasn’t used to flying; in fact, he was a little afraid. As a child, he’d flown once with his parents, but the turbulence throughout the flight had left him with a lasting shadow. Yet whether it was the greater stability of international flights, the comfort of flying first class with Zhang Aimin, or his newfound tolerance for adrenaline after so many races, this long-haul flight saw him sleeping soundly on the sofa-like seat.

Nanshan International Airport offered direct flights to Stuttgart, sparing them a layover, though the flight was still long—about thirteen hours.

Halfway through, Mo Shu woke with a pressing need and hurried toward the restroom. On his way, he caught sight of a vaguely familiar face among the passengers—a Western woman.

That was odd. He’d never had any Westerners in his social circle, male or female. Yet this woman looked so familiar, and she seemed to be looking at him with a half-smile.

Mo Shu wracked his brain trying to recall where he’d seen her. Only after returning from the restroom did it hit him.

“Wang, Wang, I just saw a foreign woman who looks just like someone from the photo album on your phone,” Mo Shu said, shaking Wang Yu, who was fast asleep and drooling.

“Mm… I was in the middle of a dream. Which country? Japanese idol?” Wang Yu did have a few of those pictures saved.

“I’m serious. Blonde hair, blue eyes, quite pretty, and a black mole under her right eye.” Mo Shu kept his voice low, not wanting Wang Yining to overhear him discussing another woman.

“What?!” Wang Yu snapped awake. “It couldn’t be… no, no, it couldn’t be Wilhelmine, could it?”

“Who’s Wilhelmine?”

“And you call yourself a racing insider? You don’t know Wilhelmine? She’s a mysterious figure—rumored to be the mastermind behind the Six Realms Sovereigns.”

“The Six Realms Sovereigns?” Normally, Mo Shu had little patience for Wang Yu’s explanations, but curiosity got the better of him.

“The Six Realms Sovereigns are the top six drivers in today’s racing world,” Wang Yu explained, coming fully awake and animated, ready to launch into his favorite kind of technical lecture. “They’re the reigning champions of Super Formula, World Touring Car Championship, World Rally Championship, Japan Drift Racing, the German Masters, and one more—the kings of six racing disciplines.”

“How come I, a seasoned fan, have never heard of this?”

“Oh, this is all insider talk—might not even be real. Anyway, if rumors about secret masterminds like this got out and hurt racing’s popularity, we’d all be out of a job, right?” Wang Yu shrugged.

Their hushed conversation disturbed Zhang Aimin, who had been trying to sleep nearby. He joined in, “Listen, among the people we’ll visit in Germany, one is ranked third among the Six Realms Sovereigns: the King of Rally—Fernando Ken Russlein.”

The King of Rally!

Could he be another system possessor? Mo Shu couldn’t help but think of Black Mirror.

Whether this King of Rally would be friend or foe was anyone’s guess. But if Zhang Aimin was eager to visit him, the relationship couldn’t be too bad. Still, if the rumors were true, Wilhelmine’s connection to Russlein should be even closer.

A young and beautiful woman leading six of the world’s top drivers—that would take extraordinary skill and an awe-inspiring charisma. Or perhaps Wilhelmine’s role as an independent sponsor was just a front, and the real power behind the scenes was a super-wealthy consortium few knew about.

To be honest, Mo Shu couldn’t make much of this Western woman. Judging by her looks, she couldn’t be more than a few years older than him, but the aura she carried was one of seasoned sophistication that Mo Shu found hard to decipher.

He quietly pulled up the thin blanket the flight attendant had handed him earlier and let his thoughts drift to the scenery, the people, and the experiences awaiting him in Stuttgart.

A faint hope rose in his heart: that before long, he might one day stand shoulder to shoulder with the Six Realms Sovereigns at the starting line.