Chapter 111: You're Not Deaf and Mute?

“Back already!” someone called out sharply.

Ling Feng, anxiously waiting nearby, quickly turned toward the sound and caught sight of a flash of red in the distance. Now he could rest assured—that was Qiao Yu’s red HP4.

Before anyone could speak, Yang Meng rode back to the group, the screech of her braking motorcycle piercing the air.

She killed the engine, tossed the key to Qiao Yu, and said, “Let’s swap out a couple of tires at Third Brother’s shop later. These ones are done for.”

Qiao Yu blinked. “You won?”

Yang Meng grinned. “Isn’t that obvious? That guy’s not coming back for at least another minute or two.”

Quan Yajing dashed over to Yang Meng’s side. “How did you do it?”

Yang Meng beamed with pride. “How did I do it? Honestly, with his skill level, how could he even win a national championship? In our hometown, there’d be countless like him. See this guy, Ling Feng? When we raced as kids, he always beat me without breaking a sweat.”

Ling Feng cleared his throat. “Meng Meng, can you stop exaggerating for a moment? I couldn’t match your cornering skills just now. I want to know too—how did you pull it off?”

“How? It’s something called inner energy, you know? Wrapping it around the bike, hitting two hundred kilometers per hour, and cornering smoothly—it’s no problem at all! If my energy were stronger, I could show you ‘motorcycle flight.’ Believe it or not.”

Of course, he couldn’t just say that out loud.

He shot Ling Feng a rueful look. “Why are you so straightforward? You can’t even play along with a little bragging! We agreed to race on the Isle of Man TT, right? I’ve been training every day for that. You think I deliver takeout just for fun? It’s all to sharpen my riding skills.”

Ling Feng pointed at his nose. “Do I look like an idiot? Do you think that cornering skill of yours is something a human could learn?”

Yang Meng shot back, “What’s wrong? Am I not human? Just because you can’t do it doesn’t mean no one can. I was barely trying earlier—if I got serious, I’d leave him halfway behind.”

Ling Feng exhaled. “Good, you’re still bragging. Same old Yang Meng.”

Yang Meng laughed heartily. “Crazy guy, still hitting the mountain roads today?”

Ling Feng frowned. “After all that fuss, who’d even want to ride another lap? Why hasn’t that guy come back yet? He’s probably worried about his bike and thinking of running off.”

Yang Meng chuckled. “If he tries to run, we’ll just shut the doors and unleash the dragon.”

Ling Feng looked puzzled. “The dragon listens to you?”

Yang Meng smirked. “After all, he’s my apprentice in training.”

“Apprentice in training? What kind of title is that?” Ling Feng asked, still confused.

Yang Meng explained, “He begged to become my disciple, but he hasn’t passed the test yet. So, he’s just an apprentice in training. Oh, look—here comes Zhou Chun!”

Ling Feng looked up. “He’s not back yet.”

Yang Meng pointed to his ear. “I hear him.”

Sure enough, moments later, Zhou Chun appeared on his black HP4, swiftly emerging from the S-shaped curve. Spotting Yang Meng and the others chatting with cigarettes dangling from their lips, he charged over, stopping his bike in front of Yang Meng. He took off his helmet, gritted his teeth, and spat out seven words, one by one: “How! Did! You! Do! It!”

Yang Meng blinked. “Did you all plan this? Why is everyone asking the same question?”

Zhou Chun jumped off his bike and glared. “You must have tampered with the bike! No one can corner at that speed like you just did!”

Yang Meng waved toward Qiao Yu’s bike. “The bike’s right here, and so am I. Check whatever you want. What annoys me most are people like you—can’t do it themselves, so they think no one else can. I was riding right in front of you, and you couldn’t even see my taillight. And yet you still have the nerve to make a fuss? Enough nonsense, hand over the keys. What’s this—planning to cheat? With skills like that, you’re a former national champion? Did you compete against cyclists on bicycles to win?”

Ling Feng chimed in, “Meng Meng, isn’t that a bit unfair? You look down on bicycles? The Tour de France’s top cyclists hit over sixty kilometers per hour in sprints, with an average of fifty kilometers. In 1995, an Italian cyclist reached ninety-five kilometers per hour. Not to mention Dutchman Fred Rompelberg, who set a world record of 268.831 kilometers per hour on a bicycle, or the Frenchman who made a bike with three rocket engines on the rear, hitting 333 kilometers per hour—though that’s hardly a bicycle anymore; it’s basically a rocket.”

Yang Meng clapped his hands. “Sorry, Zhou Chun, I misspoke. You weren’t racing bicycles—you wouldn’t even win against runners with those skills!”

“You...” Zhou Chun opened his mouth to reply, but Yang Meng waved him off. “Spare me. Enough of the legends about Qingniu Mountain. With such a great bike, you can’t even manage a fart. Everyone here thinks Zhou Chun’s riding is amazing? Fine, his skills are decent—just decent. His success on these mountain roads is mostly because of his bike. He used to be a professional rider and knows top mechanics. With so many bends here, relying on his cornering to beat riders who lack systematic training is easy.”

Someone nearby asked, “If his bike is so good, how did you beat him?”

Yang Meng smiled. “His cornering skills are terrible. Honestly, when I race him on the BMW HP4, it’s like bullying him! Actually, I should use this little Baboon bike to race him. Just swap the tires and change the frame to a steel tube one, and I’d still win.”

Everyone was speechless. The BMW HP4 has 999cc power; the Chunfeng Baboon only 124.5cc. You can win against a BMW with a Baboon?

Ling Feng blinked, struggling to watch the show. Clearing his throat, he said, “Meng Meng, you’re exaggerating a bit.”

Yang Meng retorted, “Am I? Ask Zhou Chun here! I’m telling you, I beat him using the Baboon. Qingniu Mountain has fifty-three curves; I cornered them all at 120 kph. The Baboon can hit 120, so it’s enough to beat him—though I’d need to swap the tires and frame or it might fall apart.”

“All curves at 120 kph?” Ling Feng was stunned. “Including U-shaped bends?”

Yang Meng nodded. “I wanted to go faster, but I lost sight of him halfway through, so I slowed down.”

No one wanted to speak. Are we even riding the same motorcycle?

“Hey, buddy, thanks for the bike! Where’s the key? When will you transfer ownership? Remember to send me a copy of your ID so you don’t have to come here again. Actually, if you don’t transfer it, no worries. Qiao Yu, if he doesn’t, just take the bike and strip it for parts,” Yang Meng waved at Zhou Chun. “Still standing there? Not planning to cheat, are you?”

Zhou Chun took a deep breath and threw the key at Yang Meng.

He threw it with anger, almost like throwing a punch.

But Yang Meng merely flicked his hand and caught the key. “Thanks, brother. Now you know how I became a nouveau riche, right? Thanks to people like you blindly handing me money. This BMW HP4, along with modifications, cost nearly fifty thousand yuan—half a barbecue restaurant earned back.”

Zhou Chun took a deep breath and forced a smile. “True, this bike means a lot to you, but to me, it’s just a toy. I’m rich—that’s why. Expensive bikes are just pocket change to me.”

Yang Meng chuckled. “Oh, big boss, since you say so, when are you upgrading your next bike? Let’s race again! Trust me, I won’t bully you. Next time, I’ll really use this ‘little Baboon’ against you.”

Zhou Chun’s smile froze. Racing Yang Meng again? No matter how much money he had, he couldn’t afford to lose.

He snorted coldly. “Nouveau riche sure act nouveau riche—so tacky! Such fine motorcycle racing is just money to you? Haven’t you heard of ‘friendship first, competition second’?”

Yang Meng blinked. “What friendship? I want to beat you! If you’re a coward, just admit it—stop sugarcoating. You weren’t talking like that before the race. Lost and suddenly a different person? Life’s a race; if you’re slow, you get trampled. Even before we were born, we had to compete with three hundred million others. Winning gave us a chance to exist. You lost. Deal with it.”

Zhou Chun was taken aback. “Yang, you have no shame—none at all.”

Yang Meng shrugged. “When have I ever given you any? Last time at ‘Focus,’ you embarrassed yourself. But don’t worry—that won’t be the worst. I’ll make sure you’re even more humiliated next time we meet.”

“You...” Zhou Chun snorted and stormed off angrily.

“Better get that next bike upgraded. I’m waiting for you to keep delivering bikes to me!” Yang Meng waved politely.

Ling Feng sighed wryly. “That cuts deep, buddy. How did you offend this guy so badly? You’re seriously going all out.”

Yang Meng shrugged. “I’ve already offended him. What’s a little more?”

Qiao Yu came over, slapping Yang Meng’s shoulder excitedly. “Meng Meng! Awesome! Let’s go to Third Brother’s and grab some drinks! Teach us how you did it!”

Yang Meng nodded. “Yeah, we were planning to head there anyway. I want to introduce my buddy into the club!”

Qiao Yu laughed. “Okay, wait a moment—I’ll hire someone to ride this bike over for you.”

Suddenly, a female rider nearby, still wearing her helmet, said, “I’m coming too!”

“Huh? Aren’t you deaf and mute?”