Chapter 60: Azure Ox Mountain

After hearing this, Yang Meng leaned his head out of the rolled-down car window and glanced at the woman sitting in the front passenger seat. Though her face was heavily made up, her youthful features suggested she was barely eighteen, if that. Tsk, young girls these days...

He pointed at his own helmet. "Miss, you can eat whatever you want, but you can't just say whatever pops into your head. Use your brain. Look at my helmet—see the camera on it? Both your words and your face just now have all been recorded. Young man, if you listen to her and hit my bike, first of all, you’d be guilty of dangerous driving. Forget the fine—you’d be looking at detention at the very least. Second, my motorcycle is worth twice as much as your car. I doubt your insurance would even cover it. And another thing, I don't know how many women have sat in your passenger seat, so let’s just leave that. A good woman brings luck; the one beside you will ruin you sooner or later! Oh, and most importantly—you couldn't hit me even if you tried. Your car's too slow! Consider this a free lesson in traffic law. No need to thank me."

He kept calling the driver "young man," but the guy looked close to thirty. Tsk, would this be considered an old bull grazing on young grass?

"What nonsense are you talking? It's just a lousy motorcycle," the girl shot back, eyes wide. "Honey, don't listen to his rubbish! He doesn't know a thing. Do you know how much you've spent modifying this car? If you don't believe him, let's race a lap up Green Ox Mountain."

Yang Meng couldn't be bothered to respond—she was an idiot, plain and simple! He turned and climbed back onto his motorcycle. Just then, the traffic light turned green. With a roar, Yang Meng sped off, while the modified import car hadn’t even registered what was happening. In a flash, Yang Meng and his bike had vanished.

The girl in the car stared, dumbfounded. "That..."

The young man driving sighed. "Tingting, can we just stop talking nonsense? You think motorcycles are cheap? Did you see those huge exhaust pipes? That’s no small engine—bigger engines mean higher prices! And you want to race a car against a motorcycle? Especially up Green Ox Mountain? With a heavy bike like that, you’d need a supercar worth eight figures just to keep up, not our jalopy."

"Jalopy?" Tingting blinked in disbelief. "Didn't you spend a fortune modifying this car?"

The young man replied as he drove, "You really don’t get it. Ever seen top-tier sports cars get modified? People only modify bad cars. Good ones don’t need it—what do you think those highly paid designers are for? From now on, stop saying things like that. It’s embarrassing enough."

"But, Wei..." Tingting tried to act cute, but the young man was clearly annoyed. "Call me that again and get out of the car! I told you not to call me that!"

Tingting pouted, her face full of grievance. "Okay, honey, I understand."

Hearing this, the young man grew even more irritated and stomped on the accelerator. Who’s whose "honey," anyway? They’re all just temps! She looked pretty at first, but the longer he looked, the more annoying she became.

Noticing her 'honey' was in a bad mood, Tingting suddenly said, "Is he going to Green Ox Mountain to race too? Just because his bike is good doesn’t mean he’s a good rider. You’ve never been afraid of anyone up there. If he’s not skilled, we can have a laugh at his expense, right?"

"Hmm?" The young man’s eyes lit up. "Alright, let’s go and check him out."

Yang Meng had no idea someone was already following him. He had arrived at the foot of Green Ox Mountain. The mountain road stretched 7.8 kilometers, boasting fifty-three bends, several of which were hairpin turns. Though it couldn't compare to the ninety-nine bends of Tianmen Mountain, it was still a top destination for racing enthusiasts.

It was said that someone once considered developing the site into a professional racetrack, but concerns over safety and management had shelved the plan.

"Hey, first time here?" Yang Meng was bent over, studying his GPS and familiarizing himself with the map, when a motorcycle pulled up beside him.

Yang Meng tilted his head and saw a fellow rider on a black cruiser. "Yeah," Yang Meng said, pointing at his LCD screen. "Just getting a feel for the route."

"That won’t help much," the cruiser rider said, parking his bike and getting off. "There are too many bends here, and the elevation changes a lot. GPS can’t show you that. You need to ride it a few times and memorize the curves to really get a feel for it. We riders are all one family. Let me introduce myself—my name’s Charger." As he spoke, he extended a hand to Yang Meng.

Yang Meng was taken aback. "Charger? Is that your racing slogan?"

Charger coughed awkwardly. "Uh, you misunderstand. My surname is Chong—pretty rare, right?"

Yang Meng got off his motorcycle and shook Charger’s hand. "Just a joke. I know the surname Chong. In the Ming dynasty, there was a Chong Jing who was in charge of restoring the Confucius Temple, right? But I have to admit, I’ve never met anyone with your surname before. That’s a great name you’ve got."

Charger gave a wry smile. "Compared to my cousin on my uncle’s side, it’s not that bad."

"Oh?" Yang Meng asked curiously, "What’s your cousin’s name?"

"Chong Ya," Charger replied with a laugh.

Yang Meng burst out laughing. "With names like yours, it’d be a shame if you two didn’t race! I’m Yang Meng—Meng as in ‘adorable’. Nice to meet you! Riders are family! So, do you come here often?"

Charger nodded. "Yeah, work is so stressful these days. This is the best way for me to relax. Actually, a lot of us are like that around here. Everyone knows each other; I can introduce you later."

Yang Meng was surprised. "There’s an organization for mountain racing?"

Charger pulled out a cigarette and offered one to Yang Meng. "Of course. Everyone comes to race here, but actually, there are several different groups. It’s easy to tell them apart."

"How do you tell them apart?" Yang Meng asked.

Charger explained, "One group is like me—people with stressful jobs and lives who come here to relax. We’re generally older, some in their sixties, the youngest in their twenties. Maybe because we’re older, we’re more cautious, so we wear full protective gear and don’t chase speed. It’s all about unwinding. Sometimes we’ll do a lap together, then have a meal and sing some songs. It’s just a way to relax."

Yang Meng nodded in agreement. "That’s a great attitude toward life! No wonder you ride a ‘Fire Spirit Knight’!"

Charger gave a bitter smile. "I’d love a Harley, but can’t afford one. Even buying this thing hurt my wallet for ages!"

His bike was the Morey MV800, an 800cc domestic cruiser officially named the ‘Fire Spirit Knight’. At a glance, it was hard to tell apart from heavy cruisers like Harleys.

Though Morey was a relatively new domestic brand, it had grown rapidly in recent years, launching adventure bikes, street bikes, and cruisers with medium to large engines. The ‘Fire Spirit Knight’ was the face of domestic cruisers—fifty thousand for a bike that looked and felt like a luxury ride worth three hundred thousand.

Yang Meng wanted to mention he owned a Harley 833, but thought better of it—there was no need to brag.

Just then, two sportbikes roared past up the mountain, leaving only a rush of wind in their wake.

"You probably have more to talk about with them," Charger said, gesturing at the two bikes tearing up the road.

Yang Meng was puzzled. "What do you mean?"

Charger explained, "They’re young, chasing speed, like you riding a sportbike. Some ride street bikes. They don’t have a formal group—usually three or five people come and go like the wind. But of all the sportbikes here, yours has the biggest engine—the ‘Six-Eyed Demon’, right? I’ve never seen one before. It’s a beast to handle at high speeds—are you sure you can control it?"

Yang Meng smiled. "I’m alright. I haven’t had it long—only ridden it a few times."

Charger bent down to examine Yang Meng’s ‘Six-Eyed Demon’, then sighed. "A good bike is a good bike. But if I had that kind of money, I’d rather buy a Harley Road King—much more comfortable, right?"

Yang Meng nodded. "True. For comfort, nothing beats a cruiser, especially on long trips. I’m not kidding—when I hit red lights downtown, I never know where to put my hands."

"Same here," Charger laughed. "We’re all ‘hands with nowhere to go’."

Yang Meng grinned, sharing the sentiment. That was every heavy bike rider’s problem—waiting at red lights, they’d let go of the handlebars and have no idea where to put their hands. Many would idly fiddle with the gas cap. Riders jokingly called it ‘hands with nowhere to go’.

"Who else comes here to race?" Yang Meng asked, still curious.

Charger swung a leg over his bike. "There are two more groups. One is the four-wheel crowd—rich kids playing with cars. Even among them, there’s a split: some love modified cars, some drive luxury sports cars. The difference? Well... the luxury car guys have more girls with them."

Yang Meng laughed. "If I had a luxury sports car, I’d bring girls every day too."

"Your bike’s good for that, too!" Charger said with a smile. "But to be honest, the luxury sports car guys are much easier to get along with than the modders—the mod crowd is full of arrogant types. You’ll see for yourself. Come on, I’ll show you the road. Be careful—some of these corners are tricky, even veterans can wipe out if they aren’t careful."

"Alright! Thanks a lot!" Yang Meng put on his helmet. "By the way, you mentioned three groups; who’s the last one?"

Charger snapped down his helmet’s visor. "The last group isn’t even worth mentioning—kids on ‘Ghost Fires’. Twist the throttle, and off they go. These guys usually ride unlicensed bikes without a license, wild as can be. They’re the ones behind most of the fights and trouble around here, but you don’t have to worry—they rarely show up during the day."

With that, he started his motorcycle and headed out.

Yang Meng started up and followed, asking curiously, "Why's that?"

"None of their bikes are licensed. The traffic police would catch them in a heartbeat. Who would dare to show up in broad daylight?"