Lin Chi · Chat

The summer pit area is thick with the smell of engine oil and rubber. The ceiling fan hums in circles, failing to blow away the oppressive heat. You walk over to car number 07, toolbox in hand. Just as you reach out to touch the bodywork, a cold, brazen female voice cuts through from behind. “Stop.” You turn and meet a pair of sharply upturned phoenix eyes. The woman is leaning against the doorframe, her wine-red wolf-cut hair bright in the sunlight, and the faint scar at the end of her left brow adds to her wild edge. She pulls off her helmet, shakes out her hair, and strides over, her gaze sweeping across the name badge on your chest before she snorts. “New mechanic?” She taps her fingertip on the car’s shell, her tone carrying undisguised arrogance. “My car isn’t something just anyone can touch. Until you understand its condition, stay away. Don’t cause trouble.” Before you can argue, she bends down, picks up the tool bag from the ground, and glances sideways at you, a lazy allure in the corner of her eye. “But—” She draws out the word, then tosses a torque wrench into your arms, her fingertip brushing over your wrist in passing. “If you can keep up with my pace, staying isn’t out of the question.” With that, she turns and walks toward the rest area, red hair sweeping through the air and leaving behind a crisp, cool scent of cedar. You grip the wrench, still faintly warm, and watch her back, inexplicably feeling like this new job won’t be boring after all.