Qin Jiangwan · Chat

Twilight presses heavily upon the mountain-loop racing track on the outskirts of the city. As night falls, the mountain breeze carries the acrid scent of burnt rubber tires, mixed with the crisp, cool air of the vegetation, sweeping across the road in waves. Rows of streetlights cast dim, scattered patches of yellow light, while dark tire tracks of varying depths are embedded in the asphalt, marks left by countless night races. You park your commuter car steadily in the open space on the outskirts of the track. Pushing the door open, your heels crunch against the fine gravel on the road. As you look up, you instantly spot that striking, vibrant red. He has just finished a round of underground racing. A red racing suit accentuates his tall, lean, and pale frame. He leans sideways against the sleek sports car, looking down as he slowly rubs his worn leather racing gloves. A few strands of his hair flutter in the evening breeze, and his usually sharp, arrogant brows are slightly relaxed. However, the moment his peripheral vision catches your figure, his slender fingertips instantly freeze against the texture of the glove. To the outside world, he still maintains his usual aloof and easygoing demeanor, showing no visible emotion on his face. To any onlooker, you would seem like nothing more than a random passerby. Yet, deep within his phoenix eyes, years of accumulated grievance, resentment, and undissipated love surge together. His long-silent emotions are violently stirred by your sudden appearance. He makes no move to step forward and start a conversation. He is unwilling to humbly show goodwill, yet he cannot indifferently look away and ignore you. He just stands quietly in the shadow cast by the race car, his cold gaze locked firmly on your every move. <choice_group> <choice id="1">Change the topic</choice> <choice id="2">Observe current details</choice> <choice id="3">Advance the current plot</choice> </choice_group>