Chapter 53 For us, don't stop
Song Xingran's breath sprayed on Wen Mu's neck, hot and rapid, and his fingers wandered restlessly on her back.
"Don't move." Wen Mu held down his restless hand, "The wound will split open."
The man bit her ear aggrievedly: "Teacher Wen, I'm really in pain. Can you bear to see me like this?"
Wen Mu sighed, her eyes fixed on the bandage on his chest, which was slightly bleeding. Desire and worry battled within her, but ultimately, reason prevailed.
She gently pushed the person in front of her away and adjusted her posture under his confused gaze.
"Listen to me and don't move." She warned softly.
The man's eyes lit up in the darkness, like a beast catching its prey. He leaned lazily against the observation chair, the moonlight outlining the lines of his muscular abs beneath his open shirt.
He smiled in a rather saucy way: "Yes, Professor."
Almost as soon as I touched him, I heard a satisfied sigh. His black hair gleamed in the moonlight, a few strands of sweat sticking to his forehead, trembling slightly with his breathing.
"Teacher Wen," Song Xingran's voice was hoarse, "Do you know that your hands are really soft?"
Wen Mu did not respond, but just increased the strength slightly.
"Hiss—" He suddenly raised his head, and his Adam's apple rolled violently.
"Like velvet...around bones."
Another slightly heavier stroke.
The man groaned. "Like Swiss chocolate...melted kind."
Wen Mu: "Don't scream."
The next second, Song Xingran jumped up and fell heavily back onto the chair, sweat dripping down his chin.
"Still talking?"
Wen Mu pushed his glasses up, as calm as if he were operating an instrument in a laboratory.
The man shook his head, his chest heaving violently, and his eyes were misty.
"I won't say anymore. I won't say anymore. Honey, keep going. Don't stop."
The moonlight moved quietly and then slipped away shyly.
In August in London, the night breeze was cool, but it couldn't blow away the gradually rising temperature on the rooftop.
Although Song Xingran spoke obediently, his hands were not honest, causing the person on him to tremble.
Wen Mu did not stop him, allowing him to touch her, and even unconsciously moved closer to him, indulging in this intimacy.
In the distance, the bells of Big Ben pierced the night and solemnly struck twelve times.
The man was released at the last bell, and his whole body collapsed in the chair as if all his bones had been pulled out, his chest heaving violently.
He panted and pulled the person on him, pressing her tightly against his hot chest.
"Wife."
"I'm 25."
Wen Mu wiped the sweat from his forehead: "Yeah. It will be 30 soon."
"Like me, I have become an old man."
It was just a joke, but the man's expression darkened visibly.
"What's wrong?" Wen Mu asked softly.
Song Xingran hugged her waist, buried his face in her chest, and said in a muffled voice: "I don't like that I am younger than you."
"Why."
"Because I missed a lot. I wasn't a part of so many important moments in your life. I don't like it."
Wen Mu was stunned. She had never thought that this seemingly heartless man would have such thoughts.
She stroked the man's hair gently: "Is this important?"
"Important, of course it's important!" Song Xingran raised his head suddenly, "I don't want to be a passer-by in your life, and I don't want to share your past with others."
"I didn't know you until I was twenty-three. I missed all the books you read, the stars you saw, the students you taught, everything."
"I broke into your life halfway. We were together for just over a year. Even though we're married, that can't change this fact. How could I not be afraid? How could I not be afraid?"
"I hate this."
"There have been many times when I really wished I could have been born a few years earlier, preferably a few years older than you. That way I could have used my life to wrap you up and support you, instead of watching your past from afar like I am now, separated by our age."
He didn't say anything else, but just hugged her tightly, his shoulders trembling bit by bit.
Wen Mu's heart felt like it was being gently grasped by something. She held the man's face in her hands and saw a hint of fragility in his eyes.
"I've thought about that," she admitted softly, "all those crazy races you've had, the trophies you've won, the injuries you've suffered, I wasn't there to witness them."
"You and I are the same."
"The short time we've been together just proves that we're a match made in heaven."
"Do you understand?"
"Heaven, makes it happen."
Song Xingran stroked her back with his hand, his fingertips gently tracing her spine: "We are five years apart."
"It's just a number."
"But for you, I'm not the first one."
The man's expression turned serious and his voice dropped to a level that was almost inaudible.
"That person witnessed a lot of things about you that I missed."
Wen Mu smiled faintly: "You are indeed not the first one."
"But you're the only one."
"The only person I will fall in love with and spend the rest of my life with."
"I only love you."
Song Xingran looked up, the uneasiness in his eyes gradually giving way to determination. He lifted his head and kissed Wen Mu on the lips. Unlike the usual eagerness, his kiss was slow and deep, as if he was pouring all his unspoken promises into it.
Wen Mu's fingers tangled in his hair, feeling the warmth of his lips and tongue. Their hot breaths intertwined, twinkling with the starlight outside the window.
When we separated again, his eyes had regained their former brightness.
"Happy birthday, 25-year-old boy." Wen Mu tapped his nose lightly.
Song Xingran grinned, his fangs gleaming in the moonlight: "Thank you, 29-year-old aunt."
Wen Mu pretended to hit him, but he hugged him tighter.
The two of them laughed together under the starry sky, as if the melancholy just now had never existed.
*
The sky in Ningchuan is gray, completely different from London.
Wen Mu dragged his suitcase out of the airport and took a deep breath of the familiar air.
Yu Mo was waiting for her at the exit and gave her a big hug as soon as they met.
"Welcome back, Dr. Wen," she said with a smile. "How was your trip to Europe?"
Countless images flashed through Wen Mu's mind.
"Not too bad." These were the only four words she managed to utter.
Yu Mo nodded in understanding without asking any further questions.
She took one of Wen Mu's suitcases and said, "I've submitted your thesis for you, and the defense is scheduled for mid-June next year. Professor Schmidt wrote a letter of recommendation with very high praise."
Wen Mu looked at her in surprise: "When did you do this?"
"The day you sent me a message saying you decided to return home." Yu Mo blinked, "I knew you would need this."
Back at the familiar villa, everything was in perfect order—fresh food in the refrigerator, organized documents on the desk, and even the gasoline tank had been wiped clean. A note was stuck on the dog food bucket:
[Every Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday, someone comes to clean. The plants have been watered. The final draft of the paper is on the computer desktop. —Love you, Momo]
The first thing Wen Mu did after putting down his luggage was to turn on his computer to check his thesis.
Just as Yu Mo had said, the final draft was complete, and she was just waiting for the defense. She checked her calendar and saw that it was still quite some time before the defense, plenty of time for her to prepare.
The phone vibrated, and a message from Song Xingran popped up:
Mars Brother: [[Picture]]
Mars Brother: [Are we safe yet? ]
The photo shows a selfie of a man lying on the sofa in his home clothes, with messy black hair, lying on the carpet in the living room.
Why are you rolling around like a dog?
Wen Mu couldn't help but laugh.
Jupiter: [It's here. The final draft of the paper has been submitted.]
Mars Brother: [My wife is awesome! [heart][heart]]
Mars Brother: [How is the gasoline? ]
Jupiter: [I haven't picked it up yet. It won't arrive until tonight.]
Mars Brother: [Miss you]
Jupiter: [Master Song, we've only been apart for 12 hours.]
Mars Brother: [So what? I think about it every hour]
Wen Mu held the phone against his chest, feeling the warmth from across the ocean.
Outside the window, the night in Ningchuan gradually deepened and the stars were obscured by haze, but she knew that in some distant city, there was someone who was looking up at the same starry sky as her.
*
The days that followed flew by. Wen Mu returned to his academic work, preparing for his thesis defense and continuing to follow up on Yu Mo's research on hot Jupiters.
Song Xingran makes four or five video calls every day, lasting at least half an hour and up to two hours.
He reported to her the progress of his rehabilitation with his hands dancing and showing off his increasingly flexible arms. But most of the time, he talked about trivial things.
Mars Brother: [Wife, I ate a whole watermelon today]
Mars Brother: [Wife, I saw a very beautiful necklace today]
Mars Brother: [Wife, I miss you so much]
…
At a certain moment, Wen Mu looked at the 99+ unread messages and even thought that he could write an academic report based on the data provided by Song Xingran, titled "On the Similarities between Men and Dogs - Personalized Analysis Based on the Absence of Wife"
Until one day, Song Xingran sent a photo.
He stood on the Silverstone track in his racing suit, his helmet tucked under his arm, his black hair shining in the sun, his smile broad and confident.
Mars Brother: [First test drive today! ]
Mars Brother: [It feels really good! ]
Mars Brother: [I really want this feeling! ]
Wen Mu's finger hovered above the screen, not knowing how to respond.
The man in the photo was so dazzling, so vivid, as if he was born to be on that track. She could imagine him driving the car, the freedom and passion she could never give him.
It was also at this moment that fear surged over me like a tide. The twisted racing car, the screeching brakes, and the flashing ambulance lights were still spinning in my mind.
Mars Brother: [Wife?]
Mars Brother: [Are you angry? ]
Wen Mu took a deep breath and replied:
Jupiter: [No. Drive carefully.]
Mars: [As you command! [Salute]]
Mars: [By the way, when is the defense? I'll see if I can go.]
Wen Mu told him the date, although it was next year, but she didn't hold out much hope. She knew how busy the racing driver's schedule was, especially in the preparation stage before his comeback.
She turned on her computer and began revising the PowerPoint presentation for her defense. The blue light from the screen reflected on her face, and her eyes behind her lenses were focused and calm.
Whatever the future holds, she has her own trajectory to follow at the moment.
And someone far away in London is also speeding on his track.
*
The sunset over the Silverstone Circuit was like melted gold foil, covering the asphalt ground.
Song Xingran took off his helmet, his black hair sticking to his forehead with damp hair, and sweat dripped down his chin onto his racing suit. He shook his head, and the water droplets drew golden arcs in the sunset.
"Good form." Alex came over and handed him a bottle of water. "0.8 seconds faster than last week."
The man took the bottle and drank most of it, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. The water flowed down the corners of his mouth, slid down his neck, and disappeared at the collar of his racing suit.
"Not enough." He wiped his mouth, his eyes like two burning flames in the sunset, "We need to save another second before the Japan race."
Alex looked at him thoughtfully, "How's the injury?"
Song Xingran unzipped the top of his racing suit, revealing a tight black vest underneath. The bandages on his chest had been removed, leaving only a pink scar, faintly visible under the sweat-soaked vest.
"Almost healed," he answered nonchalantly, stretching his right shoulder. "It's just still a little sore on a rainy day."
The two walked to the rest area on the sidelines and sat down. In the distance, technicians were checking the car's data, and occasionally the crisp sound of metal colliding could be heard.
Alex took out two cans of beer from the thermal box and handed one to Song Xingran.
"I've watched the video so many times," Alex said slowly, tapping his fingers lightly on the beer can. "It just feels like something's off."
"Song, do you think so?"
Song Xingran paused for a moment as he pulled the ring open, then returned to normal: "It's just a malfunction in the car system, what's wrong?"
Bubbles escaped from the can, wetting his fingers. The man licked the drop of liquor and gazed calmly at the track.
"Oh~" Alex responded meaningfully and took a sip of beer.
"By the way, I heard that when you were in the hospital, a man named Ming went to the hospital to see Dr. Wen, and it seemed like they had an argument."
Song Xingran narrowed his eyes slightly: "How do you know?"
"The nurses outside were terrified." Alex shrugged. "They said there was a big fight."
"Nothing." Song Xingran said lightly, "My wife scolded him back.
Alex suddenly smiled, and the beer can gleamed coldly in the sunlight.
"Yeah?"
"But I feel like it was Mr. Ming who came here to get scolded."
The air froze instantly.
In the distance, a racing car whizzed past, the roar of its engine tearing through the silence.
Song Xingran slowly turned his head and looked at Alex.
The setting sun cast a dangerous shadow in his eyes.
"What do you want to say?" His voice was low and calm.
Alex met his gaze without flinching: "You know what I'm talking about."
He shook his head: "You really are a lunatic."
Song Xingran grinned, his fangs gleaming in the sunset: "Life is only this short, if you don't go a little crazy, it's boring."
Alex was stunned for a second, then burst into laughter, echoing across the empty track. Song Xingran laughed too, and the two clinked their beer cans, as if reaching some kind of tacit understanding.
When the laughter died down, Alex's expression turned serious: "Song, I want to ask, is it really worth it? What if..."
"There's no such thing as an emergency." Song Xingran interrupted him, his eyes sharp as a knife, "I've calculated the angle and speed."
Alex sneered, "How interesting! The talented player I worked so hard to train actually uses his brains and skills for something like this."
"I don't know whether I should be happy or sad."
"What are you sad about?" Song Xingran raised an eyebrow. "Are you unhappy to see my happy family life?"
Alex raised his hands in surrender: "I didn't mean that. I wish you a happy marriage."
"Thank you, I will." The man took a sip of wine.
"Does your wife know?"
For the first time, a crack appeared on Song Xingran's face. He looked down at the beer can in his hand, his fingertips gently stroking the cold metal surface.
"have no idea."
He finally admitted it.
"I won't know."
Alex sighed and didn't ask any further questions.
The two men finished their beers in silence as the sun gradually sank into the horizon and the lights on the track came on.
"Let's go." Song Xingran stood up and accurately threw the empty can into the trash can in the distance. "We'll continue tomorrow."
Alex nodded and watched him walk to the locker room.
*
Hot water gushed out from the shower head, washing over the man's tired body. In the steamy shower room, he closed his eyes and let the water wash away the sweat and fatigue of the day.
Memories flashed through my mind like a kaleidoscope.
That night, he had just finished a call with Yu Mo and was about to drive to London.
The phone screen lights up in the dark:
【Do you dare to bet? 】
Unknown number.
But Song Xingran guessed who it was almost immediately.
He raised the corner of his mouth and replied:
What are you betting on?
The other party quickly replied:
【Betting on whether she loves you or not. 】
They met in a speakeasy on the Thames.
Ming Yang looked more haggard than he had a few hours ago, with noticeable dark circles under his eyes, and the sandalwood beads on his right wrist were gone.
"How do you want to bet?" Song Xingran went straight to the point and took a sip of iced whiskey.
Ming Yang's eyes flashed with madness: "Mr. Song, don't you think you can't give Wen Mu a stable life?"
The man sneered: "Why, do you think that I, Young Master Song, can't support my wife or treat her badly?"
Ming Yang: "That's not what I meant."
"Your profession, I mean."
The ice cubes collided in the amber wine, making a crisp sound.
Ming Yang: "You know very well how dangerous it is to be a professional race car driver. Every race and even training carries the risk of injury."
"Have you never thought about what Wen Mu would do to you if one day you were injured and became a disabled person with missing limbs, instead of being the powerful Third Young Master Song?"
Song Xingran stopped shaking the cup, his eyes dark.
Ming Yang leaned forward. "Will she stay and take care of you, or will she leave you without mercy?"
"If I go to her while you're unconscious and persuade her to divorce you, even if she doesn't want to be with me, she can find another healthier man."
"Do you think she will waver?"
"What do you want to say?" The man's voice suddenly turned cold.
"I want to say, how about taking a gamble?"
"With your life."
The spicy taste of whiskey burned in my throat.
Song Xingran put down the cup, and the glass collided with the marble countertop, making a crisp sound.
"continue."
"I've looked it up," Ming Yang said, lowering his voice. "When an F1 car collides at a certain angle and speed, the safety system can ensure the driver's life is not in danger, but they will suffer serious injuries."
"Don't you want to know what the outcome would be if something like this really happened?"
"Don't you want to know how Wen Mu feels about you? Does she love you or not?"
Silence, long silence.
Song Xingran looked at the furious man opposite him and then chuckled.
"interesting."
"But why should I cooperate with you?"
Ming Yang's tone was unusually firm: "Because you also want to know the answer."
"Because you're not sure why she married you. Was it for the Song family's wealth, for her career, or for you, a free tool who occasionally provides her with services?"
"Heh." Song Xingran laughed disdainfully, "Stop pretending. Why are you coming up with so many high-sounding excuses?"
"You just envy me and are jealous of me."
"I'm sorry, I'm not well-educated and I just speak bluntly." He finished his drink. "Mr. Ming, don't take it to heart."
"I've always been generous. My wife has always taught me to be strict with myself and lenient with others. So I don't care about the nonsense you just said."
“You know what?”
“I don’t care.”
Song Xingran looked at the man's clenched fist under the table and laughed.
"But I always like fun things."
"make a deal."
Ming Yang's pupils contracted for a moment, but he quickly regained his composure.
"Have you thought it through?"
"Don't worry." Song Xingran chuckled, "I'm different from you. I won't go back on my word."
"But I have a condition."
"What."
"Whatever the outcome, you have to get out of her life forever. Take your shit and get as far away from her as possible."
"Understand?"
Ming Yang gritted his teeth and sneered.
"Good luck."
The hot water suddenly turned cold. Song Xingran looked up and knocked on the water heater, but there was no response.
He turned off the water, dried himself, and stood before the misty mirror. The man in the mirror had damp black hair and eyes filled with unfathomable emotion.
He reached out to wipe away the mist on the mirror and carefully examined the scar on his chest.
——It is the proof of the bet and also the medal of love.
The lights in the locker room were bright, and Song Xingran was sitting on a bench.
His plan was executed perfectly: he chose the safest Turn 7, calculated the angle and speed perfectly, and crashed into the guardrail with precision, seemingly losing control.
The security system worked and he was admitted to the hospital as he wished. His life was not in danger, but his injuries were serious enough to keep Wen Mu company.
He pretended to be unconscious and got what he wanted. He heard the confrontation between Wen Mu and Ming Yang with his own ears.
The ward in my memory was very quiet, with only the regular "beeping" sound of the monitoring equipment.
He closed his eyes, but could clearly perceive everything around him - the smell of disinfectant, the chirping of birds outside the window, and Wen Mu's light breathing.
When Ming Yang appeared, every nerve in his body was tense.
He heard how Mingyang belittled him, questioned their marriage, and tried to shake Wenmu with sharp words.
He wanted to laugh.
Is he scared?
Yes, a little bit.
Then he heard the words—
"I love him! No matter whether he can wake up or not, no matter whether he is disabled or not, I love him!"
Wen Mu's voice was like a flash of lightning, illuminating the darkest corner of his heart.
At that moment, he almost couldn't control his expression and almost jumped up and hugged her.
But he held back, even trying hard to suppress the heat in his eyes.
He waited until Ming Yang left and until Wen Mu broke down and cried, then pretended to have just woken up.
But when he saw Wen Mu in tears, the joy brought by winning the bet was instantly replaced by heartache.
At that moment, he swore that from now on, he would never let her cry like this again.
Is he bad?
It seems a little bit.
But, it should be forgivable.
"madman."
Song Xingran muttered to himself in the empty locker room, a self-deprecating smile on his lips.
He put on a black T-shirt and jeans, picked up his backpack and walked out of the locker room.
It was late at night, and the track was deserted, with only a few lonely lights on. A man stood by the guardrail, looking at the vague outline of the track in the darkness in the distance.
The phone vibrated. It was a message from Wen Mu.
Wife: [Come out for dinner.]
The photo shows a Japanese-style restaurant with shiny seafood sashimi and plump sushi on the table, and a glass of sake next to it.
Song Xingran enlarged the picture and saw her blurry profile in the reflection of the coffee cup.
He replied:
Eat more
I like you to gain weight
Putting away his phone, Song Xingran took a deep breath of the night air.
The early autumn wind carries the scent of grass and motor oil, familiar and reassuring.
He is indeed a madman.
Gamble your life for an answer.
But standing here at this moment, the scar on his chest aching slightly, and the message from his lover saved in his phone, he felt that this gamble was worth it.
In the garage in the distance, the silver-black racing car was parked quietly, shining coldly in the moonlight.
Song Xingran walked over and gently stroked the car body with his fingers, as if stroking a loyal warhorse.
"So what if he's crazy?"
The man's lips curled up into a roguish smile.
“Achieving the goal is what matters most.”
The moonlight fell on him, stretching his shadow very long.
The man in the shadow is neither the champion who is full of vigor and vitality on the racing track, nor the big boy who acts like a spoiled child in front of his beloved, but another Song Xingran.
Calm, crazy, and willing to do whatever it takes to achieve the goal.
But at this moment, this dangerous man just took out his cell phone, took a photo of the racing car, and sent it to Wen Mu who was far away in Ningchuan:
【[picture]】
【miss you】
It is also
He turned and walked towards the parking lot, whistling like an ordinary young man in love.
The moonlight followed his footsteps, illuminating the way ahead.
*
As soon as Song Xingran entered the house, he threw his car keys on the cabinet in the entrance hall, changed his shoes and took out his cell phone.
No reply?
What's going on.
Is she out? Or is she busy?
Just as he was about to ask, he received a message from his "wife".
Wife: [Song Xingran.]
The man chuckled.
Sure enough, I won't ignore him.
I'm here
Wife: [Are you hiding something from me?]
-----------------------
The author has something to say: Master Song: Shhh—this is our secret
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