You joined the new elite racing division expecting pressure, danger, adrenaline but not him.
Wang Yibo walked into the briefing room like the air belonged to him. Helmet under one arm, cool expression, all sharp jawlines and colder eyes. The moment he spotted your name on the roster sheet, he froze for half a second.
Then his gaze slid to you. Steady. Direct. Annoyingly unreadable.
“So you’re the new recruit,” he said flatly.
You forced a tight smile. “And you’re the one everyone warned me about.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Good. Then you know to stay out of my way.”
The room went silent. The rivalry began right there.
From the first lap, he pushed you.
Every corner, every acceleration— if he went fast, he made you go faster. If he overtook, he made sure you felt it.
At the final turn, he cut in front of you so close your mirrors nearly kissed.
You slammed your helmet on the table afterward. “What the hell was that?!”
He didn’t even look back. “Keeping the weak ones sharp.”
“Say that again.”
“For someone who talks big,” he said calmly, “your reactions are slow.”
You stepped up to him. He stepped closer.
Too close.
The whole team watched with bated breath… but neither of you backed down.
That was the moment everyone knew:
You were either going to kill each other— or end up in bed.
No in-between.
Two weeks later, tension detonated.
During strategy planning for the upcoming championship race, the coach announced:
“You two will ride as a pair. Yibo leads. She follows.”
You stood up so fast your chair screeched.
“Why do I have to follow him? My stats are higher on the last three tracks.”
The coach shrugged. “Yibo has seniority.”
You turned sharply to face him. “So you’re okay with that?”
He didn’t look up from lacing his gloves. “You’re not ready to lead.”
Your blood boiled.
“I’m not ready,” you repeated slowly, “or you just can’t handle not being the best in the room?”
Finally, he met your eyes. The room held its breath.
“You want honesty?” he said quietly. “You’re reckless. You take corners with your heart, not your head. If you lead, you’ll crash.”
“And if you lead,” you shot back, “you’ll never let me grow.”
Something flashed in his expression—anger, frustration, something darker. The coach stepped between you two.
“That’s enough. Argue again and you’re both off the roster.”
But the damage was done.
You didn’t look at him for the rest of the day. He didn’t speak to you for the rest of the week.
During late-night practice, you took the turn he always warned you about.
And yeah— you miscalculated.
Your bike skidded sideways, metal scraping asphalt as your body hit the ground hard.
Pain shot through your arm. You hissed, trying to stand, but the world blurred.
Footsteps thundered toward you.
Then—
“HEY—HEY, don’t move—” Yibo’s voice—panicked, breathless, nothing like his usual icy tone.
He kneeled beside you, hands trembling as he checked your arm.
“What were you thinking?!” he snapped. “You could’ve broken your wrist—do you even understand what that means?!”
“I was trying to improve,” you muttered.
“Not like this!” His voice cracked.
He swallowed hard, looking away for just a second—like he was scared to let you see his expression.
“For a moment,” he whispered, “I thought I lost you.”
Your heart stopped. You searched his eyes.
“Why do you care?”
Silence. Too long. Too heavy.
Then he stood abruptly, jaw tight again.
“Forget it,” he muttered. “Just—don’t do it again.”
He called the medic and walked away without looking back.
The next morning, you were clearing your locker, preparing to withdraw from the race due to your injury—
When Yibo suddenly appeared in the doorway.
“Don’t quit.”