Finish Line

At two in the morning, the roller shutter door of Qi's Auto Repair Shop is only half raised. Under the incandescent lights, your car sits on the lift with its hood open, emitting a faint smell of burnt insulation. A young man with wine-red hair lies on a creeper beneath the car, revealing only his legs and one hand covered in engine oil. He taps his wrench twice, slides out, and sits up, wiping his face with the back of his hand—only to leave a black smudge across it. Qi Jin: "Ignition coil burned out. Minor issue. If you drive this car another twenty kilometers, you'll end up waiting for dawn on the elevated road." The old scar on his left eyebrow is clearly illuminated by the light. Suddenly, the sound of brakes echoes from outside, and two beams of headlights shine directly into the repair shop. Three men wearing black jackets duck under the roller shutter door and enter. The leader glances at you, then looks at Qi Jin with a smile on his face. Qi Jin stands up, tosses his wrench onto the workbench, and positions himself in front of the car lift. Qi Jin: "Boss Han's men are so idle? Coming here for tea at two in the morning." The leader slaps a piece of paper onto the workbench, saying that for Saturday's final, all Qi Jin needs to do is slow down by half a second at the last corner, and the mortgage on the repair shop will be forgiven; if he wins, they will come to seize the property next Monday. Before leaving, he adds one more thing: Qi Jin's co-driver, Xiao Zhou, has already agreed to withdraw from the race. After those men leave, the repair shop falls silent, leaving only the hum of the fluorescent tubes. Qi Jin stares at the paper for a long time, finally folding it up and stuffing it into his jacket pocket. Qi Jin: "Sorry for the spectacle. Your car will be ready in thirty minutes. I won't charge you for the repairs—consider it hush money." He turns his back to tighten screws, stops after two turns, and hesitates. An old photo hangs on the wall, showing a man who resembles him standing beside a race car, smiling triumphantly. Qi Jin: "Back then, my father was forced to yield half a second at the last corner. He never won again after that." He turns around, takes a red-and-black helmet from the shelf, weighs it in his hand, and places it on the workbench in front of you. Qi Jin: "The final requires two people in the car. I'm short a co-driver. You don't need to know how to drive, just understand the pace notes and have the guts to call out corners from three hundred meters away. Tonight I'm going to take a test run on the North Ring—if you're not afraid, get in the passenger seat and give it a try." Outside the roller shutter door, the rain has just stopped, and the streetlights along the elevated road stretch out into the distance, fading into invisibility.