She's Crazy, I Love Her - Chapter 33

“Protagonist, give me some good luck, okay?”

Chi Yue suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to grab her.

But she was too slow, her body frozen to the ground.

Zhou Wei, standing nearby, asked, “What were you two doing just now?”

“Huh?”

Zhou Wei pointed to Qi You, who was performing the final pre-race checks by the track, then at Chi Yue. “You two… were you kissing?”

Chi Yue glanced at her.

Zhou Wei slowly gasped, as if just realizing what she’d seen. Her face registered shock, and the shock lingered.

Chi Yue averted her gaze, refusing to look at Zhou Wei or the others nearby. Her eyes remained fixed on Qi You.

Dressed in her black racing suit, Qi You’s car was the fourth from the left. A crew member helped her adjust her helmet.

As she leaned to slide into the cockpit, her gaze naturally swept from the grandstand to the pit area.

A fleeting, chaotic moment of eye contact.

Even through her visor, Chi Yue was certain Qi You was looking at her.

She settled into the driver’s seat.

The racetrack backed onto a scenic mountain range, a popular hiking destination during holidays. Now, under the deep night sky, the distant mountains loomed dimly, their silhouettes merging seamlessly with the horizon.

Qi You’s gaze drifted from the horizon to the car lane, illuminated as bright as day by the spotlights, and finally settled on the steering wheel before her.

One by one, the red indicator lights lit up:

The protagonist is notoriously difficult to kill.

She had tested this. The “accidents” meant to represent irresistible forces usually failed against them. Only direct, personal methods worked—a blade through the heart, for instance, or the crushing force of a heavy truck against a small car.

All five red lights blazed to life:

The engine roared, shaking the entire vehicle. Tires screeched against the asphalt, like a wild beast about to break free from its cage.

She hadn’t bothered with them in a long time.

The endless cycle of life and death had made existence monotonous, emotions distorted, consciousness fractured, and her limbs and features rearranged within her body—as if her chest housed not a heart, but an eye growing from her hand.

So she no longer regarded them as human.

They were merely words.

The red lights went out:

With a deafening screech, the tires roared into motion, launching the race car forward like an arrow from a bow.

The car accelerated from 0 to 100 km/h in 3 seconds, reaching 200 km/h in just 6 seconds.

Qi You’s head slammed against the seat, the air inside her helmet turning into razor blades that sliced at her eyes and throat. A suffocating pressure bore down from her nostrils, crushing her lungs and internal organs.

She felt her lungs contracting as her breathing stalled, her bl00d surging through her veins like a tidal wave, every inch of her skin flushed with heat.

Under this extreme stimulation, her brain flooded with dopamine and endorphins.

She gasped for air, but only a strange, shrill laugh escaped her lips.

In the stands, Zhou Wei’s attention had been easily drawn to the race, but it wasn’t long before she sensed something was wrong.

“That No. 7 car is Qi You’s, right?” she asked the person next to her.

“I think so…”

Zhou Wei paused for two seconds, then suddenly cursed, “Is she crazy?!”

She glanced at the flashing scoreboard, then back at the track. In less than three minutes, Car No. 7 had already completed its first lap, neck-and-neck with Car No. 62, both reaching speeds close to 300 kilometers per hour.

A murmur of excitement rippled through the stands.

“They’re already pushing this hard right from the start? Are they all losing their minds?”

“This isn’t about settling scores, it’s about resolving grudges. Do they really think they’re here for a race?”

“Driving like this, something’s bound to go wrong…”

“What are they doing?! This isn’t a professional competition.” Zhou Wei grew increasingly anxious as she watched. After three or four laps, she couldn’t hold back any longer. She turned and grabbed Chi Yue’s arm, her voice rising, “What’s wrong with Qi You?”

Chi Yue’s eyes remained fixed on the track. Zhou Wei had to ask twice before she snapped out of her daze.

“I don’t know—”

Zhou Wei’s frustration mounted. Just as she was about to press further, a collective gasp erupted from the crowd.

The pressure on the track had become unbearable. A car lost control, spinning wildly before crashing into the barrier with a deafening bang.

Zhou Wei buried her face in her hands.

No. 7 narrowly avoided the out-of-control car, surging ahead to overtake No. 62.

Behind the wheel of Car No. 62 was Pei Yi. The protagonist’s aura granted him a natural advantage at this pivotal plot point. He was destined not only to win this race and surpass Guan Zhaobin in the racing world, but also to resolve a long-standing inner conflict.

Years ago, during a reckless street race with his friends, Pei Yi had caused the death of a young girl.

Of course, from Pei Yi’s perspective, this statement would require a multitude of adjectives: young, ignorant, accidental, sorrowful, regretful, unforgettable, beyond measure, and so on.

But at its core, he had caused the death of a girl.

Now, he felt that ten years of repentance and evasion were enough. He sought redemption.

This race was the outlet for his salvation.

Originally, Chi Yue would have been part of it too.

Chi Yue, the female lead.

Qi You recalled her, remembering the knife piercing her slender white neck, thick streams of bl00d gushing between her fingers, the viscous crimson staining her dress. Slowly, her once-plump cheeks turned ashen, like a paper lily.

That day, she lived only a few minutes before the world faded with the silence of the female lead’s final breath.

Fortunately, Chi Yue had no memory of it. If she did, would she still dare to look at him with those dewy eyes?

Qi You chuckled softly.

The laughter, muffled within the confines of her helmet, sounded manic.

She slammed the accelerator to the floor, the speedometer needle surging past 300. At this extreme speed, the car momentarily defied gravity as it crested the ramp, hanging in the air for two seconds before crashing back to earth.

The car shuddered violently several times. Qi You gripped the steering wheel tightly to maintain control, her foot never leaving the accelerator.

In her peripheral vision, she saw Car No. 62 trailing half a car length behind on her right.

Qi You swerved right, pinning it down.

Another turn came, and No. 62 darted out diagonally.

Seconds later, No. 7 surged forward, suppressing it once more.

No matter how skilled Pei Yi was, he wouldn’t maintain speeds above 300 km/h for long. It was a matter of rationality—everyone fears death, and risking one’s life for a petty rivalry would be a foolish trade.

Besides, he was twenty-eight now, not eighteen.

At eighteen, reckless racing could be excused as youthful folly. But at twenty-eight, breaking bones in a race would simply be idiotic.

A protagonist’s basic composure and wisdom should prevent such foolishness—unless provoked repeatedly.

In competitive arenas, participants’ emotions are inevitably influenced by their surroundings. This is especially true in adrenaline-pumping sports like racing, where even professionals struggle to maintain absolute composure.

Today’s race featured amateur drivers. Anyone could see it was a duel between Pei Yi and Guan Zhaobin, with the others merely playing supporting roles. By the halfway point, many cars had already withdrawn from the track.

In the fifteenth minute, Guan Zhaobin was lapped twice in quick succession. After he retired from the race, only No. 7 and No. 62 remained on the track.

Instead of returning to the pit area, Guan Zhaobin mingled with the staff, watching the race from the sidelines.

The club manager rushed over, sweat beading on his forehead. “President Guan…”

Two cars sped past, their roaring engines leaving afterimages on his retina. Guan Zhaobin, his mind elsewhere, waved him silent.

He asked the person beside him, his voice tight, “How much time is left?”

“Three minutes,” came the reply.

That meant one and a half laps.

“Pei never learns,” he sneered, his brow furrowed.

Qi You knew it wasn’t just about memory. The plot demanded Pei Yi win; without that imperative, he’d never voluntarily retire.

On the final lap, as they entered the straightaway, Qi You slammed the speedometer to 350.

Car No. 62 clung to his tail, the gap between them barely half a car length.

The finish line was now visible in the distance.

A few hundred meters—mere seconds at this speed.

Qi You exhaled in satisfaction, then subtly nudged the steering wheel. The axle shifted, turning the tires by the slightest angle, and the rear of his car swung out toward Car No. 62.

At high speeds, even a slight change in wind direction could send a car into an uncontrollable drift, let alone a collision.

So, it was either death or death.

Qi You bet on Pei Yi’s reflexes, trusting he would swerve to avoid the crash.

Car No. 7 smoothly crossed the finish line.

Behind her, Car No. 62 spun wildly like a child’s toy, its tires screeching like a wounded beast. But the car couldn’t overcome its momentum. It bounced violently, rolled over, and the acrid smell of motor oil filled the air. Then, a spark erupted from the rear of the race car—

Qi You climbed out of her car and removed her helmet.

She glanced at the scene for a moment. Countless staff members had already swarmed the area, sealing it off completely.

She had no intention of approaching the wreckage. Tossing her helmet to a nearby staff member, she headed straight for the rest area.

This sport demanded immense mental focus and physical stamina. She was drenched in sweat, and her mouth tasted strongly of bl00d.

Zhou Wei rushed over, bombarding her with a barrage of frantic words: “You’re done for! You’re done for, Qi You! You’re finished!”

“Finished how?” Qi You replied casually, her eyes scanning the crowd for Chi Yue.

Chi Yue stood at the back of the crowd, hesitant to approach.

Zhou Wei slapped Qi You’s arm, her voice rising in alarm. “Are you crazy?! What if something had happened? No, something has happened! Pei… Pei, don’t tell me he’s dead!”

After scolding Qi You, she pointed at another person. “Quick! Check on Young Master Pei! Make sure he’s still alive!”

Qi You, usually tolerant of Zhou Wei’s outbursts, showed no reaction to the reprimand, her gaze fixed on Chi Yue.

Chi Yue’s face was blank, as if all expression had drained away. It was impossible to discern her thoughts.

A staff member ran past, and Zhou Wei grabbed him. “Is Young Master Pei alright?”

“It’s still unclear,” the man replied. “They’re…”

Seizing the opportunity, Qi You removed her gloves and strode toward Chi Yue.

Chi Yue’s hands and feet were icy cold.

Not again. This is the second time!

Chi Yue watched Qi You approach.

She saw the faint flush on Qi You’s cheeks, the lingering madness in her eyes, and the predatory curve of her lips.

Qi You possessed sharply defined features, her face dominated by straight lines rather than curves. Only her eyes, long and alluring, softened her otherwise aloof demeanor. When she wasn’t smiling, she exuded an intense sense of distance, but when she did, it was like an iceberg melting, even bordering on bewitching.

“Thank you for the protagonist’s good luck,” Qi You said, curling her fingers to brush Chi Yue’s cheek. “I won.”

She didn’t care about life or death, only that she had won.

Chi Yue’s lips moved, but no sound came out.

After speaking, Qi You reached for Chi Yue’s hand, only to find her palm clammy with sweat.

Qi You raised her eyebrows, her voice rising slightly at the end. “So nervous?”

Chi Yue met her gaze, then looked away, murmuring a soft “Mm-hmm.” Her voice trembled faintly.

Qi You chuckled softly and unfolded Chi Yue’s palm.

The surrounding lights were blindingly bright, the white glare piercing. The crowd buzzed with commotion after the accident on the track, countless eyes drawn to them.

There she stood, still clad in her sharp racing suit, a wisp of damp hair clinging to her temple, the lingering ferocity in her eyes not yet fully faded. Yet here she was, head bowed, gently wiping the cold sweat from Chi Yue’s palm.

Chi Yue felt utterly helpless.

What kind of person is she?