Chapter 120: The Leap Over Donghai

BOOM!

The $700,000 Bentley Continental GT landed with a heavy thud!

Despite its advanced suspension system, the harsh impact sent a shock through Lin Xian’s tailbone. He slammed on the brakes and yanked the steering wheel sharply, causing the car to fishtail under the intense pressure.

Screech! Screech! Screech!

Unidentified parts scraped against the concrete, sending fierce sparks flying. Lin Xian gripped the steering wheel tightly, adjusting swiftly to keep the car from flipping. Once stable, he utilized the side friction of the tires to decelerate—a technique he had mastered in his dreams over a decade; it felt almost instinctual.

Finally, the once roaring blue beast now lay silent, having skidded out a dramatic semi-circle before coming to a halt.

“Phew...”

Lin Xian exhaled deeply, his palms slightly sweaty as he released the steering wheel. He turned to check the back seat.

Empty.

The thug had clearly been ejected during the chaos. Only a crumpled bouquet of roses remained, hanging from the back door and swaying gently against the metal. The colorful wrapping was torn, and multicolored ribbons fluttered in the breeze.

Lin Xian glanced at Zhao Ying Jun. She was breathing heavily, eyes closed, clutching her chest.

“You... alright?”

Zhao Ying Jun didn’t respond immediately. Her face showed a mix of relief and disbelief, her breaths quick and shallow. After a moment, she slowly raised her head, staring at the overpass thirty meters away...

They had just soared over it.

The road was initially a spiraling downhill exit, gradually descending. But Lin Xian had propelled the Bentley up the guardrail and sound barrier of the overpass at over 200 kilometers per hour, launching them through the air.

Zhao Ying Jun’s eyes widened. She couldn’t recall the leap over the thirty-meter gap. All she remembered was the car landing with a crash and spinning wildly before stopping.

“You...” Her breathing steadied, and she bit her lower lip, turning to Lin Xian: “You said you weren’t good at driving?”

“I might have exaggerated a bit.”

“This is a bit?” She chuckled weakly, clearly not amused. “How could you? Are you crazy? Do you realize what you just did?”

“Of course, I do...” Lin Xian shifted to ease his sore tailbone and shrugged: “But we had no choice. That thug was desperate. He wasn’t going to let us go easily.”

“Let’s not talk about it anymore. I feel a bit nauseous. I need to get out and walk.” Zhao Ying Jun looked pale, clutching her chest. She tried to open the car door, but it was jammed. She turned to Lin Xian: “Open the door.”

Lin Xian attempted his door, but it wouldn’t budge. He pointed to the damaged dashboard: “Maybe something malfunctioned, or the door is damaged.”

“So how do we get out?”

“It’s nothing special,” Zhao Ying Jun laughed softly, as the flashing red and blue lights of police cars and ambulances approached from the other side of the overpass. “Just sharing some life lessons...”

Woo-woo-woo-woo-woo.

Police cars and ambulances arrived, their lights bright against the night sky. Zhao Ying Jun turned around, leaning on the guardrail, looking up at the moon.

January 14, 2023.

Eight days until the Lunar New Year.

Seven days until New Year’s Eve.

Five days until the Donghai Business Association’s New Year Gala.

An ordinary day. A day with a beautiful moon.

“Tonight’s moon is beautiful,” Zhao Ying Jun said softly.

Lin Xian stood behind her, looking at the bright moon.

“Yes,” he sighed sincerely, “this kind of moon is indeed beautiful.”

Beep beep.

His digital watch beeped twice, marking the hour. Lin Xian checked it.

00:00

He breathed a sigh of relief. Midnight had passed. It was now January 15, 2023.

Zhao Ying Jun had safely made it through January 14, past her 23rd birthday, avoiding the recorded accidental death. She might still face accidents in the future...

But for now, history had changed. She would no longer be remembered in a biography 600 years later with the words “died at 23.”

Today was the start of Zhao Ying Jun’s new destiny. And the first day of her 24th year.

Lin Xian stepped toward the wrecked Bentley, picked up the bouquet of roses left by the thug, and tidied it up.

Making the wrinkled, leafless roses look more presentable, the crooked paper and ribbons at least resembling a gift.

“Though it’s not quite appropriate, but...” Lin Xian handed the tidied bouquet to Zhao Ying Jun, smiling, “Happy birthday.”

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