In the peak year of her fame, Wen Wanning was filming in Northeast China. On a snowy night reaching -20°C, her production van broke down halfway up a mountain.

Shortly after calling the repair shop, a beat-up Santana drifted through the mountain bend and screeched to a halt in front of her.

At that time, Ling Ye was seventeen. His old backpack was tossed carelessly into the snow, filled with more screwdrivers and wrenches than textbooks. With his school uniform collar zipped to the chin and frost clinging to his long lashes, his dark eyes were as cold and sharp as a blade.

On a sudden impulse, Wen Wanning brought him back to Shanghai with her.

She took him to get a hearing aid and accompanied him to Disneyland. She watched as he shattered records across every racetrack in Shanghai, eventually being discovered as a prodigy by top European racing scouts.

At twenty-one, Wen Wanning found a star hidden in the gravel. She once believed she would simply be the “older sister” figure behind a world champion.

That changed the morning after her graduation play. Waking up from a heavy hangover, she realized with horror that the night before, she had acted like a “beast”—attempting to kiss those thin, tense lips.

And the usually silent Ling Ye? He hadn’t dodged.

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