He began sorting out some things—things that might be enough to send his father to stand trial.
That night was one of celebration and warm homecomings for some, but for Song Zhe, it was an endlessly long and agonizing night of decision-making.
He knew direct evidence was hard to pin on his father; the old man was too cunning.
But he had his own methods.
Leveraging his position as the team’s core racer and young master, he had access to internal systems and information that ordinary employees couldn’t touch.
He pulled up screenshots of financial transactions that had gone through multiple transfers, seemingly unrelated to the team’s operations. There were a few suspicious remittances to overseas shell companies, with vague notes, but the timings matched perfectly with when Wang Jiancheng and his gang started getting active.
He had stumbled upon them by chance before and hadn’t thought much of it then, but now they became a key piece of the puzzle.
He also opened an encrypted audio file containing a fuzzy recording of a conversation between his father and his trusted assistant.
He had secretly recorded it with his phone several months ago, after a heated argument, driven by some inexplicable sense of caution.
He also compiled chat logs and emails that indirectly proved his father had instructed data interference—
Not direct orders, but suggestive phrases like “I don’t want to see any factors affecting the race results anymore,” paired with knowing replies from the technical team lead.
With each piece of evidence he organized, Song Zhe’s heart sank a little further.
Taken alone, none of it might convict his father, but pieced together, it clearly outlined a path to crime.
He knew handing these over would be like detonating a bomb, giving the event organizers and police ample reason to launch the harshest investigation, digging into his father and his entire network.
By the time he finished, the sky in the east had begun to lighten with the first hints of dawn.
He leaned back in his chair, exhaling a long, weary breath, feeling utterly drained.
He had no desire to sleep. He picked up his phone, hesitated for a moment, and finally dialed a number he had saved for a long time but never called—Feng Yuxiao’s.
The phone rang for a long time before it was answered, and Feng Yuxiao’s voice came through, sleepy but alert:
“Hello? Who is this?”
It was no wonder; it was probably around four or five in the morning.
“Manager Feng, it’s me, Song Zhe.”
Song Zhe’s voice was hoarse.
There was a two-second silence on the other end before Feng Yuxiao snapped fully awake:
“Song Zhe? What’s going on?”
His tone carried clear surprise and wariness.
“I want to meet you… and the event organizer’s top official, Chairman Chen. Today at two in the afternoon.”
“I have some things you should be interested in.”
Feng Yuxiao was clearly shocked on the other end. After another brief silence, he responded swiftly:
“Location.”
That afternoon at two, in an administrative suite.
Feng Yuxiao and an elderly man with graying hair—Chairman Chen—were already waiting.
Song Zhe walked in, dressed all in black, his face pale, dark circles evident under his eyes. He placed a black USB drive on the central coffee table.
“It’s all here.”
“Some financial records, partial recordings, and emails and chat logs that indirectly prove he instructed data interference and off-track actions. Direct evidence is hard to get, but this should be enough to trace it all back to the source.”
Feng Yuxiao and Chairman Chen exchanged a glance, their expressions gravely serious.
Chairman Chen picked up the USB drive but didn’t check it right away. Instead, he looked sharply at Song Zhe:
“Song Zhe, do you know what handing this over means?”
Song Zhe met his gaze without flinching. He tugged at the corner of his mouth, revealing an utterly bitter smile:
“Chairman Chen, Manager Feng, don’t misunderstand. I’m not here to atone or to help your Maple Grove Racing Team.”
He paused, his gaze drifting to the window.
“I’m here for racing. For this sport to have a relatively clean track in the future, a dream worth chasing for young people.”
“He’s gone mad. To win, he’ll do anything.”
“If we don’t stop him now, it’ll destroy not just racing, but him too. He… can’t go on like this.”
After saying this, Song Zhe seemed to have used up his last bit of strength.
He didn’t glance at the USB drive again or wait for Feng Yuxiao and Chairman Chen’s response. He just nodded slightly, then turned and left the room with somewhat unsteady steps.
Several weeks later, in Tanzhou, at Feng Miwan and Xiong Yibai’s home.
On a spacious terrace at night, a gentle breeze blew, the distant city lights like scattered stars.
Feng Miwan and Xiong Yibai leaned side by side in comfortable recliners. At their feet, Little Honeybee curled up with its paws tucked in, sleeping soundly on its special soft pad.
“So,”
Xiong Yibai took a sip of tea,
“what happened to the guy behind all this in the end? Did they find him?”
Feng Miwan turned her head, smiling as she said:
“Yeah! My brother told me a few days ago. The evidence was solid—they arrested who they needed to and investigated what they needed to. It’s all sorted!”
Xiong Yibai nodded, not surprised by the outcome.
She set down her teacup:
“Yeah, good that it’s resolved.”
Then, Feng Miwan suddenly remembered something:
“By the way, Yibai, why did you suddenly buy such a big mirror? For makeup? But you already have a vanity.”
Xiong Yibai’s hand tightened slightly on her teacup.
Her expression unchanged, she said, “No.”
Feng Miwan grew even more curious: “Then why?”
Xiong Yibai clearly didn’t want to dwell on it. She tucked a strand of hair blown onto Feng Miwan’s cheek behind her ear and softly asked:
“Little Honey, any plans for tomorrow?”
Feng Miwan enjoyed her gentle touch and didn’t press further:
“Shu Tong and Senior Sister Que Yue invited us to lunch. They said Shu Tong’s new place, ‘Wutong Private Cuisine,’ is doing a trial run and wants us to be guinea pigs! Wanna go?”
“Sure.”
Xiong Yibai agreed immediately.
After this race, Feng Yuxiao’s reputation soared for leading the team to victory.
The Maple Grove Racing Team attracted a flood of top sponsors and technical talent, elevating it from a respected mid-tier team to a new powerhouse with a bright future.
Xiong Daichuan, Shen Yong, Feng Shouzhuo, and Shen Qingyun, after initial shock, adjustments, and several family meetings,
finally accepted and blessed the children’s choices from the bottom of their hearts.
They occasionally gathered for tea or hikes, their conversations shifting from the kids’ work
to health regimens and travel, their relationships harmonious.
On the terrace,
Feng Miwan scooted closer to Xiong Yibai,
gazing at the stars in the night sky, faintly blurred by the city’s neon glow.
“Yibai.”
“Hm?”
“Nothing, just wanted to call your name.”
(The End.)
This was a cute bite sized story, thanks for translating!