The next day, the third stop of the China Super Car Championship—Modu Circuit.
It was free practice day.
The sun shone brightly, the track was dry, and the temperature was mild.
For Feng Miwan, who wanted to break free from the single label of “Rain Battle Goddess,” this was the perfect opportunity to prove herself.
Amid the roar of engines, her Maple Leaf Red race car sped across the track like a flame poised to erupt.
In the pit area, Feng Yuxiao stared intently at the real-time data screen and said quietly to the engineer Xiao Chen beside him,
“The braking point into the corner was 0.05 seconds earlier than our preset baseline, but the exit speed increased by 0.2.”
“Her rhythm today was excellent. Her control over the brakes and throttle was far more precise than before.”
On the track, Feng Miwan was fully focused.
Her movements lacked the frantic struggle at the limit from the previous race, replaced by a smoothness built on thorough calculations and confidence.
“Sister Wan, you can hug the curb a bit more at T7 corner. There’s still room,” Xiao Chen prompted over the radio.
“Got it. I’ll try it next lap,” Feng Miwan replied.
On the next lap, she indeed braked later at T7, the tires scraping over the curb. The car experienced only the slightest bounce, which she steadied perfectly, gaining better speed on exit.
The entire process flowed seamlessly, showcasing her deeper understanding of the car’s limits and stronger control.
This was utterly different from her first victory.
Back then, it had been the fearlessness of a newborn calf, relying on her daring talent in rainy battles and sheer grit to carve out a bloody path.
It also differed from her loss at the second stop, when she bore the weight of the “Rain Battle Goddess” reputation and the psychological burden of a recently healed hand injury, leading to hesitation and deformed movements on the dry track.
Today, inside the cockpit, Feng Miwan’s eyes were sharp and focused. Her brain raced, processing track information, car feedback, and team instructions.
Her hands were steady, her feet delivering nuanced control over the throttle and brakes.
This was the strength forged from grueling targeted training, countless simulator sessions, and deep post-race analysis.
She no longer relied solely on talent and courage; she now possessed matching technique, tactics, and formidable mental resilience.
After several long-distance simulation laps, her single-lap times were not only stable but consistently in the top three, with some timed laps even hitting first place.
Even more impressive, her tire wear rate was noticeably lower than her main competitors, meaning she would have greater strategic flexibility and speed advantages in the long race distance.
When practice ended, Feng Miwan slowly drove the car back to the pit area.
She removed her helmet, her forehead damp with sweat, but her face showed no fatigue—only a glow of confidence.
Feng Yuxiao came over and patted her shoulder.
“Nice job, Little Wan! Your rhythm today was perfect, and the data is ideal! If we keep this up and nothing unexpected happens in the main race, this stop’s championship is…”
He didn’t finish, but the meaning was clear.
Feng Miwan wiped her sweat with a towel.
“Bro, this time it’s different. I’m not relying on rain or risky gambles. I want to claim this championship fair and square, in the sunlight, in front of everyone.”
Her stellar free practice performance boosted morale for Feng Miwan and the entire Maple Grove Racing Team.
But with it came heavier expectations and pressure.
That night, in her hotel room, Feng Miwan repeatedly reviewed the onboard footage from practice, analyzing every detail for optimization. Tension surged like an undercurrent beneath the calm surface.
Saturday morning, qualifying.
The atmosphere at the track was worlds apart from yesterday, thick with the scent of gunpowder.
Each team made final adjustments, the engines roaring more aggressively.
Dressed in her racing suit, Feng Miwan prepared in the team rest area, her fingers clenching and unclenching repeatedly.
Though practice had gone smoothly, the thought of the upcoming qualifying—which determined starting positions—and the main race right after brought back that familiar pressure.
Success or failure hung on this one shot. She wanted so badly to prove herself that she grew hesitant.
Subconsciously, she reached into her pocket, where Xiong Yibai’s one-yuan coin lay.
Her inner unease drove her; she needed encouragement from fate.
She placed the coin on her thumb.
Heads for success, tails for failure.
She chanted silently in her mind.
She flicked the coin into the air. It spun and landed, caught tightly in her palm.
She took a deep breath and slowly lifted her hand.
Tails.
In that instant, the courage and confidence she had built cracked, her face paling slightly.
As expected… still not possible?
Was the dry track truly my curse?
As she stared at the coin, her heart sinking, a hand reached over from the side and gently picked up the coin from her palm.
Feng Miwan looked up in astonishment, meeting a pair of calm, unwavering eyes—it was Xiong Yibai.
She didn’t know when she had arrived; she simply stood quietly beside her.
Xiong Yibai’s gaze fell on the coin in her hand.
“I remember telling you that the news has no right to define you.”
She paused, then lifted her eyes to meet Feng Miwan’s.
“So, what gives this metal coin the power to?”
Before Feng Miwan could respond, Xiong Yibai flicked her thumb lightly. The coin soared into the air again, tracing a higher arc than before.
It fell, and Xiong Yibai caught it steadily with one hand.
“Destiny,”
Xiong Yibai said, looking into Feng Miwan’s eyes,
“if it truly exists, is certainly not decided by the random fall of a coin.”
“It lies in every breath you take, in the resolve when you floor the accelerator, in the steadiness of your grip on the wheel.”
“The only thing that can define your destiny is your choices and actions right now.”
“It is yours to control. Destiny is never a scripted play.”
As her words ended, she slowly opened her hand holding the coin.
Heads.
The pattern symbolizing “success” gleamed in the sunlight.
Feng Miwan stared blankly at the heads-up coin in Xiong Yibai’s palm, then looked up at her faintly smiling face.
Yes, after all the sweat and effort she had poured in, why let a coin dictate the outcome?
A fresh power, born from within, surged from her heart, dispelling the gloom from the tails side.
The hesitation and uncertainty in her eyes vanished, replaced by an even firmer light than during practice.
She reached out, took the coin back from Xiong Yibai’s palm, and clenched it tightly. But this time, it was no longer a plea to fate—instead, it became a memento, or rather, a reminder.
