Soaring Past the Constant Star [Rebirth] - Chapter 2

Jiang Yue almost let his finger slip and hang up, but the ringtone persisted patiently for a good while before he finally swiped the screen to connect. A second later, Duan Xingheng’s voice sounded from the other end:

“Jiang Yue?”

His voice was deep.

“Are you free right now? What are you doing?”

The voice felt as if it were right next to him, yet Jiang Yue felt a sense of trance, as if what stood between them wasn’t a phone line, but five long years. He had mostly processed the reality of his rebirth, but everything became dreamlike again the moment he heard Duan Xingheng’s voice.

“Sleeping.” After a long pause, Jiang Yue snapped back to reality.

“Sleeping? It’s only seven o’clock.”

Jiang Yue wasn’t sure if it was his imagination, but he felt Duan Xingheng’s voice sounded a bit hoarse, as if he had just been drinking, which was a far cry from the man who remained calm and self-controlled even on the podium.

But Duan Xingheng didn’t have a habit of drinking. The younger Duan Xingheng was rebellious and arrogant; in this hyper-commercialized racing environment, he had once bluntly refused a glass offered by a sponsor, a move that left everyone present agape. Because it was so unbelievable, that story had once been a favorite topic for the media.

Yet now, Duan Xingheng’s tone sounded slightly tipsy as he let out a soft chuckle. The sound seemed to penetrate the screen, a gentle breath brushing against Jiang Yue’s ear, leaving a tingling, strange sensation.

“The race is over. Haven’t you adjusted to the jet lag yet?”

Without waiting for Jiang Yue’s answer, he continued:

“I’m not far from your hotel. Should I come over now?”

When communicating with Jiang Yue, Duan Xingheng habitually spoke Chinese, a practice that started back when Jiang Yue hadn’t yet mastered spoken English. It was a habit they had formed since childhood. Duan Xingheng’s Chinese was quite authentic, even carrying a slight Northern accent because he spent his childhood with his grandmother, a Beijing native. As a Southerner, Jiang Yue found it easy to be influenced by his rhotic “er” sounds and his habit of using the formal “you” whenever they spent too much time together.

He said he was coming over now. Not that he wanted to come or asking if he could. He was always like this. As for whether he would later be scolded by the team principal for failing to take security measures, he never seemed to care.

Listening to that long-lost voice, Jiang Yue felt a surge of mixed emotions. He realized then just how much he missed Duan Xingheng. The emotions he had suppressed by constantly numbing himself were now like a collapsing dam, surging through his chest. This manifested physically as a heavy nasal tone when he spoke, and fearing Duan Xingheng would notice, he hesitated to reply.

Receiving no answer, Duan Xingheng paused on the other end. When he spoke again, his tone was unexpectedly cautious:

“Are you still angry with me?”

“What?” As soon as Jiang Yue spoke, he realized his voice was too thick with emotion. He quickly cleared his throat. “What?”

“I won’t mention her in front of you again. I know you’re unhappy, it’s my fault. Don’t be angry anymore.”

Duan Xingheng coaxed him like a child, a side of him he would never show the public, but a tone Jiang Yue knew well. Since Duan Xingheng was five years older, he had always played the role of an older brother before their falling out.

But angry about what?

Jiang Yue thought for a long time before he finally remembered.

“I’m not angry. Come on over, I’ll wait for you in the hotel lobby,” he replied quickly to keep Duan Xingheng from overthinking.

After hanging up, Jiang Yue threw on a hoodie and went downstairs.

He grabbed a carton of milk from a vending machine and sat on a sofa in the hotel lobby, his mind drifting to what Duan Xingheng had just mentioned.

Jiang Yue earned his Super License at nineteen. With a relatively bright performance in lower-formula series, he squeezed into the then-bottom-tier Lightning Team. That was his first year securing an F1 seat.

He stayed with the Lightning Team for three years. It was during that third year that a girl claiming to be a die-hard fan crashed into his life.

She was a Chinese girl named Qin Yun, talkative and bright, wearing a baseball cap with his car number. She followed him all over the world, spending a fortune on Paddock passes and various Jiang Yue merchandise just to get his signature and a photo.

Even though Jiang Yue was bad with faces, he eventually recognized her. He never had private contact with fans, let alone exchanged contact info, but the girl was persistent. Jiang Yue was always friendlier toward fans from his home country, so when he bumped into her at a karting club near his home, he agreed to her request to exchange contact details.

Qin Yun seemed to know Jiang Yue’s preferences inside out and knew when to push and when to back off. By worldly standards, she was a graduate of a prestigious university, came from a wealthy family, was beautiful, and acted with grace; she was definitely a high-quality partner.

However, shortly after they exchanged contact info, the media broke the news of a rumored private date between Duan Xingheng and the Dutch female star driver, Lena. At the time, Jiang Yue was young and aggressive, constantly comparing himself to Duan Xingheng. Under Qin Yun’s relentless pursuit, he finally agreed to date her.

The life of an F1 driver is filled with intercontinental travel, and being a driver’s girlfriend is no easy task. Qin Yun won Jiang Yue over but grew tired of the travel and was eventually unsatisfied with a relationship defined by long separations. Furthermore, Jiang Yue had a blunt personality and lacked romantic sensibility, which shattered her romanticized image of him. They dated for a few months, but only went on three dates. Noticing Qin Yun’s growing coldness, Jiang Yue took the initiative to break up.

What Jiang Yue didn’t know was that Qin Yun had another identity; she was a million-follower influencer on a short-video platform. His actions were later twisted into “cold violence” and “cheating.” He was dragged into the mud by these baseless accusations, facing nationwide condemnation within two days, which even affected his career. After learning the truth, his manager had to organize a press conference to temporarily quiet the public outcry.

At the time, the team was facing technical innovations and didn’t have the energy to help Jiang Yue completely clear the rumors. Later, Qin Yun posted a diagnosis of depression online, and the matter eventually fizzled out.

It was impossible to say he wasn’t affected, but what frustrated Jiang Yue most was that Duan Xingheng had warned him from the start not to get too involved with Qin Yun. But every time Duan Xingheng advised him, Jiang Yue would think of Lena and stubbornly refuse to listen. The more he interacted with Qin Yun, the more irritable Duan Xingheng became, and the two often parted on bad terms.

Later, Duan Xingheng and Lena quickly issued a statement saying they were just friends and colleagues. The so-called private date was actually Duan Xingheng giving Lena driving advice out of alumni friendship, and Lena’s real partner was someone else. After this, several big influencers posted clarification videos exposing Qin Yun’s lies, which was also Duan Xingheng’s doing. This series of events made Jiang Yue feel like the world’s biggest idiot.

From then on, Qin Yun became the most embarrassing part of Jiang Yue’s history, a trigger point that anyone could touch, except Duan Xingheng. If he did, Jiang Yue would explode.

But to the reborn Jiang Yue, this was all just ancient history, even embarrassing history. He naturally wouldn’t hold a grudge against Duan Xingheng over it.

Jiang Yue was looking down, biting his straw and thinking, when he didn’t notice a tall figure dressed in all black enter through the hotel’s revolving door and walk straight up to him.

A dry, warm palm pressed lightly on the top of his head. He looked up, and Duan Xingheng’s handsome mixed-race face appeared before his eyes.

At this time, Duan Xingheng was only twenty-eight.

Jiang Yue gazed into those familiar, smiling gray-blue eyes. It took him a long moment to realize he had accidentally crushed the milk carton in his hand. Fortunately, he had already finished the milk, so his clothes were spared.

The face of the thirty-one-year-old Duan Xingheng from his previous life flashed through his mind.

In that life, if he hadn’t heard it from the team, Jiang Yue wouldn’t have known that Duan Xingheng had watched several of his races after retiring, though he only bought grandstand tickets. He didn’t believe Duan Xingheng was so broke he couldn’t afford a Paddock pass. Besides, even if he had fallen from grace, he could have entered the Paddock as a retired driver. He didn’t believe the man had received invitations.

He knew Duan Xingheng was just like him, they were both running away.

The entanglement between them could easily be faded by time from a bystander’s perspective, but both he and Duan Xingheng were trapped in a cycle they couldn’t escape.

The last time Jiang Yue saw Duan Xingheng in his previous life, the man had long since lost the high spirits of his youth.

He was wearing a cap from the Mettler team, which Jiang Yue was driving for at the time. With so many Mettler fans, who could have recognized him? Yet Jiang Yue managed to pick him out of the crowd at a single glance.

Back then, Duan Xingheng looked like he wasn’t doing well. He was just recovering from a serious injury, his face pale and haggard, no longer the man in Jiang Yue’s memory.

At this thought, Jiang Yue stood up instinctively and hugged the tall man in front of him tightly.

This hug didn’t have any other meaning, it was as if he were simply embracing a long-lost dear friend.

But Jiang Yue knew he was trying to reach across time and space to embrace that lonely-looking Duan Xingheng.

“What’s wrong?”

Duan Xingheng’s voice sounded in his ear.

Indeed, Jiang Yue hadn’t misheard, he had been drinking. Jiang Yue smelled a very faint scent of alcohol on him. Even though he had sprayed a bit of men’s cologne, with a slightly bitter, woody base note, it still didn’t escape his nose.

Then, Jiang Yue felt the man in front of him reach out to hug him back.

Duan Xingheng had trained for years under the supervision of a physical trainer, and every inch of muscle helpful for driving was perfectly toned. Those muscles were well-defined, but in a relaxed state, they were very supple, making his embrace not hard at all, but rather very warm.

Jiang Yue took a deep breath to keep himself from crying embarrassingly.

He released his arms and then patted Duan Xingheng’s shoulder as if nothing were out of the ordinary:

“Did you need something?”

Duan Xingheng didn’t answer at first. He reached out and touched the corner of Jiang Yue’s forehead, causing a slight sting:

“It’s bruised here.”

“I’m bruised everywhere, there’s hardly any good skin left.” Jiang Yue tossed the milk carton into a nearby trash can. “Did you come specifically to check on me?”

Minor injuries were commonplace for drivers, and they didn’t care about them. But the accident in today’s race did look serious. Even Jiang Yue thought it was shocking when he watched the recording later. Fortunately, cars now have the HALO system; although he took some hits, there was no major damage.

At least compared to the fatal accident he experienced at the end of his last life, this was nothing.

“Where else?”

Duan Xingheng gripped Jiang Yue’s chin to examine his face closely, then bent down as if to lift Jiang Yue’s pant leg. Jiang Yue shifted to the side and took off.

The two of them went out through the hotel’s side door one after the other. It was late, and no one noticed them. Jiang Yue pointed to a small woods nearby.

“There’s a park over there, want to go for a stroll?”

Support Soaring Past the Constant Star [Rebirth]