Chapter Twelve: The Super Mass Production Division

"Mo Shu! Big news!" Wang Yu banged loudly on Mo Shu's door.

It was already late morning, and as usual, Mo Shu was still half-asleep. Ever since joining the Star Racing Team, he had practically moved in with them—for the convenience of training, and, more importantly, so he could sleep in. Back home, his mother would have already yanked off his covers and flung open the curtains by now, sparing no effort to drag him out of bed.

Mo Shu sometimes hated his own habit of sleeping late, but staying in bed was just too comfortable. No matter how earth-shattering the news, nothing felt heavier than his eyelids. He turned over, buried his head under the pillow, and cocooned himself tightly in his blanket.

"Mo Shu! Open up! Our team has just been promoted directly to the Super Production Class!"

"Super what? Production… what?" Mo Shu was still deep in the haze of sleep.

“Ding!!!!!!”

“Oh, come on!”

A thunderous system notification blared in Mo Shu’s mind, jolting him fully awake. He leapt up, sitting at the edge of his bed.

"Congratulations, Host, you have completed your mission.
New mission: Have a girl confess to you with the words 'I like you.'
Completing this mission will earn you a new skill: Enhanced Modification Parts.
Host level is now upgraded to Level 5."

Mo Shu grumbled, utterly dispirited. "System, don’t you ever need to sleep?"

"No..."

"Oh, great..."

Realizing he wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep, especially with Wang Yu still knocking outside, Mo Shu started getting dressed while going over the new mission in his mind.

"By the way, System, why the change in style? What's with this 'I like you'?"

"No reason. I am a highly intelligent organism, superior to ordinary life forms, so I have my quirks."

"But this mission seems really tough. Can I ask some female friends for help?"

"If the host discloses any information about this system to others, I will initiate self-destruct mode, and you will be obliterated as well," the system replied, its tone growing colder.

"Oh… I won’t. I absolutely won’t," Mo Shu replied, nodding as if utterly cowed.

"System, any other hints?"

"None..."

Once sure the system had gone dormant again, Mo Shu finally opened the door to let Wang Yu in.

Wang Yu was almost incoherent with excitement, "Super Production Class! We've been promoted! Do you have any idea what that means—Super Production Class!"

But Mo Shu’s mind was preoccupied with how to find a girl and complete his mission. After some thought, he realized there were only three women in his life: his mother, Wang Yining, and Wang Qing.

His mother was out of the question—a mother’s love, not 'like.' Wang Qing seemed the most promising, but Mo Shu couldn’t bear to ruin their sibling-like bond. As for Wang Yining, that would be a real challenge—they’d only just met, though, truth be told, he was dying to hear her say those words.

"Goddess, what if she really likes me... Oh, what a dream..." Mo Shu was already daydreaming.

"Why are you drooling?" Wang Yu, handing him a tissue, eyed Mo Shu anxiously, who was holding a bar of soap and drooling halfway through washing his face.

"Look, it's already half past twelve. At two-thirty, the team will hold a press conference at the Nanshan International Hotel to announce our official entry into the GTCC Super Production Class. The media will be out in force. Get yourself ready, put on something decent. I have to take care of some other things!" With that, Wang Yu dashed downstairs.

After freshening up, Mo Shu sat back on his bed, mind filled with thoughts of Wang Yining.

By two o’clock, the central conference room at the Nanshan International Hotel was packed with nearly every media outlet in the city. Rows upon rows of cameras and recorders lined the hall.

Mo Shu hid backstage, sneaking glances at the crowd. This was his first time facing such a spectacle; he had always been the one snapping photos from below, never imagining he’d be in the spotlight so soon.

The press conference began promptly. Seated on stage, from left to right, were Wang Yu, Zhang Aimin, Director Zheng from the China Motor Association, Wang Yining, and Mo Shu himself.

Wang Yu briefly introduced the team’s current status, then announced the official driver roster and the team's future vision, before opening the floor for questions.

Most reporters stuck to formulaic questions, and the atmosphere felt stifled and dull.

Finally, a rather attractive young woman stood up and asked, "Mr. Mo Shu, first, let me say I am a loyal fan. But my question is: How do you respond to rumors that you only became the team's lead driver by currying favor with the national association, replacing Wang Yining?"

"And which outlet are you from?" Wang Yu asked, displeased.

Mo Shu waved him off lazily and asked, "Did you just say you’re my fan?"

"Yes… I watched your selection race live."

"Oh… Well… do you like me?" At that moment, Mo Shu felt like a scoundrel flirting with a decent woman.

The entire room erupted. Every camera swung toward Mo Shu; flashes burst non-stop, nearly blinding the five people on stage.

The young reporter, mortified, quickly sat down, her face flushed to the ears.

"Alright, that's enough for questions," Wang Yu quickly announced, sweat beading on his forehead as he moved them to the next segment.

After much effort, Wang Yu managed to calm the excitable reporters, only for a group of uninvited guests to arrive.

"Come on, cameras, point this way! We protest! Star Racing Team should not be allowed direct entry into the Super Production Class. It’s unfair to the rest of us! We demand an explanation from the China Motor Association!"

The protestors were five team managers from the GTCC Super Production Class. In the second row behind them stood a middle-aged man with a dangerous smirk, hiding at the very back.

Mo Shu immediately recognized him as Zhao Kunlun, the ruthless businessman who had tried to forcibly recruit him during the desert race.

Clearly, these managers had been prompted by Zhao Kunlun—either paid off or simply lacking sense.

Now it was Director Zheng’s turn to start sweating. He dabbed at his forehead, shooting anxious glances at Wang Yu, begging him to restore order.

"Everyone, quiet!" Zhang Aimin’s thunderous voice finally stilled the commotion.

"Our promotion to the GTCC Super Production Class was the result of careful deliberation by the China Motor Association, who believe our team has demonstrated absolute excellence beyond the Elite Production Class. If anyone doubts our qualifications, let’s settle it on the track!"

Zhang Aimin’s resolute words brought the room to order.

"Don’t give us that! There must have been some backdoor dealings!" Unable to win by reason, the protestors resorted to shameless accusations.

"Scandal! Scandal!" The bought-off troublemakers played their parts well.

But Zhang Aimin was no stranger to such tactics. "If you’re dissatisfied, name your teams now. If, in the next official race, Star Racing Team doesn’t beat you, we will voluntarily withdraw from the GTCC. Otherwise, you withdraw! How about that?"

At this, the hecklers exchanged uncomfortable glances. They’d come for easy money, not to risk their own positions.

Wang Yu seized the opportunity. "That concludes today’s press conference. Thank you all for coming."