Chapter 137: Good News

"Kid, that 'gutter run' drift of yours was absolutely brilliant," Mo Shanhe praised his son at a hotpot restaurant in Nanshan City.

"Hehe, caught them off guard, didn't I? But I’d really love to learn that 'vector drift' of yours," Mo Shu replied, his mouth full of lamb as he spoke indistinctly.

"Well? Did you get a taste of the thrill of downhill drifting?" Mo Shanhe raised his eyebrows, looking quite proud of himself.

"Yeah, it was pretty fun..."

Before Mo Shu could finish, his phone rang. The caller ID showed the name Xiao Yao.

He answered the phone and was immediately met with a barrage of chatter from Xiao Yao. Mo Shu couldn't even get a complete sentence in, only responding with constant "yeps" and "uh-huhs."

Soon, Xiao Yao hung up. Mo Shu wore a beaming expression, as if something wonderful had happened.

"Haha, two pieces of good news: first, my market value is likely going up, and second, the promotional results for our downhill race are incredibly amazing!" Mo Shu tried his best to keep his excitement in check.

"That’s fantastic! Tell us all about it!" the other three exclaimed in near-unison.

It turned out that the episode Mo Shu had recorded had just aired. His impressive performance had instantly earned him countless fans.

By the time the program reached its climax, Xiao Lian, who had been glued to the show's official Weibo account all night, was stunned to see an explosion of praise for Mo Shu from netizens.

Beyond the existing fans of Mo Shu and the "Deity" racing team, a new fan group—the "Miss Lin" supporters—had emerged, cheering for Mo Shu’s resilient spirit. People were flocking to comment, asking how such a talented, virtuous, and handsome sports star had remained unknown until now.

In this age of self-media, the power of netizens is beyond simple description. With enough numbers, they can destroy a celebrity in minutes or catapult an obscure commoner to stardom just as quickly. Looking back at when Mo Shu first started out, if not for the loyal support of the "Disciples of the Deity" fan group, his confidence would likely have been crushed by public opinion long ago. Now, for once, the "Disciples of the Deity" didn't have to bicker with critics; they were simply cheering for their idol.

The second piece of good news was that the entire promotional plan for the Cloud Peak Downhill Race had been finalized. This success was owed to Wang Yu and the Nanshan Television director, Xiao Yao. Despite the tight schedule, through their coordination and a massive, relentless bombardment of promotional channels, news of the Cloud Peak Downhill Race had become a phenomenal hit online. It wasn't just the Chinese racing scene—the entire international community was expressing congratulations and interest in the upcoming event.

Because Wang Yu hadn't yet opened the registration links or contact channels, all the inquiries and emails flooded Xiao Yao’s work inbox. As trendy as this television director might seem, he was middle-aged and somewhat inept with digital products; he couldn't even find the notification settings on his phone. As a result, the deluge of email notifications nearly blew up his device. From the afternoon onward, his phone hadn't stopped buzzing, and he finally had to ask a young girl from his office to help him disable the app's push notifications.

Only after things finally calmed down did Xiao Yao remember to call Mo Shu to tell him about the incredible events of the day.

After hearing the details, Wang Yu’s face filled with uncontrollable ecstasy. He slammed the table and rushed off to make calls; he needed to mobilize every department in the company to start work on the Cloud Peak Downhill Race immediately. He knew that popularity could be fleeting—opportunities like this couldn't be missed.

Watching the adrenaline-fueled Wang Yu and Mo Shu, Mo Shanhe was overjoyed. However, being of the old school, he didn't forget to admonish his son: "A pig fears being fat just as a man fears fame. Don’t get carried away by this minor success. The most important thing is to run the event well while refining your own driving skills. Aim to be a public figure who is both respected and virtuous."

Mo Shu hurriedly agreed, "Yes, yes, I will, I promise."

Mo Shanhe added, "Also, don't forget to urge the public to remember that racing is racing and daily driving is daily driving. You must make it clear that traffic rules must be followed in the city. Post more road safety slogans on your Weibo."

Mo Shu felt like he was going to crack; his father was always so preachy. "No problem, Dad, I’ve taken it to heart. If you don't believe me, I'll recite them for you: 'The road connects you and me, safety binds a thousand families. Drive without a seatbelt, and the grim reaper awaits.' How’s that? Are those enough? You’re always lecturing me with these, aren't you?"

Mo Shanhe smacked his lips, skeptical. "Am I really that old-fashioned? I don't feel like I am."

"You absolutely are. Why else would I remember them so clearly? When I go out driving, how could I possibly have time to read every single billboard?" Mo Shu seized the chance to complain.

"Oh, well, I suppose the son is lecturing the father now," Mo Shanhe shook his head, as if talking to himself.

Tang Xiuxian, perhaps bored, suddenly raised his glass and shouted, "Today calls for celebration! Let’s toast to this!"

Mo Shanhe immediately returned to his stern expression and lectured, "See? You didn't mention anything about drunk driving in those slogans, and now you're all excited, aren't you?"

Tang Xiuxian hiccuped and retorted with feigned annoyance, "Pfft! It’s not like I’m the one driving. If you don't want to drink, don't. I'll just drink alone."

Through the laughter and conversation, the night grew deep. Mo Shu dropped everyone off one by one before driving his father home. At the end of the meal, Mo Shanhe hadn't been able to resist a little alcohol, and he was now drifting in a hazy, tipsy state in the passenger seat.

"Son, your old man is proud of you! You’re much better than I ever was!" Mo Shanhe shouted with pride.

Mo Shu looked over at his father, his heart filled with complex emotions. Even though his father had been away from the track for decades, his heart was clearly still there. At the very least, things were looking up now; Mo Shu had managed to carry on his father’s legacy. But his father’s own racing dreams had been stifled by his era, and he was likely feeling a bittersweet mix of emotions right now.

Terrified of saying the wrong thing and hurting his father, Mo Shu pondered for a long time before saying, "Dad, if you don't mind, how about you become my personal racing engineer from now on?"

The bleary-eyed Mo Shanhe suddenly opened his eyes wide, looking at Mo Shu, his wrinkled eyelids shimmering slightly. The gray-haired man remained silent for a long time. Finally, he reached out a hand and gently ruffled his son's hair.