Chapter Twenty-Six: The Racing Driver on Foot

“It seems he walked here…” the hostess replied in a low voice.

The tall, thin man’s expression turned icy. He waved the girl back to her post, didn’t even glance at Mo Shu, and simply cleared his throat.

“Xiao Guo, come here!” the tall man shouted in another direction.

“Manager Liu, you called me?” A boy who looked like a university student hurried over.

“Yes, yes, you take this guest and show him the cars next door.” Manager Liu’s impatience with the boy was obvious.

Still, he forced a strained smile and said to Mo Shu, “Sir, I strongly recommend another brand under our company. How shall I say… that brand is somewhat more approachable. Xiao Guo will assist you with recommendations.”

“But… but that customer over there is already…” Xiao Guo pointed hesitantly at another guest not far away.

“What ‘but’!” The tall man finally dropped his pretense of civility, shot Xiao Guo a vicious glare, then instantly recovered his fawning smile and walked toward Xiao Guo’s original customer.

“Boss Zheng, you came and didn’t even let me know. I would have greeted you personally…”

His nauseating flattery faded into the distance, pushing Mo Shu’s irritation to the limit. He felt as if he were watching a biting satire unfold before his eyes.

He understood social realities, but to see them laid so bare, so unashamedly, was truly contemptible.

“Sir, please don’t mind him. Our manager just has that temperament…”

Mo Shu glanced at timid Xiao Guo, and his anger subsided considerably. Pointing at the SUV, he smiled, “No problem. I’ll take this one—the top configuration. Start the paperwork, I’m in a hurry.”

Xiao Guo was a bit surprised. “Certainly, sir. Please have a seat here and wait a moment; I’ll bring you a glass of water…”

Mo Shu nodded, walked to the lounge area, and took out his phone, intending to send Wang Yining a message to arrange dinner.

Unexpectedly, the tall man shamelessly sidled over again, rubbing his hands and explaining to Mo Shu, “Sir, the top-spec model you wish to order—there’s only one left in stock. Another customer is also interested, so…”

“Oh? I believe I placed my order first, didn’t I?” This time, Mo Shu didn’t even bother to look up.

“Yes… yes, but…”

“But what? First come, first served. You should explain that to the other customer.” Mo Shu understood—Manager Liu wasn’t simply looking out for the other guest’s interests; his own sales commission mattered most.

Politeness was fake, civility was fake. Mo Shu had no desire to engage with such hypocrisy.

Manager Liu stood awkwardly before Mo Shu for a full ten seconds, then his expression flickered. “Sir, the other customer interested in your car—Boss Zheng—is said to be a powerful figure around here, the head of a local syndicate. He’s not someone you want to cross…”

Mo Shu, hearing this, glanced sideways at the other guest some distance away. Indeed, the man had an air of gangster bravado—dragons and phoenixes tattooed on his arms, a heavy gold chain around his neck, a broad, fleshy face, and a luxury watch on his wrist.

Still, compared to his Uncle Zhang, the aura was lacking by a notch.

“A syndicate boss can still respect the rule of first come, first served, don’t you think?” Mo Shu was now truly engaged—he was eager to present the gift to his parents and wouldn’t let such a petty opportunist ruin it.

Perhaps his tone was a bit agitated, and his voice carried farther this time. Boss Zheng, not far away, sensed the tension and fixed Mo Shu with a steely gaze. Suddenly, he threw back his head and drained his paper cup, then crushed it with a loud snap and stood up abruptly, striding over.

Mo Shu remained unflustered, but quietly scrolled through his contacts for Zhang Aimin’s number.

Manager Liu, pale as a ghost, glanced nervously from Boss Zheng to Mo Shu, swallowed hard, and threw Mo Shu a look full of resentment before hastily plastering on his awkward smile and rushing forward.

“Boss Zheng, please don’t take offense…”

Before Manager Liu could finish, Boss Zheng brushed him aside and strode directly toward Mo Shu, eyes locked and unblinking.

Xiao Guo had returned, and other employees gathered around—evidently many knew of Boss Zheng’s reputation. They watched, but dared not intervene.

“You!” Boss Zheng pointed at Mo Shu with a loud bark. Not only did the staff shudder, but even the flesh on Boss Zheng’s face trembled.

“You, you, you!” He stammered. Was he always like this? Manager Liu was baffled.

“You, you, you, you!” Mo Shu was at a loss—was this guy here for comic relief?

“Are you Mo Shu?!”

Finally, a coherent sentence. Boss Zheng’s flushed face began to fade to normal.

And Manager Liu’s face faded to a ghastly white.

Was this the prodigy recently all over the internet—the one who “instantly defeated” two GTCC champions, hailed as the “invincible, miraculous, razor-sharp, peerless, unrivaled, who can stand against me, handsome young racing genius,” Mo Shu?!!!

“Wow! It’s him in person!” The staff erupted into lively discussion. Boss Zheng circled Mo Shu nervously twice.

“Brother, I’m a huge fan!” After confirming, Boss Zheng gripped Mo Shu’s hand and shook it vigorously.

“You drive so superbly!” Boss Zheng couldn’t help but begin to worship him.

“Mo God! Sign an autograph for me!” The female staff instantly turned into starstruck fans, surrounding him with notebooks in hand.

Only Manager Liu stood off to the side, looking worse than death, his drooping arms jostled by colleagues seeking autographs.

“Walking here… a race car driver walking, what sense does that make?” Manager Liu was full of regret.

“Mo Shu—no, Mo God!” Boss Zheng corrected himself. “There’s only one car left, right? I won’t compete with you for it!”

Manager Liu, hearing this, was utterly crushed.

He’d offended the person, lost the sale, and proved himself blind to greatness—his shortsightedness on full display.

“All right, all right, thank you, everyone. I must get home to deliver my new gift to my parents!” Mo Shu sensed that if he didn’t leave soon, signing autographs and taking photos would only be the beginning.

Xiao Guo hurried forward, holding out the sales documents. “Mo God, with the purchase tax, the total comes to 1,073,000 yuan. We’ll give you a 3,000 discount, so just 1,070,000!”

Mo Shu handed over his card, uncertain if Accountant Qian had exchanged his currency, so he added, “The card might be in US dollars—can you process it?”

“Yes, Mo God, our corporate account can exchange at the current rate,” Xiao Guo replied with a smile.

“Dollars!”

“Wow, race drivers really are international—only dollars in the card.”

“Apparently, they earn tens of millions of dollars a year.”

Even that offhand remark sparked a lively debate among the onlookers, and Mo Shu finally understood the origin of the term “rabid fans.”

Nevertheless, he thanked everyone present with utmost courtesy—having devoted fans was indeed a wonderful thing.

“Xiao Guo, wait for me outside with the car. I’ll trouble you to drive the new car along for delivery, thanks.” Mo Shu bid farewell to everyone, making arrangements with Xiao Guo.

A few minutes later, a white RT500 appeared at the dealership entrance.

But compared to Manager Liu’s ashen face at that moment, the RT500’s pure white was just a shade less pale.