IHSAGW Chapter 12

An arm injury of this degree, one that would be permanent—basically meant he would have no more ties with racing in the future.

Before, before every race began, Huo Weiran would personally check the condition of the car. Whether it was reinforcing the suspension and shocks with tools or adjusting the tires, he was proficient in everything.
But now, even something as trivial as installing the door of a model race car left the once-professional racer at a complete loss.

What difference was there between this and the “useless cripple” people called him?

There had once been an F1 racer whose right arm was injured as well. After a year of recovery, he returned to the track purely out of love. But because his right arm could no longer exert strength properly, he could only drive the slowest car on the grid.

But Huo Weiran was used to overtaking opponents, used to standing on the highest spot of the podium.

After each race, in the eyes of the media, the always-stable Huo Weiran showed no emotional fluctuation.

But Huo Weiran knew better than anyone, once he stepped onto the track, his desire for victory burned like a wildfire, far more intense than anyone else’s.

If his injury remained like this, Huo Weiran would rather never touch a steering wheel again than run at the back just to “participate.”

Losing the halo of being a professional racer, and then being branded with the label of “disabled”, Huo Weiran knew his own proud and aloof nature. With his current situation, he would only receive pitying and regretful looks, and the same accusations and curses he heard yesterday.

All the pride and aloofness he once displayed had now become bullets fired back at him—fodder for those who took pleasure in his misfortune, jokes for those who had always disliked how he behaved.

Even so, Huo Weiran could ignore the reactions of those people.

But now, lowering his gaze, he tried his hardest not to look at the expression of the person in front of him after hearing the truth.

If Nian Le wanted to leave, Huo Weiran told himself he would completely understand.

After all, they had only been together for a few days, and he had been tricked here by his mother.

He was good-looking, among all the people from Huaguo that Huo Weiran had ever seen, he was the most comfortable to look at, like a pool of clear spring water. Just one glance could quench one’s thirst.

His personality was good too. No matter how much Huo Weiran made things difficult, he always spoke calmly and gracefully, emotionally stable and steady in his actions, as if nothing could make him lose composure.

At some point, Huo Weiran had subconsciously observed his hands like works of art. His nails were neatly trimmed, his skin had the texture of white jade, and his fingertips were lightly pink. When he picked up a chess piece, it was so beautiful it left people dazed.

As long as he wanted to, no one would dislike him. He deserved a better partner, not someone crippled like himself.

The footsteps opposite him moved heading away.

Huo Weiran slowly lowered his head, closing his eyes in silence.

Even though he had already known the answer in his heart, now that the moment truly came, his chest still felt unbearably heavy.

They had only spent such a short time together.

Huo Weiran tried to clench the one hand he could still feel, but his fingers brushed against the bandages wrapped around it.

He was the one who wrapped these bandages.

He had gripped this wrist tightly too, holding it under running water held so tightly.

He had simply made the right choice.

Not to mention others, Huo Weiran himself despised the current him.

He had clearly been hoping for him to leave before. But now that he was really about to go, Huo Weiran couldn’t suppress his thoughts, unconsciously wondering what he could do to make him stay.

Promise more benefits?

Agree to his mother’s so-called arranged marriage?

But he probably wouldn’t want to stay tangled with a cripple. It was even more impossible to bind his whole future to someone like him.

Huo Weiran kept his eyes closed, but still, he couldn’t resist the urge to see him one last time.

After struggling inside for a long moment, Huo Weiran slowly opened his eyes bit by bit and saw that figure standing by the living room table, lifting the model cars and gathering them carefully into his arms.

Huo Weiran silently watched him walk toward him.

In those light-colored eyes, it seemed as if there was light gathered within.

Nian Le placed the model cars onto the spiral track one by one. His gaze swept over the section of track that had been dented from being kicked earlier. Thinking of what the younger brother said—“permanent injury”—he suddenly understood why that fan had argued with Huo Weiran.

“No matter what others say, this wasn’t your fault,” Nian Le said softly, lowering his eyes at the models.

“I don’t know the cause of the accident, but I do know there is no racer who never has accidents. There are many things you can’t control no matter how hard you try.”

Huo Weiran turned his face slightly, not letting the person beside him see his expression.

“Actually, until yesterday, I didn’t know much about racing at all. I didn’t even understand the basic structure of a car,” Nian Le looked up and gave him a small smile.

“When did you start learning to drive?”

Huo Weiran lowered his gaze briefly. A moment later, his dark lashes lifted, and his gray eyes fixed on Nian Le.

“At three. Running simulators.”

“I don’t know what achievements you’ve made in the racing world. Maybe others see you as a talented professional racer who now might have to leave the track forever because of a permanent injury.

“But in my eyes, what I see is a boy who has just reached adulthood. His future is still long, and he has limitless possibilities.”

Standing opposite him, Nian Le’s smile was gentle and elegant, carrying a maturity beyond his age.

“This boy spent fifteen years achieving success in one field, that shows he’s very smart.

“He still has several more sets of fifteen years. Enough to achieve success in other places too, or even create miracles.” Nian Le glanced up and down at his height and build, his smile tinged with playful teasing.

“Besides, this boy has great natural conditions—tall, great physique, and very good-looking.”

Listening to those words, Huo Weiran’s gaze darted away, and for some reason, his ears grew slightly hot.

After arranging the model cars, Nian Le checked the time, then looked back at him, smile still warm.

“You’ve been hungry for so long what do you want to eat?”

Only when Nian Le mentioned it did Huo Weiran realize the emptiness in his stomach. But staring into those amber eyes, his chest felt strangely full.

He wasn’t going to leave.

He heard the truth, yet he didn’t feel disgusted or disappointed; his first words were comfort.

He was even asking what he wanted to eat.

Sitting at the dining table, despite barely eating all day, he didn’t feel hungry at all. His chest felt full, emotions swaying warmly within—sweetness he had never felt before.

After asking twice with no response, Nian Le could only follow his own ideas. Having gone hungry for two meals, he tasted as he cooked. By the time he finished preparing a standard spread of four dishes and one soup, he was already half-full from sampling.

Dish after dish was placed on the table. Huo Weiran quickly stood up to fetch utensils and set them in front of Nian Le.

The meal was eaten quietly. For some reason, Nian Le kept feeling as though the person across from him was watching him. When he lifted his head, he only saw the younger man bowed over his bowl, picking up each grain of rice one by one.

“Does the food not suit your taste today?”
Nian Le sampled a piece of pan-fried fish. Both sides were golden, the surface crisp and the inside tender, perfectly normal.

“No,” Huo Weiran replied. Meeting those gentle eyes in front of him, he instinctively lowered his gaze.
“I just thought… cooking so much every time, won’t it affect your usual training schedule?”

Nian Le’s chopsticks paused, then the corners of his lips curved slightly.

“Then from now on… should I make one less dish?”

“Two dishes are enough,” Huo Weiran said, glancing at the spread of four dishes and one soup. After a moment of hesitation, he added, “One is fine too.”

The sudden lowering of the “conditions” told Nian Le that his repairs to the boy’s emotional structure were going rather well.

But depriving a patient of proper meals, Nian Le’s conscience wouldn’t allow it.

“Three dishes,” he decided. “Balanced nutrition.”
He picked up the serving chopsticks and placed a piece of fish in Huo Weiran’s bowl. “Eat more.”

Huo Weiran’s chopsticks paused. He looked at the fish before slowly picking it up and tasting it carefully.

The household chef used to make this dish too, usually with orange or tomato sauce. But the fish in front of him without any sauce at all tasted especially good.

“To be honest, I’m a bit surprised you even remembered my name.”

A smile touched Nian Le’s lips. “I thought you didn’t hear a word I said before.”

At their first meeting, before he even finished his sentence, Huo Weiran had looked cold and full of resistance, lifting his hand to shut the door. If Nian Le hadn’t predicted his reaction, he probably would’ve had the door slammed in his face.

Thinking about how he behaved when Nian Le first arrived, Huo Weiran lowered his head, burying himself in his food to hide his awkward expression.

In fact, he remembered everything very clearly.

Day after day, he sunk himself into darkness, unaware of time passing, uncaring of the world around him. After his mother and Huo Huohuo left, he numbly left his room to get water—only realizing afterward that he had almost stepped on the housekeeper’s hand while she scrubbed the floor.

The cleaning cloth was still under his foot. The housekeeper’s eyes were red, and from others he saw unmistakable shock and disgust.

No one wanted to deal with a troublesome patient. They all left, and the world became painfully quiet.

His sluggish brain slowly churned. Only then did he belatedly think to ask why the housekeeper was cleaning right in his path and why no one said even a single word of warning.

The dark room felt like it could swallow his thoughts. His mind sank deeper, dragged into a gray fog—until the doorbell began ringing again and again.

Nian Le finished the food in his bowl and was just about to stand when he suddenly heard a question from across the table.

“What should… I call you?”

Nian Le paused mid-movement, then sat back down and looked at the younger man.

Huo Weiran was tall, with broad shoulders. Sitting on chairs of the same height, his presence practically overshadowed Nian Le completely.

Nian Le looked at his refined features, those with a hint of exotic charm and saw an unusual seriousness in his eyes.

He had asked this same question before, and at that time, Huo Weiran hadn’t said a word, eyes full of coldness and wariness. Now he was asking back, as if making up for that rude dismissal.

Meeting his gaze, Huo Weiran forced down the pounding in his chest. With this youth’s calm and gentle personality, he probably wouldn’t make him say anything too intimate.

But actually, when it was just the two of them in the room, being a little improper… didn’t seem like it would matter.

Huo Weiran stared fixedly at him, watching as the young man leaned back slightly, the back of his fingers brushing his jaw a few times—an effortless, natural gesture, as though he held complete control over the space between them.

“How do you usually address Huo Huohuo?”

Huo Weiran’s eyes followed his every movement, his mind racing through the question.

How did he usually address Huo Huohuo—that half-brother?

“I call him ‘hey,’ ‘you,’ or ‘bro.’”
Huo Weiran listed every answer he could think of, expression serious.

Why ask about him?

Thinking of Xiang Lang’s absurd assumption earlier, Huo Weiran suppressed a strange irritation in his heart. His gaze never left Nian Le, and he saw the small smile appearing at the corners of his lips.

“I’m around the same age as Huo Huohuo, just a few years older than you.
You can call me gege (big brother).”