JUNJIE
The smell of oil, rubber, and grease greeted me as stepped into the secret garage beneath my office building, calming the chaos in my mind caused by recent events.
I pulled back the cover of the only car present in the garage, revealing the incomplete Formula 1 car—the one thing that had consumed precious years of my life. Eight years to be exact. I let my hand slide across the cold, smooth metal, feeling the weight of every decision that had led me to this moment.
This car wasn't just a dream; it was my escape, my redemption. When this beauty finally hit the track, everyone—my family, my business associates, hell, the whole world—would know that Feng Junjie was more than a rich kid riding on a trust fund.
This was my way of showing them all I didn't just inherit success—I built it with my own hands. Every bolt, every curve, every stroke of genius in aerodynamics was mine.
