Chapter 56: The Real and Fake Young Master
Two years later, United States.
Texas, Austin.
F1 racing fans from all over the U.S. had gathered here. The venue, capable of holding ten thousand spectators, was buzzing with excitement as everyone watched the thrilling U.S. Grand Prix.
The race had reached its intense final stages, and the announcer’s voice echoed passionately over the track.
“Last lap! Lewis tries to brake late at Turn 12, but Zhao Ci! Zhao Ci cut him off early!”
“A very clever prediction! He perfectly defended his first position. The two are now only 1.2 seconds apart!”
“0.08! 0.07! Can this face from the East defeat Lewis, become this year’s dark horse, and win the championship?!”
On the roughly five-kilometer track, Zhao Ci sat steadily in his car, eyes sharp, fixed on the finish line ahead. He seemed determined to claim the championship.
As the youngest Eastern driver in F1, Zhao Ci was very famous in the global Chinese racing community.
His youthful, handsome appearance, immense talent, and prodigious skills had made him a sensation, with fans all over the world.
Today was his championship race, and many Chinese fans had traveled across the ocean to support him.
In the stands, fans had painted his name on their faces and all wore Zhao Ci’s signature red cap.
“Ahhhhh so handsome, hubby!!! Just seeing his face makes all the thousands I spent on the flight worth it!”
“Oh my god, he must win! Thinking about how Zhao Ci missed last year’s championship due to that accident two years ago still breaks my heart!”
“Same here!”
“As long as he’s okay. I thought he might have PTSD, but he recovered quickly and got back to racing. That’s him for you!”
“Look at him today,” a fan suddenly said from the stands. “Zhao Ge’s driving style is so flashy. Didn’t you notice he’s showing more fancy moves than in previous races? If you didn’t know, you’d think he’s showing off like a peacock!”
“How do you know he’s not a peacock?” an older fan replied. “You must be a new fan. You didn’t hear the rumor before the tickets went on sale. Zhao Ge’s fiancé is here watching the race.”
“What? Zhao Ge has a fiancé?!”
“It was already announced on Instagram! The third young master of Hong Kong Yinghua. Are you living under a rock? Everyone knows about the marriage between the Shen and Zhao families!”
“Whoa,” the new fan said, shocked. “But didn’t Zhao Ge say publicly he would never date or marry and would devote himself entirely to racing? How come now he’s suddenly ready to marry?”
“Maybe the fiancé’s charm is just too overwhelming.”
“Now that you mention it, I’m curious what Zhao Ge’s fiancé looks like.”
The discussion continued, growing louder, reaching the VIP front rows.
Someone noticed and nudged a friend: “Hey, look at the third guy in the front row of the VIP section!”
“What?!”
“So handsome!!!”
“You can tell just from the back of his head?”
“You don’t understand. Some beauties are obvious from behind. I just saw his profile when he turned—so beautiful I couldn’t breathe!”
…
The chatter reached Shen Shuyi’s ears, fragmentary yet constant.
It was impossible for him not to hear it.
Yes, the VIP in the front row being discussed was none other than Shen Shuyi, spending his second Christmas in America.
Unconsciously, two years had passed.
Shen Shuyi, who had grown up in North America, had no trouble readjusting to life in the U.S.
Only the memories of the six months in Hong Kong sometimes felt dreamlike and unreal.
Two years ago, when Shen Shuyi landed in the U.S., the first thing he did was see his real fiancé.
At Cedars-Sinai Medical Center in Los Angeles, Shen Shuyi finally met Zhao Ci.
At that time, Zhao Ci was still unconscious, lying on the hospital bed with a face so unfamiliar that Shen Shuyi felt surreal.
According to Zhao Ci’s caretaker, he had been injured in a private race in Los Angeles. His car had flipped over the barrier, and everyone thought he would die, but fate spared him.
His reckless friends rushed him to the hospital but feared contacting the Zhao family.
After all, Zhao Ci’s status was crucial. If the Zhao family knew their eldest son had been racing illegally and nearly died, they wouldn’t let them off.
To avoid Zhao family’s questioning, they agreed not to tell them about the accident. When asked, they just said Zhao Ci needed to return to China for a few days.
Originally, this lie would have been easily exposed, but coincidentally, news came from the Beijing Zhao family—they indeed wanted Zhao Ci to return—not to Beijing, but Hong Kong—to meet his future spouse.
The timing was March, two years ago.
Shen Shuyi realized why.
That day, after his grandfather’s funeral, Shen Lu had told him the Zhao family had already arrived at Shuiwan One.
Otherwise, he wouldn’t have been so certain Zhao Yuheng was his fiancé.
It was an unbelievable coincidence, making him the ultimate victim.
Thinking of Zhao Yuheng, Shen Shuyi’s calm two years were still stirred like a soft prick.
The rest was unremarkable.
Three months after arriving in the U.S., Zhao Ci woke from his vegetative state.
In the fourth month, they met briefly and accepted the unavoidable marriage.
Shen Shuyi had no energy to resist—let it be.
However, because Zhao Ci had not fully recovered, the wedding scheduled two years ago was delayed for two years.
Once Zhao Ci finished this race, according to the agreement between the Zhao and Shen families, they would likely return to China to marry next month.
Thinking of this, Shen Shuyi instinctively touched his ring finger.
It was empty—where the wedding ring should have been.
“Final turn! Zhao Ci crosses the finish line!! Champion!! The championship belongs to Zhao Ci!!”
Shen Shuyi: …
So noisy.
Who chose such a ridiculous seat, right under the broadcast?
At the finish line, Zhao Ci slammed the brakes, jumped out of his Ferrari with flair, and raised his hand high.
Zhao Ci knew how to energize fans like a born celebrity.
Everyone around Shen Shuyi stood up, cheering for him.
But for Shen Shuyi, it was loud and chaotic.
He covered his ears expressionlessly.
Unexpectedly, Zhao Ci, hundreds of meters away, somehow spotted him, striking a pose on the podium and blowing him a kiss.
The broadcast, following Zhao Ci’s playful eyes and kiss, zoomed in on Shen Shuyi, projecting his perfect, porcelain-like Eastern features onto the largest screen.
The crowd went wild.
The commentator teased: “Haha, I hear Zhao’s fiancé is also here. Could this beauty be him?”
Beauty my foot.
Shen Shuyi wanted to flip out but remembered their staged marriage.
If he made a face now, tomorrow it would hit the headlines.
He endured.
Shen Shuyi forced a fake smile.
Even a fake smile drew the highest cheer—higher than Zhao Ci winning the championship.
After a perfunctory commercial smile, Shen Shuyi stood up.
Bodyguards escorted him away immediately.
True fiancé energy…
The remaining fangirls on the field thought so.
Shen Shuyi hadn’t gone far when Zhao Ci found him and casually hooked his arm around Shen Shuyi’s shoulder.
“No respect, fiancé. You ran off right after I blew you a kiss?”
“Who asked you to do something so embarrassing in public?” Shen Shuyi removed Zhao Ci’s hand, coldly: “Stay away from me.”
He didn’t even fake disdain.
Since agreeing to a strategic plastic fiancé arrangement, Shen Shuyi and Zhao Ci were reluctantly on speaking terms.
Aside from the arranged marriage, Zhao Ci wasn’t bad—clean personal life, no messy social circles, only eyes for his car.
According to Shen Shuyi, Zhao Ci’s Ferrari felt more like his fiancé than Zhao Ci himself.
“My aunt is coming this afternoon to your estate. Want to meet her?” Zhao Ci asked. “She wants to discuss next month’s wedding.”
“So soon?” Shen Shuyi was surprised.
“Yes. The Shen and Zhao families need this cooperation. If we don’t hurry, they will.” Zhao Ci patted his chest, joking: “Relax, darling, I’ve studied all kinds of books on marriage first, love later. I feel unstoppable—I could marry ten people and love them all afterward.”
Shen Shuyi: ?
“I’ve also read some novels, called ‘100 Ways to Kill Your Fiancé,’ especially ones who love racing. Causing an accident is very easy. Want to try?”
“Do you really need to be this targeted, darling?”
“Call me that one more time, and I’ll send you to hell.” Shen Shuyi said coldly—not acting, truly meaning it.
He kept strict distance from those he disliked.
Zhao Ci had never seen Shen Shuyi’s genuine smile in two years.
Zhao Ci: …
Black Widow, even more thrilling!
The family chose me the perfect fiancé!
I’ll make him feel touched! Warm him!
Shen Shuyi didn’t bother arguing. After two years in the U.S., he had grown more reserved.
Speaking felt exhausting.
That afternoon, Shen Shuyi returned to the estate with Zhao Ci.
Zhao Ci lived in Los Angeles; this estate was Shen Shuyi’s main residence.
Although he wanted to scold Zhao Ci, they were publicly engaged, so Shen Shuyi would still host Zhao family members.
This time, it was Zhao Ci’s aunt, Zhao Yue.
Shen Shuyi had met Zhao Ci’s parents in the past—Zhao Ci didn’t resemble them.
His mother was a stepmother; Zhao Ci’s biological mother had died shortly after giving birth.
Even so, Zhao Ci didn’t resemble his father, which was odd.
Zhao Yue’s visit clearly had a serious purpose.
Unfortunately, it coincided with Zhao Ci’s private medical checkup.
Since waking from the hospital two years ago, Zhao Ci had lingering minor health issues. The racing club arranged weekly checkups to ensure peak condition.
Shen Shuyi greeted Zhao Yue but found the living room had little for him to do. Zhao Yue looked serious, intense, ready to discuss something important.
Shen Shuyi, uninterested in Zhao family affairs, made an excuse to leave: “You talk first, I’ll go cut some fruit.”
Of course, he wouldn’t cut it himself.
No one had eaten fruit cut by Shen Shuyi yet.
He planned to supervise the maids in the kitchen.
“No need, I won’t eat,” Zhao Yue said, familiar with Shen Shuyi. “You should sit. You have the right to know about this.”
Shen Shuyi: ?
Why the heavy atmosphere? Could it be something big?
Could the Zhao family have gone bankrupt overnight? Perfect. Pack and back to Hong Kong. Let this marriage go!
Shen Shuyi speculated while Zhao Ci, oblivious, noticed the tension.
“Aunt, what’s wrong? Why so serious? What do you want to say?” Zhao Ci tried to lighten the mood, recalling a hit North American movie about a boy raised by parents, only to discover he wasn’t their biological child; the real young master was his bullied classmate.
Such tropes were common in Chinese web novels but surprisingly popular abroad.
He had invited Shen Shuyi to watch, but Shen Shuyi refused.
Joking, Zhao Ci said: “Aunt, don’t tell me I was also picked up from the trash by my parents, hahaha…”
Zhao Yue looked solemn, not smiling.
“Ha… ha…” Zhao Ci’s laughter faded, replaced by: “Aunt?”
Zhao Yue took a deep breath, holding Zhao Ci’s hand: “Xiao Ci, you must be strong after knowing the truth. You guessed right—you are not biologically Zhao.”
Zhao Ci froze, then held his face, screaming—a masterpiece of human despair.
The shock was overwhelming; the child seemed alive for a few seconds but had already ‘died’ inside.
“…What? What? Today isn’t April Fool’s, right? You’re joking, right?” Zhao Ci stammered.
Zhao Yue shook her head: “I wish this were a joke. Little Ci, remember when you were hospitalized needing a blood transfusion? Your father’s blood matched yours, and that’s when he realized you weren’t his biological child.”
“Because you were recovering, we didn’t tell you to avoid upsetting you.”
Zhao Ci, still stunned: “Then why tell me now?”
“Because the Zhao family’s lost child has been found,” Zhao Yue said gravely.
Zhao Ci was completely dumbfounded.
He thought the “picked from the trash” story was just an urban legend.
Turns out, everyone else was acting—only he was truly picked from the trash.
Zhao Yue looked at the silent Shen Shuyi.
No doubt, the sudden shift of the fiancé from real to fake was too much for Shen Shuyi.
Look, the child is so upset he can’t speak.
Zhao Yue comforted him: “Little Shuyi, are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Shen Shuyi murmured, distracted: “Such big news—why tell me only today?”
Zhao Ci turned to look: ?
