Chapter 79: The Madman Is No Longer Mad?

“I’ve been having nothing but bad luck lately! I should really go to a temple and pray.” Yang Meng walked out of the police station, complaining to Ling Feng, “How many times have I been here in just a few days? Hurry up, give me a cigarette. My mouth is dry from answering all those questions, and you guys didn’t even bother making me some tea.”

Ling Feng tossed him a cigarette. “Give me a break! And you have the nerve to talk? You’re the only one who can ramble on so much just to give a statement. I keep telling you, stop riding that motorcycle. Why do you have the kind of face that just begs to get robbed?”

Yang Meng was fuming. “Unbelievable! If it were a cheap bike, I could live with it, but stealing something that expensive? Are they out of their minds? Anyway, I’m not letting this go!”

Ling Feng lit his cigarette for him. “Alright, calm down. The kids you caught this time aren’t your ordinary delinquents. There are street punks, bar girls, even top students from school, and a few from well-off families just looking for some excitement.”

Yang Meng was stunned. “Those spoiled brats! Do they have any idea how many kids would kill for the opportunities they take for granted?”

Ling Feng gave him the finger. “Look who’s talking—someone whose essay once had five hundred ‘geez’s in it. And you have the nerve to judge others for not studying hard? The ringleader is called Xia Zhouyi, just a petty thug. He’s dating that bar girl Sun Meiyan. In the local schools, they’re notorious bullies, leading a bunch of kids around causing trouble.”

“What’s his name? Next Monday?” Yang Meng was confused.

“Xia Zhouyi. His father’s surname is Xia, his mother’s is Zhou, so they named him that. Unfortunately, his father’s an alcoholic, and his mother remarried and moved south. He’s been stealing and snatching since he was young, but because of his age, nothing much has ever happened to him. Are you really going to go after them this time?” Ling Feng asked.

Yang Meng nodded. “Absolutely! My motorcycle was dismantled and sold for cash, and you expect me to play nice? To be honest, I was counting on that bike to compete in the Isle of Man TT. What they’ve done is basically killed off a future world champion!”

Ling Feng was taken aback, then burst out laughing. “You’re getting better at bragging! If you really enter the Isle of Man TT, I’ll have a fine nanmu coffin ready for you!”

“Screw you!” Yang Meng shot him the finger. “Hey, where’s your courage? Didn’t you used to dream of racing the Isle of Man TT when we were kids? Who was it that said he wanted to tackle the Ramsey Hairpin? What happened to you? Chickened out?”

There are many motorcycle races around the world, but when it comes to fame, nothing beats the Isle of Man TT.

The rules are simple: ride around the island’s public roads, one lap is sixty kilometers, and whoever completes six laps first wins.

It sounds easy, but each lap has over two hundred turns. The full race is three hundred and sixty kilometers, covering city streets, mountain roads, and all sorts of challenging environments—a massive test of endurance and concentration.

It’s also the deadliest motorcycle race in the world. Some joke that it’s where God recruits the top riders.

Since it isn’t a standard race track, the road conditions are unpredictable. There are practically no safety features—no run-off areas, and in many places, not even basic guardrails. There are no designated sponsors, and there are hardly any restrictions on modifications. In short: ride like your life depends on it.

The average speed exceeds two hundred kilometers per hour, with top speeds over three hundred and thirty. Every year, deaths in the Isle of Man TT are commonplace; what’s news is when no one dies. To date, more than two hundred and fifty riders have lost their lives on the course—not counting spectators and crew.

The most crucial thing is: there’s barely any prize money. It’s an entirely self-funded event. Even after reforms in 2006, the total prize money for the six main events is only seventy-five thousand pounds—a pittance compared to other races. The riders are probably the poorest in the world; only a handful of professionals take part. Most are outright madmen. You fix your own bike, race by yourself, with no beauties by your side and no professional team behind you...

And yet, this competition is the holy grail for motorcycle enthusiasts worldwide.

Every rider comes for two words: honor and challenge. Many see it as the final chapter of their lives.

To insiders, it’s the ultimate race; to outsiders, it’s the stuff of legends; to those who value their lives, it’s sheer insanity. But there’s no question—it’s the most famous motorcycle race in the world.

When they were kids, the three best riders in Zhuo Mountain Village were Ling Feng, Yang Meng, and Xiao Peng, who once had his leg broken by Old Man Niu. The three of them often dreamed of one day racing together in the Isle of Man TT—a cherished childhood ambition.

Hearing Yang Meng’s words, Ling Feng sighed. “This time, I almost died. I finally realized that dying is easy—living is the hard part. If I hadn’t survived, what would have happened to my dad? People don’t just live for themselves; you have to think of your family. Our old dreams can only be pursued after we’ve fulfilled our responsibilities at home. Now that I’ve been promoted ahead of schedule, I value my life even more.”

Yang Meng laughed. “So, the madman’s not mad anymore. We’ve grown up.”

Ling Feng replied, “That’s just how people mature. You’ll get there too, one day. But tell me, are you really going to pursue this all the way? They’re just kids—do you have to be so serious? What about settling things privately?”

Yang Meng frowned and looked at Ling Feng without answering.

“Hey, what’s with that look? You’re making me nervous!” Ling Feng protested.

Yang Meng took a drag on his cigarette. “Madman, who sent you to talk to me?”

“Huh?” Ling Feng was caught off guard by the question.

Yang Meng turned away. “Madman, I don’t know who asked you to come, or how you plan to handle this, and I get it—you just got your promotion. But first, you need to remember what you are. A police officer should stand on the side of justice! Why is it that whenever there’s a crackdown, there’s always a cop protecting the criminals? Does personal connection matter more than the law?”

Ling Feng was silent for a long time, then flicked away his cigarette. “Come on, what are you saying? I just think it’s a shame for a bunch of kids to ruin their lives over this. The ringleaders like Sun Meiyan and Xia Zhouyi should take responsibility, but the others were just tagging along—why ruin their lives? Aren’t they victims too?”

Yang Meng laughed. “So it’s like that. Tell me, who actually stole my bike? Xia Zhouyi and Sun Meiyan planned it, but the ones who did the deed are those kids you just called bystanders! Your perspective is interesting—it’s like everyone curses the drug dealers, but the addicts are blameless? Sun Meiyan and Xia Zhouyi led the way, but those you call bystanders weren’t just innocent onlookers. Didn’t they split the money after selling my bike? Now they’re the victims? So what does that make me—the villain?”

Ling Feng wanted to argue, but couldn’t find the words. Wasn’t Yang Meng the only true victim here?

Yang Meng patted Ling Feng on the shoulder. “I’m taking this all the way. If you make a mistake, you admit it; if you get punished, you accept it. They broke the law—they have to face the consequences!”

Ling Feng shrugged. “They’re all over sixteen, but most aren’t yet eighteen. Even if you go all out, things might not end the way you want. It’s messy and maybe not worth the trouble.”

Yang Meng shook his head. “It’s not about whether it’s worth it—it’s about what’s right. They’re repeat offenders, the amount stolen is huge, and it was organized crime. No matter how you look at it, this isn’t minor. But whatever, you’re not a judge and I’m not a lawyer. Let’s leave it to the court.”

Ling Feng smiled wryly. “Meng Meng, don’t say I didn’t warn you—these are a dozen families, and every one of those kids is their parents’ treasure. If you’re dead set on pursuing this, those families are going to make your life hell.”

“Let them try. When you’ve got enough lice, you stop feeling itchy; enough debt, and you stop feeling the pressure. Are they really going to mess with me? My buddy’s a cop! Right, Madman? You’ll keep us ordinary people safe, won’t you?” Yang Meng laughed.

Ling Feng swore at him, “Get lost! By the way, are you really opening a barbecue place with Lobster and Dummy?”

Yang Meng rolled his eyes. “Don’t pretend you don’t know! Lobster’s big mouth lives with you—you probably know every detail. What are you playing dumb for? Worried about your share?”

Ling Feng gave him the finger again. “Worried about what? I just think it’s weird—you’ve been acting strange lately. Suddenly you have all this money, someone gave you a great motorcycle, and the barbecue place is in the Longyun Fitness Club. Has the Long family lost their minds? Barbecue in a gym?” He lowered his voice. “Let me tell you something. The other day, the bosses called me in to ask questions about you. There was an old man there, I heard he came from the capital. So, buddy, what have you been up to lately?”

Yang Meng scratched his head. “Madman, I really have had some unusual experiences recently, but I can’t tell you. Just tell me—have I changed?”

Ling Feng shook his head. “Nope, still as awkward as ever.”

Yang Meng pressed, “Could I ever hurt you guys?”

Ling Feng thought for a moment. “No. Just tell me the truth—is my recovery related to you? Me, Dummy, and Lobster being kept in the hospital for observation—is that because of you?”

Yang Meng nodded but didn’t answer directly.

“That’s enough!” Ling Feng laughed. “So I owe you my life, huh? How am I ever going to pay that back? Maybe if I have a son one day, I’ll name him Yang Meng in your honor. How about that?”

“Screw off!”