Chapter 78 - The outsider horse (1/2)

Translator: Lionwwang  Editor: Lionwwang

Dorra has questioned me more than twenty times about how brother 4’s leg was broken by me.

I just laugh bittely and don’t say anything. It can be seen that this fellow is the brother 4 in this circle that everyone reveres now. But at that time, he was only the bald little 4.

“I see!” Her eyes are shining and she’s laughing and saying without caring about me, “It must be you and him were racing motorcycles! You won, he couldn’t even catch up with your taillights! As a result, he fought with you with hatred, and you broke his leg?”

“No at all!”

“Then… It must be the two of you were racing and went through a lot of dangers along the way. As a result, he broke his leg because he couldn’t compete with you and suddenly had a car accident!” The little girlis still looking up at me.

I’m laughing: “You must have seen too many racing movies.”

Later, I refuse to say whatever she asks. But her interests are growing higher and higher. I just have found that women’s curiosity is really terrible! No matter an eighty-year-old grandma or an eighteen-year-old girl, their curiosities are really the same terrible! If I haven’t pulled her, I’m afraid she would have gone straight to ask bald 4.

Being stimulated by curiosity, she’s giving full play to her wisdom and intelligence, and making a serious analysis: “You said you broke his leg, then he must hate you very much! But you’re here as if you aren’t afraid at all… This is his territory! Are you not afraid that he will take a bunch of people to scrap you? Aren’t you afraid of his revenge at all? And there must be a reason for that!”

I have to say that her analysis is getting closer and closer to the facts. I just laugh and still speak nothing.

After ten o’clock in the evening, all the motorcycles turn on their lights. Dozens of lights turn into countless lamp posts. Then, in all directions, there are deafening pop music in the sound of many motorcycles. Bottles of wines are drunk. Here becomes a big carnival party!

I’ve been following Dorra around, checking the time, and looking for the opportunity to pull her back home. But she’s just drinking and talking with several classmates; dancing, and doing nothing out of the ordinary. So, I can’t be too strict with her.

I know, in a moment later, the motorcycle race is about to start!

Motorcycle racing drivers in this city usually leave late because the traffic police are offwork at that hour. And the choice of motorcycle racing section is also crucial. The roads with the least street lights, the widest road and the least traffic flow should be chosen. Generally speaking, the three main roads from east to south are the best racing roads at night. Here can drive all the way from the hillside to the South Gate of the city.

Dozens of motorcycles start roaring, and some are simply driving around the lake, usually a little mess is driving with a girl behind. The girls behind are basically half standing, some even playing crazy, simply taking off their underwear and waving in their hands, arousing the screaming and cheering all around.

Generally speaking, the racing group’s motorcycles modify the throttle line, mostly above 250CC. Because the muffler has been removed, the sound of the motocycle has been put to the maximum, and the roaring will be stimulated the blood of these people.

Dorra’s face is also red now.

Finally, the race is starting.

There are not too many rules for this kind of motorcycle racing. You can go on a cart if you like. There is also some private gambling. Generally speaking, people around can bet money on winning or losing. It is a kind of peripheral gambling. The bets here are not big, one people generally belows one thousand for each game. But within so many bets, the total amount is huge!

And I find Little 4 is the dealer here!

“It seems he’s doing well here.” I sigh.

Motorcycle racing is nothing. A little mess, as long as he has money to buy a good motorcycle, can be a part of it. Because the motorcycle race here is mostly low-tech, good motocycle can occupy an absolute advantage. But to be a dealer to host a gamble, this force is not ordinary!

Looking at Dorra’s excitement, I can’t help asking: “Have you raced too?”

She is stunned and sighing: “No… My baby isn’t good enough. My hound can’t compete in speed.”

I am a little relieved, but then she says: “But I often gamble, I always win!”

“Oh?”

“Of course!” She’s pulling me through the crowd. Inside has cleared out a runway, a row of racing motorcycles has been arranged, are doing the final debugging. Probably a gambling game is also about to start.

She takes me to the front of the crowd, looking at the motorcycles for a long time, listens carefully, coming up to me in a mysterious way and saying: “I already know who can win!”

“Who?”

She looks confident and pointing to the fourth one quietly. It’s a Suzuki 7AA, which is a more advanced motorcycle here. She says with a grin: “That’s it. I’ve seen it. It’s super cool! In third gear, if the throttle is a little bigger, it’s easy to get over a hundred yards! You listen to his shunting now, the engine sounds so damn good! Absolutely refitted!”

I pretend not to hear her rudeness and tell myself to take it slowly. It’s only a slight fault to say rudeness! Don’t mind too much. However, the little girl probably realizes that she has said rude words. She looks at me very carefully, and sees that I have no reaction, so she is relieved.

I deliberately laugh and say: “You seem to know motorcycles very well?”

“That’s it!” Immediately, she is in high spirits again, “This Suzuki 7AA is my favorite! You see, its exhaust pipe is retrofitted. The performance is absolutely top-notch!”

Then she’s looking at me with a twinkle in her eyes and whispering, “Hey, don’t you really not race?”

“No!” I shake my head dirmly.

“Cut!” This little girl is very unhappy and pulling over a little bastard who is receiving bets next: “The. 4th, 500!” Then she is going to take out her wallet.

I quickly grab her and whisper: “What are you doing?”

“Betting!” She gives me a sidelong look, “Make a profit! This is a winning one!”

I laugh and say suddenly: “I say it won’t win!”

“What?”

I look into her eyes and say: “I can bet with you, the 6th, that Honda NSR will win.”

“Ah?” She is apparently stunned and opening her mouth in surprise, “That NSR? Impossible! Do you make a mistake? NSR short track speed-up is good, but there is no advantage in running. And I don’t think I ever met the person who drives this NSR. He’s new here, isn’t he?”