Can Two Fists Defeat Four Hands? (Writer's Block, Taking a Day Off, Will Make It Up Soon)

December 1st, Monday. Heavy snow fell over the capital.

Li Ye drove his Tiger Head Benz to work, and the car skidded and fishtailed several times along the way.

High-horsepower rear-wheel-drive sedans were highly "playable"; a casual tap on the accelerator was enough to pull off a drift.

At Li Ye's speed, even with the snow today, he would arrive only three to five minutes later than usual at most. He definitely would not be late.

Jiang Shiqi, in the passenger seat, said with a smile, "Uncle, your driving skills are getting more and more refined. If you weren't tied down by so many mundane affairs, you really ought to try being a racecar driver."

Li Ye laughed and cursed, "Get lost! Your ass-kissing skills are getting more and more refined too. How many times have I told you? Cut out this nonsense."

Jiang Shiqi immediately put on a wronged expression. "That's unfair, Uncle. Your skills really have improved. At the very least, I couldn't drive this fast in such heavy snow. If you don't believe me, ask Old Qu."

Li Ye glanced into the rearview mirror, only to find that Qu Qingyou, seated in the back, had actually fastened his seat belt.

So Li Ye eased off the accelerator and slowed down.

There were hardly any cars on the road because of the heavy snow, which was why he had driven a little faster. But if even a professional driver felt afraid, then he was gambling with his life.

What was more, Qu Qingyou had spent many years in Soviet Russia and possessed abundant experience driving in snow.

Noticing that Li Ye had slowed down, Qu Qingyou said in a muffled voice, "Director Li's driving skills are indeed very good now, but there are too many variables when driving