When Andy-Na returned, Haifeng couldn't help but glance over.
She had swapped into a pair of slim-cut jeans and a white plaid shirt tucked neatly at the waist, paired with modest heels. Once tied up, her blonde hair flowed freely over her shoulders.
Confident and casual, she beamed. "Let's go, Mr. Lu."
She looped her arm through his without hesitation and walked him toward the elevator.
Westerners, Haifeng thought, always carried a certain openness in their demeanor. Still, he had no idea this was the first time Andy-Na had ever shown romantic interest in anyone.
She'd fended off others before—quietly, without drama. But something about Haifeng had disarmed her.
The two spent the afternoon wandering through New York, giving Haifeng a clearer impression of American life. More than anything, what stood out to him were the cars.
What are the most popular models on American roads? Domestics and—surprisingly—Japanese imports. German and Korean brands barely had a presence.
What shocked him most, however, was the quality gap.
The Japanese cars sold in America looked similar to those in China, but the build quality was worlds apart. The explanation was simple.
America, from Japan's perspective, was the parent. They wouldn't dare cut corners for their "father."
But China? Just a fat sheep to fleece.
On the way back to the hotel, Haifeng asked, "Andy-Na, what kind of cars do Americans prefer?"
"Most people like Japanese cars," she said. "They're cheap, fuel-efficient, and reliable. Not everyone here is rich, you know."
The next morning, Haifeng boarded a chartered bus with the Audi team en route to the Ward's 10 Best Engines competition venue just outside New York City.
This event wasn't just prestigious but sacred to the auto industry.
Jointly organized by ten of the world's most influential media outlets, Ward's 10 Best was known for being professional, impartial, and ruthlessly strict.
And now, with the rise of live streaming, the entire process is globally broadcast in real-time.
The competition spanned two days and was divided into two parts.
Part One: Interior and Exterior Evaluation
The exhibition hall was massive. Every participating brand was required to display its vehicles in designated booths. Entry to the public was limited to 5,000 people—lottery winners worldwide, flown in with all expenses paid.
No manufacturer personnel were allowed inside once the event began, except for one assigned presenter per booth.
Even then, they were under strict supervision:
No unsolicited interaction.
No marketing pitches.
Only respond to direct questions.
Any violation would result in immediate disqualification.
To ensure fairness, each attendee was searched upon entry. Only official scoring tablets were allowed—no phones, earbuds, nothing else.
Scores were updated live on giant screens throughout the venue. Every vote counted—and every vote was seen.
Part Two: Performance Testing
This was what enthusiasts lived for.
The venue featured a 50-kilometer pro-spec track with varied terrain. Each car would be pushed to its limits by professional rally drivers handpicked by Ward's.
Before the race, every vehicle was stripped of identifying features—badges, emblems, even recognizable design elements. Each car was labeled only by number.
Drivers were assigned vehicles by random draw just moments before the test. They were accompanied by professional evaluators and told to drive with one directive:
Push everything to the edge.
Every shift. Every turn. Every hill. Data was gathered in real-time from sensors monitoring engine stress, transmission behavior, chassis response, and more.
To prevent bias, Ward enforced harsh penalties:
Any racer found favoring a manufacturer would be blocked permanently.
Their name would be published.
Their career? Over.
This system left no room for manipulation. The cars had to prove themselves, unaided, unseen.
And tomorrow, it would be Haifeng's turn to see how far the HX8888—and the TT Coupe—could go.