F1: The Speed Legend

Alesi was furious. Or perhaps, he was scared.

Hidden beneath the anger and frustration was a flicker of fear.

He had been in the Ferrari Driver Academy for two years and still had nothing to show for it. He had never once stood on the podium in any F3-level event. In fact, forget the podium; even scoring points was a struggle.

”So it’s true, even a tiger can father a dog.”

”To be honest, Jean Alesi was never a top-tier driver himself, but at least he won a race in F1. He had guts. This kid, though… he doesn’t look like much. Jean must be worried.”

”I guess he just doesn’t have the talent. You can’t force talent.”

The whispers, the ridicule—you could never truly silence them. Alesi lived under a constant, crushing pressure.

What if… what if he never even made it to F1?

So, when he heard that some nobody who had crawled out from under a rock was being fast-tracked into the academy, he was terrified.

Terrified?

The realization of his own fear only fueled his rage. The emotions bottled up inside him erupted, and he charged toward the Asian kid. The face, which could have looked friendly with its rounder features, was twisted not with a killer instinct, but with petty animosity. He was nothing but a paper tiger, all bluster and noise.

Alesi quickly realized that the kid wasn’t even reacting. He was completely calm, his expression serene, as if he hadn’t even noticed his presence.

That feeling of humiliation washed over him again. So, this was the arrogance of a so-called genius?

”Are you deaf? Even if you can’t hear, you should be able to see. I’ve never heard of a blind man driving a race car.”

”Ah, I get it. You’re a mute, right? Mystery solved. He’s a mute.”

Alesi’s face was red, spittle flying from his mouth as he unleashed a torrent of insults, desperately dredging up every English word he could think of.

And Kai?

The entire time, he stood with his arms crossed, leaning against the wall, his expression placid as he gazed at some distant point.

This level of trash talk… honestly, it was nothing compared to what you’d hear on the street. It had an ”academy” flavor to it. You could tell this was a greenhouse flower, a golden boy who didn’t even know how to properly curse someone out.

It had zero effect on Kai. He had no desire to engage. His mind was filled with thoughts of food. He was so hungry now he was willing to compromise and eat pizza. This buzzing fly was interrupting his daydreams of home-cooked meals. When the imaginary roast chicken flew away, he finally moved. He raised his left hand, cleaned out his ear, and muttered to himself.

”The country air really is fresh. Even the sound of dogs barking is exceptionally clear. So full of energy.”

Alesi froze, staring at him. ”Who are you talking to?”

Kai raised an eyebrow. ”Hmm, that’s interesting. Dogs these days can understand human speech. And they even know how to talk back. What a good boy.”

Alesi was speechless.

A breath caught in his throat, and his face swelled with a deep, crimson rage. It looked like he was about to spontaneously combust.

Fortunately, Monfardini’s arrival prevented a disaster. The clean-up crew would have had a tough time with the mess.

”Giuliano, what are you doing here?” Monfardini’s voice was even, but his simple question carried an unspoken authority.

Alesi froze. Seeing Monfardini, he was like a rooster that had just had all its feathers plucked. His aggressive posture deflated, and the words died in his throat.

Monfardini gave him no quarter. ”The morning tests are about to begin. Why are you still here?”

Alesi didn’t argue. He just shot Kai one last venomous glare before turning and storming away, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles cracked.

After a few steps, he couldn’t hold it in any longer. He let out a primal scream. ”Aaaaaargh!”

Monfardini glanced after him. A seventeen-year-old boy, full of piss and vinegar. It was only natural for him to be impulsive when his hormones got the best of him. But the contrast was stark. You look at Alesi, then you look at Kai, who was two months younger, and the difference was obvious.

With a nearly imperceptible sigh, Monfardini turned back to Kai. ”Come on, let’s go to Mr. Marchionne’s office.”

He patted Kai on the shoulder and led the way.

Kai was a bit surprised. He had imagined the CEO’s office would be on the top floor, or at least be the size of a basketball court. But the door before them was on a normal floor, in a normal hallway. A simple plaque reading ”Chief Executive Officer” was the only indication of its importance.

Knock, knock.

”Come in!”

Monfardini pushed the door open. Inside, Marchionne was standing by an open window, while Todt was sitting on the sofa, his legs crossed.

Marchionne stubbed out the cigarette in his hand and looked at Monfardini. ”How were the tests?”

Monfardini handed him the report.

It was a thick file, far too detailed to be read in just a few minutes. The physical assessment covered cardiorespiratory endurance, neck and core strength, reaction speed, G-force simulation, and body fat percentage. The psychological assessment was even more exhaustive, evaluating cognitive ability, stress resistance, mental resilience, neurological feedback, and more, providing a comprehensive profile of a driver’s abilities and potential.

The results were a pleasant surprise. While Kai had some weaknesses in endurance and muscle mass, his other metrics were outstanding.

He was like a piece of raw, uncut jade. So naturally gifted he hardly needed any polishing.

Marchionne didn’t bother reading the report in detail. He just looked at Monfardini, his eyes asking the question.

Monfardini gave a subtle but firm nod, the excitement in his own eyes barely suppressed.

Marchionne understood. He instinctively glanced at Todt and saw the same eager light shining in his old friend’s eyes. That was all he needed. His mind was made up.

This whole thing had started as an accident, but perhaps there was an inevitability behind it. Any driver who could impress Jean Todt enough to inspire such a wild gamble was a driver worth betting on. After all, Todt’s eye for talent was legendary. He was very, very rarely wrong.

In a flash, Marchionne made the decision, his voice carrying the weight of his authority. ”Zhizhou… right?” His pronunciation was still a bit off, but he was trying. ”How old are you this year?”

Kai tilted his head, unsure of where this was going. ”As far as I know, you don’t need a regular driver’s license for Formula racing, do you?”

Marchionne paused, then burst out laughing. ”Haha, rest assured, most of the students in our academy are underage. Our goal is to recruit the next generation of talent.” He flipped open the test report.

The first page listed the basic information: November 11, 1999.

In other words, Kai had just turned seventeen last week before sneaking off to Rome to race. A truly bold and talented kid. This only increased the admiration in Marchionne’s eyes. He liked this kind of audacity.

”So, Zhizhou, I am formally inviting you to join the Ferrari Driver Academy. Become one of us. What do you say?”

Monfardini’s head snapped toward Marchionne. Even though he had been mentally preparing for this, the reality of it was still a shock. And underneath the shock, was that a hint of… joy?

Todt, however, simply looked at Kai, his expression unhurried.

As expected.

”Sorry, I can’t. I have final exams. I have to go home tomorrow.”

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