F1: The Speed Legend

”Merde!”

Boccolacci couldn’t stop the curse from escaping his lips.

But he had no time for regret. He yanked the steering wheel to the left, wrestling the car back onto the track. The tires, abused by the grass and gravel, bucked and shuddered, giving him a ride like a wild horse as he scrambled into Turn 15.

But his rhythm was shattered. The tires had zero grip. Before he could even catch his breath, Pulcini and Russell swept past him, one after the other.

Boccolacci: ...

What the hell just happened?

From Turn 4 onwards, he had been fighting to match Kai’s pace, ignoring the dirty air, pushing to the limit.

The problem was, Kai’s rhythm was weird.

It looked slow, unhurried, almost like he was taking baby steps. Boccolacci had pushed aggressively, visibly eating into the gap. But magically, Kai’s braking points, lines, and throttle control remained rock solid, offering zero openings.

Stuck in the sequence of corners, Boccolacci couldn’t find a way past.

Then, as they transitioned from the high-speed Turn 9 into the Turn 10 hairpin, everything changed. Kai attacked the hairpin apex, flicked the tail out in a drift, and rocketed out of the corner. The leisurely stroll was gone; he was suddenly driving like a different person.

Boccolacci remembered immediately. Kai had done this exact same thing on his flying lap in qualifying.

He had assumed it was a special qualifying tactic. But now, it seemed, he was doing it in the race, too.

The problem was, qualifying and the race were two different animals. Driving a race like a qualifying lap usually ended badly.

This made Boccolacci realize something: Kai wasn’t as calm as he looked. He felt the threat. He was trying to break away.

And Boccolacci wasn’t going to let him.

Without hesitation, he gave chase.

But he overestimated his own control. Coming out of the Turn 13 right-hander and onto the short straight, he threw everything he had into catching Kai. Lost in the chase, he braked too late, forgetting it was still the first lap. His tires weren’t fully up to temperature. The wheels locked, the braking distance vanished, and he shot off the track.

Everything went off the rails.

Though he didn’t crash, and he quickly rejoined the track, his grip was compromised and his rhythm was gone. P2 instantly became P4.

Worse, he didn’t even have time to curse. The train of three cars behind him was closing fast, like a game of Snake about to eat its own tail. Boccolacci had to gather his thoughts and focus on himself. He looked ahead, but Kai was already long gone.

It wasn’t just Boccolacci who was wondering where Kai went. Pulcini was, too.

After exiting Turn 2, Pulcini and Russell had been locked in combat. The gap between them was razor-thin, trading advantages through Turns 4 and 6. Neither could break away. Finally, at Turn 8, Pulcini made a move around the outside, held it through Turn 9, and solidified his position.

Amidst the chaos, he seized the opportunity to pass the recovering Boccolacci, moving from P5 up to P2. His ambition ignited.

Next stop: the leader.

But at Turn 14, he could still see Kai’s rear wing. By the time he exited Turn 16, all that was left ahead was a fading afterimage.

Pulcini: ???

”Beautiful!”

”Turn 14, 15, 16... Kai’s control was absolute perfection! A slight oversteer, perfectly managed with the throttle to control the rear. His line was seamless, flowing like water, completely in his own rhythm. His exit speed out of Turn 16 was maximum velocity!”

”Throttle pinned to the floor! Unleashing every horse! The ART Number 2 is a streak of light down the Barcelona main straight!”

”Brilliant!”

”Absolutely brilliant!”

”Wow. Unbelievable. Kai Zhizhou has just completed a truly memorable career debut—a race debut, I mean.”

”The start: sharp, calm. He held his line while reading the entire field.”

”Turn 1: ambushed from all sides. He calmly handled Boccolacci’s sneak attack and forcefully blocked Russell’s charge. That sequence of fluid maneuvers in such a short time was jaw-dropping.”

”Then, faced with Boccolacci’s relentless pressure, he cunningly used the corner geometry to set a trap. Just when his opponent thought he saw an opening, Kai flipped the rhythm, his aggressive style sucking Boccolacci into his game, forcing the error, and breaking free.”

”But that wasn’t all.”

”Shaking off an opponent is one thing; focusing on yourself is another. His control through that final complex was a work of art. High-speed exit, full acceleration onto the straight, instantly pulling a gap. I don’t think Pulcini or Russell saw that coming.”

”Pacing, judgment, aggression when it counts. Not just steady and calm, but decisive and sharp. He has this race firmly in the palm of his hand.”

”A perfect start. A perfect first lap. A perfect breakaway.”

”Wow. Just one lap, and Kai is already leading Pulcini by over two seconds. To be precise, 2.113 seconds. We didn’t expect Pulcini to be up to P2, and we certainly didn’t expect Kai’s lead to be two seconds.”

”While his rivals are still fighting tooth and nail behind him, Kai has taken control. He is far ahead, riding off into the distance. From here on, he can run his own race at his own pace. It will be very, very difficult for anyone to catch him.”

”Without a doubt, this is a grand entrance.”

”At noon, Kai shocked the world with his pole position, making people take notice of his name for the first time. But as impressive as that was, no one gave it too much weight, because qualifying and racing are different beasts.”

”Now, in just one lap, Kai has conquered the Barcelona circuit, proving with action that he isn’t just fast.”

”Can you believe this is his first time ever on a real racetrack, driving a GP3 car? And he’s only seventeen! If this isn’t a genius, I don’t know who deserves the title.”

The words poured out of him.

David Croft was always passionate, shouting until he ran out of oxygen, his face red with excitement and shock.

He turned to his partner. ”Martin, did you predict this?”

It was a rhetorical question. The answer was obvious. But Brundle answered honestly anyway.

”No. I didn’t.”

”I can’t remember the last time a GP3 season opener was this exciting. Of course, it’s only Lap 1. There are still 21 laps to go. Anything can happen. We can’t call the result yet. But!”

His heart was surging!

He took a deep breath. ”But...”

Even the usually calm and rational Brundle wasn’t immune. The roar of the crowd washed over them. He needed to adjust his breathing.

He closed his eyes. The images flashed through his mind—the start, the battle, the break, the escape—all happening in a single lap. The twists and turns of the chaotic race had all become the backdrop for that #2 car’s brilliant emergence.

Thump, thump.

Brundle’s heart was pounding. He needed a moment.

~~----------------------

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