F1: The Speed Legend

September sunlight still carried the warmth of late summer, but in Maranello, tucked away in northern Italy, autumn had already begun to whisper its arrival. The morning breeze brushed past with a cool trace of dew, tinged with the faint gold of harvest season lingering at the street corners.

Frankie Penni tugged lightly at her black blazer and smiled as she made the introduction. ”This is a small gift Kai brought from home. I cannot guarantee we brewed it correctly. I only watched him demonstrate once, and honestly, I remember nothing except being amazed.”

The tea was Longjing. Tender green leaves unfurled slowly in the hot water, releasing a pale, elegant hue.

Wang Yang glanced down at the cup, clearly intending to comment, but hesitated. A northerner who rarely drank tea, he chose diplomacy instead. ”Thank you for the hospitality. But since we are in Italy, surely it would be wrong not to try an espresso.”

Frankie paused, then laughed openly. ”Then you are absolutely in the right place. That is one thing we do exceptionally well.”

The Italian Grand Prix weekend had ended. Formula One and Formula Two moved on immediately, while GP3 entered a full month-long break. Even so, Ferrari’s Maranello headquarters remained relentlessly busy. Preparations for the next season were already underway, and Frankie herself was still dealing with the aftershocks of the Monza storm.

Media requests arrived in waves, particularly from Italian outlets, schedules packed tight from dawn to dusk.

Traffic was not limited to social platforms. The heat of attention pressed in physically. Frankie answered emails while eating, took calls between bites, a situation nearly sacrilegious by Italian standards. Work interfering with lunch was nothing short of heresy.

Amid the chaos, Asian media emerged as a formidable presence, especially from mainland China. CCTV had secured a private meeting.

Not an interview.

A project proposal.

Before any face-to-face discussion, CCTV had already submitted a detailed plan. They hoped to follow Kai closely through the final two GP3 rounds, document behind-the-scenes moments, and capture his winter preparations for the coming F1 season. The goal was to create a documentary that would build momentum before his official F1 debut.

First and foremost, they needed approval from Ferrari and ART.

Wang Yang leaned forward slightly, switching back to Mandarin. ”You need to understand, this is not a standard interview.”

The translator beside him immediately rendered his words into smooth Italian.

Frankie maintained her smile. ”Of course. We understand the importance of the project. The Chinese market matters greatly to us, and we care deeply about Mr. Lu’s public image.”

”Our intention is to produce a character documentary,” Wang Yang continued. ”Not only about racing, but about growth, dreams, honor, and the weight of history carried on one’s shoulders.”

He paused, then met her gaze. ”Just as Italy has waited for another F1 World Champion, we have been waiting for this moment too.”

”We would need access to the factory, the paddock, behind-the-scenes race moments, and off-track interviews with Kai.”

There was no doubt. This was a major undertaking.

Frankie was not surprised. The proposal was thorough, professionally prepared, and CCTV’s stature spoke for itself. Still, Ferrari had its own plans. ”At this stage, we cannot guarantee approval.”

”All driver media activities are centrally coordinated. He has just entered the F1 program. We do not want him overexposed.”

”Media environments can cause young drivers to lose their way.”

She chose the word carefully. Not a warning, more like a lesson learned.

Marketing and exposure mattered. Frankie knew that better than anyone. But when weighed against Ferrari’s championship ambitions, everything else became secondary.

She understood the brutal force of modern media. It could lift an ordinary person to godhood overnight, then tear them down just as quickly. Kai already carried more attention and pressure than most teenagers could survive. Ferrari needed to stay clear-headed.

It was not only Chinese media. Italian outlets, Brazilian journalists, all equally relentless. Brazil forever waited for the next Senna, erupting with hope every time a young driver entered a major academy. Ferrari had weathered many such storms.

Giovinazzi was a living example.

The last thing Ferrari needed was to repeat history and bury another prodigy.

Kai’s arrival had already shaken the internal order. The coming months were meant for digestion and preparation. What they needed least was outside noise disrupting their rhythm.

And Ferrari had never liked cameras sniffing around its garage.

In this regard, the team remained deeply traditional and fiercely protective.

Wang Yang offered a courteous smile. ”We understand the pressure he faces. That is precisely why we hope to record his journey with a gentler lens.”

”Gentle?” Frankie raised an eyebrow, her smile bright but her gaze firm. ”You mentioned dreams and honor. Those are not always gentle things.”

Wang Yang felt the difficulty of the moment settle in.

Why Asian drivers faced such steep barriers was no mystery. Power, capital, and history all sat firmly in Europe. Formula racing was an insider’s world. Breaking in from the outside was never easy, whether from Asia or the Americas.

That was why neither Zhou Guanyu nor Kai had initially sparked wild celebration at home. Too many mountains still stood ahead.

And this was Ferrari.

The room fell briefly silent.

Then Frankie closed the proposal folder. ”We will raise this internally. Any final decision must come from the board.”

She paused.

”If the collaboration moves forward, all filming and editing must be coordinated with us.”

Tricky.

”We can discuss editing later,” Wang Yang replied calmly, leaving space. ”What we want is authenticity, not to serve as anyone’s mouthpiece.”

Frankie looked at him, her smile widening. ”At Ferrari, every driver’s image carries Ferrari red.”

Inside the factory, one struggle over Kai was unfolding. Outside, another storm was forming.

Two figures, one round and one thin, wandered nearby, scanning the area like characters searching for Wei Xiaobao.

”Have you been to Maranello before?” Qian Jun asked nervously, swallowing hard without knowing why.

Shi Yiying was calmer, though his question pulled her from her thoughts. ”Yes. But that was long ago. The Schumacher era.”

She trailed off, unable to recall if she had returned during Vettel’s time.

Pressure surged toward Kai from every direction. Over thirty domestic media outlets were seeking exclusive interviews. More than a handful were planning documentaries. Everyone wanted a share.

Before leaving China, Five Star Sports had been confident. Shanghai roots. Hometown advantage.

Now that confidence was slipping. Tencent Sports was reportedly contacting Kai’s parents. CCTV had already reached Maranello. Everyone was playing their strongest cards.

The situation felt grim.

For a moment, Shi Yiying questioned herself. Was this right? Should they step back and give Kai space instead of devouring his privacy?

When everyone went mad for the Ferrari label, how many truly saw the seventeen-year-old beneath it?

Was the documentary about a phenomenon, or about a young driver chasing speed?

Her thoughts tangled.

”Ying-jie.”

Qian Jun’s voice snapped her back.

She stood up abruptly and saw Kai jogging toward them, sweat-soaked and radiant under the sunlight. His damp black hair glistened, his smile alive with youth. Energy radiated from him effortlessly.

”What do we do?” Qian Jun whispered. ”Pretend it’s a coincidence?”

Before she could answer, he blurted out stiffly, ”Hey, Kai. What a coincidence. Out for a run too?”

Shi Yiying stared into the void.

Kai laughed openly. ”Qian Jun, are you waiting here to manufacture a coincidence?”

”Was it natural?” Qian Jun coughed.

Kai stopped, grinning. ”The acting industry will survive.”

They all laughed.

Introductions followed naturally.

Shi Yiying extended her hand. ”It’s good to finally meet you.”

”So this wasn’t a coincidence?” Kai teased.

More laughter.

She made her request. Fifteen minutes.

Kai checked his Richard Mille. ”I have simulator work soon, but fifteen minutes is fine.”

The conversation began.

Not an interview. Not yet.

They spoke honestly.

About speed. About boredom. About reality beyond the spectacle.

When Kai finally said, ”I’ll think about it,” silence followed.

Then he added gently, ”Everything happened too fast. Give me some time.”

They agreed.

Later, they discovered Kai had already paid the bill.

Maranello remained busy. Then came new arrivals.

This time, it was different.

FIA officials.

And soon, Kai was summoned.

His thoughts raced. Super licence?

Before he could speculate further, laughter spilled from Marchionne’s office.

Inside, the room was packed.

Zak Brown waved cheerfully.

James Gay-Rees laughed loudly.

Sean Bratches stepped forward.

Giants.

When Kai joked about being called to the principal’s office, the room erupted.

Marchionne smiled. ”Relax. They just wanted to see the man who will wear Ferrari red.”

Kai shrugged. ”Last I checked, still two eyes, one nose.”

Laughter again.

When Bratches commented on his playful nature, Kai replied calmly, ”Standing among gentlemen like you, being playful seems acceptable.”

The air froze for half a second.

Then laughter exploded.

The storm was only beginning.