"Xiangbei, you can box now."
Odetto instructed Chen Xiangbei to pit, even though Chen Xiangbei had only pushed for two timed laps.
But counting the mistakes, warm-up lap, cool-down lap, and the return lap, he had run seven or eight laps on the track, the tires had passed their peak grip, and the braking system was under significant pressure; there was no need to waste time on the track.
For Chen Xiangbei, the first practice session was pretty much over.
"Odetto, what was my lap time?"
Chen Xiangbei asked. Often, drivers can feel the speed themselves; he knew it wasn't too slow.
"1 minute 32 seconds 422."
Odetto provided the answer straightforwardly.
"Barely okay."
[This is barely okay?]
Hearing Chen Xiangbei's response, everyone in the team couldn't help but think how pretentious this guy was.
No wonder other teams see him as a track enemy. He didn't seem as exaggerated when he was one of their own, but from an outsider's perspective, it must be unbearable.
