Outside in the hallway, the chaotic frenzy of the filming crew had finally subsided.
Inside the room, however, the interview had officially concluded, but the atmosphere remained surprisingly restless.
The production lights weren't immediately killed. The cameras were left idling on standby, their tiny red recording indicators still blinking steadily, silently documenting the scene. The crew members were going through the motions of wrapping up, following their standard protocol. Yet, every time their eyes met, they couldn't suppress their bubbling excitement. A low, continuous hum of whispered conversations completely filled the room.
There were twenty drivers currently operating on the Formula 1 grid. A massively diverse cast of characters, each possessing their own distinct personality. There were glaringly obvious standouts: Ricciardo, with his relentlessly bright, infectious energy, capable of befriending absolutely anyone; Raikkonen, an immovable block of ice who treated all media obligations with profound, undisguised contempt; and Alonso, a fiercely independent maverick who would ruthlessly speak his mind, verbally destroying anyone he wanted, and flatly refusing to participate in interviews if he simply didn't feel like it.
But what about Kai?
True personality wasn't something manufactured by a PR team; it was carved directly into a driver's bones.
On the surface, Kai operated exactly like Hamilton: composed, icy, relentlessly polite, and incredibly diplomatic. His answers were airtight. He smoothly delivered one polished PR soundbite after another. "Everything is great, you're great, we're great, everyone is doing fantastic." After undergoing rigorous corporate media training, it was as if they both wore identical, flawless masks, churning out the exact same homogenized responses.
In the modern era of hyper-connected social media, under the crushing, suffocating weight of absolute global exposure, nearly every driver actively suppressed their sharpest edges. The paddock no longer resembled the wildly chaotic, vibrant, personality-driven ecosystem of the 1980s or 1990s. For the media and the fans, this homogenization was undeniably, profoundly disappointing.
However, fundamentally, Kai was a completely different animal than Hamilton. His rebellion, his fierce arrogance, his absolute, unyielding independence... those traits were branded directly into his DNA. In some ways, he was even more feral and unpredictable than Verstappen. That terrifying, undeniable willingness to actively challenge absolute authority, to aggressively shatter the established rules, and to violently overturn the entire board... that specific, radioactive energy was the exact catalyst responsible for the incredible reality currently unfolding before them.
Whether it was the media or the fans, they had been desperately, agonizingly waiting for a figure like this to emerge for an incredibly long time.
Rees firmly believed that Kai possessed the raw potential to evolve into a transcendent, global superstar. He had the power to drag motorsport out of its niche, shatter the cultural chains binding it, and violently pry open massive new global markets.
There was absolutely no need to overanalyze the situation. One simply had to observe the restless, vibrating energy completely saturating the room right now. If a crew of seasoned, cynical industry professionals was reacting like this, how would the general public respond?
Rees remained completely silent.
He stood perfectly still, his hands buried deep in the pockets of his jacket. His gaze wasn't fixed on any specific crew member. Instead, he stared intently at the empty chair where Kai had just been sitting.
That wasn't the throne of a compliant, corporate champion.
That was the epicenter of a massive rebellion. A man who flatly refused to be defined, refused to be labeled, and completely refused to be restrained.
Kai was an absolute outsider. Last season, they had labeled him a challenger, a disruptor, a complete amateur, a massive dark horse. Only now were they finally beginning to realize how catastrophically they had misjudged him. He was a terrifying, unprecedented force of nature. He was violently upending the entire established hierarchy of the paddock, aggressively injecting a massive surge of raw, explosive energy into a sport that had been slowly bleeding to death from stagnation.
Exactly like Senna. Exactly like Schumacher.
But clearly, Kai wasn't Senna or Schumacher. He was entirely his own entity. A singular, completely unique phenomenon.
"He's never going to give us the narrative we want." A low, frustrated mutter drifted from someone standing nearby. The tone was laced with heavy, defeated resignation.
Rees finally snapped out of his trance. Involuntarily, the corners of his mouth curved into a sharp smile.
"No," Rees replied, his voice calm but absolute. "He already did."
The restless rustling and whispering in the room instantly died down. Every pair of eyes snapped toward him.
Rees raised his hand and pointed directly at the primary camera, which was still rolling. "He's just refusing to read from our pathetic, manufactured script. He's actively authoring his own narrative."
If you were to ask any producer which specific archetype of driver was the absolute hardest to capture on film, it wouldn't be the emotionally explosive Ricciardo or the fiercely aggressive Verstappen. It was someone exactly like Kai. Hyper-lucid, terrifyingly rational, fiercely independent, and immovably resolute. He knew exactly where every single lens was pointed. He knew exactly when to deliver a soundbite, exactly when to turn his back, and precisely what subliminal information he was broadcasting to the audience.
But it was precisely this terrifyingly intelligent, uncontrollable archetype that ultimately forged the most spectacular, unforgettable narratives.
Rees could already vividly picture the raw footage playing out in the editing bay.
The deliberate manipulation. The ruthless counter-attacks. The sharp, mocking banter. The flat, undeniable refusal to comply.
Combine that with the pregnant, heavy silences. The razor-sharp pauses.
The 'Drive to Survive' audience was going to absolutely lose their minds over Kai. They were going to become fanatically obsessed with him.
The highly anticipated first season had premiered just last month. Ricciardo, who had been heavily featured as the primary protagonist weaving the entire narrative together, surprisingly hadn't generated the most viral heat. Instead, Guenther Steiner had completely hijacked the show, becoming a massive, undeniable global meme across all social media platforms. Rees could already envision the devastating impact of the upcoming second season. Kai was going to detonate with a terrifying amount of energy. He possessed the raw gravity to drag the entire series to an entirely new, unprecedented cultural stratosphere.
The only remaining problem was...
Initially, Rees had finalized his overarching master plan. 'Drive to Survive' wouldn't focus excessively on Kai. The paddock was already packed with highly compelling drivers perfectly suited to anchor the primary storylines: Verstappen, Leclerc, Albon, Vettel, Russell, and the list went on. Kai's incredibly complex, nuanced story arc could be entirely reserved and fully explored within his upcoming standalone documentary.
But now... Rees was genuinely hesitating.
"Should we actively carve out a massive, dedicated storyline exclusively for him right here in the main series?" Rees tilted his head back, staring at the ceiling, and let out a long, heavy sigh. "This is an absolute nightmare!"
Prior to the start of the new season, Rees had already been operating with massive, towering expectations. But he had absolutely never anticipated that once the season officially began, the terrifying surprises Kai delivered would massively eclipse even his wildest projections.
So, was this simply the agonizing burden of having too much incredible material?
Watching Rees lost in profound thought, yet entirely unable to wipe the massive grin off his face, the rest of the crew immediately resumed their hushed, excited whispering.
Separated by a single wall, out in the hallway, the atmosphere was eerily identical.
Every single eye was locked obsessively onto one person. The crew members from the standalone documentary team were continuously exchanging wild, frantic glances. Even though they had witnessed the entire exchange with their own eyes, they still couldn't fully comprehend what had just happened.
However, a massive crowd of people aimlessly loitering in a narrow hallway was obviously a terrible idea.
They were frantically debating their next move. Should they start packing up some of the B-roll cameras? And more importantly... was Kai, who was still sitting casually on the floor, actually intending to stay there and eavesdrop on the rival garage?
Click.
A nearby door opened. Every single head in the hallway snapped toward the sound in perfect synchronization, acting exactly like a massive bank of spotlights.
When Leclerc finally finished his grueling 'Drive to Survive' interview and stepped out of the room, this was the exact, terrifying scene he walked into.
A massive, densely packed horde of people completely blocked the entire hallway. He looked to his left: completely jammed. He looked to his right: still completely jammed. The corridor was choked tight; there was absolutely zero room to maneuver. Dozens of pairs of eyes were staring at him with terrifying intensity. The burning glare of the production lights and the sheer weight of their collective gaze washed over him. It was hot enough to physically blister his skin. He felt completely, uncomfortably exposed.
His immediate, subconscious reaction was to take a massive step backward and slam the door shut.
It felt exactly like a scene out of the movie 'Coherence.' Opening the door revealed one reality; slamming it shut and opening it again would surely reveal an entirely different, vastly less terrifying parallel universe. A seamless transition.
After violently suppressing the overwhelming urge to retreat, Leclerc finally spotted the primary culprit responsible for this circus.
The entire cluster of camera operators and boom mic technicians had formed a tight, suffocating ring around a single individual, essentially creating a highly condensed, impromptu press conference right in the middle of the hallway.
Leclerc: ???
Freezing in his tracks, Leclerc instinctively blurted out, "Kai, what the hell is going on here?"
The prime suspect, currently sitting cross-legged on the floor, casually threw his hands into the air, adopting an expression of profound, absolute innocence. "This is entirely their fault. My original plan was to hide around the corner and jump out to scare the living daylights out of you. But clearly, this massive, trailing entourage is way too large to conceal. Left with absolutely no alternative, I was forced to abandon my brilliant ambush."
Leclerc let out a long, exasperated sigh and rolled his eyes so hard it hurt. "Sure. I'll just blindly pretend to believe that absolute nonsense."
"Haha!" Kai burst into bright, genuine laughter. "I was actually waiting out here specifically for you. My mom wanted me to pass along a message. She said thank you for the wonderful Christmas gift Pascale sent over. Now that you've finally made it all the way to Shanghai, she feels it's her absolute duty to properly host you and express her gratitude."
Leclerc paused, his expression instantly shifting into something slightly shy and overwhelmed. "Oh, that's really not necessary. Please tell her not to go to any trouble."
Kai casually spread his hands. "My mom is personally cooking dinner tonight. It absolutely won't be a repeat of my horrific, borderline-lethal culinary experiments."
Leclerc's eyes immediately lit up. "Well, in that case, we need to hurry up and get moving. We absolutely cannot keep her waiting, right? That would be incredibly rude."
Haha!
Kai's eyes were practically overflowing with amusement. He didn't bother pointing out Leclerc's massive hypocrisy. He simply reached out and grabbed Leclerc's offered hand, using the momentum to pull himself up from the floor. Completely ignoring the massive production crew lurking behind them, he fell into step right next to Leclerc, and the two drivers began walking down the hallway.
It took the documentary crew a full second to realize that Leclerc had just executed a brilliant, subtle tactical maneuver. By walking perfectly shoulder-to-shoulder, the two young drivers effectively formed a solid wall, completely barricading the narrow hallway. It made it physically impossible for the crew to push past them and get in front. Even though the cameras continued to dutifully track them from behind, the boom mics were now completely out of range to pick up clean audio.
At that exact moment, the crew finally understood the truth. Kai sitting in the hallway hadn't been a random act of rebellion; he had been deliberately waiting to ambush Leclerc.
"I stayed behind specifically to wait for you," Kai stated, his tone completely open, honest, and stripped of all sarcasm.
Leclerc didn't overthink it. "I know, I know. Jiang Mo is cooking dinner..."
Leclerc glanced over and caught the highly specific, knowing smile playing on Kai's lips. He abruptly stopped talking.
Kai shook his head. "I stayed behind specifically to celebrate with you. We executed an absolutely brilliant race today. It was a massive, undeniable victory for the entire team."
Leclerc froze, visibly confused. "Wait. So... there's no dinner?"
"Haha!" Kai threw his head back and roared with laughter. "No, there is definitely dinner. My mom specifically asked me to interrogate you about your exact food preferences and spice tolerance. Tonight, you are the undisputed guest of honor. I'm just the localized tour guide."
Leclerc seamlessly played along, nodding vigorously with an expression of profound, absolute satisfaction. "Well, that's a massive relief. I know a certain someone who constantly, obsessively whines about wanting 'real' Chinese food. He practically threw a tantrum claiming the Chinese food in Monaco isn't actually Chinese food. Good god, if it isn't Chinese food, what exactly is it? French cuisine?"
"I genuinely appreciate the fact that you didn't accidentally insult me by calling it Italian cuisine," Kai replied, his expression entirely deadpan.
Leclerc hadn't anticipated that specific comeback. He paused for a microsecond before bursting into loud, uninhibited laughter. The heavy, suffocating cloud of depression that had been weighing him down finally began to dissipate.
For Leclerc, today's race had been a profound, bitter disappointment. It was genuinely depressing.
During the chaotic opening laps, and again during the middle phase of the first stint, he had been presented with two golden opportunities to fully unleash the car, push to the absolute limit, and put his phenomenal raw speed and aggressive overtaking talent on full display. Kai had even proactively surrendered his track position to facilitate the attack. If Leclerc had successfully capitalized on either of those opportunities, it was entirely possible he could have hijacked the entire narrative of the race and transformed it into his own personal highlight reel.
However, what was the final result?
Not only had he completely failed to capitalize on the openings, but he had encountered catastrophic tire degradation issues during the second stint. And then, during the crucial final stint, he had suffered the ultimate humiliation of being overtaken on track by Verstappen.
Fifth place. It was fifth place again. Goddamn fifth place. From his rookie season at Sauber to his current seat at Ferrari... two full years operating in Formula 1, and his absolute best finish remained a frustrating, agonizing fifth place. It felt like an inescapable curse, an invisible ceiling he simply couldn't shatter.
It was a volatile, toxic cocktail of frustration, profound disappointment, and a massive tangle of complex, ugly emotions he couldn't fully untangle. He desperately wanted to lash out and vent his anger, but he had absolutely no idea where to direct it.
"You realize, of course, that when I exited the pits after my final stop... you never actually had a genuine opportunity to overtake me, right?" Kai's voice suddenly cut through his internal downward spiral.
Leclerc froze. Something was very wrong here. Was Kai seriously trying to pick a fight right now? "The only reason you maintained the lead was because I am a team player, okay?! I completely understood that you had the optimal racing line secured, and you undeniably held the positional advantage. But if I had truly, aggressively forced the issue and launched a desperate attack... it's absolutely not a guarantee that I wouldn't have passed you. I specifically chose to let you off the hook!"
The words violently erupted from his mouth like a wild, unbroken stallion bolting from a stable.
The exact second the sentence ended, Leclerc was crushed by a massive wave of regret.
He absolutely shouldn't have said that. The frantic apology was already sitting on the tip of his tongue, but his jaw locked tight in stubborn frustration, refusing to let the words out.
Kai simply looked over at him. There was a bright, undeniable smile shining in his eyes.
Leclerc froze.
Before Leclerc could even attempt to process the reaction, Kai spoke. "Exactly. That's the exact energy I'm looking for. Hold onto that aggressive, arrogant posture, and tell absolutely everyone else on the grid to go to hell."
Leclerc slowly began to understand what was happening. Despite his best efforts, he couldn't stop the corners of his mouth from relaxing.
"This is a team sport. The final result today wasn't just my doing, and it wasn't just your doing. It was a massive, collective victory orchestrated by the pit wall, the strategy department, and the 'You-Know-Whos'."
As he spoke, Kai deliberately shifted his gaze backward, subtly gesturing toward the documentary crew trailing them.
The crew had sensibly, professionally maintained their distance. Kai's signal was glaringly obvious. This was a private, highly sensitive conversation between teammates, and he was flatly refusing to grant them access. They wisely chose not to push their luck and didn't attempt to close the gap.
Even if they couldn't capture a single word of the conversation, simply securing the B-roll footage of the two Ferrari drivers walking shoulder-to-shoulder, engaged in an intense private discussion, was more than enough to communicate the necessary narrative.
Despite the buffer zone, Kai still lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. The 'You-Know-Whos' were glaringly obviously the engineering department.
It was an inside joke, a shared secret between the two of them. They both understood perfectly. Leclerc's smile finally broke free, blooming completely. Without even consciously realizing it, the massive, suffocating knot of tension in his chest completely unraveled.
"Charles, you drove an absolutely phenomenal race today. The ultimate result we secured was a massive, collective victory for the entire organization," Kai continued.
Leclerc looked over. Kai's eyes were completely clear, devoid of any hidden agenda or mocking sarcasm. They were open, utterly sincere, and completely transparent. The heavy, toxic sludge of frustration that had been clogging Leclerc's chest quietly evaporated.
"When you exited the pit lane, your defensive positioning was absolutely flawless. I knew perfectly well that there was zero opening, which is exactly why I didn't attempt a reckless, desperate lunge." Leclerc finally forced the admission out of his throat. "Your performance today absolutely earned that victory."
Kai grinned, flashing a wide, bright smile. "Obviously, I know that. Because I trust you implicitly. I know that if I had left even a microscopic opening, you absolutely would not have hesitated to exploit it. That's exactly why I was forced to use every single ounce of my strength to aggressively lock down that position. When you're facing down an elite-tier opponent, you are absolutely required to operate at 100% capacity."
"Come on, man. Have a little faith in yourself. Where exactly did the arrogant, untouchable aura of the 'Prince of Ferrari' go? Why are you sulking like a kicked puppy? The teammate I've been eagerly anticipating is absolutely not some pathetic, fragile pushover that anyone can easily bully."
Leclerc rolled his eyes. "You're just saying that to make me feel better."
"If I had actually managed to overtake you on track today, and ended up defeating you to claim the championship victory—"
Kai immediately cut him off. "I would have stood there and cheered for you. And then I would have turned right around and made damn sure I crushed you at the very next race."
The remainder of Leclerc's sentence died on his tongue. He stared intently into Kai's bright, piercing eyes, involuntarily swallowing hard. He remained completely silent, listening intently.
The corners of Kai's mouth relaxed, curving into a soft, confident smile. "We are racing drivers. We are both fundamentally obsessed with chasing ultimate speed. If either of us tried to claim that we aren't completely, fanatically addicted to winning, it would be an absolute lie. However, if there is no genuine, brutal competition... the taste of the victory simply isn't as sweet."
"Have you ever wondered why the 2008 Wimbledon Men's Singles Final is still universally regarded as the absolute greatest match in the entire history of tennis?"
Wait. Tennis?
Leclerc's brain completely derailed. He stared at Kai in profound, utter confusion. The motorsport world was overflowing with legendary rivalries and epic battles to draw from. Why on earth was he suddenly bringing up tennis?
Kai noticed Leclerc's baffled expression, and he knew he had successfully hooked him.
By deliberately abandoning motorsport analogies and pivoting entirely to tennis, Kai was aggressively forcing Leclerc to break out of his rigid, suffocating mental framework. He was forcing him to shed his preconceived notions and follow Kai's specific narrative flow.
"It was because Nadal and Federer were two truly elite opponents who actively, relentlessly pushed each other to achieve absolute greatness. They forced each other to shatter their ultimate limits. Prior to 2008, Nadal had brutally fought his way into the Wimbledon Final for two consecutive years, only to suffer agonizing, heartbreaking defeats at the hands of Federer both times. Nadal was capable of utterly destroying Federer on literally any other surface on the planet, but achieving that specific victory on the grass at Wimbledon seemed to be an impossible, unconquerable task. It was exactly the same dynamic as Federer being fundamentally incapable of defeating Nadal on the clay at Roland Garros."
"For three consecutive years, these two absolute titans clashed in the finals of both Roland Garros and Wimbledon. Nadal secured three consecutive victories over Federer at Roland Garros. And entering the 2008 Wimbledon final, Federer was fully prepared to complete his own three-peat, aiming to crush Nadal on the grass for the third consecutive year."
"Without all of that agonizing history, without that massive, crushing accumulation of narrative weight, the underlying tension of that specific match simply wouldn't have existed."
This specific history was entirely unfamiliar to Leclerc. Despite his initial confusion, he found himself involuntarily sucked into the story. He listened with absolute, rapt attention, letting out soft, involuntary murmurs of awe and realization.
"And of course, the actual execution of the match itself was utterly legendary."
"Nadal immediately seized control, taking the first two sets. Federer, backed into a corner, miraculously saved multiple match points, clawing his way back to win the next two sets. The match was violently shoved into a grueling, brutal fifth-set decider."
"It was getting incredibly late in London. Wimbledon was terrifyingly close to officially suspending the match due to darkness, forcing the conclusion of this 'Match of the Century' to be delayed until the following day. But Nadal fiercely grabbed hold of the absolute final, dying rays of the setting sun. He finally broke Federer, securing a brutal 9-7 victory in the deciding set, and officially claiming his very first Wimbledon championship."
"It was a massive, agonizing rollercoaster. A truly epic, soul-crushing battle."
"Ultimately, it was permanently carved into the history books!"
"In the world of professional tennis, there are four Grand Slams every single year. Champions are crowned continuously, generation after generation. It's impossible to count them all. Every single year produces countless spectacular, breathtaking matches. But why do every single expert and every single fan obsessively look back at that specific Wimbledon final? It's entirely because of the ultimate, transcendent narrative authored jointly by two genuinely great opponents."
"They fundamentally achieved greatness by pushing each other. The narrative absolutely requires both of them."
Leclerc's consciousness had been completely, irreversibly hijacked by Kai's rhythm. Even if he closed his eyes, he could viscerally feel the raw, crackling energy radiating from Kai's voice. It was the aura of a fiercely arrogant youth riding a warhorse, boldly commanding the battlefield. He sounded as though he were actively, physically chasing down the sun itself. If you handed him a lever long enough, he genuinely looked capable of moving the entire Earth.
The pressure was absolutely real.
The suffocating depression was an undeniable fact.
Finishing fifth in three consecutive races. Forget about standing on the podium; he couldn't even manage to defeat Verstappen. For a driver as fiercely ambitious and highly motivated as Leclerc, it was undeniably a massive, heavy blow.
After all, Ferrari was not Sauber. He knew with absolute certainty that he had to start producing tangible, undeniable results immediately. Otherwise, Ferrari simply wouldn't possess the patience to sit around and wait for a young driver to develop.
This pressure was magnified exponentially because Ferrari currently employed two incredibly young drivers. Without a direct comparison, there is no damage. But the comparison was glaringly obvious.
The Shanghai Grand Prix had made the disparity agonizingly clear. Leclerc had finally been granted his first genuine opportunity of the season to unleash his potential and aggressively showcase his talent. Yet, the final result was exactly the same: P5. All P5s are not created equal. This specific P5 in Shanghai stung infinitely more than the others.
Formula 1 is a brutal psychological meat grinder. The exact instant a driver begins to experience genuine self-doubt and hesitation, they become fundamentally incapable of operating at 100% capacity on the asphalt. When you lose your absolute conviction during that chaotic, violent dance within a thousandth of a second... that microscopic, tenth-of-a-second deficit in Qualifying will rapidly, violently expand into a massive, insurmountable chasm during the race.
After the brutal reality check of today's race, Leclerc had undeniably begun to waver. A microscopic, terrifying fracture had quietly appeared in his usually flawless, bulletproof self-confidence.
Clearly, Kai had noticed it. Because everything Leclerc was currently suffering through, Kai had personally endured during his own brutal rookie campaign last season.
That was the exact reason he had stayed behind to ambush him.
On the surface, the conversation was entirely about today's race. But in reality, it contained a vastly deeper, more profound implication.
However, Kai didn't resort to offering pathetic, empty platitudes like "Fifth place is actually a really solid result!" or "In my eyes, you're a champion too!" That type of superficial, manufactured "chicken soup for the soul" was completely worthless. Aside from tasting like mass-produced corporate garbage, it provided absolutely zero tangible benefit.
He actively stepped outside the confines of this specific race, and even outside the entire realm of motorsport, to successfully resurrect Leclerc's fighting spirit.
"There is absolutely no doubt that the ultimate allure of competitive sports lies in claiming the victory. But the only thing that truly immortalizes a victory in the history books is having defeated a genuinely great opponent."
"Some drivers desperately desire a weak, pathetic pushover for a teammate. Someone they can effortlessly crush at will, specifically to artificially inflate their own sense of greatness. Other drivers desperately desire a teammate they can actively fight shoulder-to-shoulder with. Someone who will violently force them to unlock their ultimate potential, relentlessly driving each other forward. They want to engage in brutal, healthy competition, evolving into vastly superior drivers together as they obsessively chase the absolute limits of speed."
The delivery was light and conversational, yet overflowing with absolute, unshakeable confidence.
Kai turned his head, shooting Leclerc a highly significant, loaded glance. The underlying meaning was glaringly obvious. Upon meeting his gaze, Leclerc couldn't stop the corners of his mouth from curving sharply upward.
Staring at Kai, Leclerc finally experienced a profound realization. In the past, he had always stood on the outside, acting as a spectator while Kai authored these impossible miracles. It had always felt slightly surreal, lacking genuine substance. Deep down, he had always viewed Kai purely as a friend. He had maintained an unshakeable, stubborn conviction that if Kai was capable of achieving these things, then surely, he was equally capable.
It wasn't just him. Gasly, Norris, Verstappen... they all harbored that exact same arrogant belief.
But now that he was standing on the inside, actively fighting shoulder-to-shoulder with Kai as a teammate... Leclerc finally understood the truth. Kai wasn't just a phenomenal lead driver. He was actively, undeniably radiating the aura of a true teammate and a genuine leader.
On the surface, it appeared that the only thing separating the rest of the young grid from Kai was the fact that Kai was sitting in a Ferrari. Just like the only thing separating the rest of the grid from Hamilton was a Mercedes-Benz. But when you drilled down to the absolute core reality... you finally understood exactly why Kai was the one actively authoring history, and not anyone else. It was absolutely, undeniably about vastly more than simply driving a Ferrari.
Quietly, invisibly, Kai had already pulled massively, terrifyingly far ahead of him.
He absolutely had to pull himself together. He couldn't allow this late-arriving upstart to leave him completely in the dust.
Involuntarily, Leclerc's own emotions began to violently boil over. As he stared back at Kai, the brilliant, fiercely competitive light was fully reignited in his eyes. A massive, genuine smile slowly bloomed across his face.
"Okay then. So... in this specific scenario, are you supposed to be Nadal, or are you Federer?"
Kai didn't hesitate for a microsecond. "Nadal. Obviously. I mean, just look at the raw, undeniable facts."
Leclerc rolled his eyes toward the ceiling, completely exasperated. He was just preparing to launch into a massive argument when his brain finally caught up to the subtext. "Wait a second. Something is very wrong here. Why exactly does your tone imply a deep, profound disdain for Federer? Are you serious? Does someone actually exist on this planet who dislikes Federer?"
"Oh, so you're a fan of the cow?"
"The cow? Are you talking about Federer?! Why on earth would you call Federer a cow?!"
"Well, it's actually a very long, incredibly dramatic story..."
Blah, blah, blah. The two drivers fell back into a rhythm of rapid-fire banter and relentless mockery. The dynamic, back-and-forth exchange had been completely, flawlessly restored. It was glaringly obvious that Leclerc required no further comfort or encouragement. His fierce, competitive spirit had fully returned. The heavy, suffocating tension had completely vanished from his shoulders. Even his footsteps seemed significantly lighter as they walked.
As they continued down the path, rapidly approaching the exit of the paddock leading toward the parking lot, Kai's footsteps suddenly stuttered to a halt. A note of profound confusion bled into his voice.
"Charles, is that... a person? Or are my eyes currently malfunctioning?"
The evening had fully settled in. Under the hazy, chaotic glow of the scattered circuit lights, everything appeared blurry and indistinct. A vague, shadowy silhouette was faintly outlined in the gloom. Leclerc followed Kai's gaze. Not only was the figure shrouded in darkness, but it was also heavily backlit. Leclerc was forced to squint, humming thoughtfully as he carefully scrutinized the shape.
"Uh... it looks like... yeah, I think it actually is. That's a..."
Before the sentence could even fully form on his tongue, Kai had already bolted. He vanished from the periphery of Leclerc's vision, taking massive, rapid strides toward the shadow.
As Kai passed beneath the glare of an overhead light, the silhouette finally snapped into sharp focus. He could finally confirm his suspicion. It was a tiny kid.
The little guy looked to be roughly four or five years old. He was clutching a bright red racing helmet. The helmet, which would be massive and heavy even for an adult, looked like an absolute behemoth resting in the tiny kid's lap. He was sitting on a concrete step, using the helmet wedged between his legs as a makeshift support pillar. Both of his tiny hands were planted firmly on top of the helmet, propping up his chin. His chubby cheeks were squished together, and his half-open eyes were heavily glazed over. He was clearly fighting a losing battle against sleep. His tiny head bobbed forward rhythmically, exactly like a chicken pecking at grain.
Kai looked left. He looked right. There was absolutely no sign of a guardian anywhere.
Kai felt a sudden surge of genuine anxiety. Was this a lost child? Did the paddock even have a centralized public address system for lost kids? His parents must be absolutely losing their minds with panic right now, right?
As he closed the distance, the details became clearer. Kai had absolutely zero experience dealing with small children. For a brief second, he genuinely had no idea how to approach the situation.
After a moment of rapid calculation, Kai simply sat down cross-legged on the concrete directly across from the little guy. He reached out and gently tapped him on the shoulder. "Hey there, little guy. Are you lost?"
The kid jolted awake from his doze. He blinked groggily, staring around in a daze. He used a chubby, dimpled hand to aggressively rub his eyes. "No..." he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep. "I'm... not lost. I'm waiting here for..." He trailed off, letting out a massive, jaw-cracking yawn before finally forcing his eyes open completely.
"CAPTAIN!"
Kai was mildly surprised. A soft smile touched his lips. "Oh, you recognize me?"
The little guy's eyes went wide as saucers. He looked completely bewildered. He just stared blankly at Kai, completely paralyzed, seemingly entirely forgetting how to speak.
At that moment, Leclerc finally caught up. He assessed the scene. "What's wrong? You didn't accidentally terrify the poor kid, did you?"
Kai tilted his head back, glancing up at Leclerc. "I honestly have no idea. He claims he's waiting here for someone. Do you think he's supposed to be waiting here for his parents?"
With that thought in mind, Kai refocused his attention entirely on the kid. He switched smoothly back to Chinese. "Who exactly are you waiting for here? Your dad? Your mom?"
The little guy nodded vigorously. And then he shook his head just as vigorously. His massive, crystal-clear eyes remained locked unblinkingly onto Kai. "Captain," he repeated, his voice small but firm.
Leclerc, completely lost, asked, "What did he just say?"
Kai offered a helpless shrug. He continued speaking in Chinese. "Yes, that's right. I am the Captain... Uh... the Captain of the Paw Patrol?"
To be brutally honest, Kai's brain had completely flatlined. He had absolutely zero clue what cartoons children were currently obsessed with. The era of Pokémon was definitely over by now, right? But wait... did 'Paw Patrol' even actually have a designated 'Captain'?
The little guy shook his head violently. He stared at Kai, who was clearly agonizingly trying to figure out the situation. His tiny chest was bursting with things he wanted to say, but he simply lacked the vocabulary to articulate them.
Finally, the kid apparently decided words were useless. He abruptly lunged forward, throwing himself directly into Kai's chest. He wrapped both his tiny arms tightly around Kai's neck and buried his face deep into Kai's shirt.
Kai: ???
Leclerc stood off to the side, completely failing to suppress his amusement. Even though he logically knew this involved a potentially lost child and wasn't a laughing matter, the visual was simply too hilarious to ignore.
"Oh dear. Kai, you've officially made the baby cry. The 'Baby Driver' is completely powerless when faced with an actual baby..."
Haha! HAHAHAHAHA!
He didn't even get to finish the joke.
Kai shot a withering glare over his shoulder. Leclerc was currently bent double, clutching his stomach, roaring with uncontrollable laughter. He was laughing so hard no sound was coming out. It was a massive, completely unhinged display of amusement. Who knows what ridiculous scenario he was currently projecting onto the situation.
Kai looked profoundly unimpressed. He delivered a flat, deadpan response. "Since you clearly think this is so hilarious, why don't you step up and demonstrate your skills? Maybe bust out some freestyle choreography, throw in some breakdancing moves, and properly entertain the child. Please, enlighten me on the correct protocol for handling this situation."
Leclerc instantly froze, letting out a weird, panicked squawk.
Kai immediately ignored him, turning his attention back to the tiny human clinging to him. "Are you out here all by yourself? Where did your mom and dad go?"
The little guy timidly lifted his head from Kai's chest. His massive eyes were completely filled with Kai. "Dad went to find the Captain. Over there by the pit garages."
Finally, a tangible clue. It seemed highly likely this was the child of a paddock staff member. That would explain why he had been left sitting alone holding a massive helmet, and why his guardian apparently felt comfortable enough to wander off without him.
Kai looked directly into the kid's eyes. "Which specific pit garage? Do you happen to remember what color it was?"
The kid didn't answer. He just continued staring blankly at Kai. And then, he just... started giggling. A bright, bubbling sound. He immediately buried his face back into Kai's chest.
Kai felt a bizarre mixture of profound confusion and genuine amusement. Just as he was preparing to try questioning the kid again, the night breeze carried the sound of a man's voice toward them. The man was loudly sighing, groaning, and muttering in obvious frustration. Even though Kai couldn't clearly make out the specific words, the heavy, stomping footsteps clearly communicated profound annoyance and regret.
It wasn't until the man was practically on top of them that he finally seemed to register his surroundings. "Xiao Qi! Qi Qi! Zheng Siqi!"
He came sprinting toward them, yelling frantically. Then, he violently slammed on the brakes, inhaling a massive, sharp gasp of air. "Charles Leclerc!"
Leclerc stood there, feeling incredibly awkward. He was completely baffled and had absolutely no idea what was going on, but he politely nodded his head in greeting. He genuinely had no idea what he was supposed to do next.
A microsecond later, a massive, agonizing wail echoed into the night sky. "AHHHHH!"
The entire circuit seemed to shudder in response.
And then, the tiny kid currently burrowed into Kai's chest popped his head out from under Kai's arm. His face was flushed with manic excitement. His entire tiny body began wiggling uncontrollably. "Daddy! It's the Captain!"
Kai: ...Huh?
After a chaotic flurry of introductions and rapid-fire explanations, Kai finally managed to piece the story together. "Wait. You guys traveled all the way from Kunming specifically to watch this race?"
The man nodded vigorously. His chest was practically bursting with hot-blooded passion, but he was completely incapable of articulating it. He looked as though he desperately wanted to rip his violently hammering heart directly out of his chest and present it to Kai as proof. "Xiao Qi... ever since the Shanghai Grand Prix last year, he's been absolutely obsessed with you. He's entirely hyper-fixated on driving go-karts. He desperately wants to be exactly like you."
It was a simple, straightforward sentence. But Kai could easily extract a massive amount of hidden context from the man's trembling, highly emotional tone. The underlying story was undeniably vastly more complex and difficult than those few simple words could ever convey. It was a narrative that couldn't possibly be summarized in a brief exchange.
A massive, heavy surge of warmth instantly flooded Kai's chest. It was a potent mixture of profound happiness and deep emotional resonance. Kai understood vastly better than absolutely anyone else on the planet exactly how agonizingly difficult the path of a racing driver truly was. However, that fundamentally didn't matter.
Possessing a dream is a magnificent, powerful thing.
Not every single child who falls in love with motorsport is guaranteed to become a professional racing driver. It's exactly the same as football or basketball. There are countless millions of people across the globe who are fiercely, passionately in love with the game, but only a microscopic fraction will ever play professionally. In fact, even becoming a highly skilled amateur is an incredibly difficult task. The true, fundamental passion for competitive sports isn't necessarily fueled by the delusion that you will personally achieve ultimate greatness. It's fueled by the pure, unadulterated passion of daring to dream of greatness. It's about injecting a completely different, vibrant, magnificent splash of color into your future life.
Kai turned his attention back to the tiny kid in front of him. A soft, genuine laugh escaped his lips.
While at Maranello, the Tifosi were constantly, obsessively screaming "Captain! Captain!" Kai had never actually taken the title seriously. He simply viewed it as a fun, affectionate nickname they had coined.
He absolutely never anticipated encountering it here, back in his homeland.
Kai maintained his eye level with the little guy. He awkwardly twisted his body and formally extended his right hand. "It is an absolute pleasure to meet you. My name is Kai."
The little guy's massive, crystal-clear eyes remained fixed intensely on Kai. He looked incredibly shy, but he bravely reached out and grasped Kai's offered hand. "I am Zheng Siqi." He hesitated for a brief second before continuing. "In the whole wide world, I like you the absolute most. When I grow up... can I be just like you?"
Ha!
A massive, blinding smile completely took over Kai's face. "Well, in that case, I am definitely going to have to work vastly harder. I have to make sure I become a truly incredible, super-powerful driver... and then I'll be waiting right here at the top for you to catch up to me."
"So, what do you say? Do we agree to work really hard together?"
The little guy nodded with massive enthusiasm. "Yeah! Um... Captain? Can you please sign this for me? This is the helmet my daddy bought for me. It's my very first real helmet!"
So that explained the massive helmet!
Kai looked at the kid, who was now clutching the helmet tightly to his chest exactly as if it were an invaluable, priceless artifact. Kai's mood instantly soared. He felt vastly happier right now than he had when he officially won the championship earlier today.
For Kai, a Grand Prix trophy was simply another milestone on his long, ongoing journey. But for this tiny kid, this helmet represented the absolute, definitive starting line of his ultimate dream.
"Absolutely!" Kai nodded firmly. "It would be my absolute honor!"
After carefully, meticulously signing his name across the helmet, Kai looked back down at the kid. "Do you happen to know Charles? He's my teammate! He's a racing driver exactly like me, and we fight shoulder-to-shoulder on the track. So, what do you think? Should we invite him to join our crew and work really hard together too?"
The little guy cast a shy, timid glance over at Leclerc.
Leclerc: ?
The entire exchange had been conducted exclusively in rapid-fire Chinese. Leclerc was completely, profoundly lost. He had absolutely no idea what had just happened, and he had zero clue how he was expected to respond.
Immediately following that, the little guy stood up. He wiggled out of Kai's grasp, hoisted the massive helmet into his arms with a grunt of effort, and began waddling unsteadily toward Leclerc.
Leclerc panicked slightly. He dropped his voice to a frantic whisper. "Kai?"
Kai didn't say a single word in response. He simply sat cross-legged on the asphalt, leaned back, braced himself on his hands, and settled in to thoroughly enjoy the show.
The tiny kid finally reached Leclerc and stopped. He craned his neck, staring straight up at the massive giant towering over him.
Leclerc finally realized what he was supposed to do. He frantically attempted to mimic Kai's posture and crouch down. Instead, he lost his balance and fell flat on his ass onto the concrete. The resulting visual caused Kai to throw his head back and roar with laughter.
The little kid held up the helmet. "Charles, can you... can you please sign my helmet too?"
Leclerc shot a desperate, pleading look toward Kai for a translation.
Kai's voice, thick with suppressed laughter, floated over. "Charles, he desperately wants to chase his ultimate dream, exactly like you. He is officially requesting your support in his endeavor."
Leclerc froze. Completely unexpectedly, a massive, overwhelming wave of warmth flooded his chest. A subtle, incredibly profound emotion violently shattered the soil in his heart and began growing wildly.
The road ahead was undeniably littered with massive, terrifying challenges. Whether it was fixing the SF90, or fixing his own internal flaws... none of it was going to be simple. It absolutely wasn't going to be magically resolved overnight like a fairy tale. However, staring down at the tiny kid standing in front of him... and listening to the obnoxious, incredibly loud laughter coming from Kai in the background... his confidence began to slowly, steadily rebuild.
Leclerc firmly believed that he was now fully mentally prepared to face every single obstacle and tackle every single challenge head-on.
After all, this was Ferrari. This was the ultimate, sacred stage he had obsessed over his entire life. He had been dreaming about this exact reality ever since he was the same age as the tiny kid standing in front of him. It had been his singular, driving obsession. And now, he had finally earned the opportunity to fully unleash his talent on this massive stage. He was currently living inside the exact dream world his childhood self had fabricated. He possessed an absolute duty to fiercely grip every single passing second, to maximize every single microscopic opportunity, and to bravely, aggressively pursue his ultimate dream.
"Absolutely!" Leclerc replied warmly, carefully adding his own signature to the little kid's helmet.
Just moments ago, Leclerc had been standing on the sidelines, happily enjoying the show and loudly mocking Kai's utter helplessness. He had absolutely never anticipated karma striking back quite so rapidly. In the blink of an eye, the tables had completely turned.
Leclerc instinctively looked up, silently begging Kai for assistance. When it came to speaking Chinese, to be brutally honest, he was completely, hopelessly out of his depth.
Kai didn't offer a verbal translation, but his face was completely devoid of any mocking schadenfreude. Instead, he met Leclerc's panicked, utterly lost gaze with a warm, encouraging look.
The chaotic, surging emotions inside Leclerc's chest slowly began to settle. After a brief moment of intense concentration, he finally managed to string together a slightly clumsy, heavily accented phrase in Chinese. "Thank you."
The words were incredibly simple, but the emotion behind them was profoundly genuine.
A microsecond later, Leclerc had a front-row seat to watch the pure, unadulterated joy and absolute happiness bloom across the little kid's face. The sheer brilliance of that smile felt bright enough to illuminate the entire night sky.
Deep within his very soul, an undeniable, burning passion had finally shattered the earth. It took root. And it began to grow.