The night breeze rustled. Not far down the corridor, the Netflix production crew remained clustered together. They refused to leave, quietly observing the scene unfolding ahead of them, yet they didn't take a single step forward. They exchanged uncertain glances, a hint of hesitation bleeding into their eyes.
Should they continue following them?
Rees wasn't present to make the final call. According to Netflix's standard operating procedure, they should simply shoot first and ask questions later. But the subject in question was Kai.
The lawless, fiercely independent Kai. The exact same Kai who dared to openly defy Rees to his face.
Kai had just explicitly stated that he and Leclerc required privacy. If the crew recklessly pushed forward, the situation would likely end in disaster. After a moment of internal struggle, they ultimately chose not to intrude. Just as they hadn't interrupted Kai and Leclerc's private conversation, and just as they hadn't interrupted the brief encounter with the tiny fan.
Some things didn't need to be explicitly spelled out. Even if they merely captured a wide shot from a distance, the underlying emotion was already glaringly obvious. The Shanghai circuit paddock was dead quiet. The faint whirring of the cameras was swallowed by the wind. The world felt exceptionally peaceful. It was the profound, relaxing tranquility that settles in after all the chaotic adrenaline and deafening noise finally fades away.
For Kai, for Leclerc, and for Ferrari, this had been an incredibly special day.
When the 2019 season finally concluded, they would look back at the Shanghai Grand Prix. Exactly as Kai had predicted, only then would they know for certain if today was the ultimate turning point. But there was absolutely no doubt that something massive was shifting. It wasn't just a single Grand Prix trophy. Something vastly more profound was taking root deep within the soil of mainland China. A fundamental change was unfolding.
Clearly, for many, tonight would be a sleepless night. Not just for Mercedes-Benz. The dual Netflix documentary crews would likely be working around the clock. And that didn't even account for the millions of ecstatic, fiercely passionate fans across mainland China who were preparing to party until dawn.
After bidding farewell to the tiny fan, Leclerc followed Kai to explore Shanghai. Exactly like Monaco, the city now held profound significance beyond just a racing venue.
Kai's newly purchased Shanghai villa hosted its very first guests. Lu Cheng and Jiang Mo took on the hosting duties, warmly entertaining Leclerc. Lorenzo and Song Bo's entire family were also present. The Monegasque and the Italian were treated to a phenomenal display of traditional Eastern hospitality.
As dinner drew to a close and the plates were nearly cleared, a notoriously late Nicolas Todt finally arrived.
Seeing the leftovers, Jiang Mo absolutely refused to let a guest eat cold scraps. She immediately tied on an apron and headed back into the kitchen to whip up a hot meal, with Zhang Qiaomu following to help.
Nicolas tried frantically to decline, eventually looking to Kai in helpless desperation. "I genuinely don't mind. A simple burger would be perfectly fine. The leftover dishes look incredibly delicious anyway."
Kai waved him off. "Don't worry about it. In Europe, you're used to cold meals, so I know you genuinely don't mind. But here, we serve hot food. Serving cold leftovers to a guest is considered incredibly rude. Besides, this is your very first time visiting. We absolutely cannot neglect you."
"Even if my mom wasn't here, I wouldn't let you eat cold food."
Seeing Nicolas's rigid, slightly anxious expression, Kai laughed out loud and clapped him on the shoulder.
"Relax. You only get this special treatment once. The next time you visit, you won't be a guest, you'll be a friend. Just like when we crash at your place in Monaco, we'll just throw something together. Make yourself at home."
Nicolas blinked, his tension finally melting away. He joined the banter. "I better savor this opportunity, then. Excuse me, can I place an order off the menu?"
"General Tso's chicken?" Leclerc chimed in from the side. "They told me that dish doesn't even exist here."
Nicolas froze. "What do you mean it doesn't exist? Then what the hell have I been eating in France?"
Leclerc sighed heavily. "It's a dish invented by immigrants for local tastes. General Tso's chicken is basically an authentic American dish."
Nicolas was speechless.
Kai doubled over, laughing uproariously. "It's fine. I tried some exotic 'Chinese food' in Monaco too. It was a profoundly eye-opening experience."
Nicolas couldn't help but scratch his head in defeat.
Song Bo asked Leclerc for a translation, and upon hearing the explanation, Lu Cheng and Song Yan burst into loud laughter. Lorenzo seized the opportunity to passionately promote authentic Italian cuisine, his face flushed with so much enthusiasm it looked as though he was ready to sprint into the kitchen and start cooking himself.
Kai turned back to Nicolas. "I thought all the post-race obligations were finished. Why were you delayed until now? Don't tell me you have to stay behind tomorrow?"
"Exactly," Nicolas nodded. "Remember how you mentioned wanting to build a karting circuit here? Well, several sponsors are suddenly incredibly interested. Slapping a logo on your race suit is astronomically expensive, but funding your domestic promotional activities is a completely different, highly attractive proposition."
"It's not just the karting track. There are massive promotional campaigns. Formula 1 management desperately wants a slice of the pie. The Fan Festival was so unbelievably successful that the other teams are practically green with envy. Then there are Ferrari's own commercial obligations across the Asian market."
"On the drive over, I ran the numbers. I need to stay in Shanghai for at least another forty-eight hours, maybe longer. My schedule for tomorrow is completely booked solid from dawn until midnight."
"Furthermore, China is massive. I mean, genuinely, terrifyingly massive. We're only dealing with Shanghai right now, and the commute times between meetings are longer than the actual meetings. I honestly doubt forty-eight hours will be enough."
In just a few rapid-fire sentences, Nicolas painted a picture of absolute, overwhelming commercial demand. A massive, highly lucrative business empire was rapidly unfolding.
Since Kai entered the paddock, the massive potential of the Chinese market had been a constant topic of discussion. F1 management, Ferrari, and every single team on the grid were drooling over this massive piece of cake. Motorsport is a collective family; they needed to work together to pry open the market. However, the sheer logistical difficulty was immense. F1 had been trying to crack China for years, facing endless roadblocks. Even with the emergence of a homegrown hero, transitioning from theoretical blueprints to tangible, boots-on-the-ground execution remained a brutal, grinding process.
Building a brand required a multi-year commitment. Progress had been agonizingly slow.
But now, the dawn had finally broken.
The Fan Festival proved the concept, and the home-race victory provided the ultimate catalyst. Social media traffic was detonating. Capital from every conceivable sector was mobilizing. Theoretical value was suddenly translating into immediate, hard cash. Veteran sponsors and brand-new investors were swarming, creating an atmosphere of absolute, burning frenzy.
Nicolas was aggressively rubbing his hands together, fully prepared to go to war.
His tone shifted. "Leave all of that to me," Nicolas smiled. "However, there is one specific matter I need your official opinion on."
"What are your thoughts on participating in reality television?"
Kai froze. "Huh?"
His first instinct was that he had suffered a sudden auditory hallucination. He stared at Nicolas, waiting for the punchline.
Nicolas noticed Kai's profound shock and couldn't suppress a laugh.
"Trust me, I had the exact same reaction. When I received the invitations, I literally jumped. Are they absolutely certain they have the right guy? Kai? The Formula 1 racing driver?"
"It happens occasionally in Europe, but it's exceptionally rare. Lewis occasionally attends fashion shows or movie premieres, but he doesn't routinely film variety shows. I've genuinely never handled this type of request before. You can imagine my panic."
"But I double-checked. They didn't make a mistake. They specifically, explicitly want Kai the racing driver."
"And the variety is absolutely staggering."
Because it was completely new territory, Nicolas was visibly buzzing with adrenaline. "I haven't formally compiled the list yet, but off the top of my head, there are over twenty separate program invitations."
"There are standard talk shows. One-on-one interviews. That makes 100% logical sense. Given that you're the subject, those would be phenomenal television."
"There are music programs. It looks like a talent show, something akin to 'The Voice' or 'Got Talent.' They want you as a guest judge. Honestly, I am completely baffled. Are you secretly a phenomenal singer? Do you possess some hidden vocal talent I am currently unaware of?"
Kai nearly choked on his own saliva, breaking into a violent fit of coughing.
Nicolas had never seen Kai look so flustered, and he found it absolutely hilarious.
"There's also an outdoor physical competition show. I might be translating this poorly, but it's called 'Running Man'. Have you ever heard of it?"
Kai let out a long sigh. "I don't watch variety shows. To be brutally accurate, I haven't watched actual television in years."
Nicolas wasn't surprised.
Kai's daily schedule was packed to the absolute bursting point. Mastering fluent Italian required massive effort, not to mention absorbing the terrifying volume of technical engineering data required to suppress the Maranello technical department. Where would he find the time to watch TV? His only genuine relaxation was listening to music.
Nicolas hummed thoughtfully. "I assumed they were massive, highly influential programs. The producers claimed they are the undisputed number one variety show in China. If it's a genuine national phenomenon, the invitation makes logical sense."
Kai immediately waved his hand dismissively. "No. I have absolutely zero interest."
Nicolas looked over, not bothering to hide his surprise.
Kai was completely transparent. "Did you forget? I need to return to Maranello immediately. We desperately need that first aerodynamic upgrade to arrive as quickly as physically possible. Charles and I have a massive mountain of simulator testing to complete. Nick, we are entering the absolute most critical phase of the championship campaign. I do not have a single microsecond to waste on distractions."
Direct. Absolute. Zero hesitation.
Nicolas had initially thought that to truly crack the Chinese market, they needed to adapt to the localized promotional culture. Perhaps reality TV was negotiable, but a high-profile talk show would be an excellent tool to capitalize on the massive Shanghai Grand Prix momentum.
But looking into Kai's eyes, Nicolas instantly decoded the unwavering resolve. He didn't push the issue. He simply nodded sharply. "Understood."
The logic was unassailable. This massive wave of hype was a phenomenal opportunity, but ultimately, Kai's entire commercial value was anchored exclusively to his performance on the asphalt. Any off-track promotional activities were merely supplementary multipliers. In the brutal world of competitive sports, if your on-track performance collapses, your commercial empire becomes a castle built on sand. A single gentle breeze will blow the entire illusion away.
The topic was officially closed.
But after a brief pause, Kai turned back to Nicolas, his face a mask of profound confusion. He couldn't resist asking, "But seriously, why?"
It made zero logical sense!
"If it was 'Dancing with the Stars,' I could vaguely understand. Professional athletes do that show all the time in Europe and America to generate some PR buzz..."
Before Kai could even finish his sentence, Nicolas raised an eyebrow, his expression totally serious. "If you actually want to do that, I can absolutely arrange it."
"Ha. Ha. Hilarious." Kai ruthlessly fired back. "Why don't you pitch it to Charles? I think Charles would look absolutely phenomenal in a skin-tight sequined ballroom dancing outfit."
Nicolas actually appeared to seriously visualize the concept.
Hearing his name, Leclerc looked up. "Me? What about me?"
Looking at Leclerc's innocent, slightly eager expression, Nicolas completely lost it, bursting into laughter.
Kai, however, remained thoroughly baffled. "My point is, these specific program invitations lack any logical correlation to my profession. What exactly are these producers thinking?"
"Traffic," Song Bo chimed in from the side.
Although his English was still slightly broken, his intensive studying over the past year allowed him to communicate the core concepts effectively.
"That's just how modern variety shows operate here."
"They fundamentally do not care about talent, professional capability, or actual artistic merit. They don't even care if the final program is actually entertaining. Raw, viral traffic is the only metric that matters."
"As long as a guest generates clicks, they book them. That's why you can turn on the TV and see a screen full of generic 'traffic idols' you've never heard of. It doesn't matter where they came from. Their rabid, fanatical fanbases will obsessively artificially inflate the viewership numbers and dominate the trending search rankings, guaranteeing the show's commercial success."
"Over this past weekend, you were the undisputed King of Traffic. It doesn't matter if the general public actually understands Formula 1. They just look at the Weibo trending charts. So, every single production company, even the ones with absolutely zero connection to motorsport, is swarming you like sharks. Traffic equals immediate cash. It has absolutely nothing to do with your identity as a racing driver."
"In their eyes, 'Formula 1 Driver' is just a shiny title. They are fully prepared to treat you exactly like a massive internet influencer."
Despite the mixture of English and Chinese, Nicolas and Leclerc miraculously managed to grasp the core concept.
Nicolas looked profoundly confused. "But... what is the ultimate point?"
"I mean, the fundamental purpose of a variety show is to provide entertainment. If only a tiny fraction of the audience is genuinely watching, and the rest are just artificially inflating numbers, what is the actual long-term value?"
Song Bo threw his hands up and pulled a face. "Foam. Sea foam. There is no long-term value. Just like the Little Mermaid, obsessively staring at her beloved prince, only to eventually dissolve into a pile of meaningless sea foam."
"Whoa!" Kai cheered loudly. "Doctor, that was phenomenal! You just successfully deployed 'The Little Mermaid' as a metaphorical English sentence!"
With the mystery solved, Kai wasn't depressed or insulted. He smiled brightly. "So, you're saying I'm officially a massive internet influencer now? I can just coast entirely on my good looks? I can just strike two cool poses on camera, watch the cash violently flood into my bank account, and I'll never have to exhaust myself running endless test simulations in Maranello ever again?"
He actively rubbed his hands together, perfectly mimicking the posture of a greedy cartoon villain. Song Bo doubled over in laughter.
Leclerc, however, panicked. "Hey! We explicitly agreed to fly back to Maranello together! You absolutely cannot back out now! I cannot handle that massive testing workload by myself!"
The table erupted into laughter.
Kai noticed that Nicolas had fallen completely silent. His brow was furrowed in deep, serious contemplation. He wasn't joining in the banter. Kai assumed Nicolas was blaming himself for misreading the situation.
"Nick, don't worry about it. I have absolutely no idea how this specific entertainment ecosystem operates either. We'll figure it out as we go. The Chinese market operates under its own unique logic, and I'm sure the American market will be an entirely different beast."
Nicolas snapped out of his trance. He looked up, a soft smile touching his lips. He chuckled. "My heart isn't made of fragile crystal. If I got depressed over tiny misunderstandings like this, I would suffer three thousand six hundred heartbreaks a day working in the Formula 1 paddock."
"I wasn't stressing over the rejected invitations. I was analyzing what the Doctor just said."
"Traffic is King."
"The Fan Festival and the Grand Prix victory have undeniably triggered a massive, explosive cultural phenomenon. We all firmly believe this is the ultimate catalyst required to genuinely promote motorsport in mainland China. F1 management and Ferrari share this exact conviction. But looking at the current landscape, some of these entities are exclusively hunting for short-term, viral cash grabs, while others are genuinely interested in long-term, sustainable development."
"I'm not suggesting we retreat. But if we choose to partner with the short-term entities, we must ruthlessly adjust our operational strategies and expectations. If they want short-term viral traffic, we extract maximum short-term financial value from the partnership and clearly define our boundaries."
"Simultaneously, we need to carefully identify the long-term partners and meticulously draft comprehensive, mutually beneficial, multi-year developmental blueprints."
"This requires vastly more cautious, highly deliberate strategic planning. Otherwise, we risk squandering this golden opportunity, or worse, inflicting unnecessary damage to your core brand."
The analytical thoughts poured out of him in a rapid, continuous stream. Nicolas nodded sharply, his strategic roadmap realigning.
"Prioritizing the racing campaign is the absolute correct decision. You and Charles need to return to Maranello immediately and focus entirely on your core responsibilities."
Nicolas's expression grew intensely serious again.
Kai chuckled. "I thought we already reached a rock-solid consensus on that point. My resolve is absolute. Nothing is going to distract me. But looking at your face, it seems like there's still a tiny fire burning in your brain."
Catching the teasing tone, Nicolas waved his hand. "No, it's not that..." He couldn't help but laugh at himself.
"Actually, Five Star Sports approached me today. Specifically, Shi Yiying. The reporter we collaborated with on your initial GP3 documentary."
Kai was mildly surprised. "I thought Five Star Sports was a strictly professional, hardcore athletic broadcasting network. They want to pitch a variety show?"
He hadn't expected them to stoop to the traffic-chasing game. And Shi Yiying, of all people?
Nicolas's smile widened. "No, no, no. It is absolutely not a trashy variety show. Five Star Sports remains fiercely professional. Their dedication to genuine motorsport is absolute."
"Remember the core objective of the GP3 documentary? They wanted to peel back the curtain, showcasing the brutal, unseen realities of racing, allowing the general public to genuinely comprehend the extreme demands of the sport."
"Their core objective remains identical. They desperately want to utilize this massive surge in viral traffic and convert it into genuine, sustainable cultural power. But because they possess a vastly superior understanding of the domestic landscape than I do, their proposal is entirely unique. They are pitching a completely different blueprint."
"Their target demographic isn't you. It's the youth."
Kai and Leclerc immediately exchanged a sharp glance.
Nicolas noticed the silent communication, his eyes silently asking for context, but Kai simply gestured for him to continue.
"Shi Yiying explained that the cultural footprint of football in Asia is astronomically massive. As a result, there's a highly successful reality television format here, essentially a televised youth training camp. The production gathers a group of young kids with absolutely zero prior experience and forms a football team. The show documents the entire process: the basic fundamentals, the grueling physical training, and the actual competitive matches. The audience doesn't just passively watch; they emotionally invest in the children's growth and struggles, which ultimately fosters a genuine, deep-rooted love for the sport of football itself."
"Five Star Sports is currently developing an identical format, but entirely dedicated to motorsport. A Karting Youth Academy. They want to gather a group of kids with zero racing background, teach them the absolute fundamentals of karting, and have them compete against each other. Ultimately, the most promising talents would be selected to compete in official, national-level age-group karting championships. It's designed to educate the entire viewing public on the extreme realities of karting while providing a deeply compelling human narrative."
Kai raised an eyebrow. Five Star Sports was living up to its reputation. Highly professional, and incredibly audacious.
Honestly, Kai understood the underlying psychology perfectly. In a reality show of this nature, the core attraction wasn't the karting or the racing. It was the children.
Did the general public genuinely want to watch amateur karting? Absolutely not. If they wanted elite racing, they would just watch Formula 1. The average viewer tuned into these shows to watch the raw, emotional journey of the kids. Watching them struggle, fail, get injured, cry in frustration, and then stubbornly drag themselves back into the seat to try again.
If the production team could successfully capture that visceral, hot-blooded resilience... and if they managed to cast a group of kids with genuine, compelling potential... the show possessed massive, explosive potential. It would be incredibly compelling television.
However, the logistical nightmares were glaringly obvious. The foundational culture for motorsport in China was painfully weak. Sourcing willing parents, defining the target audience, and navigating the sheer technical complexity of the production would be a monumental task.
Racing is fundamentally different from football. In Brazil, a kid only needs a cheap leather ball and an empty street to practice. In motorsport, the astronomically high cost of the equipment and the requirement for highly specialized infrastructure present a massive, terrifying barrier to entry for 99% of children. The required capital investment for this specific reality show would be astronomical.
Precisely because of these massive hurdles, Five Star Sports was desperately trying to leverage Kai's current viral traffic to shatter those barriers and secure funding.
But even with Kai's backing, the risk of catastrophic failure was unimaginably high. Five Star Sports was once again willingly choosing the absolute hardest, most grueling path available.
That level of sheer, unyielding audacity was genuinely worthy of profound respect.
Involuntarily, Kai's curiosity was piqued. "So, are they officially inviting me to act as the head coach? Maybe I take one squad, Charles takes the other, and we have a Ferrari proxy war?"
Leclerc: ???
Nicolas caught the mischievous glint in Kai's eye and smiled. "No. The actual coaching duties will naturally be handled by dedicated, professional karting instructors. You two are elite racing drivers, but that absolutely does not guarantee you are competent teachers. Those are two entirely separate skill sets."
"They want you to serve as a high-profile guest judge or mentor. Exactly as the Doctor explained earlier. They need to leverage your name and your current viral momentum to legitimize the project, secure massive funding, and force the mainstream audience to pay attention."
It was glaringly obvious that Five Star Sports had meticulously engineered this proposal. No wonder Nicolas was so deeply impressed.
Kai tilted his chin up slightly. "But?"
Nicolas looked at him.
Kai continued, "Judging entirely by your tone, there's a massive 'But' coming. But... because I just issued a blanket refusal for all variety show appearances, you're hesitant to push it?"
"It's more complex than that," Nicolas admitted. "After listening to the Doctor's breakdown of the 'Traffic Economy,' I realized the timing is incredibly volatile right now. The current environment is saturated with entities frantically chasing short-term hype. Sponsors, production networks, and even the parents signing their kids up for the show... their underlying motivations are highly likely to be deeply superficial and focused entirely on chasing fame. Under those chaotic circumstances, can the final product genuinely achieve its noble, long-term objectives?"
"The core concept is undeniably brilliant. But as we both know, translating a theoretical blueprint into a functional, highly successful reality is a brutal, agonizingly slow process. Countless catastrophic variables will emerge during production. Whether the final edit actually meets our strict qualitative standards remains entirely unknown."
"But."
Nicolas looked Kai directly in the eyes. His expression was fiercely earnest.
"You specifically told me your ultimate goal was to build domestic karting circuits, sponsor youth academies, and violently tear down the financial barriers preventing talented kids from accessing this sport."
"I firmly believe the Five Star Sports proposal represents a massive, golden opportunity. If we can successfully ignite that spark, it would be the ultimate win-win scenario. It's conceptually flawless."
"However, given the current chaotic, hype-driven environment, the timing is fundamentally flawed. We absolutely must take a cautious, long-term approach to this specific project."
Kai was entirely correct. The fire in Nicolas's brain was definitely still burning. His strategic gears were spinning at maximum RPM.
The room fell into a brief, contemplative silence.
Kai looked up and caught Lu Cheng's eye. Lu Cheng's English clearly couldn't keep up with the rapid-fire business analysis. He had absolutely no idea what they were discussing and was currently laughing uproariously at a joke Song Yan had just made. But looking at Lu Cheng, Kai's mind involuntarily flashed back to the tiny kid from the paddock earlier that evening. His massive eyes had been practically overflowing with raw, unadulterated hope and burning passion.
Kai still vividly remembered his name. Zheng Siqi.
Aspiring to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with the greats. They both carried the exact same unyielding conviction to chase their ultimate dreams.
Amidst his laughter, Lu Cheng felt the weight of Kai's gaze. He reflexively looked up and immediately leaned forward, shooting Kai a questioning look.
Kai quickly waved his hand, signaling that everything was fine. Lu Cheng sat back down, but his attention remained entirely focused on Kai. This subtle interaction caused a profound ripple in Kai's thoughts.
With great power comes great responsibility.
To be brutally honest, this entire journey had been a massive, chaotic accident. Kai still didn't fully comprehend how he had ended up in this exact position. He had started as a simple, passionate outsider who loved racing. Yet, by stubbornly placing one foot in front of the other, he had somehow dragged himself into the absolute center of a terrifying, entirely unfamiliar new universe.
After a moment of serious contemplation, Kai shifted his posture. "You are entirely correct. Right this second is absolutely not the optimal time to launch this."
The crisis at Maranello was absolute. Developing and integrating the aerodynamic upgrades remained his supreme, overriding priority. Every single other project could wait. He had to ruthlessly enforce his priorities.
"However, a highly specialized reality show like this is fundamentally different from a trashy studio variety program. The logistical pipeline, from initial concept to securing massive capital investment, to nationwide casting and scouting, is an astronomically long process. I'm not a television producer, but logically, compiling that infrastructure will take a minimum of three to six months, potentially even a full year. The ground-level execution is guaranteed to be vastly more complicated than the paper proposal."
"If they move at absolute breakneck speed, they might be ready to begin principal photography by the summer break. That is the absolute best-case scenario. If they encounter delays, production won't officially begin until after the F1 season concludes in Abu Dhabi."
"That timeline is actually perfect. It grants them the necessary runway to meticulously refine the granular details and logistical frameworks. If the final, fully funded project genuinely aligns with our strict qualitative standards, I am absolutely willing to participate."
"However, the scheduling must be ruthlessly enforced. Maranello's operational requirements remain my absolute, undisputed priority. My participation is strictly contingent upon it having zero negative impact on my core responsibilities."
Nicolas's eyes instantly lit up. But a second later, he fell back into deep thought. Executing a project of this massive scale was incredibly difficult; executing it flawlessly was nearly impossible.
Kai, completely unbothered, decided to crack a joke. "If the production actually manages to pull this off smoothly, I can probably convince a few of my colleagues from the paddock to make guest appearances."
Leclerc, who had been sitting quietly munching on dessert like a spectator at a movie theater, snickered. "Who? Hamilton?"
Kai actually adopted an expression of profound, serious consideration. "Securing Hamilton might be logistically difficult... but what about Sebastian?"
Cough, cough, cough!
Leclerc inhaled his drink and choked violently, nearly tumbling backward out of his chair.
Kai's eyes were completely filled with amusement.
It was half a joke, half a genuine proposition. In reality, the blood feud between Kai and Vettel had cooled into a professional, respectful truce. Although they remained fierce rivals on the asphalt, they were now operating for entirely different organizations. The bitter, toxic history of 2018 had been permanently left in 2018.
During the recent off-season, Vettel had officially married his childhood sweetheart. They hadn't orchestrated a massive, ostentatious celebrity spectacle. They simply hosted a private, intimate ceremony for close family and friends.
During pre-season testing in Barcelona, Kai had proactively approached Vettel to offer his genuine congratulations. Vettel had been slightly taken aback, but he had sincerely expressed his gratitude. The two drivers had stood in the pit lane chatting casually for several minutes. The rabid motorsport journalists had frantically snapped hundreds of photos, completely misinterpreting the body language and aggressively publishing articles claiming the two former teammates were engaged in a vicious screaming match.
Watching Leclerc struggling to breathe, Kai had another brilliant idea. "Alternatively, what about Max? While he might not currently possess a massive, mainstream domestic fanbase in China... his presence would guarantee massive coverage from the international motorsport press. That could secure global distribution for the show, opening up completely unpredictable new avenues for the program."
Leclerc mentally visualized the terrifying scenario. He was completely unable to stop laughing. "I honestly don't know what would happen first: Max having a violent, screaming meltdown, or the children spontaneously combusting out of pure terror. Hahaha!"
Kai shook his head. "No, Charles, this is exactly where your psychological profiling is deeply flawed. Max actually genuinely adores children. He just completely lacks the neurological wiring required to express it properly. He would seamlessly integrate with a pack of wild kids in about five seconds."
Leclerc tilted his head, seriously analyzing the statement. Finally, he let out a loud gasp of profound realization. "Are you implying that Max is fundamentally just a massive, overgrown toddler who never properly developed into an adult?"
Kai's expression remained deadpan. He slowly raised a single thumb in approval. "Exactly. Flawless psychological analysis, Charles! You hit the nail directly on the head!"
Pfft.
The entire table lost control, bursting into collective, roaring laughter. Leclerc stared helplessly at the ceiling. Had he really just been flawlessly manipulated into viciously roasting Verstappen alongside Kai?
Right on cue, Jiang Mo and Zhang Qiaomu emerged from the kitchen.
"What on earth are you all laughing about? You sound incredibly happy. Nick hasn't eaten a single bite of food all night. He must be absolutely starving by now." Jiang Mo began placing the steaming, freshly cooked dishes onto the table.
Nicolas was preparing to deliver a polite, diplomatic refusal, but his eyes locked onto the brilliant, glistening food. The incredible, mouth-watering aroma hit him like a physical blow. His stomach immediately betrayed him.
Grumble. Grumble.
One second. Two seconds. The entire table erupted into uproarious laughter once again!
The night steadily deepened. Even without a single drop of alcohol, their cheeks were flushed, completely intoxicated by the joyous, relaxed atmosphere.
The Shanghai Grand Prix had officially concluded. The race was over. But the massive, viral hurricane it had spawned was only just beginning to gather momentum. It was an absolute, unhinged carnival. Without a single trace of exaggeration, the mainstream media explosion in China was vastly more chaotic and terrifying than the global reaction when Kai had secured the World Championship in Abu Dhabi. What Nicolas was currently experiencing was merely the absolute tip of the iceberg.
After all, Abu Dhabi was a distant, foreign desert. This was happening directly on their home soil.
In the frantic build-up to the Grand Prix weekend, centered around the Fan Festival, Kai had been mercilessly worked to the bone. Interviews, promotional shoots, sponsor activations... his schedule was a meat grinder. It genuinely felt as though the entire world revolved exclusively around Kai. This massive media saturation had inevitably generated a wave of cynical, mocking criticism from internet contrarians.
"He's completely abandoned his professional duties! He possesses absolutely zero respect for the sport!"
"He's hoarding all this viral traffic, but when his actual race pace turns out to be a complete disaster, it's going to be the ultimate, humiliating disgrace!"
However, the narrative had now violently executed a flawless 180-degree turn. The entire internet was frothing at the mouth. The public was absolutely desperate for any Kai-related content. The digital screams of "Give us Kai!" and "We demand vastly more Kai content immediately!" were deafening. Petitions were circulating wildly, demanding Kai host a massive, stadium-sized fan meet-and-greet.
The entire Chinese social media ecosystem was boiling like a massive cauldron of water. The dense, suffocating heatwaves aggressively monopolized the absolute top positions of every single trending chart. The entire nation was buzzing with restless, uncontrollable adrenaline.
Last night, Kai had authored history yet again. For the very first time, Formula 1 had breached the absolute pinnacle of Chinese mainstream media: the Xinwen Lianbo national evening news broadcast. Under the massive, bold headline "CHINESE DRIVER ACHIEVES HISTORIC FIRST VICTORY AT SHANGHAI GRAND PRIX," Kai's face had been beamed directly into hundreds of millions of living rooms across the country.
Twelve hours later, the viral momentum hadn't decayed; it had actually exponentially intensified. It aggressively shattered the boundaries of the motorsport niche. The news of Kai's victory was scrolling relentlessly across every single available screen.
Zhang Qiaomu explicitly confirmed it. Even the older uncles selling shrimp and hairy crabs down at the local wet market were loudly discussing the race.
The sheer scale of his cultural influence had violently shattered all logical projections. The intensity and absolute dominance of this traffic wave had no visible ceiling. The digital barriers of social media had been completely obliterated. The rolling heatwave was aggressively infiltrating every single aspect of daily, physical life. The tiny televisions embedded in subway cars and public buses, the massive LED billboards dominating shopping malls, the audio broadcasts playing in local convenience stores... it was omnipresent. It was absolutely inescapable.
For a brief, terrifying moment, it genuinely felt as though Kai was the only person existing on the entire planet.
But where exactly was Kai?
The man responsible for this massive, world-ending hurricane had already quietly slipped away. He and Leclerc were currently en route to Pudong International Airport, preparing to board a private jet back to Monaco.
Clearly, Kai still fundamentally underestimated the terrifying power of viral traffic.
Or, at the very least, he hadn't fully comprehended its physical manifestation.
He genuinely believed his departure itinerary was a closely guarded secret. But when their transport finally arrived at the airport terminal, they were confronted by a massive, densely packed, terrifying sea of humanity completely blocking the entrance.
Leclerc's face froze in an expression of profound shock. They had both witnessed the sheer, overwhelming fanaticism of the airport arrival crowds. That visceral, terrifying memory was still freshly burned into his brain. But they were organizing a massive send-off too?!
Leclerc instinctively turned his head, staring wide-eyed at Kai.
This time, Kai was completely out of answers. He was exactly as shocked and utterly bewildered as Leclerc. For a brief second, he genuinely assumed a massive, A-list movie star was currently filming a scene inside the terminal. And then... he spotted the glowing LED signs bearing his name. He saw his own face plastered across massive, professionally printed banners.
It looked exactly like the chaotic, manic epicenter of a massive stadium rock concert.
Obviously, this wasn't the first or second time Kai had physically encountered the crushing weight of a massive crowd. But this was the very first time Kai profoundly, viscerally understood that every single one of these people was here exclusively for him. Having stripped off his racing suit and removed his helmet, transitioning from the entity known as the 'Number 22 Driver' back to simply 'Kai'... he finally experienced the terrifying, physical reality of true, undeniable stardom.
It was boiling hot. It was completely unhinged. And it felt as though it could physically burn the skin right off his bones.