Chapter 139: On Camera
With paddock passes hanging visibly from their necks, the security checks were largely procedural.
Before entering the Mercedes garage, Antonio Vivaldi stopped and took out two caps. He glanced at Louise and said tactfully,
"I think it might be better if you change hats."
Only then did Wu Shi remember—Louise was still wearing a bright red Ferrari cap. Walking into the Mercedes garage like that would indeed feel awkward.
"Okay~"
Louise blushed slightly, removed her cap, and stuffed it into her backpack. She tore open the packaging of the new one and put it on, adjusting the brim carefully.
Antonio led them into the Mercedes pit garage.
Wu Shi was already familiar with this environment, but for Louise, everything was new. She looked around with open curiosity, her eyes darting from one workstation to another.
Although the race start was approaching, Wu Shi's appearance still drew noticeable attention. Even the two Mercedes drivers—already wearing their helmets and preparing to climb into the cars—cast a glance in his direction.
Antonio guided them straight to Toto Wolff.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Wolff," Wu Shi greeted.
"A pleasure to finally meet you, Wu Shi," Toto replied. "Today, just experience Formula One. You're free to watch wherever you like—as long as you don't interfere with the team's operations."
"Understood."
The moment Wu Shi stepped fully into the garage, multiple cameras immediately swung toward him.
---
Back in Shanghai, inside the Six Star Sports commentary studio, the commentators erupted.
"He's on screen—he's on screen! That's Wu Shi!" one of them exclaimed. "Why is he inside the Mercedes garage?!"
"So the rumors really weren't groundless?" another added quickly.
"Let me introduce him to our viewers," the lead commentator said excitedly.
"Wu Shi is the most promising driver of China's new generation. He has already secured twenty-three victories in this season's FIA Formula 3 Championship. That's an astonishing record!"
"Exactly. CCTV even conducted an exclusive interview with him two months ago," another voice chimed in.
"At this point, it's almost certain that Wu Shi will enter Formula One. His F3 record is unprecedented—there's truly no comparison."
"He was born in 1998, right?" someone asked.
"Yes. December 1998."
"That makes his statistics even more terrifying—youngest F3 race winner, youngest multi-time F3 champion. If this keeps going, every record will belong to him."
"Honestly, it's hard to imagine someone entering Formula One at such a young age."
"Isn't there an age restriction?"
"Not really. As long as a team backs him and he completes the required mileage for a Super Licence, it's possible. If money's the issue, I'll donate!" one commentator joked.
"He'd be our first true F1 driver!"
"And who's that next to him? Anyone who can enter the garage isn't ordinary."
"His girlfriend?"
"But would Mercedes really allow that?"
"Does this count as teenage romance?" someone laughed.
---
Wu Shi and Louise, of course, had no idea they were already being broadcast live.
Inside the garage, engineers were intensely focused. Strategy engineers stared at constantly updating simulation screens, calculating responses to every possible scenario. Vehicle engineers conducted final system checks, relaying data to the drivers in real time.
"They all look so busy… and stressed," Louise whispered.
"Yes," Wu Shi replied softly.
"The moments before the race start are the most intense. No matter how well-prepared you are, unexpected issues always happen—and that's when everything becomes chaotic."
Louise nodded slowly.
Watching this, she felt as if she were finally seeing the world Wu Shi belonged to—the real environment of a professional driver. The feeling was unfamiliar, and strangely overwhelming.
"Wear these," Wu Shi said, taking a pair of ear defenders from a team member.
Louise put them on immediately. At first, she hadn't noticed the noise, but now she realized how deafening the garage truly was—especially with cars about to fire up.
The engines roared to life.
Even with modern hybrid regulations, standing this close made the sheer power unmistakable. Hot exhaust gases burst from the rear as engines revved, the air thick with fuel and oil scents. Heat rolled through the garage.
When the green light at the end of the pit lane illuminated, the cars were released one by one.
After all cars departed, mechanics wheeled equipment toward the grid. Most adjustments were already complete—now it was about maintaining tire temperature and final checks.
Twenty minutes later, the grid cleared.
After the formation lap, the countdown began.
"I'm starting to feel nervous," Louise whispered, gripping Wu Shi's arm.
No one spoke.
Five red lights illuminated on the gantry.
Wu Shi's gaze fixed on them.
Lights out.
The Italian Grand Prix was underway.
---
Both Mercedes cars launched from the front row.
Rosberg reacted instantly, pulling nearly a second clear by the exit of Turn 1.
Hamilton, however, bogged down badly from pole position and dropped multiple places.
Hamilton (Radio): "Something's wrong with the car."
Team: "Mode three. Mode three."
Inside the Mercedes garage, radio traffic filled the air nonstop.
Hamilton: "It's the DRS—something's off."
Team: "Copy. We're checking."
In less than a minute, engineers exchanged dozens of messages.
"So busy…" Louise murmured.
"Yes," Wu Shi said.
"During a race, engineers constantly feed drivers information—engine modes, brake balance, differential settings. It never stops."
"Oh! Right—I remember," Louise said.
"You explained that when we talked about the F3 steering wheel."
On track, Kevin Magnussen surged forward aggressively, climbing to second early on.
Valtteri Bottas, meanwhile, disappeared from the front battle almost immediately.
Despite his poor start, Hamilton clawed his way back through the field, capitalizing on the car's superior performance and a minor mistake ahead.
On lap nine, gasps echoed through the garage.
Rosberg ran wide at Turn 1, his left wheels touching the grass. He went straight on through the runoff, narrowly avoiding the barriers.
"Oh my God—what happened?!" Louise covered her mouth.
Wu Shi said nothing.
He kept watching the screens—not just the broadcast, but the telemetry.
The next race weekend wouldn't come until October, and opportunities to observe Formula One this closely were rare. He absorbed every data point, every trace.
Louise noticed his furrowed brow, his unblinking focus. She didn't interrupt—just held his arm a little tighter.
Mercedes' pace was overwhelming. Hamilton overtook Felipe Massa within a handful of laps, the ease of it making Wu Shi's scalp prickle.
In Formula One, car performance could erase driver gaps entirely.
It seemed Rosberg might still recover—but on lap twenty-nine, at nearly the same corner, he ran wide again.
The same mistake.
The same place.
Wu Shi exhaled slowly.
Rosberg had the skill of a champion—but his mentality was his greatest weakness.
No driver should repeat the same error twice in the same race.
Wu Shi thought briefly of Verstappen—how, even when overtaken early, he could defend ruthlessly under pressure, forcing rivals into mistakes.
That was the difference.
Formula One wasn't just about speed.
It was about decision-making under crushing psychological load, while fighting G-forces, heat, fatigue—and oneself.
For many, physical limits mattered.
But in the end, it was the mind that broke first.
A lost lead was rarely recovered.
---
After the checkered flag, both Mercedes cars returned to parc fermé.
Hamilton remained seated for a long time, only climbing out after Rosberg had already left.
As the garage began to settle, Toto Wolff stood and turned to Wu Shi.
"Singapore Grand Prix," he said quietly.
Wu Shi looked up.
He understood exactly what that meant.