Although Silvia Franchi-Penny and Mattia Binotto had mentally prepared themselves for the backlash—knowing full well that it wasn't just their competitors, but Ferrari itself operating as one of the shadowy puppet masters orchestrating the rumors, actively fanning the flames and releasing a constant stream of half-truths and fabricated gossip—they still couldn't help but gasp in shock at the sheer scale of it.
It was a torrential downpour, a mountain-shattering tsunami. The noise, the chaos, the deafening uproar swarmed them all at once. A massive, suffocating dark cloud had descended upon Ferrari, plunging everything into absolute chaos.
The entire world felt like it was spinning out of control.
Initially, they believed they had accurately assessed the potential crisis and the resulting difficulties. After all, this was Ferrari. Even a matter as trivial as a sesame seed, when it happens at Ferrari, instantly mutates into a massive scandal that shakes the entire paddock. Having operated in this environment for ten, twenty years, they were long accustomed to this specific brand of hyper-scrutiny. But looking at the reality unfolding before them now...
The number of enemies lurking in the shadows far exceeded their wildest imaginations. Even though Mercedes-Benz was the current undisputed tyrant of the paddock, the mere mention of the name 'Ferrari' still caused everyone, without exception, to instinctively go on high alert. It was like a primal, conditioned reflex. They subconsciously seized the opportunity to launch a comprehensive, all-out siege.
The intensity was enough to blot out the sun and the moon.
The situation was subtly, dangerously slipping out of their control. Both Silvia and Binotto were visibly anxious. This was absolutely not their usual, preferred method of handling crises.
It had even alarmed John Elkann.
However, despite their anxieties, Silvia and Binotto stood united before Elkann. They presented a unified front, taking joint responsibility for the situation. They stated firmly that this was their calculated judgment and their deliberate strategic decision. They reiterated their unshakeable belief that this was currently their optimal path forward, and together, they pleaded with Elkann for his trust and, more importantly, for more time.
One undeniable fact could not be ignored: the strategic momentum had quietly shifted.
Over the course of the Melbourne and Bahrain races, Ferrari had been forced to expose all their cards. Consequently, they had found themselves stretched incredibly thin, backed into a corner when trying to formulate their race strategies. But now, by brilliantly leveraging this massive media storm, Ferrari had successfully retreated back into the shadows. They had effectively paralyzed their opponents' intelligence gathering, making it impossible for rival teams to accurately diagnose Ferrari's true operational state.
The enemy was now operating in the light, while Ferrari had transitioned into the dark.
Moving forward, Mercedes-Benz had become the primary target drawing all the fire. Ferrari could not only reclaim the strategic initiative on the track, but they could also finally dedicate their absolute, undivided focus to developing their crucial upgrade packages.
After expending considerable effort, Binotto and Silvia finally managed to persuade Elkann not to jump at shadows and to exercise a little more patience.
Standing in front of Elkann, the two of them projected absolute confidence, making grand, sweeping promises. But the moment they turned around, Binotto and Silvia exchanged a look, entirely unable to hide their deep, lingering unease.
Everything was entirely unknown. Absolutely nothing was 100% guaranteed. But right now, the arrow had already left the bow; there was no turning back. They had no choice but to grit their teeth and push forward.
Unexpectedly, in the days that followed, Binotto noticed a staggering, miraculous transformation in the atmosphere at Maranello—
The complaining ceased. The protests vanished. The sheer intensity and viciousness of the external conflicts forced the technical team to temporarily set aside their internal squabbles. They banded tightly together, presenting a unified front against the outside world.
The louder and more chaotic the noise echoing from the front lines in London and the boiling cauldron of social media became, the firmer and more resolute Maranello's internal unity grew.
The base was buzzing with a fiery, passionate energy. It left Binotto clicking his tongue in absolute wonder and profound amazement.
Binotto couldn't help but wonder: had Kai meticulously planned all of this from the very beginning?
First, violently detonate the internal contradictions, brutally exposing every single chronic, systemic disease in one fell swoop, triggering a massive earthquake within Maranello.
Then, deliberately trigger an external crisis. Surrounded by enemies on all sides, battered by storms and teetering on the edge of the abyss, Ferrari was pushed to the absolute brink. Trapped in this desperate situation, Maranello had no choice but to unite. Forced to temporarily forget their internal civil war—not just the technical team, but even Elkann himself lacked the time or luxury to settle scores—they all had to stand shoulder-to-shoulder on the exact same battle line.
By orchestrating this, the technical team was finally able to temporarily set aside their deeply ingrained prejudices and stubbornness. Provided with a convenient, face-saving 'off-ramp,' they could finally acknowledge that Kai's assessments and engineering recommendations were entirely correct. They could seamlessly transition their focus into researching and developing the necessary upgrades without ever needing to revisit the painful, explosive arguments of the past. They could peacefully and productively march forward in the exact same direction.
As of right now, Binotto had absolutely no way of knowing the true status of their competitors. Were Wolff and Horner actually buying the smokescreen? Would Ferrari's newly forged strategic layout actually succeed in reversing the momentum and reclaiming the initiative? Those questions could only be answered through the brutal, live-fire combat of the upcoming races.
But one thing was undeniably certain: Maranello's internal civil war had been temporarily suspended. It had violently detonated, and then seamlessly, flawlessly transferred its explosive energy outward—
The anger, the frustration—they still objectively existed. Prejudices that had festered and accumulated over years wouldn't simply vanish into thin air within two or three days. However, the technical team's seething dissatisfaction toward Kai, and even toward Leclerc, had quietly but entirely shifted onto the negative narratives spewing from the external media. Every single engineer was now sharpening their knives, burning with a desperate need to prove themselves. They wanted to prove that they absolutely possessed the capability to engineer a 'rocket ship' that wouldn't yield a single inch to Mercedes-Benz.
Honestly, Binotto couldn't even remember the last time Maranello had displayed this level of unified, blood-pumping passion and singular focus.
Since the dawn of the turbo-hybrid era, Ferrari had constantly stumbled, tripped, and faltered. Crushed beneath the weight of countless expectations and immense pressure, their sharp edges had slowly been ground away. Three years ago, when Binotto took over as Technical Director, he had started by overhauling the power unit, successfully restoring Ferrari's competitiveness. Yet, the magnificent, unified spectacle currently unfolding before his eyes was an absolute first.
Everything was exactly as Kai had said: this was a good thing. Using the opponent's strength against them. Even though the outside world was a chaotic, tangled mess, they had successfully harnessed that external pressure to forge internal unity.
The anxiety and apprehension were still there, but the absolute certainties residing deep within his heart were slowly, steadily increasing. Binotto could finally dedicate 100% of his heart and soul to his work.
To the outside world, Ferrari appeared trapped beneath an endless, suffocating blanket of dark clouds. A violent storm seemed to be ravaging them from the inside out. Consequently, Maranello's gates were tightly locked, forcefully shutting out all prying, inquisitive eyes. Simultaneously, base personnel were strictly prohibited from leaving, ensuring that corporate spies had absolutely no way of transmitting intel outward. A severe, suffocating atmosphere of total martial law spread across the facility, only serving to further amplify the perception of Ferrari's dire crisis.
Perhaps Ferrari's internal conflicts were even more catastrophic than anyone had imagined. Were the rumors actually understating the severity of the situation?
If not... why would Ferrari lock down the entire organization so drastically from top to bottom, terrified of leaking even the slightest whisper of information?
It had been a very long time since anyone had seen such ruthless, decisive action from the Scuderia. The last time they operated with this level of strict, militaristic discipline was likely during the Jean Todt era. Back then, Ferrari was defined by its swift, resolute execution. Now, after so many years, witnessing the resurrection of that dormant memory only further convinced people that Ferrari—having endured half a year of brutal turmoil—still hadn't managed to stabilize.
Not only had they failed to stabilize, but the situation appeared to be escalating wildly. They seemed to be rapidly sliding toward the precipice of total organizational collapse.
The pressure continued to climb exponentially. The 2019 season had only just begun, yet Ferrari's towering ambition to challenge for the World Championship seemed to have already smashed face-first into a brick wall, their hopes sinking into the sand.
All eyes converged on them. Whether casual onlookers or seasoned professionals, everyone firmly believed that Ferrari had to find their footing immediately. They had to find their center of gravity amidst the violent, rocking storm and return to the correct path. They needed to mount a genuine challenge against Mercedes-Benz; otherwise, the ultimate suspense of the season would evaporate completely in the blink of an eye—
Time was rapidly running out for Ferrari.
Because of this, every single upcoming Grand Prix was of paramount, critical importance. It was easy to imagine that every move Ferrari made would carry ten times, perhaps a hundred times, the normal pressure. The crucial factor wasn't just which upcoming Grand Prix they would use to orchestrate their rebound; it was that the rebound had to happen as soon as possible. Ferrari absolutely had to demonstrate genuine competitiveness.
The longer they delayed, the smaller their chances of mounting a successful counter-attack against Mercedes-Benz became. They might even run the terrifying risk of being permanently overtaken by Red Bull. This crushing pressure would only continue to compound and escalate with every passing day.
So, Azerbaijan? Barcelona? Monaco?
Caught in the relentless, howling winds of this ongoing storm, the third race of the 2019 season materialized before them without a moment's pause. Time waits for absolutely no one—
Shanghai. As April ushered in the warmth of spring and blooming flowers, it welcomed the third racing weekend of the F1 season.
This was clearly, undeniably, the absolute worst possible timing.
Plagued by severe internal crises and external threats, constantly teetering on the edge of disaster, Ferrari was already bearing a load of pressure that defied human comprehension. And now, as if ordained by a cruel twist of fate, they were heading straight into Kai's home race. He was arriving in Shanghai for the very first time holding the title of defending World Champion. The anticipation and global attention were skyrocketing, completely shattering the charts. The already disastrous, suffocating pressure was about to be compounded exponentially, spiking to astronomical, unbearable heights.
Those deafening cheers and towering expectations... they could be sweet honey, but they could just as easily transform into lethal poison.
...
Thump— Thump— Thump—
Li Lingyu's heart was hammering wildly, completely out of control. Early April in Shanghai was characterized by sudden bursts of warmth followed by lingering, biting chills. Waking up at the crack of dawn, the frigid air pierced right through the fabric of the tent, seeping into her bones. A dense layer of goosebumps erupted across her dry skin. Even though she tried with all her might to suppress and control it, just the mere thought that today she was actually going to see Kai up close...
Thump-thump!
Her heart began to race with frantic, uncontrollable speed. The boiling blood in her veins made her restless and agitated. It was physically impossible to stay calm, and absolutely impossible to remain lying down for another second.
In truth, she hadn't managed to fall asleep until nearly 4:00 AM last night. It wasn't even 6:00 AM yet, but Li Lingyu's eyes were wide open. She couldn't possibly be more awake.
Sitting bolt upright with a sudden jerk, Li Lingyu executed a rapid, haphazard "cat wash" of her face. She yanked the tent zipper down and shimmied outside. She took a deep, greedy breath of the fresh, crisp, freezing air of the Shanghai spring morning and stretched her arms wide in a massive yawn. The bustling, chaotic noise of the crowd washed over her. Amidst the quiet dawn, a restless, uncontainable excitement was clearly brewing.
Obviously, she wasn't the only one suffering from insomnia.
Looking around, the sun was still hidden below the horizon. The sky visible between the towering skyscrapers was painted in a deep, profound shade of blue. It was that final, fleeting moment of tranquility right before the break of dawn. A perfectly neat, endless row of tents stretched down Madang Road, nestled beneath the shade of the London plane trees. It was an absolutely unprecedented, surreal sight in the dead center of the bustling metropolis.
People brushing their teeth. People with bloodshot eyes who were still animatedly talking and gesturing wildly. People squatting by the curb munching on compressed survival biscuits. People gleefully calling out to their friends, weaving between the tightly packed tents. It all perfectly harmonized with the gradually awakening, frantic morning rush of Shanghai, creating a bizarre, vibrant symphony.
And they were all here for Kai—
This wasn't the Shanghai International Circuit. This was Xintiandi, located squarely in the very heart of downtown Shanghai.
The Shanghai Grand Prix held immense, historical significance this year. It marked the 1,000th Grand Prix in the history of Formula 1. To commemorate this monumental milestone, the official F1 organization had arranged a massive, celebratory Fan Festival.
However, the reality behind the event wasn't quite that simple.
Originally, the official F1 organization hadn't planned on throwing a massive, extravagant celebration. "1,000" was certainly a number worth commemorating, but ultimately, its actual impact on the racing itself was negligible. Furthermore, the foundational motorsport fanbase in mainland China was still incredibly weak, making broad promotional efforts exceedingly difficult. Locking down major streets in the absolute center of downtown Shanghai was a logistical nightmare. Organizing a massive, spectacular celebration required moving mountains across multiple bureaucratic and commercial sectors.
Of course, the most critical factor was always capital. A festival funded by $100,000 looks fundamentally, drastically different from a festival funded by $2,000,000.
Rather than expending massive amounts of energy and resources on an external, off-track celebration, they felt it was vastly more prudent to focus entirely on the core event itself, ensuring they delivered a memorable, high-quality racing weekend out at the Shanghai International Circuit.
Therefore, exactly one year ago, when the initial proposal was drafted, neither the F1 organization nor the local Shanghai Grand Prix promoters had shown any significant enthusiasm.
They agreed that an event should be held, but the scale, positioning, and overall planning needed to be heavily scaled back. There was no need to orchestrate a massive, complex production.
After numerous discussions and strategic compromises, the two parties reached a consensus. The event needed to target the general public. Accessibility was absolutely paramount. They needed to allow ordinary citizens, casual pedestrians, and curious onlookers to easily access a highly convenient downtown location, allowing them to participate in the festivities with a relaxed, casual mindset, rather than forcing them to endure the exhausting, time-consuming trek all the way out to the suburban circuit.
Simultaneously, the event absolutely had to be scheduled on the weekend to avoid the dismal, sparse crowds typical of weekday events. The goal was to encourage families to attend together as a weekend outing.
Consequently, the Fan Festival was originally scheduled for Saturday. Because of Qualifying, the actual F1 drivers wouldn't be able to attend, but that didn't matter; the F2 and F3 drivers could still make an appearance.
In short, rather than a genuine, historic 'celebration,' it was designed to be a standard, glorified commercial promotional event, aimed simply at allowing a slightly larger segment of the general public to get a brief, up-close look at actual F1 cars.
Normally, if someone had absolutely zero inherent interest in F1, they would never go out of their way to visit a dedicated, professional racing circuit. They would never have the opportunity to see a real race car with their own eyes. By utilizing this strategy, they could set up a display stage right in the middle of the city, literally bringing the F1 cars directly to the masses.
Everyone knows exactly what happened next—
The 2018 season violently derailed from its expected trajectory, turning the entire sporting world upside down. Both inside and outside the paddock, the entire globe witnessed the explosive, out-of-nowhere ascension of Kai. It wasn't just mainland China; the entirety of Asia was swept up in a massive, earth-shattering tsunami. Hand in hand, they witnessed the historic, unprecedented spectacle of the very first Asian driver seizing the ultimate crown. The wave of fanatical celebration spread like wildfire.
Everything was fundamentally, irreversibly different now.
The 2019 Shanghai Grand Prix was no longer just the 1,000th F1 race. Crucially, it was Kai's highly anticipated, triumphant return to his home race after being crowned the Drivers' World Champion. The significance was entirely different. Initially, people believed the 1,000th race milestone was the main event, but looking at it now, Kai had completely, utterly stolen all the thunder and absorbed all the spotlight.
The perceived importance and potential value of this Fan Festival instantly underwent a total, radical metamorphosis.
The local race promoters and the official F1 organization entered into intense, high-priority collaboration. Massive media networks like CCTV, Five Star Sports, and Tencent Sports threw their full, heavyweight backing behind the event. Major sponsors, led by Heineken and Lenovo, unhesitatingly slammed a combined $1,000,000 onto the table. They even secured the absolute, full cooperation of the official Ferrari team. What was originally planned as a modest, standard commercial promotion had violently mutated into a genuine, spectacular, full-blown Carnival.
The timing was aggressively shifted from Saturday up to Wednesday. The fact that it was a weekday was no longer a concern; the Fan Festival absolutely had to be scheduled to avoid conflicting with F1's own official press day and driver interaction sessions.
The location remained Xintiandi, but the footprint of the event space was massively expanded from a modest 200 meters to a sprawling, two-kilometer stretch. The four major streets surrounding the area were completely locked down, creating a massive, grid-like exclusion zone.
The positioning, the scale, the core concept—everything was subjected to a massive, comprehensive upgrade. The golden opportunity was sitting right there, gleaming in front of their eyes. Blessed with the sharp instincts of elite businessmen, absolutely no one was willing to miss the chance to grab a slice of this incredibly lucrative pie.
Yet, amidst the deafening noise and boiling hype, there inevitably remained a faint, lingering undercurrent of anxiety and doubt.
It was exactly like a blockbuster movie starring a massive, trending pop idol. Judging purely by social media metrics and online engagement, the numbers were absolute top-tier. Everyone was brimming with absolute confidence, firmly believing the movie was guaranteed to be a massive, record-breaking box office smash. But then, the brutal reality of actual ticket sales delivered a devastating, frontal strike, completely shattering the illusion. The massive online traffic evaporated instantly, proving to be nothing more than empty, meaningless foam.
The current situation felt eerily similar.
It was undeniably true: on social media, the discussion and engagement surrounding Kai remained astronomically high. He was even capable of suppressing Hamilton, cementing his status as the undisputed king of paddock traffic. It wasn't just Twitter and Instagram; Weibo was exactly the same. Absolutely no one could question the sheer, terrifying magnitude of Kai's popularity within mainland China.
However, how much of that digital traffic could actually be converted into genuine, real-world value? How many of those online commenters were actually willing to drag themselves out of their houses on a weekday to personally attend a live Formula 1 promotional event? Unlike other countries and regions, the foundational weakness of the motorsport fanbase in mainland China was a chronic, deeply entrenched disease. Could relying entirely on the phenomenon of Kai truly be enough to shatter that deadlock?
Furthermore, the timing literally could not have been worse. Ferrari was currently trapped dead center in the eye of a massive PR hurricane. Maranello was operating under strict martial law, its defenses and paranoia stretched to the absolute breaking point. The Fan Festival, already plagued by numerous uncertainties, was now shrouded in an even darker, heavier cloud of doubt. Even the event organizers themselves were feeling palpably uneasy.
However, the arrow was already notched on the bowstring; it had to be fired.
Despite the myriad uncertainties, and despite the very real possibility of a catastrophic, highly public failure, they had to cross the river by feeling the stones. They had to take that first, crucial step. Whether it was the F1 organization, the local Shanghai Grand Prix promoters, or even Ferrari themselves—they had all been meticulously laying the groundwork in Asia for years, desperately trying to unlock and exploit the vast, untapped commercial potential of the Chinese market—
Now was the absolute, undeniable moment to translate those plans into action.
The mounting anxiety and chaotic uncertainty loomed overhead like a suffocating blanket of dark clouds.
According to official projections, the Xintiandi venue was designed to accommodate a maximum capacity of 10,000 spectators. Industry insiders were all deeply anxious, their hearts in their throats. Absolutely no one could say with any degree of certainty whether they could actually fill those 10,000 spots. They were seriously debating whether the sponsors should quietly mandate internal attendance, forcing their own corporate employees to show up just to pad the numbers and ensure the crowd didn't look pathetically sparse.
Everything was brand new. Everything was entirely unfamiliar. One moment, they were brimming with absolute confidence, believing they could easily fill 10,000 spots and then some. The next moment, they were plunged into deep despair, terrified that the venue would be littered with massive, glaring patches of empty space. They worried the television broadcast cameras wouldn't even be able to hide the abysmal turnout, turning the entire event into a massive, humiliating disaster.
F1's historic, milestone 1,000th Grand Prix Fan Festival officially kicked off under this massive cloud of turbulence and intense anxiety.
Li Lingyu was just one ordinary member of that massive sea of millions of fans. She had absolutely no idea whether anyone else was actually planning to show up for the event. She had no way of knowing how many people in the real world had genuinely, truly fallen in love with motorsport because of Kai. But she remained resolutely committed, marching forward without hesitation. She was determined to reach the venue, driven solely by the desire to catch a single, up-close glimpse of Kai.
Looking at the staggering scene unfolding before her own eyes, Li Lingyu couldn't help but feel incredibly thankful that she had decided to arrive so early—
F1? A street demonstration? A Fan Festival in Xintiandi?
Were they absolutely sure about this?
If someone genuinely loved racing, wouldn't they just go straight to the circuit to watch Qualifying and the Race? Plus, there was the official F1 press day and the driver interaction sessions out at the track; wasn't that infinitely more interesting? At a street demonstration, the cars physically couldn't hit speeds of 300 kilometers per hour. Where exactly was the adrenaline-pumping, blood-boiling thrill supposed to come from?
And if someone didn't like racing, why on earth would they go out of their way to stand on a street corner just to watch someone drive a car? Wasn't sitting in brutal, soul-crushing city traffic every single day enough? Who in their right mind would be so bored they'd actively seek out watching other people drive? Cramming together on the side of the road to choke on exhaust fumes... did they feel the city's air pollution wasn't severe enough? Were they deliberately going out of their way to make themselves miserable?
Furthermore, it was a weekday!
People saved their precious annual leave to sleep in, go on vacation, or just slack off when they didn't feel like working. Literally anything else was a better option. Why would anyone waste a vacation day on a street demonstration?
And on, and on, and on.
Li Lingyu was absolutely, 100% certain that every single one of those sarcastic comments and cynical complaints was entirely valid. It was glaringly obvious: the promotion and popularization of F1 in mainland China still faced a long, agonizingly difficult road ahead.
HOWEVER!
That still couldn't extinguish her burning passion. She had arrived five full hours early to line up at the Fan Festival entrance on Madang Road.
Her primary fear was that the subway stations would be shut down tomorrow morning, the surrounding roads would be entirely blocked off, and when combined with the brutal reality of the Wednesday morning rush hour, the slightest miscalculation could result in her missing the event entirely.
She absolutely refused to live with that regret.
In Melbourne, she had accomplished her first major goal of the year. Now, it was time for the second!
The problem was, someone had still managed to beat her to the punch.
When Li Lingyu arrived at the venue, she was utterly dumbfounded. There were actually people who had camped out at Xintiandi a full fourteen hours in advance! At that point, the event organizers hadn't even begun to block off the roads or set up the venue!
Li Lingyu had thought she was being hardcore. She had even specially packed a tent, fully prepared to battle the freezing night air. But upon hearing reports from the front lines, she frantically rushed to Xintiandi two hours earlier than she originally planned. Yet, when she arrived, she saw the hazy outline of the entrance still under construction, and a ragged, scattered line of over twenty people already camped out waiting.
It was absolutely mind-boggling!
But the truly unbelievable part was yet to come. Not long after Li Lingyu arrived, before she had even managed to catch her breath, she looked back and saw that the line was continuing to grow, extending relentlessly backward without pause. Faces flushed with excitement and bubbling enthusiasm completely baffled her. Even Li Lingyu was entirely lost in the fog.
After hesitating for a moment, Li Lingyu finally asked, "You guys know this is a ticketed event, right? As long as you have a ticket, you're guaranteed entry. So why—" Why on earth are you here in the middle of the night lining up?
Before she could even finish her sentence, she was violently interrupted by a piercing scream.
"AH!"
Li Lingyu jumped in terror. She stared wide-eyed at the three young girls standing behind her, instinctively taking a half-step back.
"KAI AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
"Girl, don't you think Kai is just so, so, so, SO incredibly handsome?!"
"No, no, no, it's not just handsome. It's charisma."
Ah. Youth.
Li Lingyu couldn't hold it back. Her eyes and mouth overflowed with a massive, genuine smile—Yes. His face. Without a doubt, it's his face. Good looks truly are the ultimate weapon for breaking into the mainstream.
If the goal was simply to watch the race cars, honestly, any seat was fine. After all, the visceral impact of the engine noise was fundamentally different when you were physically present. Being slightly closer or further away had a relatively limited impact on the overall experience. Li Lingyu's tickets at Albert Park hadn't been the absolute best seats in the house, but the sheer thrill of the experience was identical.
But if the goal was to watch the driver, then securing a front-row spot was absolutely mandatory. Li Lingyu harbored the exact same motivation; she desperately wanted to secure the absolute best possible vantage point.
"What about you, sis?" the young girl asked, unable to contain her surging excitement, her voice bouncing with anticipation.
Li Lingyu flashed a massive grin. "Same here, same here. I spent a while admiring all the handsome guys across the paddock. I accidentally stumbled into an absolute treasure trove. But in the end, absolutely no one could replace Kai."
However, this is how the story usually unfolds—
They fall down the rabbit hole by accident because of his looks. They get deeply invested because of the championship victory. And finally, they fall madly, irreversibly in love because of the unyielding, iron-willed tenacity and boiling passion he displays on the asphalt.
Li Lingyu quickly discovered she wasn't the only one.
Throughout the entire night, huddled against the freezing chill of the spring wind, they chatted excitedly and passionately. The conversation revolving around Kai simply never stopped.
The classic, legendary moments from last season were too numerous to count. Sometimes they were boiling with adrenaline, sometimes burning with righteous indignation. Sometimes they were impassioned and fiery, sometimes moved to tears. Sometimes they united in shared fury against a common enemy. The fervent, non-stop discussion raged on, until even a young guy sitting quietly nearby, who had been merely listening, couldn't endure the isolation any longer.
He was a genuine, hardcore motorsport fan. He had absolutely zero interest in good looks or superficial charm. What truly commanded his awe and respect was Kai's unparalleled, generational racing talent. In the turbo-hybrid era—an era where raw machine performance was becoming increasingly dominant, threatening to overshadow everything else—Kai had accidentally stumbled into the paddock and was violently upending the entire established hierarchy. He was reviving those beautiful, nostalgic memories of racing's golden age. Even the most hardcore, elite racing purists had completely surrendered, waving flags and screaming their lungs out in support of Kai.
Initially, he had been observing them with cold detachment. He harbored deep contempt for these 'fangirls' who had only fallen down the rabbit hole because of a pretty face. In his mind, they didn't actually love racing; if you swapped the sport for literally anything else, as long as there was a handsome guy involved, they'd be just as obsessed. They were not engaged in the same hobby as him.
But they just kept chattering and arguing endlessly right next to him. Trying to pretend he couldn't hear them was impossible.
However, when he actually stopped and listened closely, he discovered an entirely new world. Perhaps these girls knew absolutely nothing about mechanical engineering or advanced aerodynamic theory. But that absolutely didn't mean they knew nothing about motorsport. Tactics, strategy, the critical turning points and core mechanics of a race—they were fully capable of discussing those elements with surprising depth. Their perspective and understanding of the sport were slightly different, but it provided entirely fresh, fascinating insights. It even triggered a massive explosion of new ideas and inspirations in his own mind.
Because of a shared passion, and because of a shared driver, a group of complete strangers standing in the freezing Shanghai night engaged in endless, tireless conversation and debate.
And then, naturally, the topic shifted to the current, brand-new season. It had only been two races—Melbourne and Bahrain—yet they already had a basket full of suppressed opinions and explosive thoughts they desperately needed to share.
Back and forth they went. The crowd gathering around them to chatter and debate grew increasingly massive. Countless unfamiliar faces, brought together in the real world by Kai and their shared love of racing, completely lost track of time. In the blink of an eye, dawn was breaking, yet their boiling blood showed no signs of cooling down.
If it weren't for the fact that today was the Fan Festival, and the grueling race weekend was immediately following, with event after event lined up requiring them to conserve their energy to provide Kai with the loudest, most unyielding support possible—Shanghai was a critical, must-win race—every single one of them would have happily stayed up all night, talking until the sun fully rose.
Despite that—
Li Lingyu had only managed to snatch about two hours of actual sleep. For a moment, she genuinely couldn't tell if she had actually slept or not. Her eyes felt like they were glued shut.
The moment she stepped out of her tent, Li Lingyu saw that the comrades she had been fighting shoulder-to-shoulder with last night were already standing there. "You guys?"
"We didn't sleep at all. We're way too hyped to sleep! We're actually going to see Kai with our own eyes today! AHHHHHHHH!" The voices were still bursting with vibrant, irrepressible energy.
Li Lingyu rubbed her eyes, weakly pumping a fist in solidarity. "If I had known, I wouldn't have even bothered bringing the tent. I should have just brought a backpack entirely full of Red Bull."
Hahaha—
The group erupted in laughter.
"Exactly, exactly."
"We need to show everyone exactly how much power we have. We need to let the other drivers know what a real home race looks like."
"Every single upcoming race could be the critical turning point. We absolutely must seize this opportunity to let Kai know that we will always be his vanguard. We are fighting side-by-side with him!"
Rapid-fire, one sentence after another, completely erupting. The fervent passion radiating from their eyes was burning fiercely.
Involuntarily, Li Lingyu's own passion re-awakened. She didn't even need caffeine; the hype was coursing through her veins. She clenched her fists, fighting the sudden, overwhelming urge to scream in triumph.
Just at that moment—
"...Su Tong! Su Tong!"
Not far away, a bright, joyous, incredibly excited girl's voice called out from the back of the line. She was panting heavily, but completely unable to hide her immense happiness. As she ran, she practically started skipping, throwing her arms wide open as if she could hear the howling wind rushing past her ears. She sprinted past Li Lingyu and the group, charging straight ahead.
"The line has already wrapped around the next street over, and the street after that! It's probably going to bite its own tail like the snake game soon!"
"A thousand people! I guarantee it, there are at least a thousand people here already!"
Wild, brilliant, and utterly uninhibited. Like a ball of pure fire, she roared past them.
Li Lingyu's gaze couldn't help but follow the young girl's path. There was a small group of people gathered there. Unlike everyone else, they weren't standing in line. They were clustered together, hauling massive cardboard boxes out one by one, working frantically. One look was all it took to know they were highly organized.
The reason?
Every single one of them was wearing a red T-shirt. It was that iconic, unmistakable Ferrari red; Li Lingyu would never misidentify it. Furthermore, on the left breast of the T-shirt was a bright yellow lightning bolt logo. As the young girl ran past, Li Lingyu clearly saw the massive, stylized 'Number 22' printed on the back. It couldn't be any more obvious.
So, were they the official Kai Fan Club Organizers?
Li Lingyu stood on her tiptoes, craning her neck, desperately trying to get a look at what was inside those massive boxes. She saw the girl with skin as white as snow turn around to look back.
The girl's face was largely expressionless. Cold, aloof. Her rigid words struck like a blunt wooden pole, making everyone around her slightly uncomfortable. "Have you caught Wang Lin's disease? You love exaggerating everything. He literally just messaged on WeChat saying there are probably three thousand people on that side."
The stiff, emotionless words felt exactly like she was trying to pick a fight. But the other girl wasn't bothered in the slightest. She seemed completely accustomed to this dynamic. "He has three thousand people over there?! Then we definitely have at least five thousand over here! Su Tong, I'm being completely serious right now. I'm genuinely starting to worry that we don't have enough T-shirts."
T-shirts?
Li Lingyu latched onto the keyword instantly. Without a second of hesitation, she made her move. "Hello! Excuse me, are you guys official Ferrari staff members?"
The girl with the bright, smiling face spun around. Her long, black hair flew through the air like a waterfall. She flashed a massive, welcoming grin. "Ha! No, no, no, we definitely aren't."
"We are the organizers for Kai's official fan club."
"My name is Li Miaomiao. I am so incredibly happy to meet you here at the Fan Festival today!"
Li Lingyu's eyes lit up. "I'm Li Lingyu. 'Li' as in 'plum tree'. So, we share the same surname?"
Li Miaomiao nodded enthusiastically. "Well, it looks like aside from screaming our lungs out for Kai, we have something else in common!"
In just two short sentences, the distance between them vanished instantly.
Li Lingyu couldn't suppress her curiosity any longer. She stood on her tiptoes, peering over Li Miaomiao's shoulder to look at the boxes behind her. "So, are you guys organizing some kind of special event?"
Li Miaomiao understood immediately. "This!"
She pinched the fabric of her T-shirt, while simultaneously raising her right hand. Tied around her wrist was a bright red bandana. One glance was all it took to spot the distinctive lightning bolt pattern.
Li Lingyu nearly shrieked out loud.
Li Miaomiao quickly explained. "This is a small souvenir directly from Kai. A T-shirt, or a bandana. You can choose one. It's a genuine 'thank you' for everyone's incredible support, and a 'thank you' for taking the time to come out to the Fan Festival today."
"We have exactly ten thousand of each item prepared. Our ultimate goal is to make sure every single person who attends the Fan Festival today gets one completely free of charge!"
Li Lingyu's eyes nearly popped out of her skull. "Wait, did you just say... directly from Kai?"
Li Miaomiao nodded vigorously. "Kai said that even though he doesn't often post about it online, he's always been deeply aware of everyone's support. The team in Maranello forwards all the letters from the Chinese fans directly to him, completely unopened. He knows that back in his homeland, there is a massive group of fans who have stood by him, completely unyielding, through everything."
Simultaneously, Kai was acutely aware of just how incredibly difficult it is to fully crack open a new market and popularize a niche sport. The foundational motorsport fanbase in mainland China was still painfully thin.
Because of this, every single spark, every single glimmer of starlight was incredibly precious. No matter how faint or insignificant that light might seem initially, eventually, it could grow into a blinding brilliance capable of scattering the darkness and illuminating the entire universe.
Last year in Shanghai, Kai had deeply felt that profound emotion and power, but he had never found the appropriate opportunity to respond in kind.
This year was the perfect moment. The 1,000th F1 Grand Prix Fan Festival. Kai would be attending as the primary F1 driver representative, and as the definitive local hero. Naturally, he had absolutely no reason to let such a golden opportunity slip away.
Therefore, Kai had contacted Song Bo, requested some logistical assistance, and entirely out of his own pocket, funded the production of this massive first batch of official merchandise. He wanted it to serve as a small token of remembrance—
To ignite a single spark that could start a prairie fire.
Li Miaomiao waved the bandana on her wrist. "T-shirt, or bandana?"
Li Lingyu had to use every ounce of strength in her body to suppress the overwhelming urge to scream. "T-shirt! But... I really, really want the bandana too! AHHH! Can I please have both?!" She ultimately couldn't hold it back. "AHHHHHHHHH! I seriously want both so badly!"
Behind them, Su Tong, whose face remained as cold as frost, spoke up loudly. "If you are willing to help us distribute them, you can have both."
Li Lingyu held her breath and nodded violently. Her entire body was practically overflowing with sheer joy. Happiness inflated rapidly in her chest, exactly like a balloon about to pop.
Suddenly, a panting, breathless voice called out from behind them. "Class President. Su Tong. The situation... uh, the situation might have massively exceeded our projections. There are definitely going to be way more than ten thousand people here today."
Li Miaomiao and Su Tong couldn't believe their ears. They rapidly exchanged a look, both snapping their heads around to stare at him. Their eyes clearly screamed: How is that even possible?!
Song Bo didn't bother explaining. He simply pulled out his phone and opened a live radio app. Even though traditional radio's influence had waned significantly, it still played a highly critical role as a dedicated traffic broadcasting network, providing real-time updates on city road conditions.
"...Line 10: South Shaanxi Road, Laoximen. Line 1: South Huangpi Road. Line 8: Dashijie. Line 9: Dapuqiao, Lujiabang Road. During the hours of 8:00 AM to 10:00 AM, trains will bypass these stations without stopping."
This was immediately followed by a massive list of urban traffic control updates. Even if they knew absolutely nothing about the local maps or street layouts, they could clearly deduce the reality: with Xintiandi as the absolute epicenter, the massive, gridlocked exclusion zone was rapidly, aggressively expanding outward.
Every single year, Shanghai hosted countless massive, world-class events. They possessed immense logistical experience. Clearly, the terrifying scale of today's Fan Festival had completely obliterated all official projections. To prevent a catastrophic disaster, the various city departments were proactively deploying emergency crowd control measures.
"...According to current projections, the Xintiandi district is expected to see a massive convergence of at least 30,000 people. We urge all drivers to actively avoid the heavily congested areas..."
Thirty thousand people?!
What kind of absurd, terrifying concept was that?!
This wasn't a massive New Year's Eve countdown party. This wasn't the Shanghai Marathon. This wasn't the chaotic nightmare of the Spring Festival travel rush. And this absolutely wasn't a massive stadium concert for a trending pop idol. This was merely a localized, promotional F1 street demonstration. According to their original, highly conservative plans, they were genuinely terrified that hitting the 10,000-person capacity limit was going to be an impossible fantasy.
What happened to the "lack of foundational market support"? Weren't they told that "commercial motorsport events generate absolutely zero public interest"?
And now! Solely for a single street demonstration—a brief, fleeting opportunity to see Kai up close—the absolute center of downtown Shanghai was currently brewing a terrifying, apocalyptic hurricane of humanity.
Words are pale and powerless in the face of brutal reality. Only by physically being there, immersed in the terrifying, surging ocean of people, could one truly comprehend the absolute, earth-shattering magnitude of Kai's drawing power.
Weren't all the rumors screaming that "Ferrari and Kai are trapped in a prison of their own making, facing a catastrophic mid-season collapse"? If that was true, then how exactly did anyone explain the monumental, historic spectacle currently unfolding right before their eyes?
People were slowly beginning to realize that the chaotic, screaming noise of social media and the brutal, objective truth of the real world often existed on entirely different, misaligned planes of reality. But it wasn't until this exact moment that Li Lingyu truly, viscerally experienced that disconnect for herself.
Turning her head, she looked out at the densely packed, endless ocean of humanity stretching out infinitely before her. Every single face she could see was radiating the exact same pure, unadulterated joy. Involuntarily, Li Lingyu's heart swelled with profound emotion. Taking a deep breath, she turned back to the organizers.
"I am more than willing to help. It doesn't even matter if I get a gift or not."
Li Lingyu knew the truth in her heart. She loved Kai. Even if there were zero souvenirs, she would continue to support him unconditionally. Since that was the case, it was far better to help distribute these tokens of appreciation. Like passing a torch, she wanted the fire to spread as far and wide as absolutely possible.
And it wasn't just her. Every single one of the comrades she had bonded with in the freezing trenches last night stepped forward. Their eyes shining brightly, they stood firmly behind Li Lingyu, sharing the exact same conviction.
The smile on Li Miaomiao's lips bloomed to its absolute fullest. "Then we absolutely have to hurry! We need to transport these boxes to the various distribution points scattered around the venue. Hopefully, we can get all of them handed out before the Fan Festival officially begins. When the event finally kicks off, we are going to see a massive, glorious ocean of red lightning."
Just the mere thought of that image was enough to make Li Lingyu tremble with excitement.
However, just as she was about to spring into action, Li Lingyu suddenly remembered something. She stopped, turned to Li Miaomiao, and leaned in close, lowering her voice. "That guy just now... was that Dr. Song? The guy from Bilibili—"
Li Miaomiao nodded. "Yep, that's him. We're all classmates."
Li Lingyu's jaw practically hit the floor.