Chapter 101: Storytelling
Why are cars so difficult to control in the rain?
When water accumulates on the asphalt, a thin water film forms between the tires and the track surface. That film prevents the tires from biting into the ground, so the contact patch can no longer generate sufficient mechanical grip. Naturally, the car becomes unstable.
In simple terms: the track becomes slippery.
But is that all there is to driving in the wet?
Of course not.
On a race circuit, water never distributes evenly. Some areas have standing water, some are only damp, and others dry quickly. Each surface—concrete patches, kerbs, rubbered-in racing line—changes its behavior dramatically once soaked. Their grip levels fluctuate constantly, forcing the driver to adapt every corner, every lap.
To drive consistently in heavy rain, the key is learning to sense the maximum grip threshold and then searching for sections of the track with the strongest available grip.
A racing driver reads tire grip the same way in the wet as in the dry, but the margin between "stable" and "spinning" becomes razor-thin. A slight increase in throttle, a tiny steering correction, or a moment of over-commitment can send the tires into complete loss of traction.
And losing traction in the wet usually means losing the entire car. Recovery is much harder than in dry conditions. That's why wet-weather incidents are frequent—and when they happen, they are often severe.
Even Wu Shi, once the rear tires fully break traction in deep water, would find it nearly impossible to catch the slide. No amount of countersteer or throttle modulation can help once the tires are floating on water; all he could do is aquaplane straight into the barrier.
Experiencing how frighteningly slippery the S14 becomes in the wet, Wu Shi finally understood what Verstappen meant by "finding the feeling of grip."
When the rear axle starts to slide, grip drops sharply. At that moment, only the subtlest throttle modulation or brake inputs can keep the car balanced—barely stable in an inherently unstable state.
Drifting is easy.
Making a car drift exactly the way you want is hard.
Entering the corner, Wu Shi had to use proper heel-and-toe downshifting—using the right foot to blip the throttle while maintaining brake pressure—to match the rear wheel speed to the downshifted gear.
Swoosh!
Cars streaked past, throwing up clouds of spray and mist.
After more than a dozen laps in the rain, Wu Shi finally guided the S14 back into the pit lane.
"Damn… that was incredible."
He pulled off his helmet and shook out the water.
"Wu Shi, come to the briefing room. We need to discuss a few things," Sid called from the garage wall where he had been waiting.
"Alright."
Wu Shi didn't even bother changing. He simply removed his helmet and balaclava and headed straight into the meeting room.
"The German Grand Prix is from May 2nd to 4th—that's fixed," Sid said, opening his notebook. "I've arranged your interview with Zhi the day after tomorrow. After the interview, we'll review your sponsorship matters."
Wu Shi nodded. It had been arranged long ago; it was only a matter of going through the motions.
"And then… Rafa." Sid sighed. "The conflict between Montezemolo and Marchionne is getting worse. I feel Montezemolo signed you not only because he believes in your potential, but also because he wants a stronger voice in their internal power struggle."
Wu Shi blinked. "That's… a thing?"
"Well, even though you're Chinese, you grew up in Italy. And Martina has, indirectly, hinted to some people that you're essentially her stepson. So Montezemolo sees you as one of his 'own.' He wants to counter Marchionne, who's pushing hard for a more 'Americanized' direction."
Sid tapped his pen.
"Most importantly, since the start of the hybrid era, the LaFerrari F1 team has been underperforming. Too many issues. The criticism falls squarely on Montezemolo's shoulders."
In short, even with a €10 million breach-of-contract penalty, Rafa might still decide to cut people if leadership changes.
"So even if I win twenty-one races, I still might not get a seat?" Wu Shi laughed helplessly.
"It's hard to say. After your three straight victories, every major team is watching you. If you really hit twenty-one wins, I'm confident you can secure a seat even without going to LaFerrari. That's why I've been traveling nonstop."
Winning 21 out of 33 races in a single F3 season was almost absurd.
Only because Wu Shi's performances had been so extraordinary did it even seem possible.
Not Verstappen, not Ocon, not any veteran F3 driver from that era could manage such a feat.
Sid looked at him like he was staring at a phenomenon of nature.
This kid acted like he had been born understanding every circuit.
"Joss helped too. As a former F1 driver, he has a lot of contacts and gladly opened a few doors for us."
"Yeah… thank you for handling all that." Wu Shi nodded. In motorsport, connections matter as much as talent.
When you're training every day, time flies.
Soon, the day of the interview arrived. Zhi Shiwei's team rented a dedicated conference room for the shoot.
"This is the script?" Wu Shi asked, holding the document she handed to him.
"Sort of," she said. "You can change anything you want, but let us know ahead of time."
Wu Shi skimmed through it. Most questions focused on his childhood, the difficulties he faced growing up, and the setbacks early in his racing journey.
The questions weren't hard, and Zhi Shiwei had prepared good examples.
"For the question 'What was the biggest setback on your path to becoming a professional driver?' can I just say… I didn't have enough money?" Wu Shi joked.
"Huh?"
Zhi Shiwei froze.
Her expected answers were things like losing races, psychological pressure, burnout, and emotional imbalance.
"Even now, my biggest problem is still money."
Wu Shi shrugged. "Running karts alone costs roughly a million RMB a year."
Formula cars were even worse. That one-month trip to America earlier in the year had burned through another million.
"You can definitely say that," Zhi said, "but can't you also talk about difficulties within racing?"
Wu Shi thought for a moment.
Strictly speaking, since his debut, he had never truly encountered a devastating failure in this life.
But he remembered what it felt like at this age in his previous life—problems far heavier than money.
Self-inflicted pressure.
He seemed cheerful now only because he already possessed a skill level that allowed him to control every race with confidence. In his previous life, like Verstappen, he had tasted both brilliance and the suffocating dread of failure.
He had suffered anxiety, nights without sleep, spirals of self-doubt.
Only after experiencing all of that did he learn to remain calm.
This time, those emotions would likely return only once he reached F1.
"…Then I'll talk about those experiences," Wu Shi said softly. "How to face failure, how to reset your mindset after a disastrous mistake, and how to keep fighting even when you feel like everything is collapsing."
"Yes! That's exactly the kind of content viewers want," Zhi Shiwei said with relief.
Sid stood behind the camera, listening carefully.
Wu Shi spoke about a race failure so severe it nearly cost him his racing license—how it triggered a mental breakdown, and how he spiraled into a vicious cycle of fear and pressure.
Sid frowned.
Had Wu Shi ever experienced something like that?
He didn't think so.
But the way Wu Shi described it…
The clarity, the rawness, the emotional depth
People who haven't lived through that kind of mental collapse simply cannot describe it so accurately.
And it made Sid wonder just how many secrets this kid still carried.