F1: Starting with a Simulator Master

Chapter 119 Solving a Dilemma

Saudi Arabia, Ramadan, Thursday, Jeddah coastal street race.

Let's rewind a few hours.

In the pit garage of the Haas team at the other end of the paddock, Xu Zihao and team leader Komatsu Reio had just shaken hands and finalized a secret deal in which both parties got what they wanted.

For this huge sponsorship of ten million euros, the Haas team, which has been short of money for years, acted faster than Sobo, and even came up with a plausible excuse.

Their star driver, Kevin Magnussen, has accumulated ten super license points, just two points away from the twelve-point automatic suspension, and many of these points will be automatically cleared after March.

The team's original plan was to temporarily use reserve driver Roche to fill in for one race, in order to avoid the strategic risk of Magnussen being banned.

They've managed to save face and maintain appearances, a perfect win-win situation that Haas team has successfully resolved in their dilemma.

Even Oliver Biermann, a young Ferrari academy player who was originally highly likely to get this temporary Haas spot, was directly removed from the list by Haas management because of the ten million euros that were suddenly spent.

At that moment, Xu Zihao was riding high, thinking that he had used his financial power to carve out a gap in the solid F1 paddock.

However, on this unpredictable Thursday, the sudden diagnosis of acute appendicitis by Sainz came like a thunderbolt, changing everyone's plans.

Ferrari, the only true superstar powerhouse in the paddock, the red car capable of contending for the championship podium, suddenly has an extremely valuable seat vacated.

Faced with a golden opportunity, Xu Zihao revealed the cold-blooded and fickle side of a capitalist.

Without the slightest hesitation, he immediately had his lawyer activate the liability exemption loophole in the Haas letter of intent signed the night before, and forcibly dismissed the stunned Komatsu Reio by simply handing over a mere 100,000 euros in compensation.

Turning around, he grabbed Luo Xiu and, with the check for ten million euros, headed straight for the Ferrari P shop.

Xu Zihao thought his scheme of crossing the river and then destroying the bridge, and then intercepting the Ferrari seat, was invincible.

As a result, when he triumphantly pushed open the door to the Ferrari pit lane, ready to declare that he had exclusively owned the number 55 Ferrari F1 in this race...

1. During racing.

He was dumbfounded.

Because Oliver Biermann, the Ferrari junior driver whose spot he had just snatched from Haas's roster for ten million euros not long ago, was now standing expressionlessly in the center of the garage, wearing a bright red Ferrari racing suit.

Do they want to monopolize Ferrari's temporary seats through sponsorship?

It's not that simple.

The overwhelming online frenzy forced Ferrari to take the multi-million dollar bounty seriously, but at the same time, the old-money backers behind them were also exerting irresistible pressure.

In this arena dominated by European powerful families for decades, Ferrari team principal Fred Vassell, the old fox, clearly knows better than the young Xu Zihao how to navigate the complexities of various capitals and forces.

There are only three hours left before the start of the first free practice session (FP1).

Inside the Ferrari pit garage, the No. 55 race car, which originally belonged to Sainz, was far from being fully assembled.

After a long air journey, the F1 cars arrived at the paddock in completely disassembled parts.

In order to complete the cockpit molding of the two substitutes before the test, the technicians even stopped assembling the aerodynamic kit and prioritized piecing together the monocoque shell.

The expensive SF24 now only had a bare carbon fiber cockpit, like a mechanical behemoth stripped of its shell, exposing a complex network of wiring and hydraulic lines.

Fred Wasserl stood beside the wrecked race car, his gaze sweeping over the two young men in front of him.

Beside him was a makeshift foam seat base that had just been filled with chemical spray and foam material.

"There won't be another car for you to crash into."

Vassal's French accent was fast and cold, cutting out all the comforting platitudes and getting straight to the point.

"Listen carefully, I'll say it again, there's no second car for you to squander. FP1 (first practice session) goes to Biermann, and FP2 (second practice session) goes to Rosiu."

Vasser pointed to the large timer screen next to him, his tone like that of a slave owner in an ancient Roman gladiatorial arena.

"Don't try to prove anything to me with your words. I only look at this, and I only recognize telemetry data."

As a promising young talent within Ferrari's own system, Oliver Biermann's expression was solemn, but deep in his eyes, there was still a hint of restrained determination.

Luo Xiu, standing on the other side, had an unusually calm expression. His gaze went straight past the team leader and landed on the uneven foam base.

"One last warning before you put on your helmets."

Vasser reached out and slapped the hard foam hard, his voice echoing in the empty pit garage: "A normal F1 carbon fiber cockpit needs to lie in the factory in Maranello for two full weeks to achieve a perfect fit. This thing, on the other hand, is a piece of foam plastic that the engineers rushed to make in just one hour."

He stared intently at the changes in their expressions, deliberately emphasizing his tone, trying to detect any fear in their eyes.

"This is Jeddah, a street circuit with almost no run-off area. 27 corners per lap, you're practically on the gas pedal the entire time, and even a single high-speed corner can generate a lateral G-force of up to 5G!"

The performance engineer next to Vassil picked up the thread, using cold physical data to give a final dissuasion: "In this ultra-high-speed machine, if your body weight is not perfectly and evenly supported and wrapped by the seat—this means that in the following tests, hundreds of kilograms of pressure will be concentrated on several bony prominences in your shoulder blades or tailbone."

This will be very painful, and once the pain causes the operation to become distorted, you will be climbing the wall at a speed of nearly 300 kilometers per hour.

""

Vasser gave his final summary, his eyes sharp.

"Not only will the team lose valuable points, but the guy who crashed will also have his career basically over."

So if you feel physically unable to take it, tell me immediately. Withdrawing from the race is not shameful; it's for the safety of the team.

These words, seemingly a patriarchal expression of concern, are in fact an extremely clever political maneuver.

This was Vasser's escape plan, devised amidst the turmoil between two powerful factions. The only hope was that either of the two young men would tremble at the risk of a collision caused by this oppressive gravity and choose to withdraw.

Then he could immediately pass the buck back to headquarters, avoiding the hot potato of ten million euros in online controversy or trouble from the sponsoring old money, and legitimately report back to his superiors.

But if both of them are stubborn and insist on going through with it even though they know it's a form of physical torture, then all the risks and the final decision-making power are handed over to the timer that can't be faked.

The one who runs fast stays, the one who runs slow gets kicked out. Nobody can find fault with him.

Vasser held his breath, hoping to see even the slightest hint of fear in his eyes.

However, not a single person in this P room retreated.

Biermann took a deep breath, and with a hint of determination, acquiesced to accepting the six-point harness buckle handed to him by the technician.

Luo Xiu didn't waste a single word.

He completely ignored Vasser's meaningless workplace psychological game, turned around and went to the side to do reaction training with Chen Pengfei.

He acted as if he wasn't there to participate in a physical test that could ruin his career and cause bone damage at any moment.

He simply came to the track once, ran a race, and collected laps and points.

Witnessing this, Vasser's eye twitched. He cursed under his breath, then helplessly began arranging the next tasks.