F1: Starting with a Simulator Master

The most crucial question in Chapter 140

As the checkered flag was lowered, the tension that had gripped the Jeddah circuit all night finally eased.

The cheers erupting from the stands, the grass, and even the pit area, which reeked of tire grime, nearly lifted the night sky of this seaside city.

Meanwhile, the commentary booths in major broadcast studios around the world have gone completely crazy.

But this frenzy came to an abrupt end when the director switched to the telemetry data comparison for the last three laps.

The professional commentators in front of the screen stared at those data cables and fell silent.

Data doesn't lie.

Ferrari's all-or-nothing two-stop strategy was certainly impressive, but what truly sent shivers down the spines of the entire paddock was the terrifying calculation that Rochet displayed in the final moments.

In the scene, despite having DRS in hand and a huge speed difference, the discharge curve representing Luo Xiu did not fluctuate violently at all before the last turn!

That means there was no forced withdrawal or probing, and not a trace of the impatience that a rookie should have.

He calmly stayed close behind Verstappen, holding back all his power and saving it for the last straight after the T27 corner!

Then, with a single, swift stroke to the throat, he showed no mercy.

This kind of restraint and terrifying calculation, which is even willing to completely strip away the desire to overtake in order to achieve the highest winning percentage, makes the current drivers in the paddock feel a chill down their spines more than the first championship itself.

Among them, the first to feel a chill run down his spine was Charles Leclerc, who had just driven his red SF-24 race car into the parking area.

As Ferrari's handpicked "crown prince," he pushed himself to the limit in this night battle in Jeddah, but only managed to get a familiar P4.

When the radio announced Luo Xiu's victory, he recalled the team's desperate double pit stop, and his nerves went completely on edge.

He realized that in this epic battle, he was merely a tactical decoy to pull Red Bull's defenses apart for that new temporary worker.

As Leclerc sat in the driver's seat, a deep sense of powerlessness quietly spread through the hot and cramped cockpit.

And just a wall away was the Red Bull P room.

Team leader Horner's face was ashen. He irritably ripped off his expensive communication headset and stared at the large data screen hanging in front of him.

Verstappen made no mistakes, and Red Bull's car didn't falter. But on the last lap, at the very last corner, he was ruthlessly outmaneuvered by that Ferrari substitute with a cunning and inhuman strategy!

Horner rubbed his throbbing temples, feeling utterly overwhelmed.

Thinking about the troubles entangled in his life, he clearly sensed an extremely dangerous aura.

Unlike last year when Sainz snatched the victory from Singapore, that was insignificant.

The Saudi Arabian track should have been under Red Bull's absolute dominance, but now it has been ripped open with a wound that is difficult to heal.

This made Horner realize that something was very wrong.

But while some suffer, others are fanatical.

In the Mercedes-Benz control seat, Toto Wolff's eyes gleamed with a tangible green light in the dim reflection of the monitor.

Looking at the swaggering Ferrari No. 55 on the big screen, this shrewd German businessman gritted his teeth and grabbed the arm of his assistant beside him.

"Find out! How long will it take for Sainz to recover and return to the team! Before Ferrari's management fully realizes what's happening—"

Wolf's hawk-like eyes practically burned a hole through the screen showing Luo Xiu's championship victory. "Find out this kid's bottom line at all costs!"

Hamilton is a ticking time bomb, ready to explode at any moment, while Luo Xiu—

Toto Wolff knew all too well that Ferrari's strategy team was a bunch of idiots, and that Roche's championship win was more than half due to his individual ability.

In this cutthroat arena, what kind of super gold mine does such a rising star with top-notch skills and obvious intelligence represent?

It's 3 a.m. in China.

The city had long since fallen into darkness, so quiet that only the faint sound of the cold wind brushing against the exterior walls could be heard.

The very few windows that still emitted a faint light were like specks of stars dotting the night sky.

Suddenly, without warning, countless male dormitories in universities across China exploded simultaneously.

At the same time, a deafening roar erupted.

At this moment, the male hormones of college boys have absolutely no outlet!

The metal bunk beds in the dormitory were being shaken so loudly that they seemed about to fall apart at any moment.

The plastic basin was used as a war drum, and it was pounded wildly on the windows and balcony.

Windows, floor after floor, were lit up, and countless roars and screams converged into an invisible wave of sound, directly...

Shoot into the night sky.

All those words eventually coalesced into a unified shout!

The unrest lasted a long time.

Until dozens of blinding beams of light from flashlights lit up at the bottom of the building.

The security guard, wrapped in a military overcoat, angrily blew a sharp whistle, and beams of light swirled wildly on the building's exterior wall, forcibly driving the shirtless, jumping boys back to their dormitories in an extremely rough manner.

"Luo Shen is awesome!!"

Accompanied by a final roar emanating from a dark corner, directed towards the night sky.

This late-night carnival, which ushered in a new era for racing culture in China, gradually faded into silence.

Back on the track.

Race car number 55 has entered the closed parking area and stopped steadily directly behind the P1 sign.

After cutting off the power, Luo Xiu removed the helmet cable connecting Hans, braced himself on the edge of the cockpit with both hands, and nimbly flipped off the vehicle.

The foam chair, hastily made overnight and not perfectly fitted, surprisingly did not put any extra strain on his lumbar spine this time.

After enduring a full fifty laps of intense, high-pressure training with centrifugal forces often reaching 5G, my physical fitness has evolved once again without me even realizing it.

At this point, the inner layer of the fireproof suit is only soaked with sweat, and the hem is slightly dirty; that's all.

As the adrenaline subsided naturally, his breathing rate also slowed down, and there was no sign of fatigue in his dark eyes.

A few meters away.

Official interviewer "Great Yin-Yang Master" Rosberg quickly reported the rankings for the match.

Rochefoucauld is first, Verstappen is second, Perez is third, and Leclerc is fourth.

The podium interviews began with third-place finisher Perez, but he merely gave a perfunctory response to the Red Bull duo at a very fast pace.

Then, with a swift movement, like a hound with a keen sense of smell, the leather shoes precisely positioned themselves in front of Luo Xiu, who had just finished weighing himself, and shoved the microphone bearing the official F1 logo directly at him.

After the routine congratulations on the victory, Rosberg, with a sly look on his face, revealed his true intentions in front of the globally televised cameras, posing the most controversial key question.

"Luo Xiu, now for the most crucial question: will you continue to represent Ferrari in the upcoming races?"

'

The sound of camera shutters immediately filled the air like a torrential downpour.

Outside the safety barrier, the Ferrari public relations team's expression changed instantly.

Sainz's future, Roche's position, the multi-million euro sponsorship, and the internal political maneuvering within Ferrari —

Rosberg was all too aware of the destructive power of this topic.

If Luo Xiu were to answer even half a word incorrectly, it would ignite a complex power struggle within the Ferrari board of directors.

The broadcast camera was right in Luo Xiu's face, but Luo Xiu didn't even blink.

"Nico,"

Without any intonation or polite preamble, he glanced straight ahead, past Rosberg's shoulder, and waved casually to the Ferrari team's contingent on the outskirts.

"You should ask Ferrari that question, not me."

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