F1: Starting with a Simulator Master

On Saturday afternoon, the F3 Group A qualifying session was still in progress.

The engine noise has temporarily ceased in the pit area of ​​the Monza circuit.

All eyes, as if drawn by gravity, were focused on the number 12 race car that had just been pushed back into the pit lane.

Just now, the giant electronic timing board above the track updated its data.

The purple name "XIU LUO" in the first line is still firmly displayed there.

Below that is the second place, and the line representing the time difference shows "+0.489".

The time difference between the third and tenth place teams was only about 0.3 seconds.

A lead of nearly 0.5 seconds over second place is like an insurmountable chasm, standing in the way of all F3 drivers.

Luo Xiu remained seated in the cockpit, not getting up immediately.

He looked at the final lap time data on the steering wheel screen, his fingers tracing the steering wheel, feeling the lingering heat on it.

These were the only two things he was familiar with in this strange world: data and racing.

As for the envious, awe-inspiring, or even doubtful gazes around him, they did not excite him; instead, they gave him an urge to escape.

When Luo Xiu climbed out of the car, his body involuntarily stiffened for a moment.

The adrenaline is rapidly subsiding, followed by the pain of relapse.

The abrasion on my back looked like a layer of skin had been peeled off.

Sweat and the damp fireproof underwear clung to the wound, and with every movement in the cramped cockpit, they tugged at the nerve endings, feeling as if countless needles were pricking the wound and throbbing.

The pain quickly spread throughout the body.

He braced himself with his hands on the Halo safety ring, trying to use the force to push himself out of the cockpit.

In that instant, I almost lost my balance and nearly fell back down.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the dense array of long guns and short cannons around me.

Those dark lenses were pointed at him like gun barrels, and the sound of shutters clicking incessantly, like bullets being fired in rapid succession.

Luo Xiu took a deep breath, as if he were experiencing a 4G overload before entering a corner, and forcibly controlled his body, stepping out of the cockpit with an almost robotic stiffness.

Upon landing, his legs trembled almost imperceptibly, but he quickly adjusted them into a standard standing posture.

After removing his helmet and mask, his hair, soaked with sweat, clung to his forehead, and sweat trickled down his cheeks and back, spreading to the wound on his back.

To divert his attention, he put his mind into full operation, reviewing every turn and bend of the previous circle.

If the braking point at T4 were one meter later, or the throttle input at the exit of the Parapolica corner were one meter earlier, could the track record be improved by another 0.05 seconds?

"Hey buddy... how did you do that?"

A mechanic from a nearby team couldn't help but ask, his eyes filled with disbelief.

"Thanks."

Luo Xiu understood that what the other party actually meant was praise, since no one really spends time on the sidelines trying to figure out specific driving techniques.

After responding politely, Luo Xiu walked towards the P room.

The mechanics in the surrounding vehicles all had the same question in their eyes: Where did this guy come from?

Just then, an FIA official walked towards the pit lane of car number 12.

"Congratulations, the top three finishers in the qualifying rounds are required to attend the press conference."

The official's voice was flat; even his words of congratulations came out without any ripples.

Luo Xiu, who was still immersed in the data review, stared blankly when he heard this.

The F3 Group A qualifying session hasn't ended yet, and the Group B qualifying session hasn't even started, but his time has already been officially locked as the fastest overall.

After all, breaking the record for the fastest lap in F3 history at Monza by 0.2 seconds is something that can't be achieved every year.

A wave of dizziness washed over me.

His fear of being directly exposed to flashing lights was even greater than his fear of blindly driving the Parapolica corner in the rain.

"I'd rather drive another hundred laps."

He silently muttered a sentence to himself.

Dealing with cornering only requires calculating angles and grip, but what do you need to calculate when dealing with that group of people?

Luo Xiu instinctively reached to the side, wanting to put back on the helmet he had just taken off and find cover.

……

16:00 in the afternoon.

The backstage lounge at the Monza Media Center.

The air here is stuffy, and the TV on the wall is broadcasting the second free practice session of F1.

Luo Xiu was huddled in the corner of the single sofa, his body curled up in a ball, the large red racing suit covering him completely.

He was holding a can of Coke, but he felt that even Coke didn't taste like anything anymore.

Xu Zihao paced back and forth, constantly replying to messages on his phone, his face beaming with undisguised excitement, muttering things like "popularity," "traffic," "other teams," and "sponsors."

But Luo Xiu couldn't hear what he was saying at all.

His attention was entirely focused on the process sheet that the staff member had just handed him; the densely packed contents on it made him feel physically uncomfortable.

Just then, a hand reached out and snatched the can of cola from his hand, which had been squeezed and was now somewhat deformed.

A bottle of ice water with the cap unscrewed was shoved into my hand.

The cool touch brought Luo Xiu back to his senses.

He looked up and saw Rosin's serious face.

The legendary team principal of the Prema team bent down, looked directly into Luo Xiu's eyes, and exuded an undeniable aura.

"Stop looking."

Rosin pointed to the process sheet.

"On the track, you're a shark; don't become bait here."

Luo Xiu blinked, not quite understanding the metaphor.

"No apologies. Short sentences. Arrogance is a virtue."

(Don't apologize. Keep it brief. Here, arrogance is a virtue.)

Rosin's three sentences were concise and powerful. Luo Xiu looked at him and slowly nodded.

Luo Xiu felt he could meet such a standard.

Rosin straightened up, adjusted his tie, and then turned to look at Xu Zihao, who was still replying to emails.

"Forget about that additional clause regarding physical fitness."

Rosin casually dropped that sentence.

"I have new plans."

Xu Zihao paused for a moment, his finger stopping swiping the screen.

He immediately understood the meaning, smiled, and walked over to shake hands firmly with Rosin.

"It's a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Rosin."

……

Monza Media Center.

The moment Luo Xiu stepped into the press conference hall, it felt as if he had entered a bizarre and fantastical otherworld.

The constant clicking of the shutter and the high-frequency flashing white light caused his mind to go blank for a brief moment.

Luo Xiu's eyes were almost blinded by the light.

Questions came one after another, like countless flies buzzing in one's ear.

He sat behind a long table, with a nameplate that read "Xiu Luo" in front of him.

He placed his hands under the table and pinched his thighs to keep himself calm.

He answered the first few questions very formally, and managed to get through them smoothly with a few short, repetitive sentences.

Luo Xiu's mindset calmed down, and just when he thought he could get away with it, he realized that he had finally managed to get through this.

A reporter wearing thick-rimmed glasses shoved the microphone almost into Luo Xiu's face, posing very pointed questions.

"Xiu, congratulations on securing pole position. However, our review shows you don't have any super license points, only one Formula 4 race experience. In fact, no one had even heard of you until a day ago. So, who are you? How did you get this driver's seat? Was it through some kind of business deal?"

As soon as this question was raised, the other reporters moved their microphones even closer, and the frequency of the flashes increased to another level.

Everyone stared at the young face from the East, waiting for his panic or explanation.

This is a problem that is clearly riddled with pitfalls.

Luo Xiu maintained a completely expressionless face, whether facing a microphone or a camera.

Calm, composed, and focused are Luo Xiu's current states, with only Rosin's instructions in his mind.

Short phrase, arrogant.

Without much thought, he gave a simple and direct answer that got straight to the point.

"I am Luo Xiu, my English name is Xiu Luo, and I am from China. I am the person who just broke the track record."

Luo Xiu's words were brief and arrogant.

That was as if he was saying, "I'm going to wear sunglasses to the next press conference."

The reporter's expression instantly became quite interesting.

Before the reporter could press for further questions, Rosin stepped in front of Luo Xiu, taking over the conversation.

He took the microphone, composed and confident, with a hint of disdain and mockery towards the media's questioning.

"On this point, I think I can add something."

Rosin surveyed the entire venue.

"He is a very talented young driver. I am honored to announce that Xiu Luo will be a full driver for the Prema team next year. He will represent the team in the FIA ​​F3 Championship next season."

The entire audience erupted in uproar.

The reporters in the audience went crazy, typing and tweeting.

Xu Zihao stood not far away, watching the two people on the stage, feeling the constant vibrations of push notifications on his phone, and clenched his fist tightly.

There is no need for a performance-based agreement or any so-called subsequent physical fitness standards.

Luo Xiu won over the team with just this one qualifying session and secured a permanent seat in F3 next year!