F1: In Ferrari, Schumacher at the start.

Chapter 102 The Red Storm of Monza

[Scene cuts to the Ferrari team's VIP lounge]

Ferrari's global chairman, John Elkann, sat elegantly on a leather sofa, dressed in a well-tailored bespoke suit.

Facing the F1 official camera lens, his expression conveyed both reserve and arrogance.

"Monza is Ferrari's home. Here, racing is not just a sport, it's a belief." Elkann smiled slightly, crossing his arms. "I've heard about that young man's comments. It's good for young people to be confident, but a lack of respect for history often comes at a price. We'll teach him a lesson in qualifying this afternoon."

[The scene shifts abruptly to outside the Williams team's pit lane.]

Lin Feng, dressed in a sky-blue team t-shirt, leaned lazily against a pile of tires.

He held a bottle of mineral water in his hand, and even yawned leisurely as the microphone was offered to his lips.

"Respect for history?" Lin Feng raised an eyebrow. "There's no such thing as 'history points' on the F1 scoreboard. If you could win a championship just by being sentimental, then why don't we just stop racing and compete on who has the biggest museum?"

[The scene changes again, showing the Ferrari pit garage.]

Ferrari team principal Frederic Vassell, with his signature affable smile, wearing headphones, shrugged at the camera.

"Lin is a very interesting driver, and he has really impressed in the last few races. But this weekend we brought the biggest upgrade package of the season, with a completely new chassis and rear wing."

Vassal smiled with great confidence.

"Williams? Their straight-line speed might be good this weekend, but our rivals are Red Bull and McLaren. As for Lin, Charles and Carlos will handle things on the track."

[Scene cuts back to Lin Feng]

"I heard they upgraded?" Lin Feng unscrewed his water bottle, took a sip, and grinned mischievously. "Great. I was just worried that winning too easily would get boring. I hope they don't lose parts along the way."

This highly charged montage of interviews was played on various screens at the track, pushing the emotions of the hundreds of thousands of Ferrari fans present to the brink of explosion.

Saturday afternoon, Monza circuit.

There are less than ten minutes left before the qualifying match begins.

In the service area, each team was conducting final engine ignition tests, the deep roar of the engines deafening.

But even louder than the engine noise was the roar of the more than 100,000 Iron Buddha Temple fans in the main grandstand opposite.

-

Lin Feng, wearing white fireproof underwear, sat on a folding chair in the corner of the P room, with noise-canceling headphones in his ears, making a video call with Gu Ailing, who was far away in the United States.

"Why is it so noisy over there? Are you at some heavy metal rock music festival?" On the screen, Gu Ailing, wearing a face mask, asked loudly with a frown.

"This isn't a music festival, it's a hundred thousand Italians who want to devour me alive." Lin Feng turned his phone camera around and scanned the dark red stands outside. "As soon as I step out, they all start chanting in unison. They have impressive lung capacity."

Gu Ailing burst out laughing on the screen, almost laughing so hard her face mask fell off: "Who told you to be so arrogant in front of the media last week?"

Now look what's happened, you've incurred public wrath!

Lin Feng sighed and lowered his voice to complain, "You think I'm afraid of them booing me? I'm afraid of the main competition tomorrow. Let me tell you, I have a strong feeling that I'm going to be in big trouble tomorrow."

Gu Ailing was taken aback: "What happened? Is there a problem with the race car? Didn't Williams say he replaced the rear wing with a brand new low-drag one?"

"The car is fine, the problem is with me." Lin Feng couldn't explain the system's punishment, so he could only give a vague answer. "I feel like I'm going to get a high fever tomorrow, maybe even 40 degrees Celsius. To be honest, I'm already starting to feel dizzy and lightheaded."

"A high fever? Forty degrees?" Gu Ailing's eyes widened. "Lin Feng, you're kidding! The straightaways at Monza are so fast. If you drive with a high fever, you'll crash into the wall if you lose focus even for a moment! You'd better go find the team doctor and get some fever reducers!"

"I'll take it, but it won't work. This is just a psychological thing for me." Lin Feng sighed helplessly. "Alright, the ranking matches are about to start."

I need to get ready. You should go to sleep and try not to stay up too late.

On a side note, he tested that so-called "iron bladder" talent last night, and it really is amazing.

He drank five bottles of mineral water in one go, and didn't even show any intention of going to the bathroom.

But that doesn't change the tragic fact that tomorrow I'll be a walking oven.

"Be careful! Don't push yourself!" Gu Ailing reminded him anxiously before hanging up.

Lin Feng put away his phone and took a deep breath.

Who cares what tomorrow brings? Let's just secure pole position today first, at least that way we'll have a slight advantage at the start.

He stood up, and the mechanic handed him his racing suit and helmet.

The moment Lin Feng stepped out of the pit room, a deafening chorus of boos erupted from the main stands. Many even gave him a thumbs-down gesture.

Lin Feng pretended not to hear and went straight into the cockpit of the FW46 race car, which had been fitted with a brand new floor and rear wing.

"Radio check. Lin, can you hear me?" came the voice of race engineer Paul.

"It's obvious, these car enthusiasts are much louder than you." Lin Feng fastened his five-point seatbelt and gripped the steering wheel with both hands.

"Shield us from interference. Our straight-line speeds are very competitive this weekend. Let's go out and run a lap around the Q1 first, and get a feel for the downforce limits of the new rear wing." Paul methodically assigned tasks.

The green light has come on for Qualifying Q1.

Lin Feng drove the race car out of the maintenance area.

Entering the straight road in Monza, Lin Feng floored the accelerator.

The brand-new low-drag tail wing unleashed terrifying power in Monza.

At the very end of eighth gear, the speedometer on the steering wheel effortlessly broke through 345 km/h! That's almost 30 km/h faster than the top speed at Zanderford last week.

The race car braked hard at the end of the starting straight, slowing down to enter the first deceleration corner. Lin Feng did not hesitate to ride on the red and white kerb. The race car only bounced slightly, and the chassis gripped the ground firmly.

"The ground effect of the new base plate has indeed improved," Lin Feng quickly assessed.

With intense confidence, he drove his race car through the Rogue Corner and into the Les Mo Corner.

Throughout Q1, he easily achieved a time of 1 minute and 20.5 seconds using only one set of red tires, securing a solid position in the leading group and advancing smoothly.

Every time Lin Feng crossed the finish line to record his time, the stands would fall into an eerie silence for a second, followed by an even louder chorus of boos.

Clearly, Williams' lap time posed a real threat to Ferrari fans.

After a short break, Q2 begins.

As the track temperature began to drop and grip improved, all the teams switched to new tires and began to battle fiercely.

Ferrari's Leclerc and Sainz are playing at home and are in top form.

Leclerc set an amazing time of 1 minute 19.8 seconds at the end of Q2, temporarily taking the lead.

Lin Feng followed closely behind, finishing third with a time of 1 minute 19.9 seconds, sandwiched between McLaren's Norris and Piastri.

"Lin, well done. The car looks very balanced, get ready for the final battle in Q3," Paul encouraged in the headset.

"The angle of the rear wing can be adjusted two more degrees." Lin Feng drove the car back to the repair area and gave the mechanic instructions, "I still have some power left when exiting the Parapolica corner, so squeeze out the maximum speed on the straightaway."

The mechanics immediately gathered around, picked up their tools, and began to fine-tune the tail wing.

At 4 PM, the twelve-minute countdown for Qualifying Q3 officially began.

This is a life-or-death moment that will determine the final starting order.

All of the top ten drivers came out.

On a super-fast track like Monza, the slipstream, also known as "slipstream suction," can provide a huge speed advantage on the straights. If you can stay at the right distance behind the car in front, you can improve your lap time by at least 0.2 seconds.

That's why, in the last three minutes of Q3, a classic scene unfolded at the pit lane exit in Monza—a massive traffic jam.

Nobody wanted to be the first to drive out and be the windbreaker; everyone dawdled, trying to get behind other cars.

Sitting in the car, Lin Feng looked at the Mercedes and Ferrari race cars in front of him, moving as slowly as snails, and helplessly pressed the radio button.

"Paul, are these guys having a picnic up ahead? Their tires are practically freezing."

"Everyone's waiting for the slipstream. Lin, be patient, Piastrelli is ahead, you can use his slipstream. Watch the exit lap time, don't get stuck by the checkered flag." Paul calmly analyzed the timer.

With only two minutes left in the countdown, the convoy in front finally began to accelerate.

Ten race cars, like a high-speed train, spread out on the Monza circuit, preparing for the final flying lap.

Lin Feng kept a close watch on the McLaren race car in front of him, maintaining a distance of about four seconds between the two cars. This was a perfect distance, allowing him to absorb the slipstream without being disturbed by the turbulence from the car in front in the corner.

"Passing the starting line, the flying lap begins!"

Lin Feng stepped on the gas, and the race car hurtled toward Turn One with a piercing screech as it tore through the air.

First timing segment.

Lin Feng braked two meters later than in the previous laps, and the brake discs emitted a dazzling red light under the high temperature.

He precisely cut through the curb, the car didn't slip even slightly, and the timer on the steering wheel showed the fastest time in purple!

"Perfect turn one, keep pushing!" Paul's voice was excited.

Entering the second time trial. After passing the Lesmo Bends, we head towards the famous Ascari deceleration corner.

Piastri was moving extremely fast ahead, and the McLaren race car demonstrated exceptional balance in high-speed corners.

Lin Feng held on tightly. At the entrance to Ascari Bend, he almost skimmed the inside grass as he cut into the apex. The right wheel slammed heavily against the curb, and the car was thrown to the left by inertia, followed by another heavy slam against the curb.

This is an extremely aggressive cornering technique, treating the race car's suspension as a consumable. But in return, it results in unparalleled speed when exiting the corner.

The third timing segment, which is also the final climax of Monza, is the Parapolica corner.

This is an extremely long, high-speed right turn, requiring the driver to constantly adjust the throttle opening during the turn until they pinpoint the exit point and accelerate at full throttle.

Piastri ahead has successfully exited the corner and is heading towards the finish line.

Lin Feng entered the corner at a speed five kilometers per hour faster than Piastelli. The car struggled violently at the apex of the corner, with the left rear wheel almost losing its grip limit.

Lin Feng gripped the steering wheel firmly with both hands like iron clamps, and his right foot made a small but fatal tap on the accelerator pedal to salvage the situation.

The race car has regained its balance!

Full throttle!

DRS activated!

The FW46 race car frantically squeezed the last bit of power from its engine on the straightaway, hurtling towards the finish line.

Crossing the finish line!

The time was frozen at 1 minute 19.215 seconds!

A few seconds later, Norris and Leclerc also crossed the finish line.

Lin Feng was breathing heavily in the cockpit, his eyes fixed on the small screen on the steering wheel, waiting for the final sorting update.

There was a three-second silence in the headphones.

Those three seconds felt like an eternity to Lin Feng.

Immediately afterwards, Paul's usually calm voice cracked completely.

"P1!!! Lin!!! You got pole position! You did it! You beat Lando! The difference was only 0.012 seconds!"

""

"0.012 seconds? Twelve-thousandths of a second?" Lin Feng breathed a sigh of relief, his tense nerves finally relaxing. He gripped the steering wheel, a smile involuntarily creeping onto his face.

"Received. Tell everyone well done. This car was like it had wings today," Lin Feng replied over the radio.

He slowed down the car and started cooling it down.

at the same time.

The main grandstand at the Monza circuit fell into an indescribable, deathly silence.

One hundred thousand Ferrari fans, dressed in red, watched the results on the big screen. In first place was the blue Williams, followed closely by two papaya orange McLarens.

Their highly anticipated home heroes, Leclerc and Sainz, only ranked fourth and fifth, respectively.

After that brief silence came a chorus of boos, even more frenzied and furious than before. These sounds, a mixture of disappointment and resentment, echoed through the Royal Park.

Lin Feng drove slowly past the main grandstand.

Hearing the boos filling the air, he didn't find them jarring at all; on the contrary, he thought they were the most beautiful symphony in the world.

He even freed his left hand and casually waved it towards the stands, like a general who had just won a battle inspecting defeated prisoners.

This action nearly made several elderly Italian men in the stands faint with anger.

Park your car in the designated starting area for the first three cars.

Lin Feng pulled the steering wheel off, unbuckled his seatbelt, and jumped out of the car.

Norris and Piastri also got off the train.

Norris took off his helmet, walked over with a sullen look on his face, and slapped Lin Feng hard on the back.

"Twelve-thousandths of a second! Lin! You're a monster! I ran the Parapolica corner perfectly, I thought pole position was mine!" Norris grabbed his hair, his face full of resentment.

"Just lucky, Lando. Your slipstream helped a lot." Lin Feng chuckled and patted Norris on the shoulder. "Tomorrow in the race, you two will start behind me. Just don't crash into me at the start."

Piastri walked over, pointed to the fans in the stands still frantically giving the middle finger, and joked, "Lin, if I were you, I definitely wouldn't leave the hotel tonight. These Italians probably want to throw you into the pizza oven right now."

"oven?"

Upon hearing this word, Lin Feng's smile froze slightly.

He glanced at the gloomy sky over Monza.

The weather forecast says tomorrow will be a sunny day, and the temperature on the track will exceed 50 degrees Celsius, plus the 40-degree high fever that the system forcibly gave him.

perfect.

It seems we won't need a pizza oven tomorrow; he'll automatically turn into a whole roasted lamb as soon as he sits in the car.

"Thanks, Oscar." Lin Feng chuckled twice, handed the helmet to the staff member, and said, "I'm going to weigh myself now. I hope the three of us can finish the race alive tomorrow."

He walked towards the post-match interview area, facing the Italian media who had been waiting for him.

The Sky Sports reporter who had been confronted by Lin Feng yesterday was now holding the microphone with a livid face.

"Lin, congratulations on getting pole position." The reporter, though reluctant, had to follow protocol. "You beat everyone today, but in Monza, the starting straight is very long. Being in pole position often means providing a huge slipstream for the cars behind you on the first lap. Are you worried about being overtaken by McLaren or Ferrari tomorrow?"

Lin Feng looked at him, arms crossed, his tone still arrogant.

"I'm not worried. Slipstreams are for the chasers." Lin Feng looked directly at the camera. "After Turn 1 tomorrow, I won't leave anyone any distance to suck in slipstreams. I'll hold onto this pole position and lead all the way to the checkered flag."

The mixed mining area fell silent again.

Lin Feng turned around, ignoring the shocked reporters, and strode back to the lounge.

How young is a boy?