F1: In Ferrari, Schumacher at the start.

Thursday morning, Shanghai International Circuit.

The morning mist had not yet completely dissipated, and the air was filled with the unique dampness of the Jiangnan water towns. The huge racetrack was not yet open to the public, but the paddock was already bustling with activity.

On the track, two yellow bikes were slowly pedaling.

"So—last night, you played the hero and saved the damsel in distress, and then the domineering CEO Toto Wolff appeared out of nowhere, handing you a check for tens of millions of dollars, begging you to join Mercedes?"

Alexander Alben, struggling to pedal, let out a boisterous goose-like squawk: "Lin, you're wasting your talent not making movies in Hollywood. You're more popular on Twitter than Hamilton was going to drive a Ferrari!"

"Shut up, Alex. If you say another word, I'll make you feel like you've been rear-ended in tomorrow's practice."

Lin Feng pedaled his bicycle with a face full of exasperation.

He doesn't even have the courage to look at his phone now. From last night until now, WeChat has been bombarded to pieces by his cronies and his cronies in the race car driver group.

Even team leader James Walls sent a message: "Lin, if you're going to the Mercedes next year, please let me know in advance so I can buy some nitroglycerin. Also, be careful when you're dating."

"Alright, alright, I'm not teasing you anymore." Alben stopped smiling, and his bicycle had just reached the entrance to the most famous Turn 1 on the Shanghai circuit.

Turns 1 through 3 of the "U"-shaped track form a continuous spiral, which severely tests the downforce of the car and the driver's patience. The car needs to enter the corners with the brakes applied continuously, and the corners become increasingly sharp, putting tremendous strain on the left front tire.

Lin Feng stopped the shared bike, put one foot on the ground, and quietly activated the system in his mind.

A glance across the asphalt road surface, and the system immediately provided basic yet crucial data:

[Note: The asphalt on this section of road was laid five years ago, and the surface particles are severely worn, resulting in a 15% decrease in grip.]

[Note: The apex of the curve has a high curb and slight subsidence, which could easily cause the race car's chassis to bottom out.]

Lin Feng squatted down and rubbed his finger hard on the asphalt surface.

"Paul," he called back to the tournament engineer sitting on the golf cart behind him, "did you bring a thermometer and tire pressure gauge?"

"I brought it. What, you're seeing something amazing at Turn 1?" Paul followed, holding his tablet.

"The asphalt on this plot of land is more aged than the data in our simulator." Lin Feng stood up, patted the dust off his gloves, and said, "Our race car already has a serious tendency to understeer. If we use the default settings on the simulator, this piece of junk will turn into a lawnmower at this corner during tomorrow's practice session."

Paul frowned and pulled up the data on his tablet: "So, what's your suggestion?"

"No need for major modifications; grip is something you can't force." Lin Feng stroked his chin. "Raise the front wing flap angle by two notches to increase front downforce. Lower the starting tire pressure of the left front tire by 0.5 psi. I want to ensure the tires warm up faster when entering long corners, even if it means sacrificing a little straight-line speed."

"Raise the front wing by two notches?" Paul hesitated. "This would cause the rear of the car to become disjointed in the high-speed corners of Stage 3, making it prone to oversteer."

"I'll take control of the third stage with my right foot on the accelerator." Lin Feng winked at the engineer. "Trust me, Paul. My backside's feel for the chassis is much more reliable than the data you guys get in the wind tunnel. Do as I say, or we'll be eating Sauber's dust this weekend."

Paul sighed helplessly and quickly jotted down Lin Feng's requirements on the tablet.

……

2 PM, FIA official press conference hall.

Today's press conference was star-studded – on stage sat Lin Feng, who was competing on home turf and covered in melons, current world champion Max Verstappen, and another Chinese driver, Zhou Guanyu.

The audience was packed with media from all over the world, all of whom were pointing their cameras and microphones at Lin Feng in the center.

"Hello Lin, this is David from Sky Sports." A veteran British journalist with a full head of white hair took the microphone, his eyes gleaming with gossip. Everyone thought he would ask about the Shanghai circuit's return to F1, but when the old man opened his mouth, the entire room fell silent.

"First of all, congratulations on returning to your hometown. But what interests us more is—last night at Xintiandi, the photos of you and Olympic champion Gu Ailing caused a sensation on social media. Were you on a date? Also, does your subsequent meeting with Toto Wolff mean you've already signed a preliminary contract with Mercedes for next year?"

Upon hearing this question, Zhou Guanyu lowered his head to drink water, while Verstappen couldn't help but laugh, turning to look at Lin Feng with a gossipy expression.

Lin Feng brought the microphone to his mouth, his expression extremely calm.

"David, with your imagination, it's a waste that you're not a screenwriter in Hollywood."

As soon as he opened his mouth, the Chinese reporters in the audience couldn't help but laugh.

"First, about Ms. Gu Ailing," Lin Feng said, spouting nonsense with a straight face, "There was an out-of-control electric car rushing towards us like a cruise missile. I just instinctively used the reaction speed of an F1 driver to pull her away. If I have to say we have any special relationship—yesterday she forced me to eat a bowl of boiled chicken breast, while she herself ate a whole plate of braised pork. I hereby declare that I've remembered this grudge."

A burst of laughter erupted from the audience.

"As for Mr. Toto Wolfe..." Lin Feng shrugged, "That's even more outrageous. He just happened to be passing by and asked me where in Shanghai I could get the best espresso. I told him that drinking coffee late at night can cause insomnia. As for the contract? Please, my clothes are printed with Williams right now, but my heart is only with James Wolfe."

Verstappen picked up the microphone and added insult to injury: "I can testify that Lin's true love is indeed the chassis. Because when he can't stop me on the track, he'll curse his car over the radio."

The press conference hall was immediately filled with a cheerful atmosphere.

……

Four o'clock in the afternoon, inside the Williams team's pit garage.

The mechanics are putting the finishing touches on the race car, preparing it for tomorrow's only practice session.

Just then, three people walked in.

Leading the way was Zhou Kai, the agent in a suit and tie, followed by two middle-aged men and women who looked stiff and unsure of what to do with their hands and feet—Lin Feng's parents, Lin Guoqiang and Chen Yafang.

The elderly couple had barely flown on an airplane in their lives, let alone entered a world-class F1 garage filled with multi-million dollar parts. Chen Yafang pressed her hands tightly against the seam of her trousers, afraid of accidentally breaking a screw.

"Dad, Mom, why are you here so soon? Didn't we agree to come tomorrow?" Lin Feng had just come out of the engineer's briefing room, still holding a telemetry data chart in his hand, and immediately went to greet his parents when he saw them.

"Oh dear, Xiao Zhou insisted there weren't many people today, so he brought us here to familiarize ourselves with the place," Chen Ya Fang said softly, looking at her son in his professional racing suit. "This place is so high-class! And those car wheels are so big!"

Lin Guoqiang stared intently at the race car, which had been reduced to a single shell, his eyes gleaming. As an experienced driver, he had an instinctive curiosity about mechanics: "Xiao Feng, this car doesn't even have mudguards. Won't you get covered in mud when you drive it in the rain?"

Lin Feng was amused by his father's peculiar train of thought: "Dad, this is called an aerodynamic kit. We have special rain tires for rainy days. They don't throw up mud, they throw up water mist."

Just then, Williams team principal James Wols walked over with a smile.

"Lin, are these your parents? It's a great honor to meet them," James said warmly in English, extending his hand.

Lin Feng quickly introduced him to his parents: "Dad, Mom, this is James, the leader of our team, who is like my current factory manager."

Upon hearing "Factory Manager," Lin Guoqiang was immediately flattered and stretched out both hands, vigorously shaking James's hands up and down: "Oh, Factory Manager! Factory Manager! My son Xiaofeng works in your factory, I'm so sorry to have troubled you!"

Chen Ya-fang nodded repeatedly beside her, saying in heavily accented Mandarin, "Yes, yes, boss. My son Xiao-feng has always been stubborn and has a sharp tongue. He's caused quite a bit of trouble here, hasn't he? If he doesn't perform well, please don't hesitate to scold him or deduct his wages!"

James couldn't understand Chinese, so he could only maintain an awkward yet polite smile and turn to Lin Feng: "Lin, what is your mother saying? She seems very agitated."

Just as Zhou Kai was about to step forward to act as translator, he saw Lin Feng clear his throat with remarkable ease and begin his simultaneous interpretation in fluent English without batting an eye:

"Oh, James, my mom says she's always admired your exceptional strategic vision during your time at Mercedes. She believes that Williams' revival is just around the corner under your great leadership. She also says that to repay your kindness, I'll drive this car in the top five this weekend, even if it breaks the accelerator."

Upon hearing this, James's eyes lit up instantly, and he clutched his chest, deeply moved: "Oh my god! Lin, your mother is truly a woman of wisdom and passion! Please convey my deepest respect to her!"

After saying that, James bowed very solemnly to Chen Yafang.

Chen Ya-fang was taken aback by the "factory manager's" sudden and generous greeting. She quickly returned the bow, muttering, "Oh my, this foreign boss is so polite. No wonder he can be such a high-ranking leader."

Zhou Kai, who had been standing to the side, couldn't hold back any longer. He stepped forward, pinched Lin Feng hard on the lower back, and said through gritted teeth in a low voice, "Lin Feng, have you no shame?! You think you can bully foreigners because they don't understand Chinese?!"

"Ouch—what do you know? This is called high-EQ diplomatic language." Lin Feng gasped in pain. "Besides, I didn't just translate it randomly."