F1: In Ferrari, Schumacher at the start.

Friday night, in the ballroom of a luxury hotel in downtown Miami.

Williams Racing booked an entire floor here for a high-profile sponsor appreciation dinner.

The banquet hall was brightly lit, and a melodious string quartet played in a corner, while the light from the crystal chandelier shone on the guests dressed in bespoke suits and evening gowns.

Lin Feng, dressed in a custom-made dark blue casual suit, held a glass of soda in his hand, leaned against a marble pillar, looking at the world of fame and fortune in front of him with a bored expression.

Not far away, James Walls was chatting with several pot-bellied sponsors, a big smile on his face, while holding a wine glass.

"As long as we invest more in wind tunnel testing, the aerodynamic kit for the second half of the season will definitely bring a qualitative leap. Lin's performance in Shanghai is the best proof of that." James' voice was filled with undeniable confidence.

Standing next to James is Alexander Alben.

The Thai driver maintained his standard toothy smile, nodding and agreeing with the sponsors like a dutiful greeter.

Alben took a moment to turn his head and gave Lin Feng a pleading look through the crowd.

Lin Feng raised his soda water without expression, toasted Alben from afar, and then turned around without hesitation and slipped along the wall toward the side door of the banquet hall.

What a joke! He's a race car driver, not a PR manager. Asking him to engage in business flattery with those bigwigs who can't even distinguish tire formulas is less appealing than letting him listen to Bottas sing a Finnish folk song in a sauna.

Pushing open the side door and passing through a corridor covered with a thick carpet, Lin Feng arrived at the hotel's back garden.

The moment the door closed, the noise in the banquet hall was completely shut out.

The sea breeze at night carried the fresh scent of plants, finally easing Lin Feng's tense nerves. He loosened his suit tie, casually stuffed it into his pocket, unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt, and took a deep breath of fresh air.

The garden was large, with a huge circular cascading fountain in the center. It was surrounded by tall palm trees, and the lighting was dim, making it very quiet.

Lin Feng walked to the fountain, intending to find a stone bench to sit on for a while before going back to report.

Just as Lin Feng rounded the fountain sculpture, he suddenly stopped.

In the shadows on the other side of the fountain, a person was already sitting.

The man was wearing an ill-fitting black suit, his tie was tugged crookedly, he was not tall, had a thick beard, and was holding a strangely shaped cup in both hands, with a metal straw in his mouth, staring blankly at the fish swimming in the pool.

Why would someone go to the garden to drink Chinese medicine in the middle of the night?

Seemingly hearing footsteps, the man looked up alertly.

By the dim light of the ground lamp, Lin Feng could see the other person's face clearly.

He was stunned for two seconds, then countless headlines from sports news flashed through his mind, and for a moment he even wondered if he had wandered onto the wrong set.

Sitting there was none other than Lionel Messi, the Argentine player who had just led his team to victory in the World Cup and currently plays for Inter Miami in Major League Soccer.

Messi instinctively shrank back as he saw Lin Feng approaching.

He was dragged to this celebrity dinner by team owner David Beckham, and it's said that many high-ranking executives from various brands were present.

However, he has always disliked such social occasions with many people talking. He finally managed to sneak out for some fresh air while Beckham was toasting others, but he was still caught by someone.

"Excuse me... do you want an autograph or a photo? Can we hurry up? I don't want to attract too many people," Messi asked softly in heavily accented English, habitually fumbling for a pen in his pocket.

Lin Feng couldn't help but laugh when he saw Messi's tense expression. He sat down at the other end of the stone bench and waved his hand.

"Relax, I didn't bring a pen or a notebook, and I'm not here to drag you back to a meeting."

Messi stopped touching his pen and looked at the young man in the dark blue suit with some confusion: "And who are you?"

"Lin Feng, a driver for the Williams team." Lin Feng pointed to the team badge on his suit lapel. "Like you, I'm also a deserter. I got a headache listening to the sponsors' discussions inside, so I ran away."

Upon hearing this, Messi's tense shoulders visibly relaxed. He carefully examined Lin Feng and realized that he had seen this face in the news recently, knowing that the other party was a Chinese driver who was currently making waves in the racing world.

Since we're all unfortunate people forced to work, we're brothers in the same trench.

"Hello, Lin." Messi gave a shy smile and raised his glass. "Would you like some mate? David insisted I drink champagne, but I prefer this; it helps me stay calm."

Lin Feng didn't stand on ceremony. He leaned over to take a look at the green leaves soaking in the cup and shook his head.

"Thanks, but I'm not interested in this kind of grass mat that looks like it was just cut by a lawnmower. Does this stuff taste good?"

"It's actually a bit bitter," Messi answered honestly. "But I'm used to it. David said I always hold this cup like a retired old man feeding birds in the park."

"What your boss said makes a lot of sense," Lin Feng said with a smile.

The two sat by the fountain, listening to the splashing water, and the atmosphere was surprisingly harmonious.

One is the world's highest-paid football superstar, and the other is a rising star in the Formula One paddock. At this moment, they look like two high school students who have skipped class and are hiding in a corner of the playground.

"Do you race car drivers usually have to attend so many boring dinners?" Messi asked curiously, taking a sip of mate tea.

"It depends." Lin Feng sighed, stretching his legs out and resting them on the edge of the fountain. "If the team performs well and isn't short of money, it'll be fine, but our team is dirt poor right now. The team leader is practically begging to cover my helmet with 'GG' stickers. Just now inside, he was trying to persuade a sanitary napkin brand to sponsor us, saying that our race car has super absorbent properties and will run fast in the rain."

Upon hearing this, Messi choked on his mate tea and coughed violently.

"Ahem... Really? Sanitary napkins sponsoring F1 racing?"

"I guessed it was a joke, but James's expression was too serious, I didn't dare to bet, so I ran away." Lin Feng shrugged. "And you? You've won eight Globe Awards, why are you afraid of a banquet with hundreds of people?"

Messi lowered his head, stroking the rim of the cup with his fingers, his voice becoming somewhat soft.

"I don't know. I just don't know how to talk to those people. They always ask me a lot of questions about investing and the team's value. I just want to play football. On the pitch, I only have eleven opponents and a football in front of me. But in the banquet hall, I feel like I'm surrounded by people, and they don't even talk about tactics, they just randomly grab me and start talking. It's exhausting."

Such socially awkward remarks coming from a football legend who can dribble past an entire defense on the field create an absurd sense of contrast.

"I understand." Lin Feng nodded. "When I was in the cockpit, there were only nineteen cars, but they were ready to ram me off the track at any moment. Fortunately, after putting on the helmet, I didn't have to listen to their nonsense; I just had to be faster than them."

Messi turned his head and looked at Lin Feng with awe in his eyes.

"I've actually watched a few F1 races, and I think you guys are all crazy," Messi said bluntly. "How do you guys manage to keep your eyes open at speeds of over 300 kilometers per hour? I get carsick when I'm traveling at speeds of over 100 kilometers per hour."

"You'll get used to it. It's like getting tackled in the penalty area and immediately getting up to keep dribbling—it's muscle memory," Lin Feng explained. "Are you free to watch the game this weekend? I'll take you to the garage for a ride in my race car."

Messi immediately shook his head frantically.

"No, no, no, I absolutely refuse. David said he would take me to visit your pit area this year, but I refused. I heard that your race cars are louder than airplanes taking off, and I'm afraid I'll be so scared that I'll run away on the spot."

Lin Feng was amused by Messi's cowardly appearance.

"It's not that exaggerated, just wear earplugs. Seriously, if you just walked around our garage, LeBron could probably snag several million in sponsorships. Then I wouldn't need to attend these kinds of dinners."

"Alright then, if there's no training this weekend, I can consider stopping at your garage for a while," Messi said, making his offer very seriously.

"It's a deal." Lin Feng extended his hand and gave Messi a high five.

The two chatted for a while longer about the hot weather in Miami.

Messi complained that the humidity was too high, making playing football feel like swimming in the grass; Lin Feng then explained to him the terrifyingly high temperature of up to 50 degrees Celsius inside the F1 fireproof racing suit, which made Messi shake his head repeatedly, saying that playing football was much more comfortable.

Before we knew it, more than half an hour had passed.

Just as Lin Feng was about to ask Messi about the World Cup final, a series of hurried footsteps came from the garden entrance.

"Leo! Where have you been? The group photo is about to start!"

David Beckham, dressed in a light-colored suit and sporting his signature slicked-back hair, hurried into the garden.

Behind him was James Walls, the Williams team principal, who was also covered in sweat and looking around.

These two bosses are clearly each searching for their own lost star.

As they rounded the fountain, they saw Lin Feng and Messi sitting side by side on a stone bench, one holding soda and the other holding mate tea, chatting animatedly. At that moment, both bosses froze in place.

Beckham was the first to react; his eyes lit up instantly. His keen sense of smell, honed by years of experience in the business world, immediately detected the enormous exposure potential.

"My God! Leo, you're chatting with Lin here!" Beckham strode over, straightening his tie as he did so. "Do you know how many likes this would get if filmed and posted on social media? A dream collaboration between the football and motorsports worlds!"

James Walls also recovered from his shock. He had originally come to drag Lin Feng back to continue his social engagements, but seeing that Lin Feng had quietly struck up a conversation with Messi in the back garden, the team leader was grinning from ear to ear.

"Lin! You little rascal, you didn't even tell me you were coming out for some fresh air. So you were here exchanging sports tips with Leo." James walked up and patted Lin Feng on the shoulder very naturally, his tone full of undisguised admiration.

If the sponsors knew that Williams' driver and Messi were friends, wouldn't their sponsorship fees double next year?

Lin Feng and Messi exchanged a glance, and both saw the same emotion in each other's eyes.

That is despair.

After running around for so long, they still couldn't escape the clutches of capitalists.

"Don't just stand there, you two superstars, stand up!" Beckham had already pulled out his phone and turned on the camera. "Come on, turn your backs to the fountain and smile. Leo, hold your mate tea cup up a bit. Lin, straighten your suit buttons."

Under the strong intervention of the two bosses, Lin Feng and Messi were forced to stand together. Both wore soulless, fake professional smiles.

"Click."

The flash went off, and a group photo that would later go viral in the sports world was born.

The two people in the photo look like they are participating in some kind of solemn oath-taking ceremony, which is out of place with the beautiful night view of the fountain behind them.

"Perfect." Beckham looked at his phone screen with satisfaction. "James, we can go back now. The guests inside are still waiting for us."

"Of course, David." James nodded with a smile, then turned to Lin Feng, "Lin, are you done getting some fresh air? Come inside with me, a beverage company owner wants to meet you."

Lin Feng sighed, knowing there was no escaping it today. He turned to look at Messi.

"Leo, what tactics do you plan to use to defend against the sponsors once you're inside?"

Messi scratched his head in exasperation.

"I plan to stay behind David and not say a word the whole time."

"Good tactics." Lin Feng gave a thumbs up.

The two high-fived again, then resignedly followed their respective bosses back into the banquet hall.