F1: In Ferrari, Schumacher at the start.

Pierre Gasly parked the pink-blue race car with its damaged floor in the inspection area.

Instead of pulling the steering wheel out and handing it to the mechanic as usual, he threw it aside and jumped out of the cockpit, bracing himself against the edge of the cabin.

He finished in eleventh place, just one step away from the points zone, and the culprit for all of this was his dear teammate.

Gasly didn't even take off his helmet before striding into the depths of the P room.

Esteban Ocon had already retired from the race due to the collision on the first lap. He had just changed into his team uniform and was standing in front of the data screen with his arms crossed, arguing with the engineer about something.

"Esteban!"

Gasly ripped off his helmet and threw it on the ground. His hair inside the hood was soaked with sweat, and his eyes were blazing with fury. He roared in French.

"Is your brain filled with shit? That's Portier Bend! There's no overtaking lane there! You just shoved the front of your car in there, are you trying to drag us both down with you?!"

O'Conn turned around, his face equally grim, and retorted without backing down.

"I'm already inside! You're the one who won't give me any space! You closed the door too early, Pierre! You only ever think of yourself!"

"I didn't leave any space? You smashed my floor! You ruined the whole team's weekend!" Gasly was furious, his face flushed, and he rushed forward, grabbing Ocon by the collar.

O'Conn was not to be outdone and immediately reached out to push Gasly's shoulder.

Two French drivers got into a physical fight in front of dozens of team staff.

The mechanics and engineers around were all stunned. It took them two seconds to react before they rushed forward to try to separate the two men.

"Let go! Pierre, let go!"

"Esteban, stop hitting! There are cameras everywhere outside!"

The entire AlpineP room was in complete chaos, filled with shouts and the sounds of tables and chairs clattering together.

At this moment, Lin Feng had just finished weighing himself.

He came in sixth place and was in a pretty good mood. He was holding an ice-cold Coke and had a towel around his neck as he slowly walked toward Williams' P room.

Gu Ailing walked beside him, handing him a few tissues to wipe his sweat. Alexander Alben and Lando Norris were also following behind, chatting as they walked.

"Lin, you really managed to hold it in today. I almost burst out laughing when I saw Kakuta following behind you like a dragon." Norris, holding a bottle of water, was still lamenting that he hadn't made it to the podium, and could only find amusement by teasing others.

"That's called tactical defense. As long as I don't want to give way, even if Max comes, he can only eat the exhaust fumes from behind," Lin Feng said shamelessly, taking a sip of his cola.

Just as I reached the entrance to the Alpine garage, a loud "bang" came from inside, followed by the sound of a glass shattering and a heated argument in French.

The four people stopped and looked inside.

Gasly and Ocon had completely lost their minds, their fists flailing wildly in the air, and several mechanics couldn't restrain the two racers who were in a state of extreme rage.

"Wow." Norris's eyes widened, and he took a half step back. "The French fight really hard. Should we call security?"

Alben shook his head: "Mind your own business, this is an internal problem for their team."

Lin Feng originally planned to leave directly, but he glanced at Gu Ailing beside him. He thought that if he didn't show his masculinity in this kind of situation, how could he live up to his reputation as a civilized man?

In addition, he often joked with Gasly in the drivers' group, and felt that since they were all acquaintances, it shouldn't be a big problem to mediate a fight.

"You guys wait here, I'll go and calm them down. It's too embarrassing in public." Lin Feng shoved the Coke in his hand to Norris and strode into Alpine's P room.

"Lin Feng! Don't go and join the fun!" Gu Ailing was startled, and by the time she realized what was happening, her boyfriend had already swaggered inside.

Lin Feng pushed aside the two bewildered mechanics and stood directly between Gasley and O'Connor, trying to separate them with his hands.

"Hey! Brothers! Pierre! Esteban! Stop fighting! The match is over, let's sit down and talk things over!" Lin Feng shouted, pushing the two men's chests with both hands.

O'Conn, who was in a fit of rage, didn't even see who had cut in. He only felt someone pushing him, and in order to break free from Gasley's pull, O'Conn suddenly swung his arm, his elbow swinging backward with tremendous momentum.

"Bang!"

It hit Lin Feng squarely on the bridge of his nose.

Lin Feng heard a crisp cracking sound in his mind, followed by an indescribable pain shooting from his nasal cavity straight to the top of his head.

His vision blurred instantly, tears streamed down his face uncontrollably, and two streams of warm blood gushed from his nostrils, dripping onto his racing suit and staining a large area red.

Having already exhausted his physical strength by running 78 laps of the Monaco circuit, Lin Feng's sudden heavy blow caused a momentary lack of blood supply to his brain.

Before Lin Feng could even utter a word, his vision went black, his legs buckled, and he fell straight backward.

"thump!"

Lin Feng fell heavily onto the plastic floor of the Alpine P room and fainted on the spot from the pain.

Suddenly, the whole world fell silent.

Gasly and O'Connor stopped, staring blankly at Lin Feng lying on the ground, his face covered in blood and unconscious.

Gu Ailing, Alben, and Norris, who were standing outside the door, witnessed the whole thing.

"Lin Feng!!!"

Gu Ailing screamed, her face turning deathly pale. She threw down the towel in her hand and rushed into the P room like a madwoman, kneeling down next to Lin Feng.

"Lin Feng! Wake up! Don't scare me!" Gu Ailing's hands trembled, and she didn't dare to touch Lin Feng's blood-covered face. Tears welled up in her eyes instantly, and her voice was full of terror.

Alben froze on the spot, his mouth agape, unable to utter a word for a long time.

Lando Norris, on the other hand, displayed his usual dramatic flair, clutching his head and letting out a scream that echoed throughout half the pit area.

"Aaaaaaah! Oh my god! Murder! The Frenchman killed Lin!!!"

Norris screamed and spun around in place, instantly escalating the situation several levels in severity.

Just then, George Russell and Max Verstappen walked by, heading to their post-match interviews.

Hearing Norris's shout, the two exchanged a glance and immediately ran over.

Rushing into the AlpineP room, Russell and Verstappen were shocked to see Lin Feng lying in a pool of blood and Gu Ailing kneeling beside him, crying out.

Upon seeing this, Russell quickly walked over, squatted down, and first checked Lin Feng's carotid artery.

"Don't panic! He still has a pulse! He's just passed out!" Russell shouted to those around him, then turned to the Alpine staff, "What are you all standing around for! Medical team! Call the medical team! Get the first-aid kit!"

Verstappen walked directly up to Gasly and O'Connor.

"What are you two doing? Fighting in your own pit lane and knocking out another driver? Have you lost your minds?!" Verstappen, already annoyed with Ocon, unleashed a torrent of abuse at the two Frenchmen.

O'Connor looked guilty, his hands trembling: "I didn't know he was behind me... I didn't mean to, I just wanted to break free from Pierre."

The news spread like wildfire throughout the paddock.

"Have you heard? Lin Feng was beaten to death by Aokang in the Alpine garage!" Some employee must have leaked the news, because the rumors became more and more outrageous as they spread.

Fernando Alonso, who was about to go back to the lounge for an ice bath, immediately ran over to see what was going on when he heard the news.

Yuki Tsunoda, Daniel Ricciardo, Valtteri Bottas, and a group of other drivers who had finished the race gathered at the entrance of the Alpine garage, craning their necks to look inside.

Apart from Leclerc, Sainz, and Piastri, who were spraying champagne on the podium, most of the drivers in the paddock had gathered here.

"It's bleeding! A lot of blood!" Kakuta shouted, standing on tiptoe.

Alonso shook his head and commented, "Young people are just hot-tempered. Fighting in the paddock, now they're going to get a big fine from the FIA."

Reporters from all over the world, like sharks smelling blood, swarmed in from all directions with their cameras and microphones, trying to capture this earth-shattering news.

"Make way! Make way! We need to go in and film!"

"What is Lin Feng's current situation? Is the Williams team planning to sue Ocon?"

FIA staff and Alpine security personnel formed a human wall, blocking the entrance to the pit room and preventing any journalists from stepping inside. Flashbulbs were flashing wildly outside the human wall.

The Williams team's rest area is not far away.

Team principal James Walls was tidying up the data panel, preparing for the post-race debriefing meeting. Suddenly, a team PR person stumbled in, pale-faced.

"Boss! Something terrible has happened! Lin Feng was beaten up in Alpine P room! His face is covered in blood, and he's unconscious!"

James dropped the tablet computer from his hand with a thud, felt a sudden darkness before his eyes, and his head began to buzz.

Lin Feng is the biggest asset in his team right now. Not only does he have excellent results, but his commercial value is also immeasurable. If he really gets seriously injured, Williams team's budget for next year will be completely wasted.

James felt short of breath, his legs went weak, and he almost fainted.

Just as he was about to collapse, a strong arm reached out from the side and steadily supported him.

"Breathe, James, take a deep breath, don't collapse first."

Mercedes team manager Toto Wolff happened to be passing by and quickly caught his old subordinate.

"Toto...Lin is in trouble...those damn Frenchmen..." James gasped for breath, grabbing Toto's arm.

"I heard. We're on our way now. The ambulance is here, he'll be fine." Toto helped James up, and the two strode towards the Alpine ward.

Alpine P room at this time.

Several FIA medical personnel in orange uniforms rushed in carrying first-aid kits.

Gu Ailing was gently pulled aside by Russell, but she still stared intently at Lin Feng lying on the ground, tears streaming down her face, her breath trembling.

Medical personnel quickly cleaned the blood off Lin Feng's face, applied an ice pack to his nose, and then checked his pupils with a flashlight.

"No life-threatening danger, pupillary response is normal. The main issues are severe pain, fainting, and blood loss caused by the blow to the nose," the doctor reported loudly. "Get a stretcher! Take him to the racetrack medical center for a brain CT scan to rule out a mild concussion."

Lin Feng was lifted onto a stretcher by the crowd.

Gu Ailing immediately followed and tightly grasped Lin Feng's hand, which was hanging on the outside of the stretcher.

Alpine's team leader, Bruno Farming, stood in a corner, watching Lin Feng being carried away, looking at the pool of blood on the ground, and then at the other team drivers and reporters gathered around.

The French tour leader turned green with rage, wishing he could dig a hole in the ground and bury himself in it.

Not only did their two drivers retire from the race after fighting each other on the first lap, but they also fought in the pit lane after the race. Not only did they fight, but they also beat up the drivers of other teams who were passing by and trying to break up the fight, leaving them covered in blood and having to be carried to the medical center.

This is no ordinary racing accident; it's a public relations disaster. Tomorrow, the headlines of major sports newspapers around the world will feature Alpine Racing Team's humiliating victory.

"You two, get out of here to the conference room! No one is allowed to leave without my permission!" Famin pointed at Gasley and O'Connor, who were hanging their heads, and gave the order through gritted teeth.

James Walls finally arrived at the scene with Toto's help.

Watching the stretcher disappear into the distance, James turned around, his eyes fixed on Faming.

"Bruno, this isn't over. If Lin's broken nose affects the next race, Alpine, you can expect a lawyer's letter from Williams!" James roared angrily.

Faming didn't even have the strength to refute, and could only awkwardly wipe the cold sweat from his forehead and apologize repeatedly.