F1: In Ferrari, Schumacher at the start.

On Sunday in Montreal, a light rain began falling incessantly from early morning.

The sky was covered by thick gray clouds, and raindrops hit the asphalt surface of the racetrack, creating a layer of wet, reflective water stains.

Inside the drivers' tunnel, twenty racers were gathered, waiting for the pre-race driver parade arranged by the organizers. Outside the tunnel, deafening live music and cheers from fans filled the air, while inside, the drivers chatted idly in small groups.

Lin Feng was wearing a raincoat with the zipper pulled up to his chin, his hands in his pockets, and his back against the wall of the passageway.

He kept his head down, his eyes were blank, and he exuded an aura of despondency and hopelessness.

Lin Feng couldn't help but reach out and touch his thick, beautiful hair and handsome eyebrows through the hood, a wave of desolation washing over him.

If he doesn't make it to the podium in this afternoon's main competition, his beautiful hair and eyebrows will be gone forever. He doesn't even want to think about walking around the paddock with a bald head and a strange face without eyebrows.

This would be even more infuriating than forcing him to withdraw from the competition. If Gu Ailing saw his face like that, she would definitely buy a plane ticket and fly back to the United States overnight and block him.

How did things turn out like this?

Let's rewind to Thursday's media day. In an attempt to create hype, the Montreal tournament organizers deliberately grouped him, Hamilton, and Russell together at the official press conference.

That press conference was a complete disaster. The media reporters in the audience were all spitting fire, asking questions so sharp they could pierce you.

"Lin, I heard you flew to Canada on Toto's private jet on Wednesday. Have you already signed a preliminary contract with Mercedes for next year?"

"Lewis, you're sitting next to your future successor today. Is there anything you'd like to pass on to this young man?"

"George, are you ready to welcome a Chinese teammate?"

Lin Feng was sitting in the middle, with Hamilton to his left, who seemed to enjoy the drama, and Russell to his right, grinning mischievously and making blatant insinuations. He spent a full forty minutes playing cat and mouse with the media, reciting all the nonsense his PR manager had taught him, before he could barely manage to get by.

But the media onslaught wasn't the worst of it.

The worst part was yesterday afternoon's qualifying race.

The characteristics of the Montreal track were not very favorable for Williams' car.

Lin Feng pushed himself to the limit in Q1, almost pushing the car to its limit, and barely managed to squeeze into the top 15 and advance. But in Q2, less than half a lap after switching to brand new soft tires and leaving the pit area, the car's hydraulic system failed completely.

The steering wheel lost power steering and became harder than a rock; the gear was stuck in third gear and couldn't be shifted out.

He could only desperately park his car in the safety zone at the edge of the track, watching helplessly as the qualifying time ticked away.

Ultimately, he didn't even manage a single valid lap and started in thirteenth place. His teammate, Albon, however, was in excellent form yesterday and squeezed into tenth place.

Starting at P13, making it into the top three and securing a podium finish on this narrow, accident-prone semi-street track is an incredibly difficult task. And to make matters worse, it's raining today.

"Hey! Lin! What are you daydreaming about? Thinking about how to overtake in the water today?"

A vibrant and incredibly irritating voice interrupted Lin Feng's miserable recollection.

Lin Feng looked up and saw George Russell walking towards him with a beaming smile. This guy had played brilliantly in yesterday's rain-soaked qualifying session, beating Verstappen to take pole position, and now he was walking with a swagger, his chin practically pointing to the ceiling.

Russell walked up to Lin Feng, patted him on the shoulder, then turned to look at the other drivers chatting nearby and started shouting.

"Guys! Listen up! This Chinese thug is starting thirteenth today. Lance, you're ninth, so watch out, don't let him use you as a stepping stone!"

Aston Martin driver Lance Stroll, who was holding a cup of coffee and lost in thought, was suddenly called out and turned around with a blank expression.

The rich young master pointed to his nose, looking completely innocent.

"Me? Why are you dragging me into this? This is my home turf. I just want to finish the race safely and get some points. Don't make me a target of hatred!" Stoll quickly waved his hand, trying to distance himself from the situation.

Russell ignored Stroll's protests and continued to name the two Ferrari giants.

"Charles, Carlos! You two are eleventh and twelfth today, right in front of Lin Feng. You'd better make sure your defense is solid, and it would be best to park your cars sideways on the track. If that Williams overtakes you on the first lap, where will Ferrari's reputation be?"

Leclerc and Sainz exchanged a glance, then rolled their eyes at Russell.

"George, you think you're something just because you got pole position?" Leclerc retorted irritably. "Just make sure you don't get overtaken by Max, and stop worrying about us."

Sainz snorted and straightened his collar: "Exactly, Lin's car's hydraulic system is unstable right now, why should we be wary of him? It'll be good enough if he can even drive the car across the finish line intact today."

Lin Feng was so angry at the group's teasing that his teeth itched.

"George, don't get too cocky." Lin Feng glared at Russell, trying to maintain his imposing presence. "Don't forget how we cornered you in Miami. It's pouring rain today, who knows who'll end up on the wall. Charles, Carlos, don't listen to his attempts to sow discord. We're all in the water today, so give each other some space when we start, and don't bump into each other."

Max Verstappen came over at that moment. He was in second place today and seemed to be in a good mood.

"Lin, your tone is off today. Usually you'd already be bluffing them, why are you being so polite today?" Verstappen took a sip of Red Bull, his face full of curiosity. "Is yesterday's hydraulic malfunction making you afraid to step on the gas?"

Lin Feng mentally screamed: I have no fear of losing my eyebrows!

"There's an old Chinese saying, 'Make a fortune quietly.'" Lin Feng tried to save face, patting his chest. "It's raining today, so I'll drive slowly from behind and watch you guys have a water fight in front. After you've crashed enough, I'll go up to the podium and pick up the scraps."

A burst of laughter erupted from the crowd. Just then, FIA staff came over and loudly signaled to the drivers to prepare to board the parade bus.

The rain was still falling, and it had gotten a bit heavier.

Twenty drivers boarded a large open-top bus. The bus slowly moved along the Gilles Villeneuve circuit.

Canadian fans in the stands, adorned with colorful umbrellas and bundled up in thick raincoats, showed no sign of diminished enthusiasm. Montreal's racing fans are known for their fervor, and each time a bus passed the stands, it was met with deafening cheers and applause.

Lin Feng stood at the edge of the bus and waved to the stands.

The cold raindrops hitting his face made him more awake.

The track is 4.36 kilometers long, with many high-speed straights and the famous Champion Wall deceleration corner. For Lin Feng, who just drew the golden skill "Dancer on the Edge of the Champion Wall" on the plane on Wednesday, that corner is definitely his secret weapon for overtaking today.

But the biggest problem now is the reliability of the race car. If the car breaks down halfway through, no matter how skilled you are, it's useless. Without a car, are you supposed to run to the finish line on foot?

Looking at the guardrails and tire walls on both sides of the track, he secretly vowed that even if he had to use his feet, he would get this Williams to the podium today.

The drivers' parade has ended, with one hour remaining before the start of the race.

The water level is rising. The race director has officially announced that there will be a dynamic start today, and all cars must be equipped with full wet tires with blue labels.

The departure area was filled with a mixed group of people.

Engineers, mechanics, media reporters, and VIP guests holding umbrellas were crammed together, creating a very noisy scene.

Lin Feng walked quickly to his No. 28 race car.

Engineer Paul was holding up a huge umbrella to shield him from the rain.

"Lin, the hydraulic pumps were all replaced last night. We also did several static tests this morning, and there's absolutely no problem. You can step on the gas with confidence," Paul said loudly. The rain was so loud that he had to shout to be heard.

Lin Feng nodded without saying a word. He put on the fireproof hood, took the helmet and put it on, then stepped into the narrow cockpit and skillfully slid in.

The mechanic leaned out to help him fasten the five-point harness and install the HANS system.

Everything is ready.

As the departure time approached, the surrounding crowd began to leave the departure bay, leaving only a few mechanics to make final parameter checks.

Inside the cockpit, Lin Feng looked through his water-drenched goggles at the red taillights of the twelve race cars ahead.

Rainwater streamed down the helmet and onto the waterproof racing suit.

Lin Feng took a deep breath, closed his eyes, clasped his hands together, gripped the carbon fiber steering wheel covered with knobs tightly, and began to frantically perform rituals in his mind.

"May the Jade Emperor, Buddha, Guanyin Bodhisattva, Laozi, and all the gods and immortals bless me. If I can successfully complete these seventy laps and stand on the podium today, I will definitely eat more vegetables and less meat, and get up early every day to meditate."

After worshipping the Eastern deities, he felt that it might not be very effective in Canada, so he started worshipping the Western deities instead.

"God, Jesus, Allah. This is the Western land. If you can grant us your blessings, please protect this Mercedes internal combustion engine from acting up today. I don't ask for much, just don't blow up the cylinders, don't leak oil, and don't break the shaft."

Finally, he didn't forget to bargain with the emotionless system in his mind.

"System, can you be reasonable with that punishment? Even if it means losing all your hair, can't you at least not go bald? A buzz cut would be fine too! No eyebrows are just so ugly, how am I supposed to greet my boyfriend now? If Gu Ailing saw me looking like that without eyebrows, she'd definitely break up with me! Do I even want to stay in this industry anymore?!"

The system remained completely silent, ignoring his pleas.

Lin Feng opened his eyes and sighed. It's better to rely on yourself than to ask others for help; it's better to step on the gas than to pray to gods.

"Paul, radio test." Lin Feng pressed the communication button on the steering wheel.

"Clear sound, Lin. There's a lot of water on the track, and Turn 1 will definitely be a foggy mess, making visibility very poor. Be careful at the start, don't attack blindly, just focus on surviving," Paul advised.

"Understood. No matter what happens today, even if the car is smashed to a pulp with only three wheels left, you have to tell me over the radio that you can make it to the finish line, understand? I have to finish the race today."

Paul was stunned for a moment. He couldn't understand why Lin Feng had such a strong determination to finish the race today; it was completely unlike the thug who would seize any opportunity to do so. But as the race engineer, he still agreed.

"Understood, Lin. We'll bring it back together. Good luck."

The warm-up tire circle, led by the safety car, officially began.

Twenty race cars followed the green Aston Martin safety car, slowly pulling away from the starting grid.

The race car in front kicked up huge plumes of water, its red taillights appearing and disappearing in the thick fog. Visibility was extremely poor; even at a distance of only ten meters from the car in front, the outline of the track ahead was barely discernible.

While twisting the car left and right on the straightaway, trying to warm up the cold all-weather tires as quickly as possible, Lin Feng kept his eyes fixed on the rain lights of Sainz's Ferrari ahead.

The race started in 13th place, with torrential rain and a slippery track.