F1: In Ferrari, Schumacher at the start.

By the time the GG shoot was finished, it was already dark in London.

At Guinea Grill in the Mayfair district, Lin Feng and Max Verstappen were sprawled out in a private booth by the window, completely unconcerned about their appearance. Two enormous tomahawk steaks sat before them, but neither of them bothered to touch their knives or forks.

"To be honest, I'd rather run two races than have to make any more eye contact with that long-haired director." Lin Feng rubbed his stiff cheeks from smiling.

Verstappen wholeheartedly agreed: "If it weren't for the contract stipulating that non-cooperation would result in a deduction of sponsorship fees, I would have just walked away. I looked like a complete idiot in GG."

Just as the two were complaining, a crisp sound of high heels came from the aisle of the booth.

A tall, elegant woman with dark hair walked over. She was wearing a black jumpsuit and carrying a delicate clutch.

It was Verstappen's girlfriend, Kelly Piquet.

"Looks like I missed your amazing behind-the-scenes footage." Kelly sat down next to Verstappen, casually tidying his messy short hair, then smiled at Lin Feng across from her, "Long time no see, Lin."

"Long time no see, Kelly," Lin Feng greeted her with a smile.

"Didn't Eileen come to London?" Kelly waved to the waiter and ordered a light salad.

"She went back to Stanford to prepare for her final exams. College students are busier than us race car drivers these days." Lin Feng shrugged helplessly, picked up his knife and fork, and began to work on the tomahawk steak in front of him.

Verstappen was clearly not interested in the girls' conversation about academics and daily life.

He swallowed a piece of beef, then suddenly stopped using his knife and fork, staring at Lin Feng with a gleam in his eyes.

"Lin, there's something I've been wanting to ask you. There's a GT3 race at the Nürburgring 24 Hours next year. My team is planning to participate; would you like to team up with me?"

"What?"

Lin Feng's steak knife froze in mid-air as he stared at Verstappen as if he were an alien.

"Max, are you kidding me? We fly to different countries every weekend, spending two hours roasted in the cockpit. You finally have a weekend off from F1, and you're going to run a 24-hour endurance race?"

"What's wrong with that?" Verstappen asked matter-of-factly. "GT3 cars are very relaxing to drive, with ABS and traction control, it's like driving a toy car. And the Nürburgring is so exciting, with over a hundred corners, it's absolutely fantastic to drive at night."

"Great my foot!" Lin Feng covered his face with his hands. "You're out racing cars in the Green Hell at three in the morning instead of sleeping, and you call that relaxing? Do you have some kind of misunderstanding about the word 'relaxation'?"

Kelly ate her salad gracefully beside him, already used to her boyfriend's racing addiction, and just shook her head with a helpless smile.

"Come on, Lin!" Verstappen immediately transformed into a salesman at the mention of racing. "Your driving style is perfect for endurance racing. I'll handle the start and the final sprint, and you take care of those stints from 2 AM to 6 AM. Together, we can definitely wipe out those old endurance racers!"

Lin Feng waved his hands repeatedly, his face full of resistance: "Don't even think about it! At two in the morning, I should be lying on a Simmons mattress in a five-star hotel dreaming, not feeding mosquitoes in a German forest!"

Just as the two were arguing about who should take the night shift, a deep male voice with a thick London accent suddenly rang out from the table.

Good evening, everyone. It seems this dinner conversation was very enjoyable.

Lin Feng was cutting his steak when he heard the sound and jumped in fright.

He looked up in disbelief.

The man standing next to the booth was wearing a sharp dark blue suit with a white shirt underneath, but no tie. His short, graying hair was neatly combed, and he wore a cunning smile.

Red Bull Racing Team Principal Christian Horner.

"Ugh...cough cough!" Lin Feng almost choked on the beef in his mouth and quickly grabbed his water glass to take a sip.

He's practically suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder now. He ran into Toto Wolff while playing tennis, and he even managed to snag the Red Bull boss while eating steak. Will it be Zach Brown's turn next?

Did those old foxes plant a GPS tracker on him?

"Christian? What are you doing here?" Verstappen was also taken aback.

"I just finished talking with some sponsors upstairs and happened to see you when I came down." Horner smiled and nodded to Kelly, then very familiarly pulled out an empty chair next to Lin Feng and sat down.

"Would you mind if I shared a table?" Horner asked, but showed no intention of standing up.

Lin Fengqian smiled and moved further inside, watching the Red Bull boss, who was known for his ruthless methods in the hunting grounds, warily.

"Mr. Horner, are you here to check up on Max's post, or on mine?" Lin Feng asked tentatively.

Horner laughed and called over a waiter to order a soda.

"It's not exactly a check-in, but seeing our own drivers eating with drivers from other teams, as Red Bull's team principal, I had to come over and say hello."

Horner took a sip of water, his joking attitude vanished, and his sharp eyes locked onto Lin Feng.

Lin Feng got goosebumps from the way that person was scrutinizing their prey.

Sure enough, Horner had no intention of beating around the bush.

"Lin. I'll get straight to the point. The team management is very dissatisfied with Checo's performance in the last few races. Not only did he crash the car in Monaco, but he also failed to score points in the following races, which has directly led to McLaren and Ferrari eroding our lead in the constructors' championship."

Horner placed his hand on the table and tapped his fingers lightly on it.

"Red Bull needs a driver who can reliably take the car to the podium and even step up to win the championship when Max is in trouble."

Horner leaned forward slightly, extending an olive branch that most drivers in the paddock could not refuse.

"Are you interested in Red Bull's other spot next year?"

"cough!"

Verstappen coughed lightly.

Although he knew the team was unhappy with Lape, he didn't expect Horner to poach his rival right there in the restaurant.

Verstappen, however, doesn't mind. He's a pure racing fanatic and doesn't care who his teammates are. He'd be even more excited if it brought him pressure and competition.

Lin Feng put down his knife and fork and wiped his mouth with a napkin.

Within just one month, both Mercedes and Red Bull, two of the biggest clubs in Formula 1, extended formal offers to each other. Such treatment is extremely rare in the entire history of Formula 1.

"Mr. Horner, your method of poaching is certainly simple and brutal." Lin Feng leaned back on the sofa, meeting Horner's gaze. "As far as I know, Red Bull has its own youth training system. Kakuta spent so many years at Toro Rosso, wasn't it all for that position? Aren't you afraid of discouraging your own youth drivers?"

Horner smiled confidently, his tone carrying Red Bull's usual domineering air.

"Red Bull only values ​​ability, not seniority. Kakuda is a good driver, but he lacks a bit of dominance. And you, Hayashi."

Horner pointed at Lin Feng.

"You've proven in the last few races that you're a natural driver. You've scored so many points in a Williams. Imagine if you were sitting in a Red Bull car designed by Adrian Newey. You wouldn't have to struggle on the straights or push your tires to the limit in the corners. You could easily pursue victory in every race."

Horner turned and glanced at Max.

"Moreover, you will have the strongest teammates of this era. The two of you together will be enough to dominate the entire paddock for the next decade."

This pie in the sky is too big.

With Newey's Mars rover and Red Bull's vast resources, simply sitting inside is practically like having your hand on the race trophy.

Verstappen, taking a bite of bread beside him, mumbled in agreement: "Come on, Lin, if you come to Red Bull, we can not only run endurance races together, but also play FIFA online every day. Wouldn't that be great?"

"Shut up, I'm not going to run the Nürburgring at 2 a.m.," Lin Feng glared at Verstappen.

Lin Feng looked at Horner again. He knew very well the appeal of the Red Bull car, but he knew even better about the internal dynamics of the Red Bull team.

That was Max Verstappen's absolute domain. Red Bull's car setup and development were entirely centered around Max. Anyone who went to Red Bull as their number two driver would eventually crumble under Max's aura and the car's extremely extreme steering characteristics. From Gasly to Albon, and now Perez, there have been no exceptions.

"Mr. Horner, Red Bull's car is indeed the fastest in the entire paddock. There's no doubt about that." Lin Feng's tone was calm, not blinded by that promise. "However, if I go to Red Bull, can the team guarantee that I and Max will receive the exact same treatment in terms of upgrade resources and tactical support?"

This is a very sensitive question, and a reality that all drivers who want to challenge for a Red Bull seat must face.

Horner's smile remained unchanged, but he did not give a direct affirmative answer.

"Red Bull's track philosophy is simple: whoever runs fast on the track gets the resources. If you can prove your speed like Max, the team will naturally treat you well."

This diplomatic reply reassured Lin Feng.

Sure enough, going to Red Bull is like going to steal territory, and specifically, stealing food from the territory of a lion in its prime.

"I understand. Thank you for your honesty, Mr. Horner." Lin Feng nodded, pushing the steak plate in front of him away slightly. "Actually, Toto from Mercedes asked me a similar question a few weeks ago, and my answer was the same."

Lin Feng smiled.

"It's only July now, let's talk about next year at the end of the season."

Horner was not annoyed by the polite refusal; he stood up and buttoned up his suit jacket.

"That's the smart thing to do, not rushing to reveal your hand." Horner straightened his cuffs. "But Lin, Red Bull's patience is limited. There's no shortage of people wanting this seat on the driver market. Think it over carefully. See you at Silverstone."

After saying that, Horner patted Verstappen on the shoulder, said goodbye to Kelly, and turned to leave the restaurant with a composed gait.

Watching Horner's departing figure, Lin Feng let out a long breath.

"Do you think these racing team owners have all taken some kind of pressure training course?" Lin Feng picked up his water glass and drank it all in one gulp. "They can't even let people eat in peace."

Verstappen shrugged nonchalantly: "That's just how Christian is. He always just grabs what he wants. But Lin, I'd really like to see you come to Red Bull. Lapping those slow cars on the track every day is so boring."

"Don't give me that Versailles thing." Lin Feng cursed irritably.

The three continued to finish their dinner.

After they had eaten and drunk their fill, Lin Feng and Verstappen said goodbye at the restaurant entrance.

The night breeze in London was a little chilly.

Lin Feng walked to the roadside and had just opened the door of the van to get in when he caught a faint flash of light out of the corner of his eye.

Across the street, under a large tree, a man wearing a baseball cap was frantically snapping photos of a DSLR camera with a telephoto lens, pointing it at the restaurant's floor-to-ceiling windows.

Lin Feng paused for a moment and turned to look at the huge glass window of the restaurant.

The spot where he, Verstappen, Kelly, and Horner were sitting was right next to the window, offering a clear view of the outside.

The reporter had clearly been watching them since Horner went in, and had filmed the entire scene of the Red Bull team leader talking with Lin Feng at the same table.

Lin Feng patted his forehead helplessly, got into the car, and slammed the door shut.

"What's wrong?" Zhou Kai, who was waiting for him in the car, was startled.

"It's nothing, Brother Zhou." Lin Feng leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. "It's just that I'll probably dominate the headlines of all the major racing media outlets tomorrow. The Mercedes rumors haven't died down yet, and now Red Bull is involved too. Those British tabloid reporters are probably going crazy tonight."

Upon hearing this, Zhou Kai not only didn't panic, but instead rubbed his hands together excitedly.

"That's great! With two companies vying for your attention, your value could double tomorrow! Should I go and raise prices for those brands right now?"

Lin Feng rolled his eyes, ignoring his manager who was already obsessed with money.