F1: The Speed Legend

He was starving.

Kai couldn’t believe it. He’d just had breakfast, but his stomach was already growling so loudly it felt like it was stuck to his spine.

He was starting to regret not forcing down the entire pizza he had just been complaining about.

Now that the trial seemed to be over, he was trying to figure out his next move. Should he head back to Rome to catch his flight, or would it be easier to have Lorenzo rebook him on a flight from nearby Milan?

And, before leaving Maranello, should he give Italian food one last chance?

Marchionne’s voice broke the silence, pulling Kai from his culinary daydreams and back to reality. ”I believe the next step should be the physical and psychological assessments.”

Swish.

Every head in the room snapped toward Marchionne.

Physical and psychological assessments? That meant the Ferrari Driver Academy was preparing to offer Kai a spot. This was the final step in the evaluation process.

Clearly, the day’s surprises were not over yet.

It wasn’t just Monfardini and Leclerc; even Todt gave Marchionne a curious look.

Kai was completely taken aback. He looked at Todt. ”That was not our agreement.”

Marchionne didn’t have time to explain. He just gave Todt a meaningful look, and Todt understood immediately, the corners of his mouth curving into a slight smile.

Todt turned to Kai, his tone gentle. ”Our agreement was for a trial. This is part of the trial. Don’t worry, we won’t take up too much of your time.”

Kai looked at Todt and took a deep breath. Of course. The eight thousand euros wasn’t going to be that easy to earn. With the check not yet in his hand, it seemed he had no choice but to cooperate.

But he really was starving. Could he at least get something to eat before the next test?

Just then, a figure appeared beside him, hesitantly extending a hand. In his open palm lay a small piece of chocolate.

Kai looked over and met a pair of slightly shimmering, light green eyes.

It was Leclerc.

Kai’s gaze made Leclerc even more self-conscious. Social interaction was clearly not his strong suit. But he took a deep breath. ”You might need to replenish your energy. The simulator doesn’t look like much, but the physical drain is intense. I thought… you might… I always keep some…”

He trailed off, his words fragmenting when Kai didn’t immediately respond.

”Thanks,” Kai said, graciously accepting the chocolate. ”My stomach is growling loud enough to drown out an engine right now. You probably heard it, didn’t you?”

He unwrapped it and popped it into his mouth.

It was a small joke, but Leclerc didn’t react. He ignored it completely, his attention already back on the simulator screen.

”Do you mind if I watch the replay?”

Kai waved a dismissive hand, his mouth full. ”Of course not,” he mumbled indistinctly. ”That’s what the replays are for, right? For people to watch.”

Leclerc was completely absorbed by the screen. He had a natural, intense curiosity when it came to speed. ”That last chicane,” he said, barely able to contain his excitement, completely forgetting that two of the most powerful men in motorsport were standing right there. ”You used inertia to steer the car, right? I still haven’t figured out how to control the throttle like that.”

”You can do it too…” Kai said, turning to look at the screen with him. He was completely open, generously sharing his understanding. ”The key is to maintain a continuous load transfer. Don’t force it. It’s like… uh, do you ever pet a cat? It’s like that. Like petting a cat.”

Leclerc’s eyes lit up. Once he was in the world of racing, his speech became faster, more animated, more fluid.

Unfortunately, their discussion was cut short. Monfardini stepped in. ”Young man, let’s head to the physical and psychological assessments.”

Kai quickly pulled away, patting Leclerc on the shoulder and gesturing with the chocolate. ”Thanks for this.”

Leclerc hesitated for a second before mustering the courage to speak. ”…Charles.”

Kai stopped and looked at him, confused.

”My name. It’s not Prince Charming, it’s… Charles. Charles Leclerc.” He paused, as if worried he hadn’t been clear. ”Actually, it’s just ’Charles,’ but I’m from Monaco, so I speak French. In French, Charles is pronounced ’Charles’.”

He had been wanting to make that correction from the very beginning but hadn’t found the right moment. Now that he’d blurted it out, he suddenly regretted it. Was that too abrupt? He looked down, embarrassed, and quietly glanced at Todt and Marchionne’s reactions before adding in a small voice, ”But you can call me Charles. It’s okay.”

Kai tipped his chin up, a smile in his eyes.

He paused for a beat.

”Zhizhou,” he said, imitating Leclerc’s slightly explanatory tone. ”In Chinese, my name is Zhizhou. It was a pleasure to meet you today, Charles-who-is-pronounced-Charles-in-French.”

Leclerc couldn’t help but laugh.

Kai smiled, turned, and caught up with Monfardini, the two of them walking off together.

Leclerc stood where he was, his eyes following Kai’s retreating figure. He had a strange feeling, a premonition, that this person was going to be staying. He took a deep breath and turned his focus back to the replay.

Meanwhile, another pair of eyes was sizing Kai up—Monfardini’s.

When they’d first met, Monfardini’s professional instincts had kicked in, but his impression of the Asian boy had been vague. His focus had been on the shocking presence of Marchionne and Todt. It was only now that he had a chance to make a proper assessment.

Height around 178, 179 centimeters. Still young, growth plates probably haven’t closed yet, so he could get taller.

Slender build, visually I’d guess around 65 kilograms, but there can be significant fluctuations during adolescence.

This could be a problem.

An F1 cockpit is incredibly cramped. Drivers taller than 183 centimeters often require a custom-built chassis, which has a major impact on the car’s overall design.

On the other hand, in 2016, FIA regulations stipulated a combined minimum weight for the car and driver of 702 kilograms. This meant that lighter drivers had a natural advantage in ballast placement, which offered more flexibility in the car’s setup and could improve its balance and aerodynamic performance. While the FIA was discussing a minimum driver weight to level the playing field, nothing had been put into writing yet.

You could see it in the physiques of the top drivers.

Lewis Hamilton: 174 cm, 68 kg. Michael Schumacher: 175 cm, 75 kg. Sebastian Vettel: 176 cm, 62 kg.

Comparatively, Kai’s height and weight offered no clear advantage. It wasn’t a deal-breaker, but it was a factor that couldn’t be ignored.

As the initial emotional high from the simulator test subsided, Monfardini’s mind began to coolly evaluate these practical realities.

Still, these weren’t his problems to solve. Height, car design, future planning—those were things for the ”tall ones” to worry about. His job was to handle the details on the ground.

Marchionne and Todt watched Kai’s departing figure, then exchanged a knowing look.

Marchionne smiled and took the initiative. ”Jean, let’s head back to the office. The next set of tests will probably take some time.”

It was time to discuss certain things behind closed doors.