F1: The Speed Legend

”Hey, did you hear? Kai’s dad came to the school to ask for a leave of absence. Three. Months. The teacher’s face went totally black. Told him he might as well just apply for a gap year.”

”What else could it be? That guy is obsessed with racing, hangs out with those delinquents all day. He must have caused some serious trouble. I bet he’s in juvenile detention.”

”Detention? No way, that’d be on his permanent record. Someone said his family has a huge gambling debt, lost everything, and they’re laying low.”

”Kai? That kid’s been messing around with things he shouldn’t. I knew this would happen. My cousin said he hit someone during a street race and is under investigation.”

”Hit someone? For real? I heard he got mixed up with the mob. Won a race he shouldn’t have, and they... ’took care of him.’ My guess is he’s still at the police station.”

”Hey! You guys! Stop making things up if you don’t know! What if something really awful happened? What if he’s sick, in the hospital? And you’re all just making cold-hearted jokes!”

”Ooooooh, do you have a crush on him? Just say it! If you don’t, how will he ever know?”

The classroom was buzzing, a chaotic mess of gossip. With the homeroom teacher absent, the morning reading session had devolved into a free-for-all of wild speculation.

And then, Song Bo arrived.

His face was red, his hair was a bird’s nest, and a clear, red pillow-crease was imprinted on his cheek. He snuck in through the back door like a thief, quickly scanned the teacher’s desk, and let out a sigh of relief when he saw it was empty.

He managed to stumble to his desk—which felt surprisingly roomy without Kai—and exhaled.

First hurdle: cleared.

But before he could even get comfortable, he was ambushed. Eyes from every direction locked onto him, green with curiosity, like a wolf pack spotting fresh prey.

Song Bo almost fell out of his chair. He swallowed hard. ”I know I’m handsome, but don’t all look at me like that. I’m shy.”

”Get lost!”

”Whatever, man!”

A chorus of jeers and eye-rolls erupted.

”Doctor, be serious. Kai’s dad was here. Three months. What’s going on?”

”Yeah, is he in trouble?”

The intense, burning stares were all focused on Song Bo. The noisy classroom fell silent, the air suddenly thick.

Song Bo, completely oblivious to the tension, just waved a hand dismissively. ”Oh, that. He went to Italy. He got into the Ferrari Driver Academy, so he’ll be training there for the next few months. His dad just came by to sort out the absence.”

The classroom: ...

The silence was so profound you could hear the muffled sounds of the class next door—the murmur of reading, a shout, a laugh—which only made their own silence more complete.

This time, Song Bo noticed. He looked around at the stunned, disbelieving faces.

”It’s true,” he blurted out.

The next second, the room exploded.

Laughter, shouting, and pure, unadulterated mockery.

”Doctor, if you’re going to make up a story, at least make it believable, okay?”

”Yeah, right, Ferrari! Hahaha! Why don’t you just say he’s driving in the F1 Shanghai Grand Prix next year?”

”If he can get into the Ferrari Academy, then I’m a signed driver for Mercedes-Benz.”

”Doctor, why not just say he’s out there punching Verstappen and kicking Hamilton? Hahaha!”

”Ferrari Academy? What’s that? Like the Math Olympiad? Or the English one?”

”If you don’t want to tell us the truth, just say so! You don’t have to make up such a ridiculous lie. Who do you think is stupid enough to believe that?”

Song Bo opened his mouth, trying to explain, but he was just drowned out by more laughter.

”I’ll tell you the real story. Nothing happened. He was sweeping the floor at home yesterday, he slipped, and he broke his leg. He’s too embarrassed to come to school, so he’s hiding. ’A broken bone takes a hundred days to heal.’ That’s exactly three months. See? I’m Judge Dee. Case closed.”

And just like that, everyone turned their backs on him. No one paid him any more attention.

Song Bo was stunned.

He was only just now realizing how insane, how completely fantastical the truth sounded. Of course, their first reaction was disbelief.

But he had never doubted Kai for a second. And now, thinking about it, he still believed him. Kai had no reason to lie.

He looked around at his classmates and raised his voice. ”It’s true! I’m telling you guys the facts!”

More laughter. No one was listening.

He was about to try again when the class monitor, Li Miaomiao, finally had enough. ”Alright, quiet down! Reading time has started. I’m taking names if I hear another word!”

Song Bo huffed, his chest puffed out in frustration. He caught her warning glare and made a face at her back.

Clearly, no one at school believed him. While the Ferrari story wasn’t any crazier than the rumors about the mob or a hit-and-run, the world of F1 was just too far removed from their daily lives. It felt completely unreal.

In fact, it wasn’t just them. It had taken Kai himself some time to feel the gravity under his feet again. His life had turned a new page, and his entire daily routine had been completely upended.

For the other academy drivers, this routine was a decade in the making, a part of their very being. But Kai had to start from scratch.

Knock, knock, knock.

Zhou Guanyu knocked on Kai’s apartment door. A moment later, Kai opened it, his eyes still bleary with sleep, and joined him in the hallway.

Warm-up. Stretching. Then, a light jog.

The new day began with endurance training.

Many people think racing is just ”sitting in a seat and going in circles,” that it isn’t a real sport. They think a sport should involve sweating muscles, not a sweating engine; that it should be a challenge of one’s own physical limits.

This is a misunderstanding.

A top-tier racing driver’s body and mind are pushed to the absolute extreme. An F1 race lasts for ninety minutes to two hours, during which the driver must maintain precise control in conditions of extreme heat, high speeds, and constant, crushing G-force. They cannot relax for a single second. The slightest lapse in concentration can mean the difference between winning and losing.

On some of the more brutal tracks, it’s common for a driver to lose two or three kilograms (4.5-6.5 lbs) in a single race from pure dehydration. Exhaustion, muscle failure, and mental burnout are just part of the job.

They aren’t just ”drivers.” They are athletes, battling their own bodies, instincts, and the limits of human endurance at 300 kilometers per hour.

Racing is absolutely a sport. And it is one of the most demanding. The daily training has to reflect that.

Previously, Zhou had been used to starting his day on a treadmill in the gym. But Kai hated treadmills; he hated the feeling of running in place. He preferred to be outdoors.

They followed a rural path on the edge of Maranello, jogging out into the misty plains. The morning air was cool and real, filled with the smell of damp earth and leaves. Bit by bit, their bodies came alive, the weight of their own footsteps becoming clearer with every stride.

Their steady pace scattered the morning fog. Up ahead, they saw a figure stretching, wearing a headband, looking like a character who had walked straight out of Slam Dunk.

It was Leclerc.

He waved to them, then started a slow jog. He paced himself until they caught up, and then the three of them fell into a steady rhythm.

Together, they ran through the twilight, cutting through the mist and heading toward the rising sun as the pale gold light began to tear open the dawn.

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