F1: The Speed Legend

”Kai Zhizhou!”

Marchionne called his name, and the young man, who had been laughing and joking, looked over.

His hair was plastered to his head, a clear sign of the 35-minute battle he’d just fought. The sweat seemed to have drenched his very eyes, making his dark pupils shine like glass in a clear spring. He looked like the first ray of dawn catching the pebbles in a flowing stream. And then, he smiled.

It was like a gust of warm wind.

Nicolas Todt’s eyes lit up.

He had only caught a passing glimpse of him before the test, but now, looking at him properly, the fuzzy image in his mind came into sharp focus.

He hadn’t realized the prospect was this young. The academy was full of teenagers, but this kid’s baby face looked almost fourteen. He made Alesi and Armstrong look ”old.”

He also hadn’t realized how handsome the kid was. As a manager, he knew the importance of marketing. Talent wasn’t always enough. He could already imagine the thousands of young fans who would scream for a face like that.

Hardcore racing fans on social media were always complaining about the casual onlookers who knew nothing about the sport and only watched because the drivers were handsome. It was the same phenomenon as David Beckham attracting new fans to football, or the Italian national team being known as the ”model team.”

But for a sponsor, money was money, whether it came from a real fan or a casual one.

As these thoughts flashed through his mind, the young man had already walked over and offered a polite greeting. Marchionne made the introductions.

Nicolas didn’t bother with small talk. He got straight to the point. ”Kai... Zhizhou... correct?”

His pronunciation was a struggle. Fortunately, Kai didn’t seem to mind, remaining polite.

Nicolas relaxed. ”On behalf of ART Grand Prix, I am formally inviting you to join our team for the upcoming GP3 season.”

Kai was visibly surprised. He glanced at Marchionne.

Hadn’t Marchionne told them? That his contract was only for three months? That he had to go home for exams?

Marchionne silently averted his gaze, a small smile playing on his lips.

Nicolas, misreading the room, thought Kai was looking to Marchionne for approval, like a child seeking permission. ”Mr. Marchionne is thrilled with the prospect. He’s very happy to see an FDA driver join ART. After all, Charles won the driver’s championship with our team just last season.”

”Charles Leclerc. You two are friends, yes?”

Nicolas was a pro. He knew how to talk to young drivers.

Kai’s gaze snapped back to him, the smile still on his lips. ”Charles? Haha, I know him a little. But, Mr. Todt, I’m sorry, I can’t accept your offer. In fact, I’m leaving the academy next month...”

Nicolas froze.

Vasseur, who had been standing to the side letting Nicolas handle the negotiation, also froze.

The noise in the pit garage faded. Nicolas wasn’t sure he’d heard correctly. He glanced at Marchionne. Is this what you meant?

He didn’t have time to process it. He turned back to Kai. ”Do you know what kind of team ART is?”

It was understandable. A kid who had just come from street racing two months ago might not grasp the significance of the offer.

But Kai’s expression was open. ”The GP3 team. Last season’s driver and team champions. Charles told me. You’re dominant.”

For the first time in his career, the smooth-talking Nicolas Todt was speechless. He knew? He knew, and he was still refusing?

Vasseur narrowed his eyes. ”So you know you’re refusing a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.” His voice had an accusatory edge.

They were not used to this. Marchionne, however, just stood to the side, thoroughly enjoying the show. He finally understood how Jean had felt. This was exciting!

Kai wasn’t flustered at all. His smile widened, his gaze unwavering. ”I know I’m not cut out for Formula racing.”

Nicolas’s jaw nearly hit the floor. The surprises just kept coming. If Kai wasn’t cut out for racing, he didn’t know who was. Alesi?

”Look,” Kai continued, ”I know this is a money-burning sport. You need a lot of funding to get into Formula racing. A lot. I don’t have any sponsors. I can’t help the team.”

”I’m sure a competitive team like ART has drivers lining up to join. You can easily find someone who is both talented and brings their own sponsorship.”

”Like Zhou Guanyu.”

”Trust me, he’s a brilliant driver. If you just give him the chance, he’ll shine.”

Nicolas knew Kai was being sincere. His eyes were bright and firm. He wasn’t playing games; he was genuinely trying to help his friend. And more importantly, there was no trace of regret in his voice.

That fact hit Nicolas hard.

He kept his cool. ”But you have Ferrari’s sponsorship, right? If Ferrari is willing to fully fund your seat...”

That would solve everything.

Nicolas looked at Marchionne. This was the part they hadn’t discussed. Leclerc had been in the exact same situation: overflowing with talent, but with no money. In 2010, when Leclerc was about to quit racing, his mentor, Jules Bianchi, had introduced him to his manager—Nicolas Todt. (Bianchi was the first graduate of the Ferrari Driver Academy and had made his F1 debut in 2013.)

It was Nicolas who had brokered the deal to get Leclerc into the FDA, and who had secured his full funding for the 2016 season. He had driven for ART with Ferrari’s backing.

This was familiar territory. Nicolas was confident he could convince Marchionne to do the same for Kai.

But before Marchionne could even respond, Kai spoke again.

”But... GP3 drivers don’t have an income, do they?”

Nicolas froze, turning back to Kai, his words caught in his throat.

Kai just shrugged. ”GP3, F2... it’s all the same. Until you become an F1 driver, you have no income. You live completely off your sponsors.”

”And these drivers are just eighteen, nineteen-year-old kids. They have to give up their education, give up their lives, give up everything they might have had, and bet it all on racing.”

”And it’s not just the driver. Their families have to sacrifice, too.”

”I don’t want to put that burden on my parents’ shoulders. I love racing, but I’m not willing to sacrifice everything for it.”

”At the end of the day, it’s just a money game. I’m not interested. The world is big, and there are a lot of dreams out there. My life won’t be any less for missing out on this one.”

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