F1: The Speed Legend

Collision!

Lap 3. Romain Grosjean in P7 attempted to pass Sergio Perez. Perez, struggling to get his Intermediates up to temperature, defended clumsily and lost the position, running side-by-side with Grosjean.

Simultaneously, Esteban Ocon in P8 saw an opportunity and lunged around the outside.

Perez was caught in a crisis—sandwiched between Grosjean and his own Force India teammate, Ocon.

In that split second, Perez chose to defend against Ocon.

The two pink cars ran wheel-to-wheel. In the blink of an eye, Perez clearly squeezed to the right, slamming directly into Ocon. Ocon had no room to turn. On the claustrophobic Singapore circuit, there was no margin for error. The Number 31 car went straight into the wall. Front wing destroyed, suspension shattered, debris flying everywhere.

The air froze.

In Singapore, crashes and safety cars are standard. They are part of the track’s DNA. From practice to qualifying to the race, you expect them.

If there were no accidents, it would feel weird.

But... teammates? Two Force Indias again?

”Oh no! It’s Baku all over again! Ocon has been squeezed into the wall by his teammate!”

”Force India’s chaotic and turbulent season continues!”

”Safety Car deployed! Unsurprising. The Safety Car never misses a night in Singapore!”

The inevitable had happened.

The Safety Car itself wasn’t the surprise; the timing was.

Lap 3?

Wasn’t this too early?

Every team immediately scrambled on the radio.

Singapore is traditionally a one-stop race. When a Safety Car appears, teams usually jump at the chance for a ”free” pit stop, switching from their starting tires to a harder compound to run to the end.

That’s the dream scenario.

Now, the Safety Car was here. But Lap 3?

If they pitted now for slick tires, the final stint would be agonizingly long. Worse, the track was still damp. The biggest question was: When will the track fully dry?

A wrong tire call now would ruin the entire race. Just look at Pierre Gasly putting on full Wets at Hockenheim.

At this moment, the pit wall couldn’t just rely on data and computer models. They needed the driver’s feeling to gauge the track conditions.

Pierre Borreipaire didn’t hesitate. ”Kai, what are your thoughts?”

Experience is crucial here. How long does water stay on this specific track? How fast does the asphalt dry?

These questions were better suited for Alonso or Hamilton, veterans who had raced here since 2008.

For Kai, experience was his weak point. He had no historical data to draw from; he had to rely entirely on his instincts.

Kai, who had been right behind Ocon, had sharply evaded the crash debris. He didn’t have time to panic or gossip about Force India’s civil war. He was the first driver on track to realize the Safety Car was imminent.

His brain was already working in overdrive.

”Based on the current conditions, maybe 5 to 8 laps before it’s dry enough for slicks. I’m not sure. It depends on how long the Safety Car stays out.”

Kai was honest. Pretending to know everything was a cardinal sin.

Pierre understood instantly. If the Safety Car stayed out longer, pitting for slicks now made sense—the tires would have time to warm up under SC conditions while the track dried. But if the SC came in quickly, running slicks on a damp track would make Kai a sitting duck against the warmed-up Intermediates.

Pierre glanced at Arrivabene, took a deep breath, and opened the radio. ”Do you want to gamble?”

”Is anyone else pitting?” Kai asked.

”The pit lane is quiet,” Pierre replied. ”They are probably waiting to see what Alonso and Hamilton do.” He paused. ”Vettel is staying out.”

Tick-tock, tick-tock.

It was only a second of silence, but it felt like hours.

He needed chaos. He needed a gamble. It was the only way to break the deadlock from his compromised grid position. Naturally, he had to accept the risk of failure.

”Box,” Kai said.

Pierre didn’t hesitate. ”Box! Box! Box! Soft tires!”

Ferrari’s move shattered the stalemate. Other teams watched in shock, temporarily paralyzed.

Was this genius, or impulsive madness? What was Ferrari’s strategy team doing?

The commentary box exploded. Ferrari had pulled the trigger first, trying to seize the initiative amidst the chaos.

It was clear: after the engine penalty in qualifying, Ferrari had adopted a radically aggressive strategy for Kai.

Instantly, all eyes focused on Car 22. It was like a spotlight tracking him.

The Mercedes and Red Bull pit walls took note. They knew Kai’s ability and the threat he posed. Even if they stuck to their own plans, Kai’s wild card move set off alarm bells.

Exiting the pits, Kai had surrendered all the positions he gained on the first lap. He slotted back in behind Sainz.

Hamilton. Vettel. Verstappen. Bottas. Ricciardo. Grosjean. Perez. Hulkenberg. Alonso. Sainz.

P11: Kai Zhizhou. Just outside the points.

Yet, no one could ignore him. Even after a pit stop, he was only P11 (starting from P15). More importantly, he was the only driver on the grid wearing yellow-walled Soft slick tires. He was a ticking time bomb, and no one knew when or where he would detonate.

If the track dried quickly, everyone ahead of him would be sitting ducks.

If the track stayed damp, the cars behind him—like Leclerc on Intermediates—would show no mercy. Based on the leaders staying out, the consensus was clearly that Intermediates were still the right tire.

Heated debates ignited across social media.

The Safety Car stayed out. Usually, an SC period lasts three or four laps. Now, it was lap six, and the lights were still flashing.

Good news: the leaders weren’t burning their Intermediates.

Bad news: the track was drying, and it was now too late for them to pit for slicks without losing massive time.

”Wait, is the FIA favoring Kai? They’re keeping the SC out just for drama!”

Conspiracy theories flew on Twitter. But the reality was simple: Ocon had crashed in a narrow, dangerous section. The crane recovery had to be handled meticulously to avoid causing another accident.

Finally, on Lap 10, Race Control announced the track was clear. The Safety Car would enter the pits on the next lap.

Singapore was a pressure cooker. Anticipation reached a boiling point.

Lap 11. Safety Car in. Green flag.

At the front, Hamilton, Vettel, and Verstappen prepared to battle. But the spotlight wasn’t on them.

It was on the only car with slick tires.

Breath held—

Here he comes!

As expected, Kai attacked Sainz immediately!

Green flag! Main straight!

Sainz’s radio was filled with Abiteboul’s frantic instructions. Sainz had no time to reply; he went on full defense.

Sainz reacted quickly, taking the inside line. But the Number 22 Ferrari was relentless. Surprisingly, Kai didn’t launch a desperate divebomb. He calmly tucked into the slipstream.

Is he waiting? Letting Sainz punch a hole in the air?

Sainz didn’t have time to analyze. The Ferrari in his mirrors was growing larger.

Now!

Sainz saw the Ferrari twitch, preparing to pull out. Without hesitation, Sainz moved right to block.

Sainz calculated that Kai’s Soft tires weren’t fully up to temperature, whereas his Intermediates were primed. He expected Kai to try the outside line again, just like on Lap 1. Sainz focused entirely on his right side, refusing to fall for a dummy.

But Kai didn’t go right. He pulled out to the left!

Inside line!

The broadcast captured the two cars splitting, taking entirely different approaches to Turn 1.

It looked like the ending of Furious 7, two cars diverging on separate paths.

Kai’s move to the inside was violently decisive. Extreme late braking. He showed absolute faith in the grip of his Soft tires, slamming the brakes at the very last millimeter. The red blur forced its way through the apex, blowing past the yellow Renault.

However, a slight wobble!

Exiting Turn 1, the track still had damp patches. Because Kai had taken a tight, unconventional line to overtake, he hit the uneven moisture. The weakness of the slick tire was exposed. The rear wing snapped out—Crisis!

Sainz saw it, but before he could react and counter-attack, Kai caught the slide. With delicate throttle application and microscopic steering corrections, he didn’t fight the slide; he rode the momentum, drifting smoothly into the faster Turn 2 without losing speed.

It all happened in a single heartbeat.

Fluid. Clean. Kai completed the overtake effortlessly, returning to the points.

Sainz was helpless. He couldn’t even mount a defense.

The commentary box exploded. Scalps tingled. But before the excitement could settle, the camera showed Kai already leaving Sainz in the dust and locking onto Fernando Alonso.

Gasp!

The cheers were choked off.

Sainz was a good driver, known for consistency and a cool head, but his defense could be rigid.

Alonso was different. Purely in terms of racecraft, many considered Alonso the absolute best in the history of the sport, perhaps even better than Schumacher in wheel-to-wheel combat.

Of course, racing isn’t just about pure skill. But with car performance relatively equal, Alonso was a nightmare to pass. On a street circuit like Singapore, which favors the defender, and with the track still damp, Alonso’s experience was a massive weapon.

Yet, Kai didn’t hesitate. He charged at Alonso immediately, suffocating the tension.

The cameras stayed glued to them. Compared to the DRS trains at the front, this was real racing!

Turn 3, straight, Turn 4, straight. Everyone expected Kai to attack here. This was where Vettel passed Verstappen on Lap 1.

It was logical.

Alonso thought so too. His nerves were taut, ready to defend.

But nothing happened.

Kai stayed tucked behind Alonso. Turn 4 is a high-speed corner where dirty air is less of an issue. Kai stuck to the Spaniard like glue.

Patience. Calm. This defied expectations. The commentators and Alonso thought the same thing: Is Kai scared?

That thought lasted barely a second. Exiting the 90-degree Turn 5, Kai maximized his exit speed. He caught Alonso’s slipstream instantly. The gap was only 0.3 seconds.

Damn it!

Alonso’s internal alarms blared. Kai wasn’t scared; he was smart. He knew Alonso’s defensive prowess, so he didn’t waste time tangling in the slow corners. He deliberately broke the rhythm, waiting to strike on the long straight after Turn 5.

This was the longest full-throttle section in Singapore. (Turn 6 is just a flat-out kink). It led into the first DRS zone, reaching speeds of 280 km/h.

Ferrari’s engine advantage would be unanswerable here.

In other words, Kai was abandoning finesse. He was using brute force—pure car performance—to eat the two-time champion’s McLaren alive.

Alonso’s head felt like it expanded twice its size. ”That little fox!”

Sure enough!

Despite Alonso’s quick reaction, Kai’s pull-out to the outside was blindingly fast. He gave Alonso no time to breathe, surging alongside.

Though panicked, Alonso showed his class. With a slight flick of the steering wheel to the right, he subtly squeezed Kai’s line, planting a hidden landmine.

”That kid is smart to choose the outside and avoid a lock-up on the inside with those slicks. But he lacks experience. He forgot: Turn 7 is Singapore’s second-biggest death trap!”

In the 11 years of Singapore Safety Cars, 20% of the crashes happened at Turn 7.

After reaching maximum speed, they faced a sharp 90-degree left-hander. The track is only about 10 meters wide here. The braking zone is tiny. Go too far right: wall. Lock up and go straight: run-off area, then wall. Zero margin for error.

It’s an overtaking spot, but also a graveyard.

Now, by slightly squeezing the line within the rules, Alonso was gently pushing Kai toward the fire pit.

Alonso: A little fox is still a little fox. Tricky, but ultimately green.

Crisis!

It wasn’t a metaphor; it was literal. Turn 7. Outside line. A concrete wall was rushing straight at Kai’s face.

Like a moving wall in a horror movie, it was closing in, leaving nowhere to hide. What should he do?

Unmoved as a mountain! Hold the line!

He kept his speed. Slipstream plus DRS propelled Kai forward. He drew level with Alonso, even pulling a nose ahead, charging at Turn 7.

Alonso’s reaction was indeed brilliant. But Kai wasn’t reckless. Passing Sainz on the inside, passing Alonso on the outside—these were calculated choices, not impulsive dives.

During his track walks, Kai hadn’t missed a detail. Because Turn 7 caused so many crashes and ruined the racing, the FIA had slightly modified the track this year. Turn 7 was two meters wider.

Of course, for an F1 car braking from 280 km/h to 90 km/h, two meters is still a razor-thin margin. The danger was real. But in a high-stakes chess match, those two meters were the crack Kai needed to tear open the defense.

High speed! Unrelenting!

Car 22 entered the braking zone a fraction of a second before Car 14. Brake! Precision!

Not too early, not too late. Perfect timing. The crucial difference was the entry angle. Kai utilized those extra two meters to the absolute maximum. In that claustrophobic space, he ripped open a seam, flying low right against the outside wall of Turn 7.

In the blink of an eye, Car 14 also braked and turned in. The already narrow space vanished completely.

The crowd held its breath, staring dumbfounded as the two drivers played with fire.

The red blur, burning fiercely yet calm as water, skimmed the wall. It looked like he was going to crash. To the naked eye, he had crashed. Under heart-crushing pressure, Kai held his arc, perfectly threading the needle.

To his right: concrete. To his left: Alonso.

Yet, in this suffocating atmosphere, both cars held their lines perfectly, running side-by-side through the corner.

Millimeters! Pulling chestnuts from the fire!

Alonso was stunned, involuntarily glancing right. That madman!

Kai, completely in the zone, ignored Alonso entirely. After the apex, both cars washed out toward the exit wall.

Cliff edge! Precarious!

Kai gripped the wheel tightly, feeling every bump and vibration from the tarmac. His knuckles were white. He used all his strength to hold the wheel steady. He forgot to breathe. The thick, humid air rushed past his ears.

But his foot stayed planted on the throttle.

Inch by inch, visibly dropping Alonso. The red car was an unsheathed sword, completely breaking free and roaring away.

Overtake complete!

When Car 22 and Car 14 entered Turn 8 nose-to-tail, the spell was broken. The crowd finally exhaled, erupting in thunderous applause.

Buzz, buzz. Hearts pounded against ribs. Fans exchanged disbelieving looks. Didn’t they say Singapore was impossible to pass on?

What did they just witness? Two clean, surgical overtakes in a row. Kai was back in P9. And this was only the first lap after the Safety Car restart!

The amazement erupted like a volcano, peaking on Lap 12 during Kai’s battle with Nico Hulkenberg.

Obviously, Hulkenberg knew what was happening behind him. The Renault pit wall had warned him. Hulkenberg showed his quality. He refused to be just another highlight reel for Kai. Despite Kai trying to brute-force him in the DRS zones, Hulkenberg used his experience and the track’s layout to repeatedly block Kai in Sector 1.

But Kai was patient. He didn’t rely solely on DRS (which makes moves predictable).

He chose a non-DRS zone: the Turn 13 hairpin. Relying on his Soft tires’ superior grip on the drying track, he magnified the weakness of Hulkenberg’s fading Intermediates. Extreme late braking on the inside. A beautiful hairpin dive. He finally dispatched Hulkenberg, moving up another spot.

Car, track, opponent. Kai’s situational awareness and adaptability were shining brightly once again.

By now, the audience didn’t need the commentators to tell them: the track was basically dry.

Kai’s gamble had paid off! In just three laps after the SC restart, the track had dried enough for the Soft tires to become the dominant compound.

While passing Sainz and Alonso required tactical brilliance, passing Hulkenberg was simple brute force—using the massive tire delta. Hulkenberg’s best efforts only held Kai off for one sector.

Visibly, Kai was building an advantage. The Intermediates on the other cars were overheating, losing their grip. The gaps they had built were vanishing rapidly. Kai was reeling in the lead pack.

When Kai easily passed Perez using the tire delta, the pit lane could no longer stay quiet.

Started P15. Pitted early. And now, after all the twists and turns, Kai was P7. Only Romain Grosjean stood between him and the ”Big Three” teams.

The tables had turned. The pressure from the Number 22 Ferrari was aimed directly at Mercedes and Red Bull.

Especially Red Bull, because Ricciardo was the car directly ahead of Grosjean.

But the problem was, it was still early. There were nearly 50 laps left in the 61-lap race. Pitting now would ruin their original plans. What tires should they put on? Could they run to the end?

If they tried to run to the end, they had to worry about Kai. How long would Kai’s Soft tires last? Would he pit again? When? What tire strategy could defend against Kai’s eventual attack?

Who would have thought that Ferrari, the team constantly mocked for terrible strategy, was now the biggest headache for every other pit wall in Singapore?

Kai, wary of the other teams’ strategies, didn’t push his tires blindly. This was the critical moment of the chess match. Plus, given Singapore’s layout, Grosjean and Ricciardo should be able to hold Kai up for a bit, giving the pit walls time to think.

But time was short. Tick-tock. No one knew how long Grosjean could hold out.

Lap 13. Kai caught Grosjean.

Lap 14. Kai entered DRS range. The Haas car simply couldn’t withstand the Ferrari. No one could predict how Grosjean would react under pressure.

With every lap, the pressure rose, just like the ambient temperature in Singapore—humid, sticky, heavy, suffocating.

Lap 15. Just as Kai was preparing to attack, moving the pressure onto Ricciardo, movement occurred in the pit lane.

Someone was pitting. Who?

Ferrari. Sebastian Vettel.

Gasp!

Shock rippled through the paddock. It took a moment to process. The first to blink was... Vettel!

What was going on with Ferrari today? First Kai, now Vettel. Both strategies were radically aggressive, as if they had eaten gunpowder.

The broadcast immediately cut to Maurizio Arrivabene.

The Team Principal looked calm as water, arms crossed, projecting total confidence. He seemed completely unaware of the chaos he had unleashed.

And that wasn’t all!

”Ultrasofts!”

The commentary box exploded.

”Vettel puts on the purple Ultrasoft tires! Ferrari seems to believe Vettel can undercut Hamilton and run these tires to the end!”

”Does this mean Kai’s Soft tires might also go to the end?”

The moment Croft said it, he got goosebumps. Even for Kai, that strategy seemed too crazy.

Brundle caught a crucial detail. ”No, Ferrari is running split strategies.”

”If Kai was going to the end, he wouldn’t have carved through the field so aggressively just now. That destroyed his tire life. Based on his pace, the Ferrari pit wall must have another plan. They aren’t waiting for others; they are taking the initiative.”

The air grew tense.

Logically, pitting on Lap 15 with 46 laps remaining meant the yellow Soft tire was the only choice to reach the end.

But Vettel didn’t even choose the Super Soft. He took the softest compound: the purple Ultrasoft.

The intent was glaringly obvious. Vettel was going for the ultimate undercut on Hamilton, banking on the massive grip of the Ultrasofts to leapfrog him.

From Kai to Vettel, Ferrari’s strategy tonight was ferocious. Even Vettel was showing a rare, aggressive hunger.

Instantly, the Mercedes and Red Bull pit walls went into overdrive.

Mercedes demonstrated the decisiveness of champions. Since the summer break, they had shown incredible boldness. Ferrari’s aggression seemed to ignite their own fighting spirit. They met the challenge head-on.

Toto Wolff was sitting in the garage, not on the pit wall. He didn’t read data graphs; he watched the live feed.

Staring at the screen, Wolff tracked Vettel’s pit exit.

He emerged behind Kai and Perez. The gap to Perez was about three seconds. This meant Vettel had clean air to push. Before the stops, Hamilton led Vettel by less than two seconds. The undercut was highly likely to succeed.

More importantly, right after Vettel exited the pits, Kai attacked Grosjean.

Wolff knew Grosjean wouldn’t last. Once Kai passed him, an all-out assault on Ricciardo was only a matter of time. Vettel was a threat, and Kai’s potential overcut was another. Mercedes couldn’t afford to lose more time on the dying Intermediates.

Without hesitation, Wolff gave the order:

Box!

Lap 16. Hamilton pitted.

Lap 17. Bottas pitted.

Both Mercedes drivers switched to the yellow Soft tires. Compared to Ferrari’s radical gamble, Wolff refused to be led by the nose. He remained rational amidst the chaos.

The Singapore night felt electric. The broadcast split the screen, focusing on the two four-time World Champions. The epic duel anticipated since the season opener was finally happening!

In this remote, strategic bayonet fight, Mercedes held the upper hand. Hamilton exited the pits safely ahead of Perez. This not only killed Vettel’s undercut attempt, but perfectly used Perez as a roadblock against Vettel, regaining the strategic high ground.

Furthermore—

Wolff’s judgment was correct. Grosjean’s tires were cooked. He offered zero resistance in the corners. Kai breezed past him and locked onto Ricciardo.

If Mercedes didn’t want a repeat of Monaco—where Kai overcut them—Hamilton had to stay sharp.

Then, another twist.

While Mercedes and Ferrari played chess, Red Bull didn’t sit idle. Horner, observing quietly, made his move.

Lap 18. Verstappen pitted.

Everyone assumed it was a standard stop. But in reality, Horner and his strategy team had been watching the traffic and the out-lap pace of Hamilton and Vettel. While everyone focused on Vettel undercutting Hamilton, Verstappen had been quietly setting purple sectors, executing an overcut plan.

Horner hadn’t forgotten that Vettel stole Verstappen’s P2 at the start.

Red Bull’s timing was perfect. A masterstroke performed in broad daylight. Vettel’s pit stop had been 2.7 seconds—not slow, but not fast. Red Bull delivered a blistering 1.9-second stop, creating a golden opportunity for Verstappen.

Car 5 and Car 33 met head-on at Turn 2, right at the pit exit! Before the fans could even process it, another heavyweight clash was happening right before their eyes!

Verstappen was on Softs; Vettel was on Ultrasofts. Logically, Vettel, whose tires were three laps warmer, should have the advantage.

However, the increasingly mature Verstappen demonstrated extreme defensive skills. He forced Vettel wide at Turn 2, keeping half a car length ahead. They entered Turn 3 side-by-side. Both braked at the absolute limit, dancing on the razor’s edge, skimming the wall.

Verstappen held the advantage. Using his better exit speed, he overpowered Vettel, cleared the corner first, and sped away!

The crowd gasped!

Vettel had failed to undercut Hamilton and was overcut by Verstappen! And this was despite Ferrari’s massive gamble on the Ultrasoft tires! Hamilton and Verstappen were both on Softs. With their pit stops occurring so close together, the tire wear at the end of the race would be vastly different. This brief skirmish seemingly signed Vettel’s death warrant for this race.

Ferrari’s bold gamble on Vettel had failed after just three laps.

Did this mean their insane gamble on their other driver would also end in bitter failure?

All eyes turned back to the track. People realized that while Mercedes was calm and Red Bull was brilliantly aggressive, Ferrari’s wild strategy was still alive in one car.

Amidst the wave of pit stops, Daniel Ricciardo remained on track, leading the 2018 Singapore Grand Prix.

And right behind him... was Kai Zhizhou!

I’ve seen this episode before! It’s Monaco!

Singapore erupted. Since Monaco, the careers of Kai and Ricciardo had taken completely different trajectories—one soaring, one plummeting. Their fates had crossed.

Tonight in Singapore, would they witness another turning point?

Perhaps this was Ricciardo’s chance to get his career back on track. All he had to do was seize the opportunity, avoid past mistakes, and—most importantly—beat Kai Zhizhou.