F1: The Speed Legend

Buzz, buzz... The murmurs, whispers, and eager commotion spread impatiently through the paddock. While everyone—including Vettel—kept their eyes glued to the collision on track, trying to dig up more explosive inside information, Kai’s focus had already risen to a completely new level.

True, the incident happened. It was terrible, even terrifying—an absolute disaster. But this is racing. Accidents and crashes always happen. There’s no point in whining and complaining endlessly. What truly matters is how you face it, how you respond, and how you keep fighting.

Just like Senna at Suzuka in 1989.

Perhaps Senna was ultimately disqualified, handing over that race victory and the World Championship title. But thirty years later, what people truly remember is Prost hopping out of his car and walking away, while Senna refused to give up, demanding to return to the track. That will, that spirit, using flesh and blood to challenge physical limits.

Today was the same.

As F1 has become increasingly safe, and the training and promotion systems for formula racing have become more perfected, there has undoubtedly been massive progress in ensuring driver safety. But at the same time, drivers have gradually turned into greenhouse flowers, losing that raw, bloody edge. They no longer possess the speed and passion to chase the absolute limit, causing the entertainment value of F1 racing to drop sharply.

Safety often means conservatism. The charm of using flesh and blood to master machinery, challenging physical limits, and dancing in the space of a thousandth of a millisecond has almost entirely vanished.

Until today.

In Kai Zhizhou—this outsider with street racing roots who barged into the paddock halfway—they once again found that unpolished, authentic rawness and wildness, dancing wildly on the edge of the limit, staging a feast of speed.

It didn’t just awaken Ferrari’s soaring fighting spirit; it awakened the passionate blood of F1! Even laymen with no interest in F1 would probably love this.

This victory was far more than just a simple Grand Prix win. Besides the ecstasy of the Tifosi, the FIA should also recognize the potential and value displayed today.

Jean Todt stood quietly by the window of the VIP lounge, looking out at the yellow ocean before him. Not since Massa’s retirement had they witnessed such a grand spectacle at Interlagos for a long, long time. Just like the Red Sea at Monza.

Involuntarily, his heart pounded heavily against his chest.

Kai’s sudden emergence... it all originated from Todt. This was no secret in the paddock; truly well-informed insiders had heard of it. But they didn’t know that it all started as just an experiment.

Step by step.

Even Todt hadn’t expected Kai to actually reach this point.

But what was even more commendable was that Todt couldn’t predict Kai’s future either. What heights he could reach, how many miracles he could write—Todt couldn’t see it clearly. Just like Schumacher, just like Senna—

Before they wrote their inconceivable glories, no one saw their talent and potential. Whether it was Schumacher or Senna, they constantly fought against the paddock, the entire system, their rivals, and the capital. They weren’t so-called ”chosen ones,” nor were they greenhouse flowers, but they left brilliant footprints, step by step.

Kai was the same.

Germany’s Hockenheim, Brazil’s Interlagos. Now, Kai had quietly conquered the home tracks of two legendary drivers. So, what’s next?

Todt couldn’t help but look forward to it—

That guy Marchionne always loved a massive gamble. Who would have thought that with his final, desperate bet before leaving this world, he still won?

”Jean, what do you think?”

A voice came from beside him. Steady, gentlemanly, unhurried, carrying a scholarly air, yet revealing a hint of the smooth diplomacy typical of official rhetoric, leaving no room for fault-finding. Like a cocktail party, just missing a glass of whiskey.

Turning his head, Todt indeed saw a glass of whiskey in John Elkann’s hand. The corners of his mouth naturally curled up. ”About what?”

Elkann gestured to the scene outside. In the vast yellow ocean, that streak of red cutting through. The two bright colors clashed, creating incredible vitality. ”Everyone says they can see shadows of Ayrton and Michael in him.”

”Heh.” Todt chuckled lightly. ”When things go well, it’s all praise. But when things start going wrong, everything is wrong. Ultimately, we still need to focus on the essential things.”

Elkann: ”Oh? For example?”

Todt shrugged lightly. ”It was indeed a brilliant race. I mean, another one.”

Elkann was Elkann; he was not Marchionne.

Although Todt’s relationship with Ferrari remained, and he was still the FIA President, Elkann seemed prepared to continue the relationship from the Marchionne era. But Todt remained clear-headed. Elkann was a manager who parachuted into the family business. He didn’t have grounded paddock experience, nor was he a self-made doer. The world in his eyes was different from theirs, the commoners.

Therefore, Todt wouldn’t foolishly tell Elkann what to think or what to do. He maintained a close relationship, but simultaneously kept a slight distance.

Some things are best left with a gentle hint. Crossing the line slightly could backfire.

Marchionne had drawn up a blueprint, mapped out the layout, pointing a direction for Ferrari in the endless darkness and chaos. Everything was on track, the dawn was in sight. But unexpectedly, Marchionne passed away, introducing new variables. Ferrari once again stood at the crossroads of destiny, unsure of where they would head this time. Looking at the eager Elkann, ready to roll up his sleeves and do something big, Todt gave a gentle hint but didn’t cross the line, hoping Elkann could stay clear-headed.

Elkann seemed to notice Todt’s gaze and looked over with a face full of smiles.

Todt nodded slightly, the smile on his lips widening. ”The happiest people today are the Brazilian fans. Enjoying an unbelievable showdown at the summit. A race that might only happen once a year, staged right here at Interlagos.”

”Indeed, it is Brazil,” Elkann responded.

Both men looked forward, following the yellow ocean to its surging end, finding the podium. Bottas and Hamilton had already taken the stage—

Mercedes had once again played it safe and completed a crucial race. Just as Wolff’s consistent strategy dictated: while the win is vital, having both cars finish and score points is even more important. Furthermore, starting 2nd and 4th, ending with both drivers on the podium—this was indeed a victory!

However, at this moment, both Bottas and Hamilton looked somewhat downcast. Heads bowed, their expressions unclear, but the tense lines of their shoulders still revealed their frustration and disappointment.

Ferrari had self-destructed. Mercedes had the chance to lock up both World Championships at Interlagos, but the result...

It was truly hard to be happy.

Those two silver figures seemed to dim.

Just then, the yellow ocean grew restless. You could clearly feel the heatwave gradually climbing. They cheered and leaped for joy because they saw Kai appear. Their wildly beating hearts almost leaped out of their throats as they stared unblinkingly at Kai’s entrance. He shook hands with Bottas and Hamilton respectively, detoured from behind to step onto the highest step of the podium, and leaped into the air with clenched fists—BOOM!

In an instant, the heatwave reached its peak, fully detonating and spreading grandly. All of Interlagos fell into fanaticism. The sky completely cleared up, the crystal-clear azure dome showing no trace of the earlier storm.

The rain had passed, the sky was clear, and sunlight filled the entire world.

Ah!

Kai held the trophy high, his smile blooming in the sunlight.

Ah!

Kai raised the trophy again. The hearts of all Interlagos flew high following his movement, cheers bursting from their throats.

AHHHHH!

Finally, on the third time, it evolved into a vast ocean. Interlagos was showing people the enthusiasm and passion of the Samba Kingdom. Not just football; they hadn’t forgotten racing. They were still bitterly searching for a second glory after Senna. They still pursued speed with all their hearts.

This scene hadn’t been witnessed for a long, long time.

Even during the years before Massa retired, it wasn’t like this. Because F1 seems to have a ”home curse.” Home drivers always endure countless hardships at their home tracks. Just like Perez in Mexico, Massa in Brazil, Leclerc in Monaco, and so on. Home fans experience heartbreak time and time again, facing test after test. Arriving full of excitement, leaving in disappointment. Watching a home race is practically a trial by fire.

Until today—

The yellow ocean reappeared in the paddock.

After the national anthems finished, Hamilton and Bottas both opened their champagne, aiming straight at Kai and spraying wildly. The pincer attack they failed to complete on the track wasn’t too late to execute now. In no time, Kai was soaked like a drowned rat. The champagne even flowed down his neck into his racing suit, making him dripping wet and sticky.

Kai didn’t mind. He raised his champagne bottle high, clinked it against Hamilton’s and Bottas’s bottles, and lifted it to his mouth to start pouring—

”Kai!” Pierre couldn’t hold back and shouted from the crowd below.

Different countries have different legal drinking ages—some 17, some 21. In Brazil, the standard is 18, so Kai met the requirement. The problem was, Kai almost never drank alcohol normally. Pierre was worried the little guy would get drunk after one sip, walking onto the podium but having to be carried down.

Clear shook his head, unconcerned. ”It’s his birthday, let him celebrate.”

However, Lorenzo still rushed over with a worried look. Honestly, he wasn’t sure about Kai’s alcohol tolerance either.

This scene fell into the eyes of the straightforward, passionate Brazilian fans, causing collective laughter. They hadn’t expected that the Kai who was so decisive and audacious on the track had this side to him in private. It instantly closed the distance, making him seem approachable.

Laughter and joy spread by word of mouth. The happiness of the Brazilian fans continued to gush forth. Then, a small cluster of voices began to emerge.

It was Portuguese. But it didn’t matter if you didn’t understand Portuguese, because the melody was incredibly familiar, universal worldwide, known by everyone.

”Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday dear... Kai/Number 22/Ferrari Driver/Champion/Puppy/Baby Driver, Happy Birthday to you!”

The scene was a little bit funny.

Because the Brazilian fans on site were confused; they didn’t even know how to pronounce Kai’s name. Hurriedly forcing a duck onto a perch, they scrambled to find replacement keywords, messing up the rhythm and melody completely, causing everyone to burst into laughter.

However, this song still swarmed from all directions.

Bit by bit, gathering into a multitude, trickles merging into an ocean. The grand gathering of a hundred thousand people evolved into a vast sea. From disorganized, scattered, chaotic voices, it gradually evolved into a unified, full-throated song, finally condensing into an astonishing energy.

Emptying the streets, a massive collective chorus.

Standing on the podium, Kai quietly watched the surging, boiling yellow ocean before him. This was the most special birthday of his life.

Because of the race, because of the bayonet-drawn World Championship fight, and also because of this raw, chaotic, yet sincere and passionate singing ocean before him.

Listen, under the crystal-clear, cloudless sky of Interlagos, the deafening song echoed—

”...Happy Birthday, dear Champion!”

You didn’t even have to wait until the next day. By the evening locally in São Paulo, the front pages of social media were already dominated by Kai, forcefully taking over all feeds.

”Brazilian Grand Prix Winner: Kai Zhizhou! Leading Ferrari’s Charge for the World Championship!”

”An Infighting! A Chaos! An Epic! Rookie Miraculously Returns to the Top to Win!”

”Classic Interlagos: Frequent Rain Disrupts Rhythm. Amidst Crisis and Chaos, Kai Carves a Bloody Path with Calmness and Boldness, Pushing the Championship Suspense to Abu Dhabi!”

”While Everyone Discusses Monaco and Singapore, Interlagos Quietly Joins the Ranks of the Season’s Best Races, Emerging from Nowhere.”

”After Ups and Downs and Twists and Turns, the Number 22 Baby Driver Creates a Miracle! Once Again!”

”Interlagos Lives Up to Its Name—Delivering Another Classic Since the 2007 Season, and This Time, Kai Defeats Hamilton.”

”Mercedes Still Didn’t Make Mistakes, But This Time Their Caution and Steadiness Became the Weakness Ferrari Used to Overturn the Situation. Constructors’ and Drivers’ Championships Still Undecided!”

”Showdown at the Summit: The Ultimate Season Finale is About to Unfold in Abu Dhabi!”

Shock, impact, praise, and emotion erupted across the board.

No one was an exception. Whether they were hyped because of the Brazilian Grand Prix’s twists and turns, or because the ultimate season suspense was pushed to the final race, or because of the hidden daggers within the paddock. This race had too many highlights; one hand simply wasn’t enough to count them all.

And during the podium ceremony, the scene of the entire Brazilian crowd singing Happy Birthday not only recreated the grand spectacle of Interlagos’s collective revelry but also served as a practical reminder to millions of racing fans: nineteen-year-old Kai Zhizhou is breaking all records with destructive force.

Interlagos marked Kai’s eighth Grand Prix victory of the season, completely leaving Hamilton’s six behind, leading alone. With only one race left in the season, Kai had undoubtedly become the driver with the most Grand Prix wins in the 2018 season, leaving everyone in the dust.

In 2007, Hamilton burst onto the scene, finishing as runner-up in the Drivers’ Championship by just one point. But that year, he only secured four Grand Prix victories.

Now, Kai had smashed a series of age and rookie records in one breath: most Grand Prix wins in a rookie season, most points in a rookie season, and so on. Not only did he make Hamilton’s rookie season seem less unique, but his age of nineteen also eclipsed the countless glories previously created by Verstappen, writing a rookie season that was unprecedented and likely never to be replicated.

Yet, despite creating such miracles and writing such a legend, Kai still trailed Hamilton by 3 points in the Drivers’ Championship standings.

Facts proved that consistency and explosive power are equally important on the road to fighting for the World Championship. The consecutive DNF’s in Baku and Barcelona were indeed fatal wounds.

However, the season still wasn’t over, and the ending still held all possibilities. The historical miracle that Hamilton had painfully missed back then was now in Kai’s hands, just one kick away from making history. And the goalkeeper standing firmly in front of Kai was none other than Hamilton. Fate played a joke, gathering the gaze of the entire paddock.

The keys to history could be said to be in Kai’s hands, but they could equally be said to be in Hamilton’s hands.

Such a story, such a duel, such suspense—who could refuse it?

No wonder the media and the internet completely boiled over. Rolling heatwaves erupted continuously like a volcano, completely unstoppable.

However, amidst this wave of revelry, another voice could no longer be suppressed, erupting with an energy that rivaled any other topic, spreading completely across the internet, running parallel to the championship suspense, becoming the biggest talking point of the paddock’s late season.

Noise, clamor, fanaticism, passion—burning fiercely.

True, they needed to cheer for Kai’s miraculous performance; they needed to shout and support the ultimate duel between Ferrari and Mercedes. But the Tifosi hadn’t forgotten: they shouldn’t have had to face such a test. Kai shouldn’t have had to carry the hopes of the entire team and fight a lone battle.

The more they marveled at Kai’s unyielding, miraculous performance, the more furious they became at the culprit who plunged Ferrari into such a predicament: Sebastian Vettel.

Once upon a time, Vettel too was a high-spirited, energetic youth chasing the wind, confidently prepared to lead Ferrari back to the top of the world.

But time flows like water, and years are ruthless. In the blink of an eye, that youth was becoming a burden dragging the team down, selfishly and arrogantly destroying Ferrari’s season hopes.

Did Vettel still remember those vows he made when he first joined Ferrari?

Whether it was his self-destruction from the lead at Hockenheim, or the pointless, unnecessary collision at Monza. On the track, Vettel’s unforced errors were multiplying. Moreover, most of them had nothing to do with anyone else; it was mostly cracks in Vettel’s own mindset and form that ruined the races.

Yet, he stubbornly refused to admit it.

Regarding this, the Tifosi had been enduring, had been controlling themselves, unable to bear criticizing the team’s Number 1 driver. They still naively believed Vettel remained a part of Ferrari, willingly putting the team’s interests first. They stubbornly believed Vettel was still one of the most reliable top drivers in the paddock, carrying champion blood.

Condemnation, of course, there was condemnation. But they couldn’t bear to be harsh. After all, over these years, Vettel had indeed left many beautiful memories at Ferrari.

However, yielding again and again, enduring again and again, until there was no need to endure anymore.

Actually, the signs were there long ago—the French Grand Prix.

Arrivabene, for the second time that season, asked Vettel and Kai to swap positions, but Vettel still refused. The result sparked a backlash from Vettel’s fanatic fans, who turned around and aimed their guns at Kai, twisting black and white to accuse Kai of doing whatever it takes to win, igniting a wave of hate.

Step by step, continuously escalating, finally fully erupting at Interlagos.

Kai had done his best, playing the role of a team player in his position. Every move he made was coordinating with the team, working together to fight for the Constructors’ World Championship.

Starting from pole, providing a slipstream for Vettel. He didn’t have to do that; he could have sped away alone to fight for the Drivers’ World Championship, but he did it anyway.

After the chaos at the start, when Vettel overtook him for the lead, he proactively blocked Hamilton. He similarly didn’t have to do that, but he put the team’s interests ahead of his personal victory or defeat.

Undoubtedly, Kai’s thinking was clear. If he wanted to fight for the Drivers’ World Championship, then coordinating with teamwork was the correct choice. But what about Vettel?

After grabbing Kai’s slipstream and relying on Kai’s blocking to gain the lead, he actually refused to return the position. If it ended there, it might still be debatable. Some would support Vettel, others Kai. But then, after Kai completed the overtake, Vettel actually relentlessly launched a counter-attack?

This had already crossed the bottom line.

Vettel not only tried to stop Kai from challenging for the Drivers’ World Championship, but also tried to destroy Ferrari’s chances of winning the Constructors’ Championship.

This was more than just selfishness; it could entirely be called malicious!

In fact, Vettel really almost screwed everything up. Ferrari’s season could have been declared prematurely over at Interlagos. But Kai refused to give up. Gritting his teeth, carrying the entire hope of the team and the Tifosi, he forcefully carved a bloody path, firmly grasping a glimmer of survival from the gloom.

Amidst the emotion and inspiration, no one could forgive Vettel.

Especially those most hardcore, die-hard Tifosi. They had even defended Vettel before, refusing internal division, maintaining the team’s peace.

And the result? They suffered a betrayal. That kind of anger and sorrow was hard to describe in words, ultimately evolving into a kind of despair, falling heavily into the abyss.

While the entire social media network was collectively boiling over the suspense of the F1 season World Championship, the Tifosi were enraged. Beyond angry. Precisely because they understood the deadlock and difficulty of the World Championship fight, they were even more unable to forgive Vettel’s actions, aiming their sharp blades at the team’s Number 1 driver.

Furious, grinding their teeth. No words could accurately describe the Tifosi’s mood right now. Overwhelming anger poured down all at once.

La Gazzetta dello Sport bore the brunt—

When Vettel chose to launch an immediate counter-attack at Turn 4 at Interlagos, he wasn’t thinking about the Constructors’ Championship, or even the Drivers’ Championship. It was purely the instinct of refusing to admit defeat or bow his head while standing on the track, refusing to face the reality of being completely defeated by a rookie this season.

This is common sense, and human nature. But at the same time, it is losing the rationality of a driver, reducing oneself to a beast acting purely on instinct.

Vettel is losing the ability, confidence, and rationality of a four-time World Champion. He is hurting Kai, hurting himself, and even more so, hurting Ferrari.

If Vettel refuses to look this straight in the eye and break through his inner demons, then destroying the chance at the Constructors’ World Championship might actually be the most insignificant punishment. Because the truly terrible thing is that he might personally destroy his own career, destroying his own rationality and sharpness as a driver.

Entering the 2018 season, the biggest highlight of the paddock was ”Hamilton vs. Vettel”—two four-time World Champions fighting for their fifth F1 crown.

Judging from the current situation, Mercedes and Ferrari are indeed locked in an inseparable battle. Although Ferrari experienced some bumps and low points this season, they indeed kept up with the situation and kept the suspense alive. In other words, Ferrari fully possessed the ability to challenge Mercedes.

However, the one currently running neck-and-neck with Hamilton is not Vettel. Therefore, what Vettel needs to reflect on is his gap with Hamilton, and simultaneously, his gap with his own teammate. If Vettel continues to refuse to face the problem, this season might truly become a watershed.

Not just for a single season’s championship.

Perhaps, this will become the turning point of Vettel’s decline.

Reading between the lines, one could clearly see that La Gazzetta dello Sport criticized him out of deep love and expectation. They still harbored hope for Vettel. After all, a four-time World Champion is a top-tier existence in the half-century history of F1. Ferrari and Italy still retained the tradition of believing in champions—

If Vettel could join forces with Kai, never mind this season, but for the next few seasons, Ferrari returning to its peak era was definitely not a pipe dream.

La Gazzetta dello Sport showed their sincerity. The condemnation was indeed condemnation, and it was very severe, even considering it a crisis threatening Vettel’s career. But behind that severity lay their earnest sincerity. However, the picture on social media was completely different.

The Tifosi had lost their patience. Yielding again and again, with nowhere left to yield. They had had enough of all this and didn’t want to continue accommodating Vettel’s selfishness and capriciousness.

Originally, the Number 1 driver should be the leader, shouldering heavy responsibilities, leading the team to fight to the end. But now, their Number 1 driver was personally destroying Ferrari’s hopes, and even Ferrari’s future.

No, absolutely unacceptable.

”Vettel out!”

Finally, someone couldn’t help but loudly shout what was in their heart.

La Stampa: ”Ferrari’s Brazilian Disaster!”

”The confrontation between Vettel and Kai reached its peak at Interlagos. This wasn’t racing; it was mutual destruction! As the team leader, Vettel should have protected the team’s interests, but instead chose a reckless overtaking maneuver, relentlessly pursuing personal victory, almost causing Ferrari to be completely knocked out. Instead, it was the young Kai who stepped forward, shouldering the Prancing Horse flag to turn the tide!”

As Italy’s oldest and most authoritative serious media outlet, La Stampa is a general newspaper, unlike La Gazzetta dello Sport which focuses on sports. Yet, they still gave their front page to Interlagos, deeply conveying the entire Apennine Peninsula’s focus on the F1 season—

Waiting, suffering, feeling lost. The Tifosi had waited in the endless dark night for far, far too long. They finally managed to grab a ray of dawn, and a red frenzy was sweeping across comprehensively, only to be struck a heavy blow without warning. Just like La Stampa’s sharp words, the Tifosi were collectively angry. They refused to accept Vettel’s actions.

Their influence, to some extent, was even stronger than La Gazzetta dello Sport.

From specialized sports papers to general newspapers, one could clearly feel the storm in Italy, from top to bottom, pouring down massively toward Vettel. The former Golden Boy was now becoming a street rat everyone wanted to beat. The farce at Interlagos made them unable to endure it any longer.

Furthermore, it wasn’t just locally in Italy. International media, including mainland China, unanimously aimed their guns at Vettel without exception.

”Vettel’s action was like childish revenge. After Kai overtook, not only did he refuse to make way to protect his teammate, but he forcefully squeezed the overtake. This collision could have caused Ferrari’s season to collapse completely. Even though Kai turned the tide to save Ferrari, Vettel must still be held responsible for his dangerous arrogance.”

”This isn’t the first time! But we should pray it’s the last! This is a continuation of Vettel’s multiple mistakes this season. The team needs to isolate him to protect Kai!”

”After making a series of mistakes disregarding the team’s interests, Vettel used profanity on the radio, shifting blame and accusing his teammate. This exposes his frustration and lack of professionalism. As a four-time World Champion, he should be more rational and mature on the track, and more clear-headed at the team level. But this time, he was completely defeated by a rookie inside and out.”

”Ferrari launches an investigation into the collision between Vettel and Kai! Vettel grabbed the lead after the start and refused to return the position. After Kai overtook, he tried to retake the position, leading to the collision. This is a multifaceted betrayal of loyalty to the team. The team has summoned both to return to Maranello. This ’civil war’ makes Ferrari’s driver relationship worse, and Vettel’s position is in jeopardy!”

”Arrivabene: ’The collision is absolutely unacceptable.’ Vettel needs to pay for his impulsiveness. This was not a racing incident, but a loss of emotional control.”

Extensive, massive, a force capable of blotting out the sky and covering the sun.

From official F1 media to mainstream authoritative media, to specialized sports media, a comprehensive siege. The guns were unanimously aimed at Vettel.

More than one Italian media outlet expressed similar sentiments in different forms: Vettel is the troublemaker. Kai is carrying the team forward entirely on his own strength. But if Ferrari wants to reach the summit and return to glory, they can’t continue like this. They can’t carelessly push all responsibilities and problems onto a rookie driver to solve on the track. Kai needs the team’s support and help.

This season, Vettel has made mistakes more than once or twice, and they had nothing to do with opponents. In the face of pressure, he is exposing his shortcomings in all aspects. Vettel has long since become a burden dragging Ferrari down. The Brazil incident was just the straw that broke the camel’s back. The signs were there all along.

Now, it’s time for Ferrari to cut its losses. Standing at the crossroads of destiny once again, the answer couldn’t be more obvious. Ferrari shouldn’t continue to make mistakes.

Strong tone, sharp words. The whole world seemed to stand against Vettel. He was becoming public enemy number one.

Obviously, Vettel hadn’t expected this day.

At Red Bull, he was the Golden Boy, winning the World Championship in his second season in F1. Winning the title at 23 years old still makes him the youngest F1 World Champion in history. Marko and Horner both liked him; the entire team, inside and out, stood behind him.

Transferring from Red Bull to Ferrari, he carried the title of four-time World Champion, becoming the Number 1 driver and team leader of the most famous brand in the paddock. Millions of Tifosi pinned their dreams and hopes of reviving Ferrari on him, welcoming him with the grandest, most enthusiastic reception.

In Germany, he was hailed as Schumacher’s successor. Media, fans, industry professionals, and sponsors were full of smiles and sincerity from the very beginning. To this day, he remains the flagship figure of German motorsport, holding crucial significance for the younger generation.

Along the way, smooth sailing, young and successful. It wasn’t that there were no setbacks or difficulties, but he always managed to get the support of the media and fans.

Until now.

For the first time in his career, Vettel felt the predicament of being pointed at by a thousand fingers, isolated and helpless.

Honestly, this feeling... wasn’t good. Hard to describe accurately. Just a mouth full of bitterness. It wasn’t even anger, or frustration, or anything else. Just a hole in his chest, continuously falling in endless darkness. His whole body lit on fire, yet forgetting to cry out, or perhaps unable to make a sound.

A patch of—nothingness.

”Seb...” Britta Roeske returned holding a cup of hot milk and called out to him.

Vettel snapped back to reality, sat up straight, preparing to take the cup of water, only to find it was actually hot milk. He looked speechless and sank back into the sofa cushions. ”Britta, just to remind you, although I have a baby face, I am not seven years old.”

Roeske glanced at Vettel, stubbornly holding the milk and standing beside him. ”Still in the mood to joke. It seems you’re still a distance away from rock bottom.”

Vettel didn’t have an agent or an agency team. He always preferred to trust a personal network built on trust rather than a professional agency team—

Roeske was his PR manager. They started working together in 2010. Slowly building trust, she eventually became a very important member of Vettel’s personal team. She not only handled PR work but also accompanied Vettel to all Grands Prix, coordinating his interviews and promotions.

Vettel hesitated, but ultimately took the milk and obediently drank it all.

Roeske sat down on the sofa opposite him but didn’t speak. She just sat there quietly, remaining patient.

Sure enough, Vettel didn’t stay silent for long. He took a deep breath. ”That’s not the worst part. The media, you know, they’re always fanning the flames, adding embellishments. In their writing, trivial matters can become raging storms. It’s their job to stir things up. But those fans...”

Roeske shook her head slightly. ”Seb, you know the media likes to make a mountain out of a molehill, so you should also know the voices on social media are even less trustworthy. Setting aside how many bots and zombies are among those netizens, even if they are real people, they are just a bunch of fickle grass bending with the wind. They’re just turning the frustrations of their real lives into anger, seizing upon any small thing or person to vent.”

Vettel didn’t speak immediately. He leaned back against the chair, his head turning to look at her. ”...Really?”

Clearly, this time was different. Different from any time before.

Unprecedentedly, Vettel was plunged into an isolated and helpless situation. He felt lonely and vulnerable, like a drowning man abandoned in the middle of an endless ocean. Looking around, there was not a single shred of hope.