The office was quiet.
Kai and Monfardini had already left, leaving Marchionne and Todt alone.
Marchionne glanced at Todt's stone-faced expression, then paced anxiously back and forth before stopping at the window. His back to Todt, he let out a long breath, and his shoulders slumped.
"Go ahead and laugh, old man. Bottling up your emotions is bad for your health."
The words had barely landed—
"Haha! Hahahaha!"
Todt exploded in merciless, unrestrained laughter, the sound spilling through the open window and into the courtyard of the Maranello headquarters, where the sunlight suddenly seemed much brighter.
The deafening laughter continued to assault Marchionne's eardrums. He turned, completely exasperated. "Is it really that funny?"
Todt was wiping tears from the corners of his eyes. "Mamma mia, Sergio! You should have seen your own expression. This is, without a doubt, the happiest moment of my entire year."
"Who would have believed it? The great, all-powerful Sergio Marchionne, getting completely played by a seventeen-year-old kid. Brilliant."
Marchionne was speechless.
He held his breath, but finally let it all out. As the man in charge of a commercial empire, his magnanimity and wisdom were beyond compare. After the initial shock, he had already regained his composure.
He looked at Todt, showing no signs of anger or humiliation. "I can only guess that you didn't fare much better against him last night, right? We're in the same boat, so there's no need to attack each other."
Todt held up his hands, magnanimously playing along. "Welcome to the victims' club."
The two old friends exchanged a look, and after a brief pause, a new light shone in both their eyes.
Faced with their offer, Kai had remained calm and rational. He wasn't arrogant, nor was he blinded by the opportunity. That kind of willpower was genuinely impressive.
In F1, when you reached the highest level of competition, that was the very mental fortitude that was truly tested.
Todt rested his chin on his hand, the laughter finally subsiding. "Actually, this is a good outcome. Three months. It gives him some time, and it gives the academy some room to maneuver."
In the end, after considering Kai's need to return home for final exams and the traditional Lunar New Year, Marchionne had offered a short-term, three-month contract.
It was a first in the history of the Ferrari Driver Academy.
Any other driver in the world would have been ecstatic, practically bowing in worship at the very mention of a Ferrari contract, desperate to sign for two or three years, locking themselves in until they made it to F1. It was usually the academy that had to remain calm and keep the driver under observation.
Typically, contracts were signed year by year, with an annual review. If you didn't pass, you were out.
But now, the tables were completely turned. Ferrari was desperately offering a contract, only to be met with a partial rejection.
As Todt said, from the academy's perspective, this was a good thing. The three-month window gave them more time for further evaluation. It was a "heads I win, tails you lose" situation. Ferrari held all the cards.
Logically, Kai's choice was actually a win for Ferrari. So why did Marchionne still feel like he'd been defeated?
He paused, then looked at Todt. "Do you think he's serious? About leaving in three months to go home for… final exams?"
"Or is he…"
Playing hard to get? Just putting on an act?
A playful look crossed Todt's face. "You mean, he's intentionally toying with us?"
"If he is," Todt mused, "then I'm even more impressed. Tell me, what other driver in the entire world of motorsport would dare to openly play both of us?"
Marchionne stared, his mouth slightly open. "Jean, when did I not know that you enjoyed… being bullied?"
Todt was completely unfazed. He stroked his chin, looked Marchionne up and down, and returned the joke. "You seemed to be enjoying it quite a bit yourself today."
Inside the office, the two men at the top of the pyramid were trying to figure it all out, still reeling from the aftershocks.
Outside the office, Kai was starting to worry.
He was being completely serious about his final exams.
Kai's father, Lu Cheng, was a car mechanic. He had an unparalleled passion for machines and had once dreamed of becoming a racer himself. But in the end, due to financial pressure, family responsibilities, and hitting his own talent ceiling, he'd had to give it up.
After leaving racing, he started with a tiny repair stall. Fueled by his dedication to mechanics and years of hard work, he eventually came to own his own small garage.
When Kai was born, Lu Cheng never expected his son to carry on his dream. That wasn't his style. As someone who had seen his own dreams crash and burn, he knew better than anyone how brutal the world of racing was. It required not only talent but also a bottomless supply of money. He didn't want his son to repeat his mistakes and suffer the same pain.
But fate, it seemed, loved a good joke.
When Kai was five, he tried a kart for the first time by chance and showed an astonishing feel for the car, a natural understanding of its handling.
At first, Lu Cheng didn't think much of it, just treating it as a hobby—after all, he loved this stuff too. But when Kai, at seven years old, won a regional karting race against opponents two years older than him, the dormant passion in his father's heart quietly reawakened.
Unfortunately, reality remained cruel.
The cost of systematic training and competition was astronomical, far beyond what their ordinary family could afford. After watching the house he had worked for years to buy get mortgaged to the bank, Lu Cheng finally regained his senses. With a heavy heart, he decisively put a stop to Kai's training when he was ten.
He knew it was a gamble, like a moth flying into a flame for a tiny glimmer of hope. The ending was rarely a happy one.
But Kai's passion didn't die. He started using his free time to help out at the garage, where he was gradually exposed to car modification and street racing culture.
Later, he and a group of friends began secretly practicing their driving skills in an abandoned industrial park. From there, things escalated. He started using his weekends and nights to familiarize himself with high-performance vehicles, stumbling his way into the world of underground street racing, where his outstanding car control and judgment quickly made him a name.
Lu Cheng was not oblivious. He knew the condition of every high-performance car in his garage like the back of his hand.
He was deeply conflicted.
On one hand, he wanted his son to settle down, get into a good university, and live a stable life. Kai was a smart kid; a top university was well within his reach.
On the other hand, he understood all too well that tremor of excitement you feel when you sit in a race car, that desire, that fever. It doesn't just go away.
In the end, he chose to turn a blind eye.
"Your studies come first," Lu Cheng had warned him discreetly. "You know, as long as your grades don't drop, everything is fine. Otherwise, your mother will worry."
Though it was never said explicitly, Kai understood the deal. "Study hard and stay on top"—that was his guarantee to be allowed to continue street racing.
And now…
The situation was a bit of a problem.
Honestly, if Marchionne's offer hadn't been so ridiculously good, Kai would have already walked out of Maranello.
He glanced at his phone, calculating the time difference.
It wasn't even 5:00 PM back home. That meant his father was still at the garage, and his mom was probably still at her office.
This was his chance.
Taking a deep breath, Kai didn't hesitate any longer. He pressed the dial button.