Things spiraled out of control.
Inside and out, top to bottom, Hamilton fans entered a fanatical mode of adulation. After enduring the disastrous and despair-inducing weekend at Hockenheim, it seemed they had finally grasped a lifeline. They could completely rewrite the humiliation of Hockenheim, wiping the memory clean. They no longer had to worry about this dark mark tarnishing Hamilton's perfect image; instead, it evolved into another chapter of his heroic saga.
Consequently, they fanatically pushed the narrative to the opposite extreme.
In their eyes, Hamilton was the true champion of Hockenheim. The Mercedes pit crew needed to take the blame, and Verstappen was a thief—
Following Kai "stealing" Hamilton's 2018 Drivers' World Championship, the paddock now had a second thief.
To them, Hamilton was the sole victor at Hockenheim; everyone else was merely a foil, paling in comparison under his halo. Hamilton was a superhero, unparalleled in heaven or on earth. He single-handedly saved Mercedes, saved Hockenheim, saved F1. He sacrificed himself, burning his life force to illuminate the race, but the ignorant masses didn't know how to be grateful.
Blah, blah, blah.
It was overwhelming and endless. Under the trending hashtags on social media, various heroic narratives forcefully dominated the feeds, seemingly without end.
Hockenheim had only just concluded. Netizens who had watched the entire live broadcast still remembered it clearly. Yet these irrational, fanatic fans attempted to rewrite internet memory in plain sight. Their reckless, self-serving behavior exuded a kind of madness that was truly laughable.
However, despite slightly derailing and causing some concern about overcompensation, the situation for Mercedes was indeed overturned.
A hint of satisfaction appeared in Wolff's eyes. The layers of pressure weighing on Mercedes' shoulders eased slightly, opening up the situation once again.
But Wolff didn't let it go to his head. He knew the eyes glaring covetously at Mercedes hadn't dropped their guard. Guiding public opinion could only solve surface issues. The deep-rooted, fundamental problems still had to be resolved on the track. It wasn't that simple—
Championships. Podiums. Victories. That was the correct way to completely turn the tide.
Public opinion was just the first step.
The second step was the Hungarian Grand Prix.
Similar to last year, Hungary, right before the summer break, was a crucial race. This year's situation was even more severe. After suffering three consecutive defeats, Mercedes had no room for retreat. They were standing on the edge of a cliff; one step back meant being smashed to pieces. The advantage they had painstakingly built in the first half of the season could vanish, leading to total collapse and utter defeat.
If Mercedes didn't want to enter the summer break in chaos, Hungary was their final stand.
After the disaster at Hockenheim, Hungary became Mercedes' place of redemption.
The immediate priority was for Mercedes to focus on themselves. As long as they could regain their focus, other problems would cease to be problems.
But... while Mercedes had to focus on upgrading the W10 and regaining their competitiveness, and the base needed to block out the noise and concentrate internally, it didn't mean they had to ignore everything happening outside. Creating trouble for their competitors and disrupting their development rhythm was also part of the strategy.
So, after the second step, there was a third step.
The smile in Wolff's eyes gradually settled, his focus returning. Those competitors and detractors surely couldn't be naive enough to think Mercedes would be knocked down so easily, right?
Especially after experiencing last season's situation, which was deeply engraved in his memory. Wolff wouldn't repeat those mistakes.
He wouldn't underestimate his enemies. He was mentally prepared. If plan A was disrupted, he'd activate plan B; if plan B was disrupted, he'd improvise and formulate a completely new plan. If they thought Mercedes would surrender without a fight and hand over the throne, that wasn't naive—it was foolish.
Knock! Knock, knock!
Hearing the knock on the door, Wolff straightened his back slightly, cracked his neck left and right, and relaxed his body. There was no trace of tension left.
"Come in!"
The office door pushed open, revealing a thin but energetic middle-aged man. A terrible receding hairline exposed a shiny bald pate. His temples were graying. He looked gentle and refined, like a librarian, and didn't seem to carry much of a presence. But anyone working in the Mercedes F1 team would recognize this face—
John Owen, the current Chief Designer for Mercedes, and a key figure in helping establish the Mercedes dynasty since 2014.
"Toto?" Owen stood at the door, not entering immediately. He called out politely, with a hint of inquiry.
Wolff smiled. "John, remember that matter we discussed last time? How is it going? How's the data collection progressing?"
Owen didn't linger at the door. He walked in and gently closed it behind him. "Do you think now is the right time?"
"Yes. Right now." Wolff let out a soft breath. His eyes were bright, radiating the confidence and composure of someone in control of the situation. "So, I need to know the progress of the data preparation."
On one side, social media was buzzing and noisy. The topics surrounding Hockenheim couldn't stop, and Hamilton fans were rewriting history.
On the other side, Mercedes, the force behind the current turbulent waves, remained calm and low-key. Like Ferrari in the first half of the season, they kept their doors shut, seemingly reflecting on their mistakes. But the motorsport journalists based in London could smell something in the air; a storm seemed to be brewing.
The entire motorsport world was drawn into a hurricane vortex. No one was an exception. Now it was a question of who could be the first to regain their footing, plant themselves firmly on the ground, and seize the initiative in the upcoming cutthroat battles.
Clearly, this was not an easy task. The entire paddock was turning upside down.
Anthoine Hubert was a prime example.
Usually quiet and refined, Hubert was currently pacing back and forth on the spacious balcony like a flea on a hot griddle. Frustration and anxiety leaked out uncontrollably, surging in the golden sunlight.
Standing nearby with his hands on his hips, Guanyu Zhou watched Hubert walk in circles. He finally lost the battle to hold it in, falling backward onto the sofa and sinking deep into the cushions with a look of utter defeat.
When Leclerc arrived carrying bottles of mineral water, he looked at the scene in confusion, not knowing what to do. He stood dumbly in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows and shot Kai a bewildered look:
Hubert and Zhou had just barged into their apartment in a rush, heading for the balcony like a tornado. Leclerc had no idea what had happened.
Kai chuckled softly, a smile appearing in his eyes.
"Anthoine, calm down. You should maintain your perfect image as a quiet, handsome guy. Look, you've scared Guanyu so much his legs gave out."
Zhou shot straight up, giving Kai a speechless look.
Kai chuckled to himself.
Hubert finally stopped pacing. "Kai! Are you just going to let them keep spouting nonsense? They're confusing right and wrong! Shamelessly smearing you!"
Leclerc was still lost. "What? Who? Who dares mess with Kai?"
Hubert clenched his fists and sighed at the ceiling.
Zhou looked frustrated. "Who else? The fans of our great, perfect Lewis Hamilton. They're randomly throwing dirty water at Kai. Social media is a mess."
A wave of anger surged in Hubert. "We still haven't settled the score with them over Monaco and Britain. Now they're inverting black and white over Germany, shamelessly claiming Lewis is the true champion, the superhero of Hockenheim. I've seen shameless people, but I've never seen anyone this brazen!"
Leclerc opened his mouth slightly, his eyes revealing unbelievable shock.
After Hockenheim, Kai told him that netizens definitely wouldn't pass up any opportunity to attack him, but it was just trash talk from fanatic Mercedes and Red Bull supporters. They had no reason to let meaningless bot armies shake them. It wasn't even worth paying attention to.
So Leclerc had simply turned off his phone, completely insulating himself from social media.
He was completely ignorant of what was happening right now.
Clearly, this young genius, who had only been in F1 for two years, hadn't yet witnessed the power of 'stan culture.' He couldn't understand or imagine how netizens could turn white into black, especially Hamilton's fans?
"No way... Do they think everyone else is an idiot?" Leclerc looked hesitant.
This sentence only made Hubert angrier. "Yes, exactly! No bottom line, no morals. Lying through their teeth. One by one, they're smearing Kai, and Max too, forcefully claiming we stole Lewis's victory. And that Lewis is the superhero who saved Hockenheim!"
"Is this reasonable?"
"Is this acceptable?"
Recalling the obscene, filthy language on social media, Hubert couldn't even find the words to describe it. He couldn't say them out loud.
A breath caught in his throat, and then Hubert started pacing in circles again.
He finally lost control, clenched his fists, and roared at the ceiling, "Ahhhhhhh!"
Lying on the sofa, Kai maintained his calm demeanor. He was probably the only person in the room who could remain composed. Watching Leclerc's confused and shocked face, having never seen Hubert like this, and completely unsure of how to react, Kai couldn't hold it in any longer. The laughter burst out.
Zhou looked speechless. "Kai, only you could still laugh at a time like this."
"Ha!" Kai laughed even harder. "What else should I do? Cry?"
Zhou tilted his head, thought about it seriously, and couldn't help but let a small smile touch his lips.
Seeing this, Hubert was furious. "Guanyu!"
Kai hurriedly waved his hands. "Anthoine, there's no point in getting angry at a bunch of zombies. Picture this: their skin and flesh are rotting and sagging, fat and meat chunks dropping all over the floor. Their eyes are dull, without souls. They're just standing there constantly moaning, 'Fresh meat, fresh meat.' And here you are, stomping your feet in anger. It's completely meaningless."
As he vividly described the scene, he used gestures to act out the flesh falling off.
Pfft.
Hubert couldn't hold it back and laughed out loud, but quickly controlled himself. He stared at Kai with a look of exasperation, both angry and amused.
Kai said, "Laugh if you want to laugh. Holding it in is bad for you."
This time, the tension was finally broken, and they all burst into laughter.
Kai looked at Leclerc. "Which is why we should stay off social media."
Leclerc replied, "Because it's full of zombies?"
Hubert finally sat down. Although his nerves relaxed, his expression remained stern. "Kai, aren't you angry?"
"I know what you mean. They are zombies, but there are living people controlling them behind the scenes. They are sacrificing you and Max to elevate Lewis."
The corners of Kai's mouth curled up. "I think this is a good thing."
Zhou paused, the words blurting out. "A good thing?"
Kai nodded. "We can't cover everyone's mouth. If they want to call a deer a horse, there's no need for us to burst their fantasy bubble. If they insist on deceiving themselves, we might as well ride the wave."
Hubert was preparing to argue, but hearing this, he paused.
"Look, we can't cover their mouths, and they can't change everyone's mind either. They are trapped in their own fantasy, talking to themselves, believing Hamilton is the victim and that the whole world is against them."
"But in reality, they are pushing away all the rational people, isolating themselves. They think everyone else is stupid, but the public sees clearly. Truly rational people will stay away and keep their distance, otherwise, they'll be treated like crazy people too."
One fanatic fan is worse than ten haters.
It was that simple.
The air went quiet. Hubert and the others stared blankly at Kai, unable to process this for a moment.
Kai remained completely calm. "I don't know exactly what's going on behind the scenes, but if this is Toto's strategy, I can only say he made a terrible move."
"In the short term, it does shift the focus and relieve the pressure on Mercedes. But in the long term, these fanatic fans are pushing away neutral fans and casual viewers. Anyone who doesn't agree with them can become a target for attack. The result of their indiscriminate, full-scale attacks is isolating themselves on an island."
"Last season, they said I stole Hamilton's World Championship. Now, they're saying Max stole Hamilton's Hockenheim victory."
"Hamilton is the victim, the whole world has wronged him and failed to give the champion enough respect. But what they don't realize is, if you play the victim for too long, you might never be able to tear off the label and become a real victim."
Water can carry a boat, but it can also capsize it.
Public opinion is exactly like that.
Leclerc thought about it seriously, finally realizing the implication, and drew a sharp breath. "So you calling Nick earlier? That was about this?"
Kai nodded in confirmation. "If they feel wronged and sad, then we'll help fuel the flames and let them stay wronged."
Going too far is as bad as not going far enough. When this wave of public opinion crosses a certain boundary, it's bound to backfire. So what Kai needed to do now wasn't to clarify or fight back, but to follow the wishes of those fanatic fans and add more fuel to the fire.
Mercedes thought they controlled the situation, but playing with fire can burn you in minutes.
Zhou opened his mouth slightly, staring dumbfounded at his friend. Before he realized it, an exclamation escaped him.
"Wow..."
"I almost feel sorry for Lewis now. They have no idea who they've offended. Offend Max, and the worst you get is an impulsive punch. But offend you, wow..."
"Demon."
Just as he said that, Zhou quickly put on a fawning smile and started massaging Kai's shoulders. "Sir, how is this pressure? Is it acceptable?"
Kai nodded seriously. "A little harder."
Watching this, Leclerc couldn't hold back anymore. He laughed so hard he bent over, the mineral water in his hands dropping all over the floor. Hubert quickly stood up to help clean it up.
Zhou also stood up to help.
Kai noticed Hubert's distracted expression; the smile never reached his cheeks. He joked, "Anthoine, relax, I don't eat people. At least, I've quit for now."
Hubert gave a weak smile and shook his head. "No, you don't need to worry about me. I understand what you mean. I just—"
He looked up at Kai, hesitated slightly, and finally gathered his courage.
"I'm just sighing that to survive in the paddock, just knowing how to drive is far from enough."
Kai noticed it. Hubert's words revealed a hint of melancholy. It wasn't just him; Zhou, who had been joking around moments ago, was the same. He fell into deep thought, his focus drifting.
Kai was slightly surprised. It seemed there was another reason behind Hubert's emotional outburst today. But Kai didn't guess to himself; he asked directly, "Anthoine, what's wrong? Did something happen in the paddock?"
Hubert looked up at Kai, visibly struggling.
Kai looked back calmly. "Whatever it is, just say it. I'm here, Charles is here. F1 and F2 are on the same channel. Don't think we've ascended to another dimension and can't hear anything."
A small joke made Hubert smile slightly again.
He paused, hesitated, and finally let out a soft breath. Showing a bit of shyness and frustration, he spread his hands and sank deep into the sofa, bathing in Monaco's golden sunlight. He couldn't help but sigh, muttering in French.
"It's hard. It's really too hard."
Kai's French was still at a kindergarten level, limited to daily conversation, but he understood Hubert's complaint and made a little joke.
"It's because it's hard that it's interesting."
Nearby, Zhou sneaked in a complaint in Chinese. "Pervert."
Kai looked over. Zhou hurriedly looked up at the ceiling, pretending nothing had happened.
But Hubert sat up straight and burst into laughter.
Kai was very surprised. He looked at Leclerc's confused expression, then at Hubert. Clearly, Hubert had understood the Chinese.
"Guanyu Zhou! What kind of Mandarin are you teaching Anthoine?"
Zhou looked innocent. "Isn't this how we learn English and Italian? Start with the swear words. I haven't even taught Anthoine the national treasures yet."
Kai imagined Hubert delivering classic Chinese curses with a French accent and burst out laughing. "Anthoine, from now on, you can curse the reporters like that."
Hubert rubbed his head. "What if there are Chinese reporters?"
Kai said, "Just tell them Guanyu Zhou taught you."
Zhou said, "Just tell them Kai taught you."
They spoke in unison, their voices overlapping. The next second, they started bickering. The atmosphere was lively, filled with laughter and joking. The previously heavy and anxious atmosphere vanished, and the air lightened.
It was as if Hubert could finally breathe properly.
"It's actually not a big deal. Just pressure. The usual pressure. The voices from the media, the teams, the paddock are everywhere, constantly creating pressure. They want every one of us to be Charles Leclerc. But obviously, we're not."
"Guanyu is the same."
"God, you have no idea. The media is constantly 'Kai this, Kai that.' Guanyu literally has no room to breathe."
Kai turned to look at Zhou with an expression of regret, gently shaking his head. "Now you know how tough Max and Charles have it in the paddock. I'm really sorry. Living in the same era as a peerless genius is your misfortune."
His head-shaking, self-aggrandizing behavior sparked outrage. Leclerc and Zhou grabbed whatever was near them and threw it hard at Kai.
Hubert laughed so hard he bent over.
Although Hubert didn't elaborate, Kai could easily picture the scene. The media always acted the same way; he could imagine it with his toes.
Last season, Hubert won the GP3 title. Subsequently, GP3 was rebranded as F3, merging with the former F3 European Championship. As the final GP3 champion, carrying numerous accolades, he moved up to F2 and drew significant attention.
Over the past three years, the lower formulas had produced an abundance of talent. First was Leclerc's three-year triple jump: winning GP3, winning F2, and entering F1 all within three years. Then came Russell, also completing a three-year triple jump: GP3 runner-up, F2 champion, and straight into F1. Add in Kai skipping grades, Norris's steady rise, and Albon's dramatic comeback. Young rookies were continuously making history and overturning the paddock hierarchy.
Understandably, the attention focused on young drivers grew denser and more intense.
This was true for Hubert, and true for Zhou.
Ultimately, the paddock is a high-pressure environment. Every minute, every second, you have to face pervasive pressure both on and off the track. The pressure from opponents, the media, the teams, and yourself is unceasing.
However, this year's F2 competition was likely the fiercest in recent years.
Teams like ART, Carlin, Prema, and DAMS all had championship potential. The influx of capital led by Latifi and Mazepin broke the balance, becoming a key force in overturning the paddock landscape.
Consequently, Hubert's team, Arden, was outmatched. Caught in the clash of capital, they were spinning, unable to find direction.
Hubert, who carried high expectations, had so far only won two sprint races in Monaco and France. Aside from that, there were no other highlights.
Never mind comparing him to drivers who burst onto the scene like Kai, Leclerc, or Russell; he even paled in comparison to Norris and Albon.
Judged by the standards of an average driver, this was only Hubert's first F2 season. Look at drivers like Aitken, De Vries, and Latifi, who had struggled in the lower formulas for years; Hubert's performance was already excellent, showing huge potential. But judged by the standards of a genius, especially a rising star aiming for F1 next season, his performance was unsatisfactory.
One could imagine the terrifying pressure Hubert carried on his shoulders now.
In truth, Zhou was in the same boat. ART, aiming to defend their title, faced numerous challenges. Although he had been on the podium three times this season, it wasn't until Silverstone that he had his highlight moment. While Kai was completing an unbelievable race at Silverstone, Zhou went from pole to victory in the F2 race at Silverstone, claiming his first career F2 Feature Race win.
However, it wasn't enough. It was far from enough.
Especially when placed next to Kai's epic victory, Zhou's breakthrough win was instantly overshadowed, drawing little interest.
Everyone knew there was only one Kai, and there would only ever be one in the long history of Formula 1. Comparing oneself to Kai was pure self-inflicted misery. But inevitably, people still tried to find shadows of Kai in Zhou, anticipating the rise of the next Chinese driver.
So, one could imagine the entire F2 grid was overshadowed by Kai. Hubert and Zhou bore the brunt of it. Neither was having an easy time.
The unseen pressure accumulated bit by bit, eventually turning into a lingering shadow. Even Hubert and Zhou didn't realize they were caught in a pressure storm, unable to breathe.
And then, they erupted.
Leclerc gave a self-deprecating smile. "Now you know what my life is like, right? People still think I'm incredibly happy."
As he spoke, he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to squeeze out two tears.
Unfortunately, he failed.
Leclerc broke his own act, unable to hold back a laugh. He gave up, rolled his eyes, and complained, "Every Grand Prix, they try to remind me that so far I've only beaten Kai once in Austria, and I haven't beaten him in qualifying even once. Oh, wait, I won once in Hockenheim because Kai's power unit failed. Blah, blah, blah."
Seeing Leclerc's expression of utter defeat, Kai laughed out loud, rubbing salt in the wound. "Do you need me to take it easy next time? Just say the word."
Leclerc asked, "If I say it, will you take it easy?"
Kai replied, "No."
Leclerc: ... Heh.
Kai turned to look at Hubert and Zhou. "Those reporters will never be satisfied."
"Never."
"You win one race, and they hope you win three. You win three, and they hope you win five or more."
"It's not because of me, nor is it because of Charles. And it's certainly not because they have high expectations for you. It's because entertainment is king. This is their job."
"Raising doubts, creating sensational points, generating topics, igniting traffic."
"This is their only way of generating value. So regardless of your performance, they will always find a way to attack and besiege you."
"Anthoine. Guanyu. Honestly, your performances have been excellent. Everyone has their own path. You should be proud of yourselves."
F1 has never been just a racing sport. The off-track political maneuvering cannot be ignored.
This was true for Zhou.
Although Zhou had only been on the podium three times so far this season, finally winning at Silverstone, and was temporarily sitting fourth in the Drivers' Championship, the importance of the Chinese and Asian markets was skyrocketing due to Kai's continued brilliance in F1. More and more attention was focused on Zhou.
The same applied to Hubert.
Looking at the results, Hubert had only won two sprint races, with no other podiums. He even trailed Zhou, sitting sixth in the championship. But in reality, the Arden team was only a lower-midfield outfit. Hubert drove a slow car to snatch sprint victories in Monaco and France—
Just like Kai.
Both professional media and industry insiders held higher expectations for Hubert.
Profit-driven motives, a relentless thirst for entertainment, and of course, power struggles—all these elements swirled together, creating a vortex that sucked in every ordinary driver.
No exceptions.
Some might argue this is true for all competitive sports; the moment capital enters the fray, things get complicated.
But F1 is undoubtedly on another level.
Hubert paused, looking up at Kai. "Are they the same with you?"
As soon as the words left his mouth, Hubert realized his mistake and smacked his forehead in frustration. "Look at my memory, it's a complete mess." How could he forget the very reason he stormed in here today? Wasn't it because of the blindingly biased narratives on social media?
Kai spread his hands. "Of course. 'How did it feel when Charles beat you in Austria?' I must have answered that question 347 times..."
Pfft. Leclerc laughed out loud.
"'Why have you only won three Grands Prix? How many do you think you should have won? Why haven't you won every race so far?'"
"Ha, thanks, but because of Mercedes. Have you guys not noticed the spaceship on the grid?"
Sarcasm, banter, and lively conversation.
The young men couldn't contain themselves, laughter rising and falling, a bustling scene.
Hubert finally found a smile again, but then he paused, the light in his eyes dimming. "But—" He exhaled softly. "I really, really, really want to perform well."
Just as he said it, Hubert realized the ambiguity in his words and scrambled to explain. "I don't mean you guys don't want to. I mean..."
Zhou patted Hubert on the shoulder. "Yes, yes, yes. We all know you idolize Kai."
Hubert didn't deny it. He scratched his head nervously and shot Kai a glance.
Kai looked unfazed, deliberately puffing out his chest in a confident posture, as if waving to adoring fans.
Hubert's smile immediately returned. "Renault said they are very eager to bring another French driver into the paddock."
"Right now, Esteban has the lead. But Renault doesn't want to deal with Toto. Toto is a fox; one wrong step and you're in his trap."
"Naturally, they turned their attention to F2. The main competitors are Dorian and Giuliano. Renault believes I have a slight edge."
Kai raised an eyebrow. "Just a slight edge?" The rising tone at the end clearly indicated his disbelief.
Hubert chuckled softly and scratched his head.
One was Dorian Boccolacci, the other was Giuliano Alesi—
Both familiar faces, Kai's main rivals back in GP3.
Years later, Kai was now fighting for the World Championship in F1, while Boccolacci and Alesi were still struggling in F2.
Forget about reaching F1; even in F2, Boccolacci and Alesi's competitiveness had waned, failing to catch the eye of top teams. Yet, they hadn't given up, continuing to grind away in F2 without a salary, ultimately hoping to seize an opportunity within the paddock's power struggles.
In truth, the paddock teams were all similar.
Ferrari tried to support Italian drivers, Mercedes tried to support German drivers, and McLaren and Williams tried to support British drivers.
The heated discussions sparked by Hockenheim were just the tip of the iceberg. The more drivers from the same country there were in the paddock, the stronger that faction became. Just as Kai's entry into the paddock allowed Chinese capital to quickly establish a foothold. Now, with German drivers gradually fading and Hockenheim likely being dropped from the calendar, not only was Mercedes' support base weakened, but the returns for German capital were also discounted.
Everything was intricately intertwined.
Outside of Germany, Britain, and Italy, France had always been an indispensable force in motorsport, and Renault was its representative in the paddock.
As Hubert said, Renault was always trying to support French drivers.
Currently, there were two French drivers in the paddock, Gasly and Grosjean, but neither belonged to Renault. Although it wasn't a strict requirement for a French team to hire a French driver, finding a good match was undeniably a bonus, helping Renault secure more local French sponsorship.
Thus, Renault turned its sights to F2.
First, Hubert was young, giving him a distinct advantage over Boccolacci and Alesi. Second, his talent had indeed begun to shine. Even if he wasn't on the level of Leclerc or Kai, he certainly didn't pale in comparison to Gasly. Third, Hubert was Renault's own academy driver.
In 2018, Hubert was merely an affiliated driver of the Renault academy. In 2019, he officially signed a contract with the Renault academy, becoming an exclusive driver. It was clear Renault intended to heavily cultivate him.
Actually, Renault had also tried to recruit Zhou, but the difference was that Zhou had to pay his own way. Renault was just cleverly trying to seize an opportunity. This small detail revealed that Renault wasn't satisfied with their current position; they yearned to make an impact in the paddock.
"Dorian, Giuliano. Wow, it's really been a while," Kai couldn't help but sigh. "But Anthoine, you're much stronger than them."
Hubert looked up. "Really? Is that really true?"
"Of course," Kai started automatically, but the words caught on his tongue, and he paused.
The rhythm was suddenly broken. Leclerc shot him a surprised look. "Of course!" he said. "Anthoine is, and Guanyu is too."
Zhou took a deep breath, a wry smile appearing. "With Anthoine, Renault has been keeping a close eye. But for me, there's been no movement. If I want a breakthrough, I not only need to perform better in the second half of the season, but I also need someone in the paddock to underperform."
F1 seats were strictly limited. If there was no turbulence in the paddock, F2 and F3 drivers rarely got a chance. After all, every driver standing on the F1 stage had fought their way through bloody battles. Whether it was capital or connections, everyone had some weight behind them. For the young drivers coming up behind, overturning them to enter the paddock usually required even more power.
Unless it was Kai—
This was exactly why cases like Verstappen and Kai, appearing out of nowhere, were so precious. When they did occur, it was a sensation on a paddock-wide scale.
Looking at the situation so far in the 2019 season, the competition in the midfield was incredibly fierce, with drivers trading victories and demonstrating excellent skill levels. Unless someone made a major mistake in the second half of the season, it was unlikely the driver lineup would see a massive reshuffle like in the past two years.
Of course, the power of capital was a different story. Ocon, who lost his seat last year, had been Mercedes' reserve driver this year. His manager, Wolff, had been working behind the scenes, trying to get Ocon back into the paddock.
There was also Alonso, who regretted retiring half a year later. He was eyeing a return to the paddock.
So, while difficult, it wasn't impossible. The clash of capital always churned beneath the surface.
However, looking at the current situation, with the summer break approaching, the usual flurry of rumors hadn't appeared yet.
For a moment, it was hard to tell if this was genuine calm or the calm before the storm.
Moreover, whether it was Ocon or Alonso, if they really wanted to move the lever, the power of capital was indispensable. But was that easy?
No wonder Zhou had just said that. If he had top-tier capital backing him, securing an F2 seat this year wouldn't have been so difficult.
Suddenly, Leclerc also froze, not knowing how to comfort him. He knew the cruelty of the paddock. If Vettel hadn't refused to sign with Ferrari, no matter how brilliantly Leclerc performed, it still wouldn't have been his turn to join Ferrari. The reality facing his friend was exactly the same.
So, what should he say? What could he say?
"Anthoine, remember that year we were in Barcelona?" Kai finally spoke, breaking the brief silence and drawing everyone's attention.