Chapter 133: Yes! Yes! Yes!
Alan stepped out with the crew, opened an umbrella, crouched beside the car, and reminded him, "The rain's going to get heavier. Don't push too hard."
"I know," Wu Shi replied calmly.
As they spoke, the mechanics removed the four wet tyres from the trolley and began inflating them.
"The pressures are a bit low," one mechanic muttered.
Alan looked up. "What?"
"Forget it," Wu Shi said, shaking his head. "Let's run it normally."
Lower tyre pressures increased the contact patch, offering better traction—especially valuable in the early stages of wet running. The downside was heat buildup: as temperatures rose, pressure would spike, accelerating tyre wear.
In short, low pressure could be aggressive, even advantageous in qualifying conditions. But in a race, higher pressures were safer, reducing the risk of overheating or failure.
Alan held the umbrella steady, glancing at his watch.
The grid was unusually busy. Mechanics adjusted front and rear wings across the field. Wet-weather setups were completely different from dry ones, all focused on maximizing downforce and mechanical grip.
Ten minutes later, the crews cleared the grid.
The Safety Car led the field away for a rolling restart, chosen to reduce the risks of a standing start in worsening rain.
As the Safety Car passed Turn 7, it peeled into the pit lane near Turn 8.
Verstappen immediately began managing the pace, bunching the field together and weaving aggressively to generate tyre temperature.
Wu Shi did the same. The Norrislin circuit was extremely short, and the limited distance was barely enough to bring fresh wet tyres into their operating window.
Compared to these two, the rest of the drivers were noticeably conservative. In heavy rain, aggressive weaving could just as easily end in the wall.
Wu Shi's control was exceptional. As he swayed left and right, tyre temperatures climbed rapidly, allowing him to push closer to the limit.
At the same time, his attention never left Verstappen's car ahead.
Once Verstappen crossed the control line, the race would restart.
Wu Shi knew Verstappen well enough to be certain of one thing—he would accelerate suddenly, catching the field off guard.
The prediction was spot-on.
At Turn 8, Verstappen straightened the steering slightly earlier than expected.
It was subtle—easy to miss.
Then—
Vrrrmm!
The previously muted engine note exploded as Verstappen went full throttle, charging onto the main straight.
Almost simultaneously, Wu Shi reacted.
Jordan King, directly ahead of him, hesitated for half a beat—completely fooled by Verstappen's feint.
By the time King accelerated, Wu Shi's car was already alongside.
But overtaking before the control line was forbidden.
Wu Shi lifted precisely, tucking back in with just a nose-length gap.
The rain was still light. Spray rose, but visibility remained workable.
Wu Shi watched Verstappen pull away helplessly, forced to accelerate in unison with King.
The moment Verstappen crossed the line, the restriction lifted.
Race on.
Wu Shi buried the throttle.
The rear tyres bit hard, torque surging violently through the drivetrain. The engine's howl was loud enough that King instinctively glanced sideways.
It's raining, King thought. Full throttle? He's going to spin.
He was wrong.
Car #32 punched through the spray and rocketed away.
"No—!"
King dared not respond aggressively. The car already felt on edge, and one greedy input could send it sideways.
Wu Shi cleared him cleanly on the straight, but couldn't break free immediately as speed climbed.
Through the flat-out kink of Turn 1, spray turned into a white wall.
Approaching Turn 2, Wu Shi braked early—so early it looked like a mistake.
King, blinded by spray, reacted late.
Uncertain whether full braking would save him or spin him, he chose the only option left—steering wide while dabbing the brakes.
Wu Shi downshifted to second and cut sharply to the apex.
Shrrrk!
He fired out of the corner.
Behind him, King's rhythm collapsed completely.
On a wet track, hesitation was fatal.
Jake Dennis arrived, followed by Ocon and Lucas Auer.
Chaos erupted.
Ocon dived into the space King left on the inside. Lucas followed, braking even earlier.
All five cars exited Turn 2 together.
Ocon, carrying too much speed, was forced wide.
King was squeezed outward, right up against the barrier.
With nowhere left to go, he braked hard.
Bang!
Ocon's rear wheel clipped King's front.
King's suspension was damaged instantly.
Dennis and Auer slipped through.
The entire chain reaction unfolded in seconds.
Alan (TR): "Yellow flag. Yellow flag."
Wu Shi (TR): "Received."
Another yellow—fortunate timing.
Wu Shi was already clear and only learned later that the incident had been triggered by his move.
Moments later, green flags waved again.
Wu Shi (TR): "What happened?"
Alan (TR): "King can keep moving. No recovery needed."
Wu Shi said nothing.
Ahead, Verstappen was flying.
With full wets and a soaked surface, most lap times hovered around 53 seconds.
Verstappen was running 50–51s.
Wu Shi was the only one close.
Two laps later, the gap shrank—but rain intensified, and Verstappen's spray erased the track ahead.
Caution became mandatory.
Alan (TR): "Six minutes remaining."
Wu Shi (TR): "Gap per lap?"
Alan (TR): "You're gaining one to three tenths."
Six minutes—roughly twelve laps.
Gap: 1.8 seconds.
Three laps to attack.
The commentators were stunned.
"These two are still running low 51s! Third place is in the 54s—unbelievable pace in these conditions!"
They added, "Ocon has been penalized for the earlier contact. A pit stop penalty—he's out of contention."
Visibility worsened.
Wu Shi refused to sit directly in Verstappen's spray.
He knew Verstappen would use the same tricks he had used earlier.
And Verstappen knew Wu Shi could handle it.
It was mutual trust—and mutual ruthlessness.
Verstappen (TR): "What was his lap time?"
Engineer (TR): "51.263."
Verstappen (TR): "Why? How is he faster when he can't see anything?"
Alan relayed the message.
Wu Shi (TR): "Hamilton once said—if you can't see, count the seconds. You'll know when to brake."
Alan (TR): "…Copy."
Wu Shi didn't mean it literally.
He judged distance through wheel speed, vibration, instinct.
It was exhausting.
Grip changed every lap.
Both leaders searched constantly for traction.
Two Van Amersfoort cars were lapped with two and a half minutes remaining.
Wu Shi closed right up.
But overtaking was nearly impossible.
At every straight, he plunged blind into spray before glimpsing the corner.
Verstappen adjusted his rhythm again—hard braking, sudden releases.
Wu Shi resisted the instinct to dodge.
The commentator gasped. "Is Verstappen trying to make Wu crash?"
Alan stayed calm.
Alan (TR): "Four backmarkers ahead."
Wu Shi (TR): "Copy."
Verstappen cleared them cleanly.
Wu Shi followed—
One backmarker drifted back onto the racing line.
Wu Shi lifted instantly, changed line, and blasted past.
Wu Shi (TR): "Is he blind?! Didn't they warn him?"
Alan (TR): "Calm down. Focus."
The delay cost him the gap.
Still—he pushed.
Lap 36.
Turn 7.
Verstappen repeated the trick.
Wu Shi turned tighter—too tight.
The left-front brushed the kerb.
The car snapped.
Gasps echoed.
But Wu Shi caught it.
"No crash—Wu saves it!" the commentator corrected himself breathlessly.
Alan (TR): "Last lap. Bring it home."
Wu Shi exhaled.
He'd tried everything.
The kerb was slicker than expected.
There was no margin left.
Lap 37.
The chequered flag waved.
Verstappen crossed the line first.
Verstappen (TR): "Yes! Yes! Yes!"
He shouted uncontrollably, pushing hard even on the cooldown lap—
Because the one person he most wanted to celebrate with was waiting back in the pit lane.