Chapter 134: Post-match Interview
Wuhu!
Verstappen parked his car beneath the large number-one sign, excitedly climbing out of the cockpit. He straightened up, let out a shout, waved his arms vigorously twice, then jumped down from the car and rushed toward the crew members who had run out to celebrate with him in the rain.
After giving several of them tight hugs, he turned around and walked toward the No. 32 car that had just come to a stop.
Lifting his goggles and ignoring the heavy rain, he shouted, "Hey! I won!"
Wu Shi climbed out of his car and nodded. "Yes, you won. Congratulations."
The two clapped hands, then hugged and patted each other on the back.
"I knew you would deliberately brake," Wu Shi said.
"That's quite a coincidence," Verstappen laughed. "Because I knew you definitely knew I would deliberately brake."
"Hahaha! That's because I used this trick to deal with the guys behind me."
Wu Shi laughed loudly. "Your schemes didn't work on me, but the same scheme I used worked very well. That just proves I'm better at choosing the right moment."
After weighing in, Verstappen removed his helmet and balaclava. "Actually, you didn't need to do that. You would've pulled away from them after a few corners anyway."
"Of course," Wu Shi replied. "I just wanted to try it once, so I'd know how to avoid it when I'm the one behind."
"You'd already thought that far ahead?" Verstappen said in surprise. "Controlling the car in those conditions isn't easy."
"Yes. I overworked my brain a bit," Wu Shi said, shaking his head. "Now it hurts."
At that moment, reporters swarmed in and began interviewing the drivers in groups.
As the race winner, Verstappen was naturally approached first.
"Max, your lap times were extremely fast today. You completed a perfect drive in very difficult conditions and took the win. How do you feel right now?"
"The conditions were really tricky," Verstappen replied. "The rain got heavier later on, so I had to be very careful with the car. In the final laps, Wu Shi caught up to me and put a lot of pressure on."
"But you held on under that pressure—that was impressive. Is this the first time you've beaten Wu Shi on track?"
The question was sharp, almost provocative. But Verstappen answered honestly.
"It's probably not the first time, but beating him is always very difficult. Anyone racing against him has to be prepared to lose—even if he doesn't start from the front row."
"So you think Wu is stronger?" the reporter pressed. "You seem to rate him very highly."
"Of course," Verstappen said without hesitation. "Wu Shi is the strongest driver of our generation. He can set lap times none of us can match. If someone says I'm better than him right now, then that person probably doesn't understand racing at all."
The blunt response left the reporter momentarily speechless, but professionalism quickly returned.
"Max, congratulations on your victory today."
After thanking him, Verstappen took a towel and wiped the rain and sweat from his face.
The reporters then turned their microphones toward Wu Shi.
"Wu, you started tenth today and finished on the podium. Your overtaking was spectacular, but it's unfortunate you couldn't win the championship."
"Max was incredibly strong in the rain," Wu Shi said calmly. "I couldn't find a way past him. His performance today was nearly perfect."
After answering, Wu Shi turned to Verstappen again. "Max, congratulations."
"Thank you," Verstappen replied cheerfully.
The reporters observed their interaction and quickly realized that the relationship between the two—having grown up racing together—was far from ordinary. Several attempts to provoke conflict failed to produce any headlines.
It wasn't that reporters enjoyed stirring trouble; rather, recent tension between two Mercedes F1 drivers had shown how effective such narratives could be. With every Grand Prix, that rift seemed to grow wider.
"We saw you attack Verstappen right at the end," another reporter asked. "If there had been a few more laps, do you think you could've overtaken him?"
"'Ifs' and 'assumptions' are meaningless," Wu Shi replied with a smile.
"There are 33 races this season, and 17 have already been completed. You've won 15 of them and are getting closer to your goal of 21 wins. Can you tell us anything about your future seat?"
The question everyone cared about had finally been asked.
Wu Shi paused briefly. "It's too early to talk about that. What matters most is finishing the remaining races."
"Oh? Is it because the other side isn't honoring the agreement? Or, as rumored in the paddock, are you joining Mercedes?"
"You should ask my agent," Wu Shi said politely. "Not me—a kid who isn't even sixteen yet."
Once the interviews ended, Wu Shi let out a long breath. The reporters' questions were becoming increasingly tricky—and he knew they would only get worse once he reached F1.
He remembered a time when a reporter had cornered Verstappen, Pérez, and Leclerc with extremely sensitive questions. One careless answer had been enough to ignite a storm of headlines.
It was all routine media hype—setting linguistic traps and then publishing stories titled Taken Out of Context.
"It might rain again during the rest of the event," Verstappen said as they walked toward the podium.
"Then I might catch you soon," Wu Shi joked.
"That would be difficult," Verstappen shook his head. "Getting stuck in traffic in the rain is dangerous."
"Yeah," Wu Shi said helplessly. "Some people really don't know how to drive in the rain."
Racing wasn't just about lap times—it was a game involving countless variables. Even Wu Shi wouldn't dare claim that starting on the front row guaranteed a championship.
His remarkable consistency, far beyond that of his peers, was merely an inheritance from his past life.
The weather forecast was wrong. The rain gradually stopped during the podium ceremony.
Under the gloomy sky, the Dutch national anthem echoed throughout the circuit.
At 3:30 p.m., Norrisring's final race of the day began.
By then, the track was almost completely dry, with only small patches of water lingering on the outer edges.
For Wu Shi, this was worse news than rain. As he had said before, many F3 drivers were competent in dry conditions but clumsy in the wet.
A half-dry, half-wet track was the most dangerous of all—drivers thought they could push, but the grip wasn't there. What awaited them was not speed, but loss of control.