Qualifying officially came to an end. Alex Sun took off his helmet and stepped out of the Prema garage. Just as he was about to stretch his tight shoulders and back, he spotted Charles Leclerc leaning against the barrier in the Scuderia Ferrari area not far away, waiting for him with a familiar smile.
Their friendship ran deep, long beyond the simple divide between F1 and F2. They were close friends who regularly exchanged insights and battled each other online, and drivers who genuinely respected one another as peers.
Leclerc stepped forward first, casually patting Alex Sun on the arm with an easy, teasing tone.
"Not bad, Alex Sun. You've broken all the records I left here and even took pole. Impressive stuff."
Alex Sun laughed, shifting aside to let a mechanic pass, and shot back with a hint of pride.
"Well, of course. Your 'Stupid Corner' was clearly watching over me. No wonder my lap time improved."
Leclerc shook his head helplessly and raised an eyebrow in mock threat.
"You're still not letting that go? Keep pushing it and I'll transfer all of Baku's bad luck to you. Then you'll drop straight to the back at Turn 1 on the start. Don't say I didn't warn you."
Alex Sun chuckled, utterly unfazed.
"Relax, I'm not buying that. But seriously, thanks. Your cornering experience gave me a lot to think about. I'll pay extra attention to Turn 1 in tomorrow's sprint race."
After the jokes, Leclerc's tone turned slightly more serious.
"Turn 1 in Baku is tricky to begin with, and the reverse grid will make it even messier. Don't take it lightly. I've got to get ready for FP1. I'll be watching your overtaking show tomorrow."
He waved goodbye and headed back toward the Ferrari garage.
After seeing Leclerc off, Alex Sun turned down the pit lane corridor and caught sight of Guanyu Zhou strolling ahead.
He quickened his pace, gave Zhou a firm slap on the backside, then slung an arm around his shoulders, his voice thick with playful mockery.
"1:55.122? Zhou, Zhou, that's all you've got? Weren't you talking big earlier? How'd you end up with a lap like that?"
The smack made it crystal clear to Guanyu Zhou who was behind it.
No one else would dare hit him that hard.
He'd barely started to turn around to clap back when Alex Sun locked him in a tight headlock. Zhou could only yell,
"The audacity! A lowly son-in-law biting the hand that feeds him? You've got the nerve to mock your father's lap time?"
"So what?" Alex Sun shot back, completely unbothered, tightening his grip.
Zhou wriggled twice but couldn't break free and huffed,
"You've already sucked me dry and taken all my purification points, and now you're trash-talking me too? Your old man's washed, can't keep up anymore. Just stay right there—I'll go buy you some oranges."
Alex Sun let out a laugh and bumped him with his elbow.
"Fine, I'll have two. You can have the rest.
You're getting on in years, after all—gotta keep your strength up. Just take it easy on me out there tomorrow. Otherwise, I'm eating every single orange myself."
Guanyu Zhou, half fuming and half laughing, lunged at him and started tickling. The two of them ended up grappling in the pit lane corridor, drawing plenty of curious looks from passing mechanics.
After they'd had their fill of messing around, they walked side by side. Zhou's expression turned serious, curiosity clear in his voice.
"Seriously, how were you that fast today? Even with Piastri giving you a slipstream, you shouldn't have been that much quicker—especially your exit speed at Turn 16. You were nearly three-tenths faster than me."
Leaning against the barrier, Alex Sun explained casually.
"It comes down to controlling the braking point before turn-in. For Turn 16, you need to brake about 0.1 seconds earlier than usual, hit the brakes harder, and take a slightly tighter line. Use the tires' grip limit to lock onto the apex, then get on the throttle early so you can catch the airflow down the straight."
He paused, then added,
"And watch the rubber buildup at Baku. Avoid the marbles on the outside before turn-in or you'll slide and lose speed. You ran wide several times today. That's why your pace dropped."
Guanyu Zhou nodded in realization, mentally noting the details. After chatting a bit more about overtaking strategy for the sprint race, they split off to return to their respective teams. Alex Sun headed to the race hotel with the Prema crew for dinner.
The team gathered for dinner at the hotel, and Piastri showed up as promised. His car had hit the wall in qualifying and suffered damage, but fortunately the core components were fine. The mechanics were working overnight to repair it, and it would be fully ready for the sprint race tomorrow.
As soon as he sat down, Piastri started reviewing the session with Alex Sun, relief evident in his voice.
"Luckily it was just minor damage to the front wing and suspension. We'll have it fixed tonight, so I can race normally tomorrow. Your line choices in qualifying were incredible—I couldn't keep up with your rhythm at all."
The dinner atmosphere was relaxed as everyone chatted about the highlights of qualifying. Alex Sun took the chance to unwind and reset mentally for the sprint race.
After dinner, he returned to his room. He had barely sat down when his phone buzzed. A text popped up—the sender was none other than Verstappen.
The message was direct and free of pleasantries, carrying the mutual respect between top competitors.
"Congrats on pole. Breaking the Baku record was nicely done. Don't let the reverse grid mess with your rhythm. Looking forward to your overtakes tomorrow."
Alex Sun quickly replied with his thanks and chatted briefly about managing slipstreams on Baku's long main straight. Verstappen's advice was concise:
"Watch the car ahead's line before you change yours. Don't let yourself get dragged around. Anticipation matters more than following."
As the conversation picked up, Alex Sun couldn't help asking,
"Honestly, for you—if you don't win the championship, does it feel like you've only completed half your goal?"
The reply came almost instantly, brimming with Verstappen's trademark competitiveness.
"My goal is always the championship. It's like pregnancy—you're either pregnant or you're not. There's no such thing as 'half-pregnant.'"
Alex Sun laughed at the bluntness and fired back with a perfect follow-up.
"Got it. So when it comes to the championship, it's strictly all or nothing—no gray area."
Verstappen didn't linger on the joke and replied just as straightforwardly.
"Exactly. Once you're on the grid, the only goal is the championship. Don't think about anything else. Push yourself to the limit first."
Reading that, Alex Sun felt a jolt of clarity. He replied immediately:
"Got it. Thanks, man. That really woke me up. I'll cut the distractions and focus on the track."
He thought back to their previous IRacing battles. In the past, he had been slightly behind, but now his steady improvement allowed him to push Verstappen in return. They sharpened each other, breaking through their respective limits.
Alex Sun followed up with an invitation.
"After this race weekend, let's run more IRacing sessions. Racing you doesn't just sharpen my skills—it builds my confidence too. Thanks for that."
Verstappen's reply carried easy confidence.
"Sure. Otherwise I'm just racing the same old guys online every day—it gets boring. Racing you keeps things interesting."
Alex Sun smiled as he put his phone down, carefully noting the advice in his tactical notebook. He closed the door, preparing to activate the system and deal with his attribute points.
Just then, a light knock sounded at his door.
Standing outside was his assistant, Rebecca Lin, holding a file in her arms, clearly here to discuss something with him.
...
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