Clap, clap, clap!
Applause broke out.
Nicolas Todt and Frédéric Vasseur exchanged another look, their faces split by wide grins, their eyes shining with a shared, surging excitement.
The suspense, which had just begun to build, was extinguished in an instant.
It wasn't just the speed. It was the observation, the calculation, the judgment, the strategy, and the execution. To be able to maintain total control of the race, even while flying at top speed, without getting flustered by a multi-car assault, and without losing his head during an unexpected VSC... that was the real surprise.
In racing, being "fast" is important, without a doubt. But it isn't the only thing that matters.
Both Nicolas and Vasseur had come to Maranello with high expectations, which had only climbed after learning of Jean Todt's involvement. But they had never imagined that seeing it in person would still manage to surprise them this much. It was a rare feeling.
Their blood began to pump.
Marchionne, standing to the side, took it all in. He remained externally calm and composed, offering a polite, almost cursory round of applause, as if it were all perfectly normal. As if he hadn't just seen Kai's full potential.
But inwardly, he was screaming and running victory laps.
He glanced at Monfardini, who was the only one in the room who truly looked calm, as if this were all just another day at the office.
A wave of pride swelled in Marchionne's chest.
It had all started with the "Catfish Effect," and now, that plan had achieved results far beyond his wildest expectations. The catfish was becoming the star.
Despite the excitement, no one jumped the gun. In Formula racing, a disaster can strike at any moment; a tiny mistake can erase all your hard work. It's not over until you cross the finish line.
This time, however, there were no more surprises.
Kai led all the way, completely killing the suspense. In the final laps, he seemed to completely unleash himself, setting fastest lap after fastest lap, going faster and faster, and crossing the finish line in a class of his own. The other three drivers were left far behind.
Zhou Guanyu crossed the line second. Armstrong, capitalizing on Alesi's severe tire degradation, managed to make a pass after a multi-lap battle to finish third.
Alesi... was last.
Vasseur could feel Nicolas's gaze. In their partnership, Vasseur handled the racing, Nicolas handled the business.
Vasseur's sleepy-looking eyes were now bright. He leaned in and whispered in his partner's ear, "We don't want to miss this one."
That one sentence was enough.
Nicolas gave a slight nod, and the two of them walked over to Marchionne.
"No wonder you called us personally, Sergio," Nicolas said, his tone light and teasing. "So this was the ace up your sleeve. Where did you dig up this treasure?"
Marchionne put on an air of nonchalance. "You'll have to ask your father. He dug him up off the streets of Rome. A Christmas present, perhaps?"
Nicolas was about to reply, but Marchionne wasn't finished. "He's an uncut gem. Had never touched a Formula car before November."
The air went still.
Nicolas and Vasseur were professionals. They knew exactly what that meant.
To have reached this level in just two months?
A moment ago, they had been sitting comfortably. So Kai had beaten a few other academy drivers, so what? The real star of the academy was Leclerc. But now, that single piece of information changed everything. The story wasn't who Kai had beaten; it was his growth rate.
The shock hit them with ten times the force.
Vasseur, who was almost always joking, wasn't smiling. His squinting eyes were wide open. "Never?"
He wasn't accusing Marchionne of lying. He just couldn't believe it was true.
Marchionne didn't answer. "We can't find his name in any of the major karting series, either. As for regional events, those are harder to track. But I can understand your concern. If you need more time to consider, I completely understand."
Vasseur saw the trap. This guy was toying with them. If they "continued to consider," Marchionne would turn around and hand this kid straight to Trident.
Yes, the lack of experience was a fatal flaw. But this kind of raw, innate talent, to reach this level in two months... what heights could he reach with real development?
His heart was pounding.
This wasn't just about replacing Fukuzumi anymore. This kid could be ART's next great star. In that split second, the decision was made.
Nicolas Todt was all business. "Sergio, you contacted us because you want this young man to have the best resources to grow, correct?"
Otherwise, Marchionne would have just called Trident.
"Trust me, he should join us at ART. I can guarantee he will have the best resources and the best team to support his development," Nicolas said, his voice sharp and decisive.
But Marchionne didn't bite. "A higher priority than Russell?"
George Russell, a Mercedes-Benz junior, was already signed to drive for ART in the upcoming 2017 season. And because of Vasseur's relationship with Mercedes, ART always gave their drivers priority.
Nicolas didn't fall into the trap. "We promote fair competition. A driver should earn his place with his performance."
Marchionne's smile widened. "That's not going to be enough to convince him."
Nicolas was confused. "What?"
Marchionne didn't elaborate. "He's coming over. Why don't you talk to him yourselves?"
He had been the one to get shot down by Kai. Now, it was his turn to watch the show. He was quite enjoying this.
In the pit lane, Kai was beaming, in an animated conversation with Zhou Guanyu, gesticulating wildly, full of youthful energy.
He was thrilled. This test race had just earned him two thousand euros. It was the perfect way to cap off his time at the academy—a flawless graduation ceremony. He was already discussing dinner plans with Zhou.
Armstrong came over to congratulate him, his eyes full of respect.
Alesi, seeing this, angrily spiked his helmet onto the sofa and stomped off toward the bathroom, not wanting to stick around for his own humiliation. He had lost everything, and his dignity was in tatters, a bitter rage burning in his chest.
"Kai Zhizhou!"
A voice called out. Kai looked over and saw Marchionne waving him over. A huge smile split his face, and he waved back happily.
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