Kai was making a fool of himself. A joke of monumental proportions.
On the Barcelona circuit, the average GP3 practice time was in the 1:37s, with the top ten all breaking into the 1:36s.
Kai's current lap time, however, was in the 1:40s. He was outside the top fifteen. He was, essentially, dead last.
Looking at his three ART teammates, all of whom were running in the top five, the contrast was staggering.
This is why, in motorsport, they say your teammate is both your strongest partner and your biggest rival. You are driving the same car. Even with minor setup differences, the machinery is identical. Your teammate is the only true benchmark for your performance.
Before you can beat the other teams, you must first beat your teammate.
And right now, Kai was dragging the entire ART team down.
"What on earth is Nicolas thinking?"
"Vasseur must have gotten this one wrong."
"Has Ferrari lost its mind?"
The sarcastic comments and whispers were everywhere.
So, what about Kai?
Borreipaire was nervous. He was worried that Kai, seeing his name at the bottom of the timesheets, would get impatient, push too hard, and make a mistake. This was his first official outing, after all. It would be perfectly normal to crack under the pressure.
He was trying to think of how to calm his driver down when Kai's voice came over the radio again.
"No."
Borreipaire let out a small sigh of relief. That was a normal reaction. But before he could reply, Kai continued.
"The wind direction has changed at Turn 4. The rear wing is unstable."
"It was a southerly all morning. Why has it suddenly shifted to a northerly?"
Borreipaire was stunned for a second, then, a small smile touched his lips. "Yes, that's a special characteristic of this track. The wind is always changing. Sometimes, we get a treacherous gust that can become a major X-factor in the race. It's one of the only interesting things about this circuit."
Kai: ... "Pierre, was that a joke?"
Borreipaire: ...
Kai: "Haha. Are you friends with Charles, or are all Frenchmen like this?"
The lighthearted back-and-forth had noticeably broken the tension. Borreipaire, all business again, just cleared his throat. "Be mindful of the crosswinds at Turns 3 and 9."
By the end of his second stint, Kai finally understood why people called the Barcelona circuit "boring."
It was dominated by high-speed, flowing corners, and the tire wear was severe. This meant there were very few overtaking opportunities. A driver simply couldn't follow another car for long. The moment you got stuck in their dirty air, your own tires would start to overheat and disintegrate.
Because of this, the race often became a "procession." If you got out in front, you would probably stay there. The lack of close, wheel-to-wheel action made for a "boring" race.
However, the one unknown factor was the wind. It was a time bomb that could go off at any moment, and it meant the drivers had to be on high alert for the entire race.
This made one thing clear: qualifying was everything. If you started on the front row, your chance of winning was over 90%.
Kai had run six laps in his first stint, and thirteen in his second, focusing entirely on communication and data.
In his opinion, the GP3 cars were too closely matched to make up time on the straights. Everyone would be focused on finding speed in the corners.
But... was that true?
These weren't amateur street racers. They were the best of the best, with high skill ceilings. In a real, dog-eat-dog race, finding a new advantage in the corners would be incredibly difficult.
So, rather than fight in the same crowded space... why not find a different path?
For this track, Kai had an idea. He wanted a brake balance that was biased toward understeer. He would sacrifice a little on corner entry, but by controlling the car's rotation and his line, he could get a much better exit and higher speed onto the track's massive, 1047-meter main straight.
While everyone else was focused on the corners, he would focus on the straights.
And the wind was a factor, too. Turns 9, 10, and 14 were all highly susceptible to gusts. Instead of pushing to the limit in those unpredictable corners, he would build a setup that was more stable, allowing him to react and adapt.
Borreipaire was surprised. It was an unconventional strategy for GP3, high-risk and difficult to execute. But he was even more surprised by Kai's attitude. This wasn't the arrogance of a "golden boy"; it was the reasoned, data-driven confidence of a professional.
He was impressed.
Borreipaire actively debated the strategy with Kai, and in the end, he agreed to the new setup.
When the session was finally over, Borreipaire found himself staring at Kai's profile as the young driver studied the data. He was struck by the incredible focus in that youthful face. On his very first day, Kai had already shattered all expectations.
"Zhi... Zhou...?" Borreipaire tried the name, still unsure.
Kai didn't mind. He looked up from the data screen. "Dinner. It's dinner time. If I remember correctly, I'm required to follow the team diet, right?"
He had a completely serious look on his face.
"No. I'm eating pizza tonight."
Borreipaire stared at him.
Kai stood up, clapped his engineer on the shoulder, and turned to leave. It was only then that Borreipaire realized he'd been joking. A small, exasperated smile tugged at his lips, and he called out:
"You'd better be. Tonight, the pizza's on me."
Kai's cheerful laughter echoed from the hallway.
But a second later, it was drowned out by a new, familiar, upbeat pop song. Borreipaire strained to listen...
"Baby, baby, baby, oh..."
"Like, baby, baby, baby, no..."
Wait... was that...?
~~----------------------
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