"The morning rush hour at the subway station is more insane than ever before. It's absolute madness. #ShanghaiF1FestivalCrowdControl"
"#ThirtyThousandPeoplePackXintiandi# It physically feels like way more than thirty thousand. Everywhere you look, it's just an endless sea of people."
"Weren't they worried this event would be a total flop? Weren't they worried they wouldn't even be able to give away the tickets? Why does it feel like half the population of Shanghai is currently crammed into this one street?! #F1OneThousandthGrandPrix#"
"#DefendingChampionReturnsHome# If I leave for Xintiandi right now, will I still be able to get in? Will I actually be able to see Kai up close? Waiting online for answers, urgent!"
"Mass hysteria! This is the terrifying drawing power of a World Champion! #KaiHomeRacePhenomenon#"
"Sisters, I am currently inside the venue at Xintiandi. I am about to see Kai with my own eyes! Hahaha, sending love! #IsKaisFaceReallyLegendaryTier#"
Massive, rolling momentum. Earth-shattering noise.
Absolute, dominant saturation!
On Weibo, the entire timeline was aggressively hijacked by the F1 Fan Festival. Before the Wednesday morning rush hour had even officially begun, the boiling heatwave radiating from everyone's phone screens felt like it was going to physically spill over. Formula 1 racing had never, ever generated this level of chaotic, frenzied excitement in mainland China.
Everything had completely, totally exceeded all expectations!
Truth be told, when F1 originally announced the Fan Festival, anxiety and skepticism were omnipresent. To put it politely, people were 'deeply concerned.' To put it bluntly, they were pessimistic to the point of despair.
Ten thousand people?
This wasn't Real Madrid on their summer Asian tour, capable of summoning wind and rain and packing stadiums. How could a niche motorsport demonstration possibly attract that kind of massive crowd?
Forget about ten thousand; drawing a crowd of three thousand would already be considered a massive, unprecedented success. Being realistic and brutally pragmatic, one thousand attendees was the only logically sound target.
But now?
The sponsors were actively hyping it up, the local race promoters were enthusiastically fanning the flames, and a bunch of out-of-touch executives sitting in ivory towers were blindly issuing directives. The official F1 organization and Ferrari joined the circus, while Mercedes-Benz and McLaren quietly cheered from the sidelines, subtly adding fuel to the fire—
The situation spiraled completely out of control. The scope of the event expanded so rapidly and massively that hardcore, veteran racing fans—the people who truly understood the agonizingly weak foundational market for the sport in China—felt their hearts sink directly into the mud. They were consumed by despair.
It wasn't mindless pessimism; it was cold, hard reality. The veteran fans loved motorsport more deeply than anyone else. They desperately, agonizingly hoped to see the sport grow and flourish in their country. Without a doubt, this Fan Festival presented a golden, once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. But if the opportunity was squandered... if the festival mutated into a catastrophic, disorganized disaster, it would backfire spectacularly. It could inflict devastating, permanent damage to Kai's drawing power and overall marketability in China.
How many agonizing years had they waited for a generational talent like Kai to finally explode onto the scene? And now, it was all at risk of being completely destroyed by a pack of short-sighted, profit-hungry businessmen desperately trying to pull up the seedlings to help them grow. That profound, suffocating anxiety kept these veteran fans tossing and turning, utterly unable to sleep at night.
Because of this intense fear, veteran fans from every corner of the country dropped everything and sprinted toward Shanghai.
They weren't just coming for the race weekend at the Shanghai International Circuit. They were rushing to the Fan Festival to show their tangible, physical support. They wanted to use their own meager strength to help illuminate the event, using their physical presence to keep the fragile hope of motorsport's continued growth in China alive.
And then, this miraculous scene unfolded—
Individual drops of water. Counted one by one, they were microscopic and insignificant, possessing absolutely zero power in the vast ocean of humanity. Yet, when they converged from all directions, gathering together in the absolute center of the metropolis, they transformed into a raging, unstoppable ocean.
On social media, traffic was exploding.
In the real world, the crowds were surging.
You could even find people live-streaming. As they exited the subway station and prepared to walk toward the Fan Festival venue, they were instantly enveloped by the crowd. Densely packed, shoulder-to-shoulder, it looked exactly like an unhinged carnival. Standing in the freezing, biting chill of the early spring morning, they were actively summoning the scorching heat of mid-summer. A rolling, boiling heatwave cascaded down upon them.
"...I am currently on Madang Road, preparing to head toward the South Entrance of the Fan Festival."
"A quick pro-tip: even though the Madang Road subway station is currently locked down and trains are bypassing it, you can still find a 'Fan Recharging Station' on Madang Road itself. If you stop there, you can claim a completely free, official souvenir. You get to choose between a T-shirt and a bandana."
"I just asked the organizers. They told me these are special, limited-edition souvenirs personally designed, funded, and overseen by Kai himself, exclusively for the Shanghai Fan Festival today!"
"Look! Here's the T-shirt I just picked up. I've already put it on!"
The live stream wasn't stable. The camera shook constantly, the image frequently blurring, and the resolution dropped wildly as the streamer moved through the dense crowd. But precisely because of that chaotic, unpolished raw footage, the fanatical energy of the scene pierced straight through the screen. Everywhere you looked, faces flushed with intense excitement and euphoria crammed into every single corner of the frame.
Involuntarily, your blood began to boil. Even if you weren't physically there, your heart was itching for action. You desperately wanted to drop everything, sprint to Xintiandi, and hurl yourself into the raging carnival.
And indeed, thousands of people were doing exactly that—
When the Fan Festival organizers realized that the sheer scale of the event was completely, violently shattering all their projections, they were torn. Should they "strictly enforce capacity limits to maintain exclusivity and hype," or should they "cherish every single spark of interest and throw the doors wide open to welcome everyone"? Initially, management heavily favored the former. But Kai, receiving real-time updates through Lorenzo, adamantly and unyieldingly demanded the latter. With Lorenzo and Nicholas Todt personally stepping in and applying massive pressure, the organizers ultimately caved and chose the second option.
Once the 10,000 original ticket holders had all been admitted, any additional fans arriving at the venue were permitted to purchase temporary, standing-room-only passes. Even though their vantage points and sightlines would be mediocre at best, they would still be allowed to stand in the designated viewing zones lining the streets and participate in the historic roadshow.
Since there were absolutely no grandstands or seated areas anyway—the entire venue was standing-room only—they could technically cram in significantly more bodies.
The moment the announcement hit social media, the internet instantly detonated. A massive, surging tidal wave of humanity flooded toward Xintiandi, packing the streets so tightly that not even a drop of water could squeeze through. The sheer volume of people practically threatened to burst the physical boundaries of the district.
Yet, even the claustrophobic crowding couldn't deter the general public's burning desire to join the spectacle.
At this point, the Fan Festival had transcended F1, and it had even transcended Kai. It was rapidly mutating into a massive cultural phenomenon, the absolute "must-attend" trending event for the younger generation. Even if their sole motivation was just to show up, snap a few photos, post them online, and prove they were keeping up with the latest trends... the sheer magnitude of the resulting crowd was breathtakingly spectacular.
And then—
AH! AHHHHHHHHH!
Li Lingyu, who had been working with her head down, felt her heart violently contract. She instinctively snapped her head up.
She froze.
A brilliant red Ferrari slowly rolled onto the scene, coming to a halt at the intersection marking the starting point of the Fan Festival route. It was Ferrari's highly anticipated, completely brand new, not-yet-released model: the F8 Tributo.
The L-shaped matrix LED headlights perfectly integrated with the aggressive S-Duct aerodynamic channel on the hood. The louvered rear engine cover brilliantly revived the iconic, classic design of the legendary F40. The deep, arrogant, guttural rumble of the V8 engine sounded exactly like a predator growling in the shadows. The golden sunlight cascaded over the chassis, flowing across the sleek lines like liquid fire. It instantly wiped every single coherent thought from her brain, plunging her into a state of absolute, dumbstruck awe.
However, Li Lingyu barely even registered the existence of the unbelievable hypercar. Her eyes immediately locked onto the man sitting in the driver's seat.
Smiling brilliantly, looking entirely relaxed, he was chatting and laughing effortlessly with Leclerc, who was sitting in the passenger seat. Seemingly hearing the tear-inducing, lung-busting screams erupting from the crowds lining both sides of the street, he turned his head and waved. The next second, the entire world was completely obliterated by the ensuing, apocalyptic wave of shrieking.
Li Lingyu could only hear the deafening, rhythmic thump-thump-thump of her own heart slamming violently against her ribs. Time and space seemed to freeze completely in that brief, fleeting second.
She had never, ever seen Kai from this incredibly close distance. Even though she had seen countless photos of him online—including massive amounts of unedited, raw paparazzi shots, to the point where she doubted there was a single picture of him on the internet she hadn't seen—it wasn't until this exact moment that she realized photographs were fundamentally incapable of capturing Kai's vibrant, magnetic, fiercely arrogant aura. The sheer vitality and brilliant energy radiating from his face literally made the bright sunlight look dim by comparison.
The screaming, the cheering, the roaring, the absolute madness... it all faded away completely, vanishing without a trace. The only thing remaining was the concussive boom of her heart hammering against her eardrums, dragging her down into an endless, continuous, free-falling plunge.
Thump— Thump—
So incredibly quiet, yet so incredibly loud.
"...Hello!"
A voice detonated against her eardrums without warning. It violently yanked Li Lingyu back down to earth, restoring the sensation of gravity. Her feet planted firmly on the ground. Her soul, which had been freely soaring through the cosmos, crashed heavily back into her chest. Amidst the violent, surging waves of shock and awe, she finally managed to grab hold of her rationality and snap out of her daze.
Li Lingyu quickly pulled her gaze away from the car. Seeing the slightly hesitant, nervous face of the young fan standing in front of her, she took a deep breath and hurriedly flashed a massive, welcoming smile. "Hi! How can I help you?"
"Are the souvenirs here really free?"
"Yes! They were personally designed and prepared by Kai himself! Which one would you like? The T-shirt, or the bandana?"
"Seriously? From Kai himself?!"
"Yes! A small token of appreciation for the fans!"
Li Lingyu knew the truth in her heart. She desperately wanted to stare at Kai. Being positioned this incredibly close to him was an absolutely once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. But she also knew that she could always find opportunities to see him again in the future. Right now, there was a vastly more critical mission at hand—
One by one, she had to ignite the sparks!
The venue was an absolute cacophony of boiling noise. The ferocious, rolling heatwaves of pure energy not only didn't disappoint Li Lingyu, but they caused her own blood to boil even hotter.
The crowd hadn't been mentally prepared for Kai to simply appear out of nowhere. His sudden, incredibly close presence, combined with the blindingly gorgeous supercar, was almost too much for their eyes to handle. The adrenaline and euphoria instantly shattered all emotional constraints, erupting violently. Logic completely collapsed. They unleashed a terrifying energy they didn't even know they possessed—
AHHH! AHHHHHHHH!
The surging, fanatical madness threatened to reduce everything on the street to ash.
The reality of the situation is this: some people look incredibly glamorous and radiant on a screen, but possess absolutely zero presence in real life. Conversely, some people look merely 'handsome' on a screen, but in real life, they possess an aura so magnetic it's physically impossible to look away from them.
Amidst the sprawling sea of humanity, amidst the boiling chaos, with the entire world spinning wildly in a chaotic blur of light and sound... a simple, sweeping glance was all it took to instantly, effortlessly lock onto Kai's presence.
Even if you forcibly tore your gaze away, you couldn't help but look back. In the middle of the crushing crowd and the bustling chaos, your eyes would firmly lock onto that single figure. Everything else in the periphery would blur and fade away. The massive, sprawling world seemed to shrink until only that one figure remained, grabbing your heart, arresting your breath, forcing you to uncontrollably surrender to his reality.
So, this is what a true, generational superstar looks like.
The street barricades hadn't been completely, solidly sealed off. The relentless, surging waves of the crowd continuously pushed forward. Finally, someone couldn't contain their boiling fanaticism any longer. They squeezed through a tiny gap in the fencing, thrust their phone high into the air, and screamed until their voice cracked—
"KAI— ZHI— ZHOU!"
Sitting in the driver's seat, Kai heard the shout and turned his head. He flashed a brilliant, genuine smile in response. When he turned back, he saw Leclerc staring at him, looking absolutely terrified.
Kai patted Leclerc on the arm, pulling him out of the car so they could take a picture with the fanatical fan together.
The fan looked to be in his mid-forties. He clearly had absolutely zero experience with situations like this, having completely lost himself in the heat of the moment and broken all normal behavioral protocols. Even though Kai and Leclerc were already standing there, fully prepared and posing for the photo, the fan just stood there, completely frozen, staring dumbly at Kai, entirely unsure of what to do next.
Kai didn't show the slightest hint of impatience. Instead, he proactively reached out his right hand. "Want me to take it?"
The middle-aged fan nodded frantically, practically shoving his phone into Kai's hand.
After the three of them snapped the selfie, Kai handed the phone back. Smiling broadly, he said, "Thank you for loving motorsport."
The middle-aged fan completely lost his ability to process reality. He nodded numbly. The moment he turned around, he couldn't control himself any longer. He leaped high into the air, a surprisingly massive roar exploding from his relatively small frame. But as he yelled, tears began to stream uncontrollably down his face. He just stood there, rooted to the spot, his shoulders shaking in a messy, undignified display of pure emotion.
Witnessing this scene, many people standing in the crowd on both sides of the street felt a profound lump in their throats.
Kai quietly watched the back of the middle-aged fan. Involuntarily, the image of Lu Cheng flashed through his mind. He knew exactly how agonizingly long and incredibly difficult the journey had been for the older generation of Chinese racing fans. They had waited decades just to pry open a tiny, microscopic window in mainland China, finally allowing the roar of a racing engine to echo proudly through the center of their own city.
For them, today's Fan Festival possessed profound, monumental significance.
Leclerc couldn't help but sigh in awe. "And here I thought the crowds last year were insane."
He absolutely hadn't expected his eyes to be opened even wider this year.
Kai didn't respond immediately. His gaze, which had been lingering on the back of the middle-aged fan, shifted slightly. Looking out at the massive crowds lining the street, he raised his voice and shouted, "This is my teammate, Charles!"
A single sentence, and the crowd understood the assignment instantly.
The calls and shouts started sporadically, popping up here and there. But it didn't take long for them to converge. In the blink of an eye, they merged into a vast, unified ocean of sound.
The crowds who were still slowly filtering into the venue could clearly hear the rolling waves of sound thundering from the front lines. Initially, they couldn't quite make out what was being chanted. They paused, listened intently for a few seconds, and finally realized what was happening. Exchanging knowing glances, they all eagerly joined the massive, unified chorus—
"CHARLES! CHARLES! CHARLES!"
They weren't just screaming for Kai anymore. That deafening, earth-shattering roar was now collectively screaming Leclerc's name. They were actively utilizing this specific method to demonstrate the legendary hospitality of the ancient East, throwing their arms wide open to welcome Kai's teammate to Shanghai.
As they chanted, the rolling, boiling heatwave of sound seemed to come alive. It locked onto the visceral roar of the V8 engine, tracking the Ferrari supercar as it blasted down the street. All logic and rational thought were instantly vaporized, transforming into lung-busting, eardrum-shattering screams.
AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH—
The sea of humanity transformed into a literal tidal wave of sound. Wave after wave surged forward. The deafening sonic boom pierced the skin, mutating into hoarse, tearing screams that violently detonated in the air.
On the outer perimeter of the track, the crowds still frantically rushing toward the venue briefly exchanged glances. You could easily spot the identical looks of profound shock etched across their unfamiliar faces. It wasn't until they physically arrived at the scene that they finally, truly understood why hardcore fans were so obsessively fanatical about Fan Festivals. They finally understood why simply attending the race at the circuit wasn't enough; why they absolutely had to fight their way into Xintiandi for this event.
It wasn't just to catch a fleeting, up-close glimpse of Kai. It was to stand directly on the front lines and physically experience the concussive, bone-rattling shockwaves of the engine noise.
From the violent vibrations in the ground to the actual boiling of the air. The acrid smell of burnt rubber and exhaust fumes hitting them squarely in the face. They were using every single sense, every single cell in their bodies, to absorb the pure, raw passion of speed.
And the supercar engine was merely the appetizer. The true main course was always going to be the Formula 1 car.
When Kai climbed into the F1 car, slowly exiting the temporary garage and rolling onto the track, the ordinary, mundane city street instantly transformed into a sacred battlefield. The crowds lining both sides of the barricades completely lost control of their boiling blood—
The SF71H!
That was the exact same championship-winning chassis Kai had driven to author a miracle and claim the throne last season.
It was no longer just a toy car on a television screen. It was no longer a tiny, distant red dot viewed from the grandstands of a race track. This was a genuine, authentic Formula 1 car, sitting right there, physically within arm's reach. The aggressive aerodynamic lines, the muscular, carbon-fiber chassis filled every single corner of their vision. All their preconceived imaginations regarding race cars were completely obliterated, crushed under the absolute, overwhelming physical presence of the machine, violently flipping their understanding of the world upside down.
And then... they held their breath—
The shock had reached its absolute zenith. The impact was so overwhelming that they completely forgot to make a sound. They didn't even dare to make a sudden movement. Their entire bodies went rigidly tense, standing there like wooden statues, terrified that even the slightest noise might shatter the dream unfolding before them.
The world went absolutely, deathly silent.
It wasn't just the crowds lining the track. Even the massive crowds gathered completely outside the cordoned-off exclusion zones instantly sensed the sudden, profound silence. The roaring noise and chaotic chatter gradually, systematically died down. Even though they couldn't physically see the car, their primal instincts took over. They desperately strained their ears, attempting to capture the faintest, most microscopic sound. Glances were exchanged, and absolute silence fell over the entire city block.
"What happened? Why did everyone suddenly stop talking?"
"Shhhh!"
The overwhelming chorus of 'shushes' instantly snuffed out the remaining whispers. Everyone stretched their necks, straining their ears to the absolute limit, desperate to catch the slightest movement in the air.
In that specific moment, it felt as though the absolute center of the universe was located right here. Time froze. They waited with agonizing patience, yet no one could say for certain exactly what they were waiting for.
Waiting for a miracle. Waiting for a spectacle. Waiting for magnificence—
Absolute silence. You could hear a pin drop. It felt as though even the gentle spring breeze had stopped blowing, and the entire massive metropolis had halted its rotation. Then, from behind the red barricades, that iconic splash of Ferrari red slowly emerged. It looked exactly like an apex predator leisurely strolling out of the concrete jungle and stepping proudly into the sunlight, its nose aggressively low to the ground, its rear wing acting as a massive, lethal blade.
The silhouette of the SF71H looked unbelievably stark and impossibly menacing under the bright light.
The next second—
BOOM!
A shockwave of air violently erupted. It wasn't even full throttle on a race track, yet it still unleashed an unbelievable, terrifying level of deterrence.
The turbo-hybrid era engines no longer possessed the eardrum-shredding, high-pitched scream of the old V8 era. But the instant the revs violently spiked, the MGU-H engaged, and the electric motor and internal combustion engine detonated simultaneously in perfect synchronization... the resulting explosion of raw energy produced a low-frequency, seismic vibration that rolled across the ground like a continuous peal of thunder. It pierced straight through the soles of their shoes, rattling their bones, and vibrating violently in their chest cavities.
The city was literally shaking.
The silence was instantly shattered. All rationality was incinerated into fine ash.
AH!
AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH—
One voice stacked upon another, overlapping, blending, and violently colliding. The spectators abandoned all restraint, screaming with maniacal frenzy, emptying absolutely every ounce of energy from their bodies.
And then, those screams were entirely swallowed by the deafening roar of the engine, vanishing without a trace. Their eardrums continued to vibrate violently, yet the world paradoxically descended into a strange, suffocating silence. A completely different form of silence. While their sense of hearing had essentially shut down, overwhelmed by the noise, their senses of smell, touch, and sight acutely registered the boiling, surging frenzy of the massive sea of humanity surrounding them.
Even their sense of taste wasn't spared. Their tongues could literally taste the rolling, scorching heatwaves in the air—a sharp, acrid bite of gunpowder mixed inextricably with the salty tang of sweat and the sweet flavor of unadulterated joy.
Every single cell in their bodies could feel the visceral, bone-rattling resonance slicing through the air. They felt as though they had regressed to infancy; all their reactions were agonizingly slow and clumsy. They stared dumbly, desperately trying to track the red afterimage with their eyes. The howling, furious wind grabbed hold of their invisible puppet strings, yanking them wildly in sync with the car's blinding speed. Their bodies uncontrollably lurched forward and sideways. They were genuinely, physically experiencing the terrifying speed of Formula 1.
VROOM-VROOM— VROOM-VROOM-VROOM—
Sonic booms. Howling winds. Blurry afterimages. The SF71H tore through the grid-like city streets. Blasting down the straights, ripping the handbrake for spectacular 180-degree tail-whips, and instantly accelerating back to maximum velocity. It was their very first time experiencing the absolute limits of human perception from such an insanely close distance. Their eyes were barely capable of tracking the car's afterimage; their reality was reduced entirely to the concussive roar slamming against their ears.
This was an experience that sitting in front of a television, or even sitting in the grandstands at the circuit, could absolutely never provide. A distance of a mere three to five meters, granting front-row seats to the absolute pinnacle of speed.
It was in this exact moment that they finally, truly understood the profound meaning of 'The Fast and the Furious.' Using a fragile human body to pilot a terrifying mechanical beast, challenging the absolute limits of speed, actively rebelling against the established boundaries of physics and theory.
The violent vibrations shooting up from their knees felt like they were actively dismantling their bones and joints piece by piece. Their bodies transformed into flags, whipping violently in the wind, merging completely with the hurricane.
And it wasn't just the crowds lining the barricades. Even the people standing on the outer perimeter, separated by one or even two entire city blocks... at that distance, they couldn't see a single thing. Forget about the car; they couldn't even see a flash of Ferrari red. But the earth-shattering roar of the engine, carried on the howling wind, crashed down upon them with absolute, terrifyingly oppressive force.
It was absolute suppression. They felt exactly like microscopic ants, like meaningless specks of dust cowering on the ground, trembling uncontrollably. They absorbed the madness with their entire bodies, tightly closing their eyes and using every ounce of their imagination to desperately paint the picture in their minds.
The true, irresistible magic of motorsport was on full, undeniable display.
It was only two short laps. It felt like an entire century had passed, yet simultaneously felt like it had only lasted two seconds. Two completely contradictory sensations violently tangled together. They had only just begun to savor the earth-shattering shock of the speed, but by the time their rational thoughts returned to their brains, they realized it was already over. A profound, agonizing sense of reluctance grabbed hold of their hearts, dragging them heavily downward.
The SF71H slowed down, making its way back to the temporary garage. As it crawled forward, the carbon-fiber chassis glinted with a cold, razor-sharp luster under the sun. The front wing actively sliced the air. The massive tires rolled over the mundane city asphalt, producing a faint, yet incredibly distinct friction sound. Goosebumps instantly erupted across their skin, fighting for space.
This scene... it was so incredibly real, and so breathtakingly vivid. During the recently concluded season, every single spectator, every single fan had watched this exact Number 22 Ferrari on their screens. They had followed it through seas of fire and mountains of blades. They had followed it into the teeth of terrifying hurricanes. And finally, they had stood together as it ascended to the throne at Yas Marina—
All those fragmented, disjointed memories suddenly flooded their minds, incredibly vivid and alive. They stared unblinkingly at that splash of red. The surging emotions in their chests simply couldn't be described with a few simple words. A massive, tangled knot of pure happiness mixed with overwhelming excitement swelled in their chests like a giant ball of cotton candy. Sweet, sour, bitter, and spicy flavors danced wildly across their tongues.
Witnessing that legendary, battle-scarred warhorse up close was an entirely different, transcendent experience.
Language was so pathetic, so utterly pale. It wasn't sufficient to describe even one ten-thousandth of the emotion currently raging in their hearts. The only thing they could possibly do was release it completely, screaming into the void.
And then, standing in the absolute center of downtown Shanghai, a massive hurricane officially began to form.
It wasn't just the fans. The rolling, scorching heatwaves of passion entirely engulfed the Number 22 car, and Kai felt his own blood begin to boil in response.
From behind the steering wheel, Kai raised his hand. It wasn't a standard, polite wave. It was a slightly casual, yet intensely personal and iconic salute—
Index and middle fingers pressed tightly together. A light tap against the visor of his helmet, followed by a sharp flick outward.
The gesture practically spoke aloud: Thank you for coming out to watch me race.
A single gesture, conveying a thousand words.
In that exact instant, the suppressed, tightly coiled emotions of the crowd completely lost control, detonating violently once again.
Red T-shirts, red bandanas, and a massive array of official Ferrari merchandise were frantically waved in the air. Everywhere you looked, an endless, unbroken ocean of red spread outward, completely flooding the city streets. It summoned a literal tsunami in the center of the metropolis, aggressively declaring the majestic arrival of motorsport.
In a daze, memories flashed back to Yas Marina. Even though the new season had already been underway for a full month, mainland China's own, exclusive championship victory party was only just now finally taking place.
Absolutely no one wanted to miss out.
Some screamed with reckless abandon.
Some wept uncontrollably, tears streaming down their faces.
Some screamed until their throats were completely shredded, unable to produce a single sound, yet they continued to roar silently into the sky.
Some held their phones high in the air, only to realize later that they hadn't captured a single clear image. The lens was shaking, their hands were shaking, their entire bodies were trembling uncontrollably.
Others abandoned all pretense of dignity, jumping wildly and headbanging like maniacs, thoroughly transforming Xintiandi into the epicenter of a massive, unhinged rave.
Standing amidst the crushing crowd, Li Lingyu felt her throat tighten painfully.
She couldn't hear the roar of the engine. She couldn't hear the deafening screams of the people surrounding her. The only sound echoing against her eardrums was a continuous, rushing boom—
It was the sound of her own blood violently rushing through her veins.
Only those who had truly followed Kai every step of the way through the 2018 season could genuinely understand. The so-called "miracle" had never, ever been easy. The birth of one miracle was not an ending; it was merely the prologue to an entirely new legend. They had already embarked on the brand new journey of the 2019 season. Completely new, terrifying challenges were rushing up to meet them.
The SF71H reached the end of the cordoned-off street. The engine growled low. And then, it began to spin violently in place. Thick, acrid smoke instantly billowed into the air. The engine roared, a deafening sonic assault. Kai was doing donuts.
AH!
BOOM-BOOM-BOOM!
AHHHHHHHHH—
BOOM!
The screams of the crowd and the roar of the engine violently intertwined. All the different sounds collided and fused, mutating into a single, unified entity. The boiling blood in their veins shot from the soles of their feet straight to the top of their skulls like a bolt of lightning, erupting violently.
Li Lingyu couldn't control herself anymore. She threw both hands high into the air, jumping and cheering with absolute, reckless abandon, transforming into an indistinguishable droplet within this vast, roaring ocean.
Looking around, Li Lingyu saw a sea of incredibly happy faces. It wasn't just excitement, and it wasn't just hype. It was a profound, genuine happiness radiating from the very depths of their souls. Their smiles bloomed vibrantly, blurring through her tears. And then, she saw Li Miaomiao. She saw the new friends she had made at the impromptu street party last night. She saw the usually expressionless Su Tong. Every single one of them, without exception—
In this exact moment, they were all one single entity. Not only had they joined hands to witness a miracle, but they would stand shoulder-to-shoulder to welcome the coming storm, calmly facing every single obstacle the future held.
Those hardships, those brutal challenges... they would absolutely never stop their forward momentum. Ultimately, they would all be transformed into medals of honor, documenting each and every victorious battle.
Starting from this weekend in Shanghai. The battle horn had officially been sounded.
"AHHHHHHH!"
As she screamed, Li Lingyu burst into joyous laughter. It felt as though she could actually, genuinely hear the sound of the entire city's heart beating.
And this time, it was beating entirely for motorsport.
Cheering. Jumping.
Screaming. Releasing.
It felt exactly like a massive rock music festival. The beating hearts became the drum track. The asphalt streets became the keyboard. Using their physical bodies to violently collide, to burn brightly. The entire world was transformed into a rolling, deafening wave of sound.
Amidst the roaring engine and billowing smoke of the donut celebration, the atmosphere was pushed to its absolute, unimaginable zenith.
The surrounding office buildings and shopping malls were completely, inescapably sucked into the rolling heatwave. They couldn't control their curiosity any longer. Windows were shoved open one after another. Like curious meerkats popping out of their burrows, heads poked out everywhere, brimming with eager excitement as they surveyed the massive, chaotic spectacle below. White-collar workers who had initially just used the noise as an excuse to slack off were now genuinely, profoundly hyped.
However, the truly hilarious, tragicomic sight was reserved for the massive corporate towers with sealed windows running central AC. Those windows were densely packed with a terrifying number of human faces. Eyes wide with desperate longing, looking utterly depressed at their captivity, they stared longingly at the freedom outside. They were literally pressed flat against the glass. It created a completely bizarre, absurd visual—
Because of the massive sonic vibrations generated by the engine roar and the crowd's screaming, those heavy glass panes vibrated slightly. As a result, the hundreds of faces pressed flat against the glass looked exactly like pancakes being flipped on a hot griddle. Yet, even the violent vibrations weren't enough to break their absolute resolve to remain intimately bonded with the windowpane.
Even though you couldn't hear a single sound from inside, you could vividly, tangibly feel the profound resentment radiating from those trapped corporate slaves. Their desperate, suffocating desire to join the party below effortlessly smashed through the reinforced glass, pouring down onto the streets like a torrential summer rainstorm.
Of course, this was not the end.
To be accurate, this was merely Part One of the roadshow.
Following Kai, Leclerc took the wheel of the SF71H and hit the streets. Showcasing a distinctly different driving style, he once again gave the crowd a heart-stopping, up-close demonstration of the engine's raw sonic power.
Later, after Leclerc returned to the temporary garage for a brief rest, Kai and Leclerc emerged simultaneously, driving two identical SF71Hs. They staged a brief, spectacular pursuit sequence down the city streets.
Obviously, it wasn't a genuine offensive/defensive duel. The width and length of the downtown streets were severely limited, making it impossible to truly unleash the cars. But the two drivers expertly simulated the intense tension of a high-speed dogfight. The aggressive air compression and violent turbulence generated by two F1 cars running at speed created a literal, physical storm. It gave the spectators in the front rows a visceral, unforgettable lesson in exactly what 'The Fast and the Furious' actually meant.
Following that, Kai took the wheel of the legendary, classic F2002. He showcased the absolute, undisputed most dominant Ferrari race car of the 21st century to the roaring crowd.
Finally, Kai and Leclerc climbed out of the cockpits. They removed their helmets, swapped them for Ferrari baseball caps, and made their way over to the sponsor's designated Fan Interaction Zone.
Five Star Sports reporter Shi Yiying had been waiting there for a long time. In order to project absolute professionalism and maximize the appeal of motorsport to the live audience, Shi Yiying was personally acting as the host for the Fan Festival. She was simultaneously commentating, bridging segments, and conducting interviews. Wearing multiple hats, she was doing absolutely everything in her power to ensure the entire event radiated an aura of elite professionalism and authority.
Shi Yiying had arrived fully prepared. The brief, fifteen-minute interview segment contained absolutely zero useless fluff and zero polite, time-wasting pleasantries. She didn't constantly pause to awkwardly insert sponsor plugs. The entire conversation was laser-focused entirely on the racing itself. Furthermore, she orchestrated a brief, highly effective interaction segment with the fans, allowing Kai to genuinely, physically experience the terrifying magnitude of his current popularity.
Exactly as Leclerc had said: Kai thought he was mentally prepared for it. But reality had once again delivered a massive surprise, giving him a brutal, firsthand lesson in the true meaning of the word 'fanaticism.'
And it wasn't just the fans. The sponsor representatives, Ferrari's top executives for the Asian region, the Mayor of Shanghai, the senior management of the Shanghai Grand Prix organizing committee... absolutely everyone was present. And none of them were content to just sit quietly in the background like decorative folding screens. Every single one of them was eagerly rubbing their hands together, lining up impatiently, aggressively fighting for the opportunity to take an exclusive, one-on-one photo with the two superstar drivers.
Absolutely no exceptions!
The fans packed into the front-row "rock zone" not only got an incredibly close look at the two drivers, but they were also incredibly honored to witness the absolute craziest, most unhinged moment of the entire Fan Festival today.
Leclerc, speaking half-jokingly, said into the microphone, "...Kai, the crowd is absolutely desperate for a special souvenir. If I remember correctly, you told me you came fully prepared."
Kai: ?
Watching Kai—who was notoriously impossible to fluster—suddenly looking completely caught off guard, Leclerc smiled brilliantly. But Kai never even got the chance to fire back a retort. The crowd, already bordering on feral, completely lost control of their screaming and cheering. The energy unleashed in that single instant caused every single window in the buildings surrounding Xintiandi to violently tremble in their frames.
It was a literal tsunami of noise!
Helpless, but taking it entirely in stride, Kai proved incredibly generous. He immediately took off his own Ferrari baseball cap, signed it right there on the spot, crumpled it into a tight ball, and launched it high into the air toward the screaming crowd.
The next second: AHHHHHHHHHHHHH—
The noise instantly shattered the physical limits of human hearing. The world vanished into an absolute void. The only thing remaining was a deafening, continuous ringing against their eardrums. In agonizing slow motion, they watched as the crowd mutated into a frenzy of starving sharks scenting blood in the water, violently surging forward.
Leclerc, who had accidentally kicked the hornet's nest, and Kai, who had actually thrown the rock at the hornet's nest while completely unaware of the consequences, were both genuinely terrified by the apocalyptic scene unfolding before them.
In this exact moment, the Fan Festival finally reached its absolute, undeniable zenith. An unsurpassable, legendary peak.
After surviving the chaos, Kai and Leclerc eventually climbed back into the soon-to-be-released Ferrari sports cars. In a scene resembling a grand parade, they slowly drove a final lap around the venue, waving to the fans, doing their absolute best to acknowledge every single corner and every single person. They sincerely thanked every single spectator who had shown up, completely igniting the Fan Festival.
And only then did they finally speed away.
The event had finally concluded. It had officially drawn to a close.
—A surprise! An absolute, undeniable surprise!
Without a shadow of a doubt, it was a massive success that far, far exceeded even the most optimistic, wildly aggressive projections.
Initially, a small faction of veteran fans and industry professionals had harbored deep anxieties. They were terrified the Fan Festival would devolve into a sterile, soulless corporate commercial event. Awkward hosts, amateurish guest stars, chaotic organization, a completely apathetic live audience, and massive, embarrassing swaths of empty space. Given the historically weak foundation of the motorsport market in China, organizing a massive, highly professional event like this meant everyone was operating in unfamiliar territory. The slightest lack of attention or professionalism could easily reduce the entire spectacle to nothing more than a cynical, pointless game played by corporate capital.
Absolutely no one had anticipated that the actual event would completely, violently shatter all those gloomy expectations. Not only was it incredibly professional, but it was phenomenally rich in content. The entire focus remained strictly locked on the racing itself, while brilliantly guaranteeing high-quality, continuous interaction with the live crowd.
Yes, there were still some minor regrets. Yes, there had been a few unexpected logistical hiccups. Organizing such a massive, unprecedented event for the very first time meant it was inherently impossible to ensure absolute perfection in every single detail. But the comprehensive, top-to-bottom success of the Fan Festival was a glaringly obvious, indisputable reality. In a single, explosive stroke, it had completely ignited the city of Shanghai in April, allowing everyone to physically feel the terrifying, scorching majesty of mid-summer while still standing in the lingering chill of early spring.
Li Lingyu stood up perfectly straight. She had honestly thought she would feel regretful and heartbroken, having agonizingly missed the opportunity to personally say hello to Kai from up close. But in reality? She didn't feel sad at all.
Not only was she not sad, but the sheer, unadulterated happiness she was currently feeling was expanding ten, a hundred times over. Because now, she knew for a fact: Kai was no longer a secret treasure. She was no longer fighting alone in the dark.
Previously, Li Lingyu had desperately tried to find a few like-minded friends to watch races with, browse news articles with, and share behind-the-scenes paddock gossip with. But clearly, that hadn't been an easy task. It wasn't until this Fan Festival—from the agonizing, all-night queuing to the frantic volunteer work—that she had finally managed to build a massive, passionate network of friends.
"Kai" was finally no longer a secret. He was radiating a brilliant, boundless light. For the upcoming 2019 season, she finally had a massive crew of comrades to follow the races with.
Furthermore, Li Lingyu firmly believed that an increasingly massive wave of the general public and casual onlookers were currently turning their attention toward motorsport.
Regardless of the initial reason they started paying attention to racing, as long as they became a part of this incredible sport... as long as they ultimately fell in love with the boiling blood and raw passion of it... that was an absolute, undisputed victory—
Later, according to comprehensive post-event reports from Five Star Sports and CCTV News, the F1 Fan Festival was an unprecedented, historic, monumental success. The event at Xintiandi had successfully attracted a staggering crowd of over 55,800 spectators!
Not only was the venue jammed completely full, with absolutely zero standing room left, but the outer perimeter was surrounded by countless tens of thousands of fans who simply couldn't get inside. The Weibo trending charts were violently hijacked and completely dominated by the event, triggering a massive, unprecedented explosion of traffic. For over three hours, it genuinely felt as though this was the only major event occurring anywhere in the entire country.
A massive, aggressive mainstream breakout—
Yet another massive, aggressive mainstream breakout!
Clearly, this wasn't the first time Kai had broken out of the motorsport bubble and gone mainstream, and it almost certainly wouldn't be the last. But the visceral, physical impact of this specific breakout felt significantly different. The sheer authenticity and the terrifying magnitude of the shockwave were absolutely unprecedented. In particular, the overwhelming visual impact of the Kai and Leclerc "Handsome Twin Stars" combination triggered a massive tsunami of social media traffic and viral discussions.
The eyes of the general public gathered from all directions.
And then, finally, a group of casual netizens suddenly had a massive realization. "Wait a second... isn't this the insanely handsome guy from those viral gaokao paparazzi photos last year?! The guy everyone said was applying for the elite art academies?!"
The owner of those legendary, unedited candid photos had finally been identified. The dormant memories were violently resurrected. So, the guy in the photos was actually...
The newly crowned Formula 1 Drivers' World Champion?!