Chapter 162: I Overtook One Mercedes, But There Are Still Two Mercedes Ahead
Sometimes, the more one fixates on a single point, the easier it is to miss everything else.
But when awareness spreads outward—when attention settles into instinct—every detail becomes sharp.
The moment the five red lights fully illuminated, Wu Shi's hands were already tight on the wheel.
Too tight.
The lights stayed on longer than expected.
His heartbeat climbed, fast and uneven. He didn't know when it would happen—only that it would.
Lights out!
Instinct took over.
Clutch released.
Throttle fed in smoothly.
Engine speed hovering precisely at the torque peak for first gear.
Whirr—!
The rear tyres bit.
Thump!
The FW37 leapt forward, slamming him into the seat as the engine roared, briefly muted by load before exploding into full voice.
Whirr—clack!
Second gear.
Acceleration surged, cleaner and harder now, the power delivery snapping into place.
And then—
The light to his front-right dimmed.
Car #6.
Rosberg.
He's slower off the line.
That single piece of information was enough.
Wu Shi didn't hesitate.
By the time they passed the halfway point of the start-finish straight, the Williams' nose was already level—then ahead—of Rosberg's Mercedes by a front wing.
But Mercedes power arrived brutally.
The Silver Arrow clawed back, the gap shrinking with every meter.
What a pity, Wu Shi thought.
Not for himself.
For Rosberg.
Albert Park's start straight was brutally short—less than 300 meters from the front row to Turn 1.
There was no more road.
Ahead, Hamilton sliced decisively from the far left to the inside line, committing fully to the apex.
Behind him, the two cars running side by side were forced to brake.
Wu Shi knew the braking point perfectly.
He was on the outside. He couldn't claim the apex.
So he copied Hamilton.
Ignoring his mirrors, Wu Shi turned in—hard—toward the right, as if Rosberg didn't exist.
Rosberg reacted instantly, steering slightly right to avoid contact.
But he stopped himself.
If he yielded now, Wu Shi would control Turn 2 completely.
Rosberg twitched the wheel—once—then held his line.
Neither driver lifted.
Neither flinched.
By the apex of Turn 1, the Williams and Mercedes were so close they were effectively locked together, blocking the middle-right of the track.
Any further movement—any correction—would mean contact.
And then came Turn 2.
A left-hander.
Who was on the left?
Wu Shi.
And he didn't turn.
He drove straight.
Straight toward the barrier.
Rosberg could have forced it—could have turned left and gambled everything on Wu Shi reacting in time.
But he didn't.
He couldn't.
Not in the first race.
Not against Hamilton.
Not with a championship at stake.
He backed out.
Swoosh!
Only after fully clearing Turn 1 did Wu Shi finally turn left.
Early throttle.
Clean rotation.
Perfect exit.
The Williams surged forward.
The overtake was complete.
ROAR!!!
The Turn 1 grandstands erupted.
Applause thundered through the pit lane.
Claire Williams, standing in the paddock with her sunglasses on, smiled and clapped softly.
If only Dad were here, she thought.
David Croft nearly lost his voice.
"He's done it! He's overtaken Rosberg! He's overtaken Rosberg! He's overtaken Rosberg!"
Three times—before he could stop himself.
But there was no time to dwell.
The pack behind was chaos.
Massa, starting fourth, wasted no time. He placed his Williams squarely in the middle of the road, defending aggressively and blocking both Ferraris through the opening complex.
The top six cleared Turns 1 and 2.
The midfield didn't.
Grosjean was clipped by Kvyat.
The Lotus snapped sideways and slammed into the barrier at Turn 2.
"Virtual safety car!" Jonathan called instantly.
This was new for 2015.
Under VSC conditions, every car—regardless of position—had to adhere to a strict delta.
Wu Shi slowed immediately.
Rosberg followed, visibly deflated.
Ten seconds later—
"Full safety car deployed."
The Mercedes-AMG GTS rolled out.
The field compressed.
Wu Shi glanced at the car ahead—Hamilton's Mercedes—then at the silver safety car leading them all.
He chuckled and keyed the radio.
"I overtook one Mercedes," he said lightly.
"But there are still two Mercedes ahead."
"…Yes," Jonathan replied, deadpan. "Your overtake was excellent."
Wu Shi sighed.
Zero sense of humor.
The safety car stayed out for several laps, preserving tyres and scrambling strategies. One-stop suddenly looked more viable.
On lap three, the lights went out.
Safety car in.
Hamilton slowed deliberately, weaving to build temperature. He checked his mirrors—and smiled faintly.
No Mercedes behind him.
Green flag.
Hamilton launched.
Wu Shi waited.
He didn't care about Hamilton.
He cared about Rosberg.
Only after Hamilton committed did Wu Shi accelerate—hard.
Rosberg matched him instantly.
They crossed the line together.
Through Turn 1, Wu Shi defended cleanly.
But through Turn 2—
Mercedes was faster.
Noticeably faster.
I can't run like this, Wu Shi realized. He'll get me.
Out of Turn 2, the Williams unleashed everything.
Full throttle.
The floor kissed the asphalt, sparks flying as downforce crushed the car into the track.
Rosberg stayed glued to him.
The hunt was on.