Chapter 167: This Is All the Team's Credit
Because the soft tires had lasted far longer than anyone expected, it wasn't until lap 40 that Wu Shi's lap time finally slipped to 1:33.321—still not far off Rosberg's pace.
"BOX, BOX, BOX!"
He had extended the stint by five extra laps.
That alone was massive profit.
Wu Shi guided the Williams into the pit lane.
Claire lifted her sunglasses slightly, her sharp gaze sweeping across the pit crew as they prepared with disciplined precision. Then she looked up—car No. 59 was already rolling in.
She watched closely.
One mistake here could ruin everything.
Clatter!
The air guns barked in unison. The old tires came off, the fresh ones went on almost simultaneously.
Puff—clatter!
The car dropped.
Vroom!
Wu Shi mashed the throttle, accelerating down the pit lane at the limiter and blasting back onto the circuit.
"The Williams pit crew is outstanding today—2.81 seconds!" Brother Bing shouted excitedly.
"Wu Shi rejoins the race three seconds ahead of Vettel and fourteen seconds behind Rosberg," Brother Fei rattled off the data.
"Rosberg's lapping at around 1:33.2, and there are seventeen laps left."
"What's fourteen divided by seventeen?" Brother Bing suddenly asked.
"You can't do that in your head?"
Brother Bing wiggled his fingers twice, then laughed and pulled out his phone.
"I'll just use a calculator."
"0.82."
"Less than a second per lap," Brother Bing said calmly—but without excitement.
If that was all he gained, Rosberg would still win. Catching up was one thing; overtaking was another.
"Wu Shi averaged 1:32.436 on that soft-tire stint," Brother Fei added.
"These medium tires only need to last seventeen laps. Let's see what pace he really has."
The studio fell silent.
---
Lap 41.
Out-lap on new tires: 1:33.211—almost identical to Hamilton's pace on fresh mediums.
Lap 42.
Wu Shi stunned everyone.
1:31.985.
In the Mercedes pit lane, Toto Wolff's brow creased deeply.
---
Lap 43.
Räikkönen pitted—but the left-rear wheel stuck. Moments after rejoining, his engine failed. He parked the car on the grass, triggering a brief yellow flag.
Wu Shi was now just over twelve seconds behind Rosberg.
Lap 44.
Pérez passed Button for a points position.
Gap: 11.001 seconds.
Lap 45.
Ericsson ran wide into the gravel and rejoined behind Sainz.
Gap: 9.985 seconds.
Lap 49.
Button's McLaren-Honda developed a problem, though he continued.
Gap: 8.456 seconds.
Lap 50.
Hamilton set a new fastest lap: 1:30.945, smashing Rosberg's 2014 benchmark by more than a second.
Gap: 6.75 seconds.
Lap 51.
As if answering Hamilton—
Wu Shi went even faster.
1:30.311.
In a single lap, he closed 2.8 seconds.
Gap: 3.95 seconds.
Of course, tires weren't meant to be abused like that.
On lap 52, his pace settled back into the 1:31s.
Rosberg, meanwhile, was on 41-lap-old mediums. The degradation was becoming obvious.
---
Lap 54.
Wu Shi entered Rosberg's one-second DRS window through the esses after Turn 9.
Everyone in the Williams pit box leaned toward the screens.
"It's coming—this is it!" Brother Bing shouted.
Through Turns 11 and 12, the medium tires were finally in their optimal window. The car felt alive.
Wu Shi hugged the right-hand side of the track, angling aggressively toward the apex of Turn 12 directly from the exit of Turn 11.
Speed stayed above 200 km/h until the very last moment.
This was a qualifying technique—and Wu Shi used it in race trim.
Rosberg caught the Williams rapidly filling his mirrors.
Cold sweat broke out.
"There's a DRS zone after Turn 12! Wu Shi is within a second—he'll get DRS!"
"DRS open! The Williams is flying—closing fast!"
"But the distance isn't quite enough yet—"
Wu Shi darted to the inside.
Rosberg defended the middle.
"No braking—he's not braking!"
"Oh my god! Front tires smoking—but he's still in control!"
David's commentary came out in a machine-gun burst.
The move didn't stick. Rosberg had already turned in; Wu Shi only slowed enough to cut across the apex.
But Wu Shi stayed glued to him.
Still attacking.
Into Turn 14, Wu Shi braked impossibly late again, his front wing almost kissing Rosberg's rear tire.
Vroom—whoosh!
They launched onto the straight.
Rosberg held the middle line.
Wu Shi went wider, delaying his turn-in, then cut sharply toward the apex.
Rosberg entered faster—but his exit was compromised.
Wu Shi entered slower—but exited clean.
Straight-line acceleration favored him now.
Rosberg backed out, planning to reclaim the position with DRS after Turn 16.
But Wu Shi didn't pass.
He tucked back in.
A feint.
Rosberg cursed internally. No Verstappen-style desperation here—just cold calculation.
"I need more engine power," Rosberg said.
"Mode two," the pit wall replied.
They crossed the DRS detection line.
Wu Shi was behind—just enough.
DRS enabled.
Both Mercedes engines roared, heat haze rippling behind them.
"Can he do it this time?!" the commentators whispered excitedly.
The answer was obvious.
Rosberg's tires were finished.
Even with extra engine power, the car simply couldn't accelerate.
Wu Shi swept past him as if overtaking a slower class of car, completing the move just after the grid markings.
Rosberg immediately defended the inside.
Wu Shi didn't care—he went outside.
They dove into Turn 1 side by side.
The Williams, glowing with heat, looked like a fireball hurtling toward the corner.
Rosberg hesitated.
Wu Shi left space—just enough—and turned cleanly into Turn 2.
The tire difference was brutal.
Rosberg's rear stepped out slightly on exit.
"Yes! He's through!" Brother Bing leapt from his seat.
"A beautiful overtake! Wu Shi perfectly used tire advantage and track positioning to reclaim second place!" David declared.
Applause exploded in the Williams pit box.
Claire was all smiles now. Jonathan laughed openly, no longer bothering to hide it.
Across the pit lane, Mercedes stood in silence.
Toto folded his arms, staring at the screen.
---
Wu Shi pulled away in clean air, opening a one-second gap within a few corners.
Rosberg was quiet on the radio for a long moment.
Then, flatly:
"This is all the team's credit."
Peter replied calmly, "Nico, I know you're frustrated. You drove well today."
Everyone knew the truth—the early mistakes had defined the race. Blaming strategy alone was unfair.
---
On lap 57, Hamilton lapped Ricciardo in seventh.
On the final lap, Lewis Hamilton took the checkered flag, claiming his 34th career victory.
Wu Shi crossed the line in second place.
Jonathan's voice burst into his earpiece:
"Congratulations! Your first Formula 1 podium—Australian Grand Prix runner-up!"
"Thank you," Wu Shi replied, smiling despite himself.
"This is all the team's credit."
The circuit erupted in applause.
Wu Shi didn't wave.
As a rookie, he had no fan base here.
Looking up at the stands, he saw only red Ferrari caps—and black Mercedes hats bearing the three-pointed star.