On Thursday evening, May 20, Monaco's nightfall arrived on a humid Mediterranean breeze, gently smoothing away the clamor of the opening F2 sprint race.
In the pit lane beside the circuit, Alex Sun had just taken off his helmet. Beads of sweat slid down his temples as the mechanics gathered around the car for post-race checks, the lingering warmth of the engine still hanging in the air.
Mark walked over with a data tablet and gave him a pat on the shoulder, his voice full of approval.
"Beautiful drive. Fourth place on your first time at Monaco—your balance between attack and defense was flawless. Word's already reached F1. Quite a few teams are watching you now."
Alex Sun wiped the sweat from his face and reached for the tablet, ready to go over the data, but Mark pressed a hand down on his wrist.
"The data can wait. There's something I need to tell you." Mark's tone grew serious, tinged with a hint of mystery. "The team's hosting a celebration dinner tonight at a French restaurant by the harbor. A real heavyweight from Ferrari will be there. For you, this is a rare opportunity."
"You've always gone straight back to the hotel after post-race dinners, but this time is different. This is your chance to get in touch with top-tier resources. You have to show up—don't just disappear like before. As for who it is, you'll find out soon enough. Trust me, you won't regret it."
Alex Sun paused. He was used to heading straight back to the hotel after races to review data, and celebrations had never really interested him. Mark's deliberate suspense only deepened his curiosity.
If Mark was taking it this seriously and stressing that it was a "heavyweight," then the person's status was clearly out of the ordinary. He quickly understood Mark's reasoning.
As a rookie trying to establish himself in F2 and move closer to F1, access to quality resources and connections mattered. Whoever was coming, if Mark called it a rare opportunity, it was worth making the time.
After all, being noticed by F1 teams was already an opportunity few received. After a brief moment of thought, he nodded.
"I understand. I'll go."
Prema Racing's celebration dinner was held at a top-tier French restaurant by the harbor. Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, rows of luxury yachts lined the water, their lights interweaving with the shimmering reflections on the sea, sketching Monaco's signature blend of elegance and extravagance.
Alex Sun changed out of his race suit and slipped into a simple black casual shirt before entering the restaurant. He wasn't there to socialize, so he didn't rush into the lively crowd. Instead, he chose a relatively quiet corner and sat down, his thoughts still circling around the "heavyweight" Mark had mentioned.
No sooner had he taken his seat than several gazes locked onto him. The flicker of surprise on his teammate Piastri's face vanished almost instantly, replaced by caution and wariness. Piastri, also a junior driver under the Renault F1 Team, had previously regarded Alex Sun as nothing more than a sponsor-backed driver, someone whose lap times usually trailed behind his own and barely warranted attention.
Members of other teams nearby looked at Alex Sun with open curiosity. After all, he'd delivered a standout performance on track that afternoon, and his low-key demeanor now only made him more noticeable.
Team principal René Rosin cast him a knowing look, the kind that said, "Just as I thought."
He already knew that tonight's heavyweight guest was Ferrari F1 Team principal Mattia Binotto, and he was well aware that the true purpose of Binotto's visit was to evaluate Alex Sun.
As a core partner within Ferrari's youth development system, Prema maintained long-standing, deep cooperation with Ferrari in both talent development and technical exchange. Binotto's team had taken notice of Alex Sun's rapid progress as early as after Bahrain, and his continued breakthroughs at Monaco had only strengthened that impression.
On top of that, throughout the race weekend, they had frequently seen Alex Sun using his downtime to visit the garages of various F1 teams, observing and learning on his own initiative. That drive and potential ultimately pushed Ferrari to extend an olive branch.
Rosin had deliberately kept this from Alex Sun in advance. In truth, he wanted to test the young driver's composure—whether he could remain level-headed when faced with a once-in-a-lifetime invitation from a top team.
Soon, a weighty gaze swept through the room. Alex Sun followed the sensation and immediately recognized the man approaching—Ferrari F1 Team principal Mattia Binotto. In that instant, he understood Mark's intentions.
Midway through the dinner, Binotto didn't linger elsewhere and walked straight toward Alex Sun. He showed no unnecessary emotion, his eyes sharp and steady, carrying the unmistakable scrutiny of someone who ran a top-tier team.
He extended his hand.
"Alex Sun. I've seen your performance. Monaco demands composure and precision above all else, and you delivered. That has put you on Ferrari's radar."
Alex Sun rose at once and shook his hand, clearly feeling the firm, measured strength in Binotto's grip—a seriousness that carried genuine acknowledgment. He said nothing, waiting calmly. He knew Ferrari never made promises lightly.
Binotto withdrew his hand, his fingertips lightly tapping the rim of his wine glass. His voice was even, but unmistakably firm.
"Ferrari's academy doesn't invest in 'potential.' We look only at results. We can offer you a formal evaluation slot, on one condition: within the next two rounds, you must stand on an F2 podium."
"Meet that requirement, and you'll receive a junior contract and enter our development system—simulator sessions, dedicated technical support, physical training programs. These resources are designed to help you reach the next level."
His gaze swept briefly around the room before settling back on Alex Sun.
"If you fail, the evaluation slot expires automatically. Ferrari red is reserved only for those who prove they deserve it."
There was no embellishment in his words—only the cold rationality of elite selection. The chatter around the table fell silent as shocked and curious eyes focused on Alex Sun.
His heartbeat quickened. The invitation from Ferrari's academy felt like a door to the very top of motorsport opening right in front of him. He was no longer the backmarker facing elimination during winter testing.
He weighed it quickly in his mind. Joining Ferrari's academy meant access to the very resources he needed most right now—simulator time, a dedicated technical team.
But the requirement was brutally demanding. Fail, and the opportunity would be gone for good. And even if he succeeded, Ferrari's system was famously competitive—standing out would never be easy.
Images flashed through his mind: years of obsession with F1, the roar of engines on track. His resolve solidified almost instantly. Even if it truly was the red circus, he was determined to step into it.
Alex Sun's pupils narrowed slightly, a sharp light flashing in his eyes as he spoke with conviction.
"Thank you, Mr. Binotto, for your recognition, and thank you to Ferrari for this opportunity."
He had already run through it all. A second-place qualifying position in hand, combined with his master-level track proficiency from the system—those were the foundations of his confidence.
After a brief pause, he added,
"But I don't need two rounds. Right here, in Monaco, I'll stand on the podium and prove I deserve this slot."
The words landed with weight.
A ripple ran through the room. Binotto's eyes flickered with surprise. He had seen countless young drivers desperate to join the academy—some overly cautious, others impatient—but rarely someone so confident they were willing to shorten their own evaluation.
Alex Sun continued, following Binotto's logic.
"I believe that if I can prove myself early, Ferrari will match that growth with the right resources. Efficient development benefits the team as much as the driver."
Binotto paused, then a rare smile appeared at the corner of his mouth. The scrutiny in his eyes gave way to genuine appreciation, though his tone remained composed.
"Very good. A young driver should have this kind of confidence. I like your attitude."
"If you reach the podium this weekend, the evaluation ends immediately and the junior contract takes effect. I'll have the academy tailor a more suitable development plan for you, including priority access to the F1 simulator."
He extended his hand once more.
"I look forward to your performance. Don't disappoint Ferrari—and don't disappoint yourself."
Nearby, Piastri took in the entire exchange. Having once dismissed Alex Sun as merely a sponsor driver, he now watched Binotto personally extend an olive branch. The last trace of his underestimation vanished as he realized Alex Sun had become a serious rival on track.
Alex Sun, meanwhile, slipped away from the social crowd and went straight to the race engineer. Compared to celebrating, he was far more eager to review the sprint race data and prepare for his podium push—to make good on his promise to Ferrari. With Binotto's offer now within reach, every step of the next race mattered.
"It's obvious you're already thinking about the next one," Mark said, sitting down beside him with a glass of wine, approval clear in his eyes.
"Since you're aiming for the podium, the strategy group has tailored tomorrow's practice plan. The focus is refining a base setup suited to Monaco, plus a longer run. We'll concentrate on testing supersoft tyre wear and stability over distance. That data will be crucial for sprint-race overtaking strategy and long-run pace—key for a podium fight."
Alex Sun nodded, his eyes still on the tablet. His fingertip tapped lightly on the circuit map.
"I know. Celebrating doesn't mean anything—results do. Tomorrow in practice, I want to start on supersofts and run a flying lap straight away. I need to understand their limit pace and gather key data for further setup work."
As he spoke, he swiped to another screen, pulling up the weather forecast. The words "High probability of rain in Monaco tomorrow" stood out clearly, making his heart sink.
Mark looked even more approving and replied without hesitation.
"No problem. We'll fully match your rhythm and collect data precisely, down to every detail."
Near midnight, Alex Sun returned to his hotel room and powered on his computer as soon as he stepped inside. On the way back, he'd already been mapping out wet-weather line adjustments in his head. Now, he replayed the first sprint race while refining the rain-adapted pace for the opening lap of tomorrow's practice.
Still, the forecast—"High probability of rain in Monaco tomorrow"—lingered in his mind. Rain had been his weakness in his previous life. Simulator training had stabilized his wet-weather performance, but the slick surface and limited visibility of a real circuit left him without complete confidence.
Fatigue washed over him, yet he didn't dare relax. Tomorrow's 11:45–12:15 free practice session was the only practice opportunity of the weekend. That opening lap wasn't just about learning the track and collecting setup data—it was the first step toward fulfilling his promise.
With rain adding another layer of uncertainty, that step had to be flawless.
...
(40 Chapters Ahead)
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