For a brief moment, the world fell silent.
The noise froze in place. The constant bustle stalled mid-step. Even time itself seemed to hesitate, as if everything had paused to confirm what had just happened.
Not only Spa. The entire world, following the broadcast feed, held its breath.
Free practice?
A rookie?
A so-called baby driver?
So what.
None of it mattered anymore. What mattered was the performance unfolding before their eyes. The pursuit of speed. The defiance of limits. Like Icarus flying toward the sun, every gaze locked onto that streak of Ferrari red, hearts pounding wildly before dissolving into a strange, hollow stillness at the peak.
The engine note roared on.
It tore through Spa's endless green and blue, carving a shocking slash of crimson across the screen.
Then the noise vanished.
Chaos collapsed into absolute quiet. Madness burned itself out, leaving behind an almost sacred calm. The heartbeat returned.
Thump. Thump.
Heavy, deliberate, slamming against the chest.
In the air, Martin Brundle's voice finally broke free.
"Three purple sectors. Fastest overall."
"Oh my God."
"Kai Zhizhou has beaten Hamilton's time and taken P1 in the first free practice session at Spa. This is unbelievable. I genuinely cannot believe what I'm seeing."
"One forty-five point four eight eight."
"This is his very first official Formula One appearance. His first time ever at Spa. He has been racing formula cars for less than ten months, and yet he has delivered a lap of pure courage and conviction."
"And more than that."
"He still had something in reserve. He lifted slightly at Blanchimont. He got tangled up at Pouhon and the Bus Stop. He never fully extracted the car's limit, and yet he still topped the timesheets."
"My God."
"A rookie. A newcomer. On his Formula One debut weekend. Even if this is only free practice, the talent is undeniable."
"For the first time in history, a rookie driver finishes FP1 inside the top ten."
"And then goes fastest."
Only after hearing his own words did Brundle let out a disbelieving laugh. His scalp tingled, goosebumps racing down his arms.
He turned to Croft.
For once, their roles had reversed. The usually excitable Croft sat frozen, speechless. The normally composed Brundle had completely lost himself. The shock of the moment had flipped them both upside down.
They laughed together.
In the sudden quiet, Greenwood found himself standing without realizing why. He blinked, then slowly sat back down, eyes glued to the screen.
The margin was razor-thin.
Just sixty-seven thousandths of a second.
But a lead was a lead. Kai Zhizhou had beaten Hamilton and Vettel. The numbers did not lie.
Shock spread through the silence, then detonated.
Hands flew to heads. Palms clutched chests. Sanity collapsed.
"Who was that?"
"Raikkonen? Right? Ferrari number seven, that must be Raikkonen."
"No way. A rookie in his first free practice session? You're joking."
"Who is it?"
"Wait, what was the name? I've never seen it before."
The paddock exploded.
Heat surged outward like a shockwave.
Only then did Jiang Mo snap back to reality. Surrounded by people high-fiving and celebrating, his vision swam as he turned toward Zhang Qiaomu, silently asking for confirmation.
She swallowed hard. "Xiao Zhou… I think he just did something incredible."
Jiang Mo froze. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. Everything jammed in his throat, until it finally melted into a helpless grin.
"Yeah. Seems like it."
He turned back to the screen. On CCTV-5, awe and cheers poured straight through the television, as if the broadcast itself was vibrating.
His heart burned, hammering wildly.
From Spa to the broadcast booth to every corner of the globe, a tidal wave surged forward. Even those who never cared about free practice felt the heat and rushed in, swept up by the frenzy.
Maybe it was only FP1.
Maybe it was not worth making such a fuss.
But those who truly understood racing knew exactly how rare this was. And when combined with Kai's dominant GP3 season, the entire motorsport world boiled over.
On the radio, Greenwood finally found his voice.
"P1, mate. P1."
"Wow," Kai replied calmly, almost teasing. "That's a surprise. Great teamwork. Thanks. I had a lot of fun today."
Greenwood fell silent for a second. "…Great job."
Kai was happy, of course. His first official F1 outing had gone smoothly, and that alone was worth celebrating. But beyond the result, what mattered more was what he had learned.
Not because it was "just free practice," but because he had gone all out and still failed to reach the car's absolute limit.
FP1, for him, was about challenging himself. About chasing speed. About finding the ceiling of both machine and driver.
Testing at Maranello was one thing. Spa was another entirely.
For the first time, Kai truly felt the edge. An invisible membrane blocked further progress, thin but unbreakable.
Now he understood why people said F1 was different. It felt like dancing on a blade. Like a spider on roller skates, every limb pulling in a different direction. Balance was everything. The slightest error would end it all.
That razor-edge control was the real challenge.
For the first time, Kai felt something close to ambition. Just a little. He wanted to see where the true limits lay. The car's. His own. That instant where machines defied physics and humans defied themselves.
Money still mattered. He was not a dreamer detached from reality.
But if it were just a little less…
Maybe he could accept that.
After the cooldown lap, the car rolled back into the garage. A sea of red awaited him. Franky Peni stood at the front, grinning, leading the team in welcome.
Cheers exploded. Applause. Whistles. Shouts. The atmosphere felt like a world championship victory parade.
It was only free practice. But when the driver was a Ferrari academy prodigy who had been racing formula cars for barely half a year, everything changed.
More importantly, his performance validated the setup of car number seven, laying the groundwork for Raikkonen's weekend.
The garage buzzed with laughter and relief.
Kai climbed out of the cockpit and paused, momentarily stunned by the scene. A smile spread beneath his helmet.
Standing atop the car, he removed his helmet and motioned for calm with both hands, completely at ease, nothing like a rookie.
The Ferrari crew quieted down, exchanging glances, curious what he would say.
Kai pulled off his balaclava and said in Italian, "Relax. Relax. Please stop the show. I know most of you still do not know my name."
Coming from someone else, it might have sounded sharp or mocking. From Kai, it was pure self-deprecation, instantly closing the distance.
Laughter erupted.
"Oh no, the baby driver is upset."
"Quick, someone bring a pacifier."
Franky Peni stepped forward and clapped him on the shoulder. "Do not worry. Tonight I will punish them by making them practice Chinese pronunciation one hundred times."
Amid the howling, Kai slumped dramatically. "Is that really a good idea? Who is going to fix the ERS problem then?"
Before Franky could answer, someone snapped into professional mode.
"ERS long-run deployment felt off?"
Kai nodded. "Yes. The energy distribution needs adjustment. Blanchimont can be quicker."
Celebration ended instantly. Work resumed.
ERS was not DRS.
The Energy Recovery System was a core part of the hybrid power unit, harvesting kinetic energy under braking and thermal energy from exhaust heat.
Under braking, the engine was not cut off. The drivetrain was. The wasted kinetic energy was enormous, and reclaiming it was vital.
Thermal recovery captured exhaust heat, though only thirty to forty percent could be utilized. The rest vanished into inefficiencies.
When ERS worked perfectly, straight-line performance transformed. Overtakes became possible.
Mercedes had mastered it. Others chased.
Ferrari included.
Kai knew his lap looked dominant, but the car was not fully unlocked yet. In qualifying terms, 1:45.488 barely scraped the top ten. Pole would require breaking into the forty-threes.
So once the excitement faded, he focused on debriefing, pouring every sensation he could recall into the engineers' ears.
Only when everything was done did exhaustion finally hit.
Leaving the meeting room, then parc fermé, Kai scanned the crowd, searching for Vettel. He must have been tied up with media.
Then the wave hit.
"Kai!"
"Zhi zhou… zhi zhu… spider…"
"This way!"
He spotted Zak Brown with Lando Norris in the distance, mid-interview. He wondered whether he should return to ART for GP3 prep, or if Ferrari still needed him.
Then a voice cut through, loud and clear, perfect Mandarin.
"Kai. Zhi. Zhou."
He turned.
A stocky, bearded man in a bucket hat stood out like a mountain among the crowd, camera raised, shutter firing in bursts.
Flash.
Flash.
Only then did Kai realize.
They were waiting for him.
GP3 and F1 shared the paddock, but this was different. Thirty, forty people, all here for him.
The difference was brutal.
A GP3 sweep barely made waves. One FP1 session in F1 shook the world.
Questions flooded in.
"Kai, how did FP1 feel?"
"Your first time in a Ferrari, what stood out?"
"Did you expect this result?"
Among the chaos, Brundle stepped forward with Sky Sports' crew.
"At Pouhon, you nearly came together with Max. How did you manage that moment?"
The cameras closed in.
Kai smiled. "Driving."
That was it.
Brundle blinked. "That's all?"
"Yes."
Silence rippled, then laughter followed. A new cannon had arrived in the paddock.
Kai added calmly, "I was on a flying lap. My focus was driving. If overtaking was necessary, I did not mind."
Straightforward. Unapologetic.
Brundle grinned. "Fantastic lap."
Kai shrugged. "Hopefully not the last."
Laughter broke out again.
As the crowd thinned, the bearded photographer spoke in Chinese. "Kai, can I take a photo?"
"Of course."
Instead of posing, Kai walked over.
"Let's take one together."
Moments later, the photo was done. Kai clapped his shoulder.
"Hope we see each other around more."
The photographer stood stunned.
Behind him, Brundle asked quietly, "How do you pronounce his name?"
"Kai. Zhi. Zhou."
Each syllable crisp and clear.