Horner's mind was running at full throttle.
For the past three months, Red Bull had been simmering beneath the surface. Horner had been orchestrating the early renewal of Verstappen's contract, locking down the team's future before cracks could widen.
On the surface, Kai was used to stir discussion.
Behind the scenes, Horner sparred with Wolff from afar.
Inside the team, he maneuvered between Marko and Jos Verstappen.
Multiple fronts. Endless pressure.
In the end, Horner chose stability.
No matter how much he wanted stronger backing from Thai Red Bull, the reality remained unchanged. The racing operation was still firmly controlled by Austrian Red Bull. As team principal, his role was to balance power, not overturn it outright.
And the answer was obvious.
Verstappen.
Horner knew Verstappen was inseparable from Austrian Red Bull. More importantly, if Red Bull wanted championships, Verstappen was indispensable. Horner could advise, negotiate, influence, but he could not deny that fact.
Yet Horner also saw something others overlooked.
Marko had been the key figure who opened the door to F1 for Verstappen, but Verstappen was not a pure Red Bull junior. He had been intercepted midway. That meant the bond between Verstappen and Marko was not unbreakable.
If Horner personally guided Verstappen over the next few years, acting as mentor and ally, even stone could be warmed by time. He could slowly pull the Verstappen camp away from Marko and reshape Red Bull's internal balance.
It was a gamble.
But a plausible one.
That was why Horner had stood with Marko and Jos, pushing through a heavyweight contract renewal, showing Red Bull's commitment and faith.
And yet, now, doubt crept in.
Kai Zhizhou.
If Kai truly matured into a world championship caliber driver, capable of standing toe to toe with Verstappen, the entire equation changed.
He would no longer be a convenient talking point, but a genuine asset. Add Asia behind him, and suddenly Thai Red Bull had a reason to awaken ambition, a lever to challenge the existing power structure, perhaps even allowing Horner full control.
Marko and Verstappen were already bound tightly together. Marko would never risk alienating the Verstappens by openly courting Kai. That meant Horner held the initiative here.
But problems remained.
One of the main reasons Horner had chosen to compromise and renew Verstappen's deal was simple. Thai Red Bull had no appetite for power struggles. They were content to let Austrian Red Bull handle racing operations. As long as Horner retained his authority as team principal, they were satisfied.
So the question became clear.
Could Kai Zhizhou become the lever that awakened Thai Red Bull's ambition?
Spain and Austria might not have been enough. But Belgium was different. Dominance again, and more importantly, range. Wet race control, composure, the FP1 stunner in F1.
Was Kai now valuable enough to tilt the balance?
Or should Horner trust something else entirely?
His own charisma.
Time reveals character. With enough shared victories, Verstappen could be drawn fully into his camp.
"Kai. Zhi. Zhou."
For the first time, Horner truly looked at the name.
The face behind it became clear.
Thoughts surged.
Arms crossed, Horner weighed interest against risk.
Then Verstappen appeared.
Horner noticed him instantly. His fingers twitched, instinctively ready to shut the laptop. They were still negotiating Verstappen's future. Seeing this now could complicate things.
But after a split second, Horner stopped.
He left the screen untouched.
"Hey, Max."
Calm. Casual. No concealment, no provocation.
Everything normal.
As expected, Verstappen didn't notice anything unusual. He busied himself with race prep, chatting with engineers about the morning downpour and the afternoon forecast.
Only after changing into his race suit did he finally sense something off.
He walked over.
He stared at the screen.
Silent.
But the fire in his veins burned hotter by the second.
Horner glanced up, speaking lightly. "That kid is impressive. Third time this season."
Different circuits. Different conditions. Three clean weekend sweeps. A record Verstappen himself once held, now broken.
"I can beat him," Verstappen said after a moment.
Horner chuckled. "Of course. Of course."
The words affirmed. The tone teased.
Verstappen looked at him, unblinking, stubborn resolve in his eyes.
Horner paused.
The hesitation inside him settled.
"I've always believed in you, Max," Horner said seriously. "You are the future of this sport, not just Red Bull."
This time, there was no joke.
He patted Verstappen's shoulder and walked away.
Turning back, Horner saw Verstappen already seated, eyes locked on the screen, completely absorbed.
So who should the future bet be placed on?
Verstappen or Kai?
Horner still believed in Verstappen. That obsessive focus, that burning fixation, even the recklessness, it was a form of purity.
As for Kai?
A shooting star, perhaps.
Star or meteor, one thing was undeniable. Spa revolved around him.
Teams. Media. Fans.
The storm was relentless, leaving Kai dizzy, barely touching the ground.
Rumors multiplied with every handshake. Then the lark delivered news that sent Kai sprinting through the paddock, weaving through crowds, straight into the Prema garage.
Leclerc was there, preparing for the F2 sprint.
"Congratulations!"
"Kai, that race was unreal!"
Cheers and applause erupted. Kai smiled, thanked them, then dragged Leclerc aside, whispering excitedly, eyes shining.
"Is it true? Sauber?"
Leclerc froze. "How did you know?"
Youth betrayed him instantly.
The rumors had been everywhere. F2 championship leader Leclerc was all but confirmed for F1 next season with Sauber.
And where Leclerc went, Kai's name followed.
"If Leclerc moves up, does Kai deserve a seat too?"
That was why Kai had come running.
Seeing Leclerc's reaction, Kai grinned. "So it's confirmed."
Leclerc groaned.
Kai laughed freely, thumping his shoulder. "Congrats, Charles. Seriously. This is huge."
He jumped, barely containing himself.
Leclerc smiled too, then glanced around nervously.
Kai lowered his voice. "No signature yet?"
Leclerc checked the surroundings and mouthed, "This morning."
Fresh ink.
Kai's eyes widened. Then he nodded gently. "So the lie is no longer a lie."
Leclerc froze.
Kai remembered. The white lie Leclerc once told his dying father, saying he had already signed an F1 contract.
Four months later, it was real.
Leclerc swallowed. "Too bad he can't see it."
"He knows," Kai said quietly. "He believed in you. This is just the beginning."
Leclerc wiped his eyes. "World champion. That's the goal."
"Good," Kai said. "Then go win your sprint. This moment is yours."
Only then did Leclerc hesitate. "But Kai… what about you?"
It took Kai a beat to understand.
"Wait," he laughed. "You weren't holding back earlier because of secrecy. You were worried about me?"
Leclerc stumbled over his words.
Kai shook his head. "You're you. I'm me. Different paths. Don't apologize for succeeding."
Leclerc still looked uneasy. "But you won again."
"So?" Kai tilted his head. "Then you should go all out too. Chase your championship."
He smiled. "Sauber struck gold. Big teams will regret hesitating."
This was Leclerc's spotlight.
Leclerc finally relaxed. "McLaren and Renault are watching you closely."
Kai raised an eyebrow. "Big teams hesitate because interests are complicated. Smaller teams show sincerity."
Leclerc nearly choked.
"McLaren and Renault are serious," Kai continued. "Zac was genuinely happy. He knows he made the right call."
"Because you're good?"
"Top tier," Kai corrected. "Words matter."
Leclerc laughed helplessly. "Your ego could be sold by weight."
"Perfect," Kai replied. "At least I won't starve."
Spa roared.
Records fell.
The storm that began in FP1 peaked in the rain.
And this was only the beginning.
Back home, Song Bo turned on the TV absentmindedly, phone in hand, until the sports news caught his ear.
"…at the Belgian Spa circuit, Chinese driver Kai Zhizhou made history…"
Song Bo froze.
Kai appeared on screen.
He screamed.
The building shook.
GP3. A sprint weekend. Yet CCTV reported it in full.
The storm had broken through.
And then, the calls began.
Twelve hours later, Song Bo still hadn't calmed down.
"Kai! You're on CCTV!"
Kai laughed softly.
Reality was catching up.
And just as the noise peaked, the phone rang again.
"Kai, good morning."
Zac Brown.
McLaren had made their move.
A full F2 seat. Full funding. A clear path.
Top three meant F1 reserve.
Champion meant a full F1 seat.
And just as Kai relayed everything to Nicolas Todt, another call came.
Cyril Abiteboul.
Renault.
"This season," Cyril said casually.
Silence.
Not next year.
This year.
Malaysia. Japan.
F1.
The board was moving.
And the game had just begun.
~~----------------------
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