Sky Sports broke the news.
"Breaking News. Ferrari have signed Kai Zhizhou as a 2018 race driver."
Short. Direct. No speculation, no hearsay. Just a fact dropped cleanly onto the table.
This was Sky Sports, Formula One's official broadcast partner. Not absolute authority, but close enough that the weight of the announcement changed instantly. The story was no longer floating. It had landed.
So was this… official?
In that moment, everyone lost their minds.
The world spun violently, noise flooding in from every direction. After an entire day of speculation, debate, arguments, and emotional exhaustion, traffic had begun to settle. Then, without warning, all that pent-up energy ignited at once.
Social media exploded.
Not just fans. Team principals felt it too. Scalps tingled. Hearts raced. For the first time in years, even seasoned veterans felt young again.
Early that morning, Christian Horner arrived at the paddock and was greeted by a sea of reporters. Flashbulbs rained down like a summer storm, blinding and relentless. Through the silver glare, he caught sight of Toto Wolff mid-interview.
Horner laughed. "Ferrari's business, and you're here stealing the spotlight? Or are you planning a driver swap with them?"
The reporters froze, instincts screaming.
Wolff smiled calmly. "If anyone's swapping, it won't be me. I hear you were hoping he'd partner Max."
A neat counter. Horner did not bite.
"Don't waste time on this old man," Horner shouted at the press. "Maurizio is right behind you."
Instantly, the crowd surged.
Every camera swung toward the paddock entrance. The world turned silver again, outlines dissolving into light.
Even Horner and Wolff had never seen anything like this. Ferrari alone was always the center of gravity. Add Kai to the equation, and rational thought collapsed within twenty-four hours.
Arrivabene appeared.
Calm. Composed. Familiar.
"We need to focus on this weekend. Monza is the only priority."
He tried to steer the narrative back. The press refused.
"Kai Zhizhou will race for Ferrari in 2018. Is that true?"
Arrivabene inhaled.
For a heartbeat, flashes stopped. Breathing paused. Time slipped into a narrow crack.
"Yes," he said. "That is correct."
The dam broke.
History was made.
A butterfly beat its wings in Europe, and a tsunami rolled across Asia, surging along the Pacific coast. Before any official domestic broadcast could react, social platforms were already on fire.
"Kai Zhizhou joins Ferrari" shot to number one on trending lists, surpassing one hundred million views in under half an hour.
At that moment, Song Bo was packing his bag after school.
Exhausted. Drained. Senior year had barely begun and already felt crushing. Weekends meant nothing with test papers stacked like bricks on his chest.
Still, his thoughts drifted to content. Monza. Pressure. Kai standing under the spotlight.
He opened his phone, wondering if he should prepare a Monza explainer video.
Then he froze.
The inbox read "9999+".
He stared, then rushed into analytics.
Followers. Thirteen… thousand? No. One hundred and thirty thousand.
He pinched his thigh hard.
Pain. Real.
What happened?
Heart pounding, he jumped to social media and searched for Kai.
Three million followers.
Refreshing only made the number climb.
Spa had taken Kai to fifty thousand. Less than a week later, the figure had multiplied absurdly.
Instagram. Twitter.
Hands shaking, Song Bo opened the official F1 and Ferrari accounts.
There it was.
Verified. Confirmed. Everywhere.
Kai Zhizhou did not merely make history. He smashed through the ceiling, dragging motorsport into the mainstream before even starting an F1 race.
Song Bo leapt up with a scream.
Ferrari.
Ferrari!
Then reality hit. Eyes turned. The classroom was silent, staring. The gap between online chaos and real-world calm yanked him back down.
He needed to go home. Immediately.
Just then, a head peeked through the classroom door.
"Is Kai Zhizhou from this class?"
Every gaze snapped onto Song Bo.
"So it's true? He joined Ferrari?"
The room froze.
Wang Lin shot up. "What? That's impossible."
"It's real," someone shouted. "Trending everywhere. Is he your Kai Zhizhou?"
Normally, Song Bo would have bragged. Today, instinct screamed danger. He grabbed his bag.
Too late.
The back door filled with people. The classroom turned into a zoo.
This was when it became real.
Not numbers. Not screens.
Reality had arrived.
Chaos followed.
Sports networks mobilized. Analysts froze. Everyone knew the odds. Verstappen was a once-in-a-generation alignment of timing and politics. Countless GP3 prodigies vanished at F2.
Giovinazzi was the example everyone remembered.
And yet.
From Spa to Monza, two weeks shattered every assumption.
The impossible happened.
In Shanghai, a silent conference room finally broke.
"We must go to Europe," Shi Yiying said. "If not Monza, then Maranello."
She had watched the paddock for years. She had hoped. She had been disappointed. This time was different.
Ferrari.
A storm surged through the motorsport world.
And Monza answered.
The Tifosi exploded.
Anger. Fury. Red flooding the stands.
Matteo Vitale screamed himself hoarse, calling it sacrilege. A baby driver. GP3. Ferrari.
The crowd echoed him.
"Ferrari is not a kindergarten!"
But the storm shifted.
Because Kai won again.
In the rain. At Monza.
ART swept the field. Kai beat Russell head-on. Calm. Clean. Controlled.
Suddenly, doubt crept in.
Ferrari had stumbled. Kai had not.
Hope stirred.
Rain softened into mist. The paddock emptied.
Under a red umbrella, Kai and Hubert argued about braking points.
Then a voice cut through the drizzle.
"Kai!"
Lorenzo stood ahead, soaked in red.
"Welcome to Ferrari, baby driver!"
Lightning split the sky.
Red erupted.
At first a spark, then a firestorm. Voices merged. Rain and heat collided.
The Tifosi roared.
Kai stared, stunned.
Hubert bounced beside him. "That's the Tifosi!"
Then shoved him.
Kai stepped into the rain.
Cold soaked through instantly.
He turned back helplessly. "Antoine, don't do this."
Laughter exploded.
Rain fell harder.
The red tide rolled on.
~~----------------------
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