"…And that brings the first free practice session to a close."
"Mercedes show the confidence of reigning champions. Hamilton and Bottas lock out the top two. Red Bull look ambitious at the season opener as well, with Verstappen and Ricciardo in third and fourth. Ferrari's Vettel takes fifth, while Haas' Grosjean is the surprise of the session in sixth."
"Among the rookies, Toro Rosso's Pierre Gasly stands out in tenth, though it's worth noting he already competed in five Grands Prix last season, so he's not strictly a newcomer."
"The two most talked about rookies this year, Kai and Charles Leclerc, are still adjusting to the pace of Formula One."
"Kai finishes sixteenth, just behind Williams' Lance Stroll, three seconds off Hamilton's best. Leclerc is twentieth and last, almost five seconds adrift. This really underlines how important experience is in motorsport."
As the commentary ended, the atmosphere seemed to settle, cooling by a few degrees.
People had been leaning forward in anticipation, expecting a breakout performance, a dazzling debut that would steal the spotlight. And this was it?
Sixteenth place, behind McLaren, Renault, even Williams.
Absurd.
Leclerc's result could at least be explained. Sauber's pace was what it was. Even Räikkönen could only manage seventeenth, proof that not even a world champion could drag a tractor into contention. But Kai? Seeing a Ferrari buried among the lower midfield was nothing short of a joke to some.
In the broadcast booth, professionals stayed calm, breaking things down with measured analysis. On social media, however, the so-called experts were already ruling the world with their keyboards.
This was Kai's real level, they said. Spa had been a fluke, a one-off accident. Winter testing and now Albert Park showed the truth.
At heart, he was just an ordinary driver. Maybe he had shown something in GP3, but seasoned fans knew that meant very little. His jump straight into F1 had nothing to do with talent and everything to do with Ferrari bowing to capital, kneeling to crack open the Asian market.
"Ferrari sure know how to grovel to their sponsors."
"A GP3 champion should stay in GP3. What's a kid doing in the adult world?"
"GP3, F2, F1. Those numbers exist for a reason. Stop pretending you're smarter than the system."
Sarcasm piled on, voices joining the hunt.
Social media exploded in all directions. The trolls were celebrating, treating the opening of the new season like a festival.
Wang Lin was no exception.
Earlier, he had felt awkward sneaking out to watch the race, only to be caught by Song Bo and instinctively turning to flee. But now? Why run? The one embarrassing himself wasn't him.
He looked back at Song Bo, expecting to see discomfort or forced bravado, but Song Bo was still grinning, chatting casually with the people beside him.
Wang Lin swallowed the complaints on the tip of his tongue. He worried that the half-baked knowledge he had crammed at the last minute might give him away.
Truth be told, Song Bo was uneasy as well. He had no idea what was happening with Kai. The paddock was full of monsters, every single one a genius among geniuses.
At Spa, no one had paid Kai any attention. Now, he was the center of the storm, and everything was different.
Even so, Song Bo believed in him. Blindly, perhaps.
Everything was still under control… right?
Back in the paddock, Kai returned to the garage, pulled off his helmet, sweat flattening his hair. There was no time to tidy up. He grabbed a bottle and drank deeply.
Greenwood was about to walk over when a wave of boos rolled down from the grandstand.
"Get out."
"Go back to GP3 and learn something first."
"A baby who hasn't even been weaned shouldn't be driving. FIA, wake up."
"Hahaha, what a disgrace."
"Don't cry, baby."
Jeers, curses, mockery poured down like rain.
Greenwood stiffened, only to see Kai step out of the garage instead of retreating. Smiling broadly, he waved up at the stands.
The boos grew louder, swelling into a storm.
Strangely, the scene reminded Kai of Ricciardo's teasing. His grin widened, genuine and carefree. Turning around, he caught Greenwood staring at him in shock and walked over calmly.
"David, let's debrief."
Greenwood swallowed. "…You're not scared?"
"Of what?" Kai blinked, then laughed. "The crowd? I thought you meant the track. I can't hear anything once I'm in the car. Honestly, it's tougher on you guys in the garage, taking all that pressure. From Kimi to me, you didn't really get a warm-up, did you?"
Räikkönen had always been one of the most popular drivers on the grid, with fans everywhere.
Greenwood felt a little awkward. Looking at Kai, then thinking back to FP1, he realized his worries were unnecessary. Kai wasn't rushing to prove himself like he had at Spa. There was none of that rookie impatience. He was steady, methodical, easing into his first F1 weekend.
Thinking back to the winter break and testing, Greenwood had a growing sense that Kai knew how to wait.
And he was right.
In the second free practice, Vettel began to push, trading fast laps with Hamilton and Ricciardo, the front of the field forming a three-way standoff.
Kai did not join that display. He stayed grounded, working from the base setup, tailoring the car to the circuit and to himself. He gathered data for qualifying and the race, talking constantly with the engineers, locked in and focused.
In that state of concentration, outside noise vanished. Pressure from his teammate, from the crowd, from the media and social networks all faded away.
"Mid-corner stability feels a bit soft. Want to tweak the suspension?"
"Yes."
"Brake balance, how does it feel now?"
"Still a bit too forward."
For spectators, ninety minutes of FP2 might have felt dull. For Kai, fully immersed in the work, time disappeared. By the time he realized it, the session was over.
He was almost disappointed. For the first time, he truly felt how compressed and demanding an F1 weekend was. One hundred and eighty minutes of running across two sessions still felt far from enough. For any rookie it was brutal. For someone who had skipped steps, even more so.
When FP2 ended, the front of the field was fiercely contested. Hamilton, Verstappen, Bottas and Vettel took the top four spots.
The rookies struggled. Kai finished thirteenth, the best of the newcomers. Leclerc was last again. Misery loves company.
As Friday wrapped up, the internet erupted.
Not because Hamilton had dominated again, but because, in their eyes, they had been proven right. Winter testing fears were confirmed. Kai was an empty shell, exposed as soon as real running began.
Which was to say, there was nothing there at all.
"Don't cry, baby. Reality doesn't care about tears. Go back to GP3 and polish yourself up. F1 isn't a playground for just anyone."
The 2018 season opener's Friday program was done. Four months of pent-up anticipation burst out all at once.
On one side, discussion centered on Mercedes. Winter testing had been a smokescreen. Once in Melbourne, they dropped the act and showed their true strength. The champions were ready to chase a fifth consecutive title, leaving Ferrari and Red Bull under pressure.
On the other, debate around the rookies raged on. Leclerc, once bathed in the glow of a GP3 and F2 champion, was dead last on the timing sheets. Beyond Sauber's lack of pace, it reinforced a harsh truth. Newcomers had countless lessons to learn in F1. From Gasly to Verstappen, history showed there was no mercy in this sport.
In most competitive sports, rookies are given patience, a grace period to grow. In F1, there are only twenty seats, with predators circling every one of them. There is no such thing as rookie protection.
You are good, or you are not. Reality is cold, and it shows no sympathy, because there is always a line of drivers waiting for their chance.
So why should Kai be special?
Even Leclerc was stuck, struggling under siege. And Kai, who had skipped levels and leapt straight in, had become a thorn in everyone's side.
He hadn't offended anyone, really. He had only offended Räikkönen, Vettel, Verstappen, Leclerc and Gasly. He had offended the F2 and GP3 drivers waiting for opportunities, and the ones who had clawed their way into F1 and barely held on.
That was all.
And this was the result?
Two practice sessions like this were laughable.
It was easy to imagine the pressure online. A black tide of comments flooded every corner, mocking, raging, laughing, all aimed squarely at Kai.
The pressure was unimaginable.
And it wasn't limited to the internet.
On Saturday, when Lu Cheng arrived at the circuit, he could see it plainly. Twisted, hostile faces, like something out of hell itself, venting hatred, mockery and scorn. The virtual storm had spilled fully into reality.
Even as an observer, Lu Cheng felt the weight of it.
For the season opener, he had closed his repair shop for the weekend and flown to Melbourne. Part of him was worried about his son, wanting to be there, to show support and give him strength. Part of him was simply proud. This was Kai's first step onto the F1 stage, the dream he had chased for so long finally within reach.
But once he arrived, his heart wouldn't stop pounding. The brutality of reality crushed his excitement. He had lived through pressure like this before, faced it head-on, and the buried memories came roaring back. Anxiety and excitement tangled together until his stomach churned.
Lorenzo noticed. At first, he had thought Kai had asked him along as a guide, worried his father's English might not be enough. Now he realized the concern ran deeper.
"Jack, where's Kai's mother?" Lorenzo asked gently, changing the subject.
Kai never used an English name, but Lu Cheng did have one tucked away.
Jack, borrowed from Titanic.
Naturally, if there was Jack, there should have been Rose. But Jiang Mo had always refused to acknowledge she had an English name. She found it embarrassing.
"She… ah… busy with work," Lu Cheng said in halting English.
Jiang Mo had not come to Melbourne.
She still couldn't bring herself to watch racing, not even on television. The thought of cars fighting at three hundred kilometers an hour kept her tense from start to finish. Seeing it live was more than she could bear.
She simply didn't have the courage.
And there was work to keep her home.
Lorenzo didn't quite believe it, but he only lifted his chin and sighed softly. "Let's go to the garage and see how Kai is preparing."
Lu Cheng panicked. "We? Now? Are you sure?"
Lorenzo smiled. "Of course. He'll be very happy to see you."
Nervous and conflicted, curiosity tugged at Lu Cheng even as caution held him back.
He followed Lorenzo into the garage. Kai lit up immediately, greeting him enthusiastically and introducing him to the team.
Lu Cheng was polite and warm, thanking everyone in turn, but he didn't stay long. After a short while, he excused himself and left.
Lorenzo noticed the reluctance in his eyes, the way he kept glancing back, greedily taking in every detail of the garage, his gaze shining.
"Jack, we still have time. We can stay a bit longer."
Lu Cheng waved his hands. "No. Let's go. We shouldn't get in Kai's way."
Lorenzo was taken aback. "You're his father. You have every right to be here."
Lu Cheng shook his head. "Pressure. It's hard for Kai. I don't want to add to it."
The words came out one by one, but Lorenzo understood.
The pressure was everywhere. Countless eyes were waiting for Kai to fail. The hatred was too heavy. What Kai needed least right now was more pressure from his father.
Lorenzo smiled. "But you're also his support, aren't you? We stand behind him and face this together."
He clapped Lu Cheng on the shoulder like an old friend. "If even we don't believe in him, then he really will be alone out there."
Lorenzo led him to the team's hospitality area to watch the session. And as Kai prepared for FP3, he could feel it clearly now. Lu Cheng's worries were not unfounded.
This time, the pressure was coming from inside the paddock itself.
FP3 was the final step. Fine-tuning the setup, locking in strategies for qualifying and the race. The last preparation before battle.
Just sixty minutes. Teams and drivers went all in.
Strangely, Mercedes did the opposite. They stopped pushing, dialing everything back.
Hamilton was more than 2.5 seconds slower than Vettel, and still 1.5 seconds off Red Bull. Gone was the relentless lap-chasing of the first two sessions. He cruised instead, calm and unhurried, the composure of a four-time world champion on full display.
That quiet confidence echoed winter testing. No fireworks, no show, just an assurance rooted in absolute strength.
Running laps can apply pressure. Not running laps can do the same. That was the paddock. Invisible blades always hanging in the air.
In FP3, Vettel and Hamilton took completely different approaches.
Vettel kept pounding out laps, getting faster and faster, showing Ferrari's raw pace.
Hamilton did the opposite, deliberately slowing, the gap stretching until his lap times were nearly four seconds slower, almost to the point of mockery.
Mercedes weren't alone. Red Bull, Haas and Renault all backed off as well, their lap times suddenly more than eight seconds behind Vettel.
It made no sense. Completely baffling.
And yet Vettel kept lapping, focused and relentless, looking foolish to outsiders.
Those who understood knew better. FP3 was about strategy, about simulation. Teams split their drivers across different setups to hide their true intentions, while engineers sifted through data to build multiple plans for qualifying and the race.
The lap times were puzzle pieces. Without knowing the picture, they meant very little on their own.
Mercedes and Red Bull were calm because their plans were already set. They only needed to confirm details. Ferrari's constant running suggested their strategy was still evolving, or perhaps it was all just smoke and mirrors.
Tension spread quietly through the paddock.
And Kai?
He worked like a rookie should. Diligent, disciplined, putting in laps without shortcuts. Setup, strategy, everything was new to him. There was no room for tricks. The only way forward was straight through.
The 180 minutes from the first two sessions hadn't been enough. He couldn't afford to waste a single second of FP3.
Finding balance in an F1 car sounded simple. In reality, it was like walking a wire over a blade. The smallest change could throw everything off.
Take rear wing angle.
Too low, and downforce vanished. The car flew down the straights like a rocket, but the rear stepped out the moment it hit a corner.
Too high, and the car stuck beautifully in the turns, only for the tires to overheat and die within three laps.
The front end was no different.
Move the brake bias slightly forward and understeer eased. Go a touch too far and the tires locked, smoke pouring out as the car slid straight off. Too little, and understeer came back to haunt you.
Worse still, brake bias affected the whole car. One small change rippled through everything, like oversalting a pot of soup and ruining the entire dish.
That was why even Mercedes, Ferrari and Red Bull could fight for wins one weekend and struggle in the midfield the next. There was no formula. Balance had to be found anew at every circuit, with every car, with every driver.
Perfect balance across a season?
Almost impossible.
Even the best teams and drivers were forced to gamble, again and again, on that invisible wire.
That was part of F1's appeal. Truly dominant cars appeared once a decade at most. More often, championships were decided through constant battles and shifting momentum.
Ferrari's SF71H was strong on the straights, stable in high-speed corners, slightly understeery in low and medium-speed turns, but gentle on its tires.
In Kai's view, Ferrari had the tools to fight for the podium, even the win, at Albert Park. It came down to setup. The circuit punished tires, favored slower corners, and offered limited straights. They needed the right compromise.
And not just for the track.
For Kai as well.
From FP1 onward, he had steadily gathered data, shaping a plan. How to build pace, how to extract the car's potential in his own way. The flood of information exposed his lack of experience.
Experience, once again, was irreversible.
Watching Hamilton and Vettel prepare for qualifying in their own ways added another layer of pressure. Their calm confidence was unspoken, but it hit head-on.
And the circuit gave no breathing room. Trouble came in waves.
"Perez. Checo."
"Oh my God. A full 720-degree spin. That was close, a stark reminder of how unforgiving Albert Park can be."
"Wait, Ocon is stopped as well. What's happened there?"
"Disaster for Force India. Both cars are out early in FP3. It's too soon to say what this means for qualifying and the race."
"And now, Ricciardo… no…"
Chaos followed.
Perez and Ocon were out. Debris on track brought out the red flag. Ricciardo slowed through the final sector and didn't create danger, but he still breached red flag rules and was penalized.
Everyone knew Albert Park was slippery, but conditions had improved. The worst should have been over. And yet it was Perez, a seasoned driver, not a rookie, who was caught out.
Mercedes and Red Bull chose to end their FP3 running altogether. Kai wanted to stay out and refine the plan, but the red flag dragged on. In the end, the session was over, and he had to return to the garage.
The pressure kept climbing.
This was F1. No matter how much he had emptied himself over the winter, once the season began, it was relentless. Like a spinning top, there was no pause. The test for a rookie came from every direction, and the pressure pushed past its limit.
Back in the garage, Kai didn't rush. He stood still, drinking water, steadying his breathing, sorting his thoughts.
The engineering team waited patiently under Mekies' lead.
Then Kai walked over to Greenwood and Clear, studying the simulation curves on the screens.
All eyes were on him. Building a car that fit the driver required close cooperation. The team needed his feedback, discussion, consensus.
Greenwood felt uneasy. F1 was brutal for newcomers. The data alone overwhelmed drivers like Gasly and Leclerc. For someone with barely a year in single-seaters, it was worse. Their qualifying strategy wasn't fully tested.
So what now?
Ferrari had never dealt with this. They were used to champions, not nurturing rookies. This wasn't a kindergarten.
Instinctively, Greenwood looked to Mekies.
Mekies gave a subtle signal. Stay calm.
He understood the pressure and had discussed it at length with Arrivabene. For at least the first three, maybe five races, Kai needed room to grow.
The decision was made. Even if Arrivabene remained unconvinced, Ferrari had to back Kai fully or risk becoming a laughingstock.
If Kai cracked later, they would revisit it then.
Watching Kai, drenched in sweat, cheeks flushed but eyes bright, Mekies felt reassured. All winter, the young driver had delivered surprises. His job was to trust him and wait.
And sure enough.
With everyone watching, Kai spoke without hesitation. "Lower the rear wing by two clicks. Let's stabilize the downforce."
Greenwood raised an eyebrow. "You'll lose one or two kilometers per hour on the straight."
Bold. Decisive.
They didn't have complete data. Strategies weren't fully verified. This was the moment to trust instinct.
They needed a plan. No hesitation. No trying to have everything at once. For a rookie, indecision was fatal.
FP3 had disrupted them, but Kai had used the break to think.
"Yes," he said calmly. "If I get a clean exit, I can make it back under braking. Add a bit of front wing. Let's kill the understeer."
Clear nodded. "Shift the brake bias rearward two clicks. Protect the front tires?"
"Exactly. Tighten the diff. We stabilize grip and tire temperatures."
In short, sacrifice some straight-line speed for a clean, consistent high-speed balance.
They stiffened the suspension too. Albert Park usually preferred softer setups, but F1 was about compromise.
Kai excelled on street circuits. A stiffer setup gave clearer feedback, letting him feel the limit earlier on low-grip sections. Control and tire stability were the priority.
Clear's eyes lit up. He understood immediately.
Greenwood did too, his eyes widening. "But with this setup, Q1 and Q2 might not look good."
Kai nodded. "I know."
Silence.
Qualifying in F1 was split into Q1, Q2 and Q3, a knockout format.
Q1 lasted eighteen minutes. All cars ran, and the slowest five were eliminated, starting sixteenth to twentieth.
Q2 ran fifteen minutes. Another five were eliminated, setting the grid from eleventh to fifteenth.
Q3 was twelve minutes. The top ten fought for pole.
Two details mattered.
Fuel load. Lighter meant faster, so times improved as sessions progressed.
Tires. From Q2 onward, drivers had to start the race on the tires they set their fastest Q2 lap on. In Q3, the top ten used a designated set, returned afterward, then started the race on their Q2 tires.
Kai's plan was simple. Prioritize stability in Q1 and Q2, even if the times weren't spectacular, setting up race tires. If he reached Q3, he would rely on light fuel, clean exits and his own ability to extract the car's limit.
On paper, it was smart.
Confident, too.
But this was his first ever F1 qualifying. No experience with knockouts, no feel for the rising pressure, no idea how to manage rhythm between sessions. His only F1 running so far had been a single practice at Spa.
Where did that confidence come from?
At Albert Park, he hadn't cracked the top ten once. He was already a joke in the paddock.
Even if he scraped into Q3 on luck and Ferrari's baseline, did he really believe he could deliver when it mattered?
It sounded absurd. Laughable, even.
For a rookie, the sensible approach was step by step. Get through Q1 and Q2, then give everything in Q3.
Strategies and grand plans were built on experience.
And Kai had shown what, exactly?
So who gave this baby-faced driver the nerve?
Greenwood found himself at a loss.
Unexpectedly, Clear smiled at Kai. "You do realize there's a high chance you get knocked out in Q1 with this setup."
Kai took a long drink and shrugged. "Then I'll make a spectacular exit. Add some entertainment to the season opener."
Clear burst out laughing and looked at Mekies. "I'm fine with it."
Greenwood frowned.
Mekies smiled faintly. "All right. Let's do it."
Greenwood had no words left.