Chapter 165: Back to Second Place
In the Six-Star broadcast studio, Brother Fei slammed the table.
"How can he drive like that?!"
Verstappen's two consecutive defensive moves had pushed him to the edge.
Brother Bing immediately countered, grinning.
"Isn't that a good thing?"
Brother Fei shot back, "Sure, racing is aggressive, and there are always little defensive tricks—but Verstappen's driving is practically ignoring the rules!"
Brother Bing shrugged.
"But his blocking helps Wu Shi. So however Verstappen drives, I approve."
"I unconditionally support anything that benefits Wu Shi."
Brother Fei burst out laughing.
"If you put it that way, it'd be even better if Verstappen crashed Rosberg out."
Brother Bing sighed.
"Too bad Hamilton probably won't lap Verstappen."
"What? You want him to take out both Mercedes?"
The duo laughed as Wu Shi set another personal best lap.
By contrast, the official F1 commentary team was far less amused.
David Croft openly criticized Verstappen's moves, calling them "over the line."
Mercedes had already sent representatives to speak with Race Control.
After forcibly calming himself, Toto Wolff glanced at the timing screen and frowned.
"Why were Nico's lap times so slow earlier?" he asked Peter Bonnington.
"The tyre degradation was severe," Peter replied. Since Tony's departure, he had moved from Hamilton's crew to Rosberg's.
"And Wu Shi?" Toto pressed.
Peter hesitated, then answered honestly.
"When Nico attacked Wu Shi, his tyres degraded faster than when Wu Shi attacked him. Nico also made several defensive errors."
In the Williams garage, Jonathan rubbed his face even harder.
He'd thought of something amusing.
But it wasn't funny enough to laugh.
Claire Williams, wearing sunglasses, had no such restraint—she was smiling broadly.
It had to be said: racing wheel-to-wheel against someone who reacted like an artillery shell on contact wasn't easy.
Perhaps strategies across the field had stabilized, because midfield lap times dropped further—hovering around 1:34 to 1:35.
On Lap 14, Rosberg finally had DRS—
Then yellow flags appeared.
Exiting a corner, he saw debris scattered ahead.
Mercedes (team radio):
"Pérez and Button have made contact. Debris on track. Be careful."
The yellow flag was briefly withdrawn.
Three seconds later, it was raised again.
David explained,
"It looks like debris from Pérez's car. Marshals will need to clear it."
Jonathan didn't hesitate.
Jonathan (team radio):
"BOX BOX BOX."
Wu Shi was already approaching pit entry.
This was the planned stop lap anyway—Jonathan had simply called it slightly early.
Crossing the white line, Wu Shi nailed the pit limiter timing perfectly. Any earlier or later, and it would've been a fine.
The Williams stopped cleanly.
The jack lifted.
Two sharp bursts from the wheel guns—
Down.
2.987 seconds.
Vroom!
The rear tyres spun briefly as Wu Shi launched into the fast lane.
Jonathan (team radio):
"You'll meet Ricciardo at pit exit. Don't let him delay you."
"Copy."
"Wu Shi exits the pits—Ricciardo is coming! Who's going to make it?" the commentator shouted.
The camera locked onto the main straight.
In the distance, the Red Bull glinted in the sun, growing rapidly larger.
The Williams, emerging from the pit exit, looked almost stationary by comparison.
Jonathan, with more data, added calmly:
Jonathan:
"You'll be behind him. Yellow flag still active."
Wu Shi relaxed slightly.
As he crossed the pit exit line, the limiter disengaged.
Screech—
Cold soft tyres were no joke.
Ricciardo arrived before Turn 1 and swept across from the outside, forcing Wu Shi to tuck in behind.
Under yellow flags, overtaking was forbidden. Wu Shi made no attempt.
He followed.
Dirty air was mild at this speed, and tyre temperatures rose quickly. Engine cooling suffered slightly—but that could be managed.
By Turn 6, the yellow flags were withdrawn.
Not a good passing zone.
Wu Shi waited.
The broadcast cut to a marshal sprinting across the track, clutching a palm-sized chunk of debris and several smaller fragments.
Approaching Turn 9, Ricciardo moved to the middle to defend.
Wu Shi stayed wide.
He braked later—just late enough to overlap.
Their lines crossed.
Ricciardo was confused.
Wu Shi exited to the right.
The next long curve went left.
Wasn't he giving up the inside?
Halfway through the corner—
The Williams surged.
Pulled out.
Passed.
Ricciardo blinked.
Ricciardo (team radio):
"What?"
It was simple.
Clinical.
Exactly how Mercedes had devoured Williams earlier.
Through Turns 11 and 12, Ricciardo couldn't fight back the way Wu Shi had.
He got DRS later—but Wu Shi shut the door at Turn 13, leaving a gap barely wide enough for a kart, let alone an F1 car.
Ricciardo decided it wasn't worth the risk.
At almost the same time, Rosberg finally cleared Verstappen.
Next came Sauber's Nasr.
He didn't resist.
Blocking would only ruin his tyres.
After passing Nasr, Wu Shi climbed to P5.
Vettel, in fourth, was 11 seconds ahead—far enough to guarantee clean air for several laps.
Lap 16.
Räikkönen pitted.
Ferrari struck again.
A rear wheel jammed.
The spare wheel gun wasn't immediately ready. The mechanic had to stretch across the car to borrow another.
Whoosh—
Eight seconds total.
On Lap 21, Massa pitted cleanly—3 seconds—and immediately ran into Ricciardo at pit exit.
Hülkenberg also pitted that lap.
Wu Shi rose to P3.
Rosberg followed in P4, the gap just under three seconds.
Lap 23.
Ricciardo finally pitted—after holding Massa up for a full lap, costing him four seconds.
Mercedes (team radio):
"Nico, you need to push. You're closing the gap."
Rosberg (team radio):
"I KNOW."
Lap 24.
Vettel pitted.
Second place opened.
Sainz pitted the same lap.
At last, Wu Shi had clear air.
He pushed—fully, mercilessly.
His strategy was already locked in: three stops.
To make it work, he needed a gap large enough to neutralize the two-stop cars.
The plan had been set long ago: burn this set of tyres to the canvas.
Luckily, Melbourne had no tyre allocation issues. Fresh softs were plentiful.
Confidence surged.
The gap between Wu Shi and Rosberg—once shrinking—began to grow again.
Mercedes (team radio):
"He's on softs. We're on mediums."
Rosberg understood the implication.
Wu Shi was committing to a more aggressive strategy.
Mercedes was banking on durability.
Today's low temperatures made that gamble possible.
But—
Was he really expected to go forty-five laps on this set of mediums?
Rosberg stared ahead.
And for the first time all race—
He wasn't sure.