Chapter 169: Waking Up
With the conclusion of the Australian Grand Prix, the most talked-about figure was not the race winner, Lewis Hamilton, but the man who finished second—Wu Shi.
In the days following the race, Wu Shi declined most media interviews. With public opinion boiling over, he had no intention of appearing frequently in front of the cameras.
As for the major outlets with which he had maintained good relationships, they naturally chose not to pressure him, waiting instead for a more appropriate time.
Of course, while some media supported him, others were eager to tear him down.
One particularly notorious AAB-style outlet published an analysis claiming that Wu Shi's Williams might have benefited from "special setup adjustments" or even regulatory gray areas, calling on the FIA to conduct a technical investigation.
The accusation was laughable.
Wu Shi had no political capital in Formula One, no senior backing, and no influence within the paddock. Who, exactly, would be willing to risk their careers to bend the rules for him?
If anyone truly warranted suspicion, it would be drivers like Sainz or Verstappen—second-generation racers with deep-rooted connections.
Wu Shi didn't allow himself much time to rest. After sharing a simple meal with Martina and Louise, he immediately returned to the Williams factory to continue simulator work, data analysis, and physical training.
While he avoided the spotlight, the rest of the grid began to stir.
At McLaren, concern over Honda's power unit reliability was growing by the hour. In China, fans had already coined a sarcastic phrase: "McLaren's harvest has failed."
Racing Director Éric Boullier publicly admitted that, with the Honda engine, "finishing the race is already a victory."
Jenson Button's average power deployment during the Australian Grand Prix had been just 64 percent—an unmistakable sign of how fragile the Honda unit was at the time.
Red Bull faced no brighter outlook.
Helmut Marko and Adrian Newey openly criticized Renault's power unit, lamenting the downfall of a once-dominant partnership. The former kings of the hybrid era now found themselves shackled by straight-line deficits.
Team Principal Christian Horner stated bluntly:
> "Engine problems are masking our true capabilities. Our advantages in corner entry, corner exit, and tire management are being completely hidden. With this power unit, you simply cannot drive the car the way it's meant to be driven."
Then, on March 19—four days after the race—news arrived from France.
Jules Bianchi had woken up.
The paddock reacted immediately. Drivers, engineers, and team members rushed to the hospital to visit him.
Wu Shi, Charles Leclerc, and Max Verstappen went together.
Bianchi lay quietly on the hospital bed, his face gaunt and drained of its former vitality. Yet when he saw them enter the room, his eyes lit up.
"I… I should have listened to you," Bianchi said weakly.
Leclerc and Verstappen opened their mouths, but no words came. Wu Shi's earlier warning had been disturbingly accurate—so accurate that neither of them knew how to respond.
"It's alright," Wu Shi said softly. "You've woken up. That's what matters. Everything will get better from here."
"I lifted off the throttle," Bianchi continued slowly. "At that moment… I hesitated. So my head didn't take the full impact."
Wu Shi froze for a moment.
So that was it.
Was this small hesitation—the decision to lift—what had altered the course of history?
"I was thinking about what you said," Bianchi murmured. "Fortunately… fortunately…"
His voice trailed off. Dizzy and exhausted, he closed his eyes.
The doctor stepped in and gently reminded them that the patient had only just regained consciousness and needed rest.
After saying their goodbyes, the three left the hospital.
Outside the main entrance, Leclerc suddenly rubbed his eyes furiously.
Wu Shi placed a hand on his shoulder.
He remembered that, years later, when Leclerc would win the Monaco Grand Prix, the official broadcast would include a tribute:
"Without Jules Bianchi, there would be no Charles Leclerc today."
Whether it was Bianchi's childhood financial support or his tragic accident that accelerated the adoption of the Halo system—both had shaped Leclerc's destiny.
The former allowed him to stay in motorsport.
The latter saved his life.
After returning from France to the UK, Wu Shi resumed his work with Williams alongside Felipe Massa, deeply involved in the team's ongoing development programme.
Wu Shi's Melbourne performance had sparked new ideas within the team. Engineers began attempting to reconstruct his race data as accurately as possible to feed into the simulator.
"Tire management," Performance Engineer Andrew Murdoch said eagerly. "That's what we can't understand. Why was your degradation so low in the final stint?"
Wu Shi frowned. This was difficult to explain, but he tried.
"Tires change with every meter of track," he said carefully. "Asphalt grain, embedded debris, rubber marbles—everything affects degradation."
After thinking for a moment, he offered an analogy everyone could grasp.
"How do we drive in the wet? We search for dry lines. If the entire track is wet, we look for areas with less standing water."
"The track surface isn't perfectly flat. That means water distribution is uneven. Finding the area with the least water gives you more grip."
"The same logic applies in dry conditions. Grip and tire preservation are interconnected. Each lap, you're reading the surface—and adjusting on the next."
The engineers exchanged glances.
Even Massa shook his head. "So you're saying you were adapting lap by lap, based on real-time track evolution?"
Wu Shi nodded.
Rod Nelson, the Chief Engineer, sighed. "Alright. Give us your full data set. We'll try to model it."
Development work continued.
"Your driving style is aggressive," Jonathan said later. "That's a good thing."
Wu Shi raised an eyebrow. "And?"
"Massa is the same. High absolute pace. You're the same type of driver."
Having two drivers with similar preferences was a gift to the engineering team—it simplified correlation and development enormously.
Wu Shi favored a car with strong rotation. Oversteer was acceptable, even desirable. For him, getting the nose pointed early mattered more than absolute stability.
The setup direction shifted accordingly.
Massa had no objections. His adaptability was strong, and after the injury in 2009, he was realistic about his form. That was why he had been so willing to support Wu Shi's strategy in Australia.
Though, if he were being honest, he would have preferred Wu Shi to take the win from Hamilton.
Their relationship was harmonious.
Claire Williams was equally pleased, though she spent most of her time away from the factory, focused on managing the team's commercial operations.
Her primary goal remained unchanged: keeping Williams financially healthy.
Repetitive, tedious, and relentlessly demanding—this was the true rhythm of an F1 workweek.
On March 21, Williams' freight had already begun its journey to the next round: the Sepang International Circuit in Malaysia.
The circuit's defining feature was its two extremely long straights, where top speed would be magnified mercilessly. Power unit performance would be critical.
Naturally, the team leaned heavily on Massa's feedback.
After all, Wu Shi had never raced at Sepang.
What insights could he possibly provide?
As for simulator lap times?
Most of the older engineers still didn't fully trust them.
Not yet.