Chapter 174: An Uneventful Start
March 29th, Sunday—Sepang District, Malaysia.
Clear skies.
Sepang lay deep in the tropics. Even during the dry season, powerful convection currents often brought sudden, localized rain in the early morning or late afternoon.
To avoid that risk, the race—originally scheduled for 5 p.m.—had been moved up to 3 p.m.
No rain meant only one thing.
Heat.
During Saturday's third practice session, track temperatures had peaked at 61°C, the highest surface temperature recorded since Formula One began collecting such data.
By early afternoon, the ambient temperature in shaded areas had already climbed to 33°C. The asphalt was no cooler than the day before.
On his reconnaissance lap, Wu Shi felt it immediately.
The tyres don't look happy today.
After stopping on the grid, he climbed out of the car with Jonathan's help.
This season, F1 had begun reintroducing pre-race national anthems at selected venues. Malaysia was one of them.
An orchestra, dressed entirely in white, performed on the main straight in front of the grid. Drivers and crew members stood exposed beneath the sun, heat radiating from the asphalt like a furnace.
The anthem lasted more than a minute.
Most drivers unzipped the top halves of their race suits.
By the time the final note faded, sweat was already dripping down backs and foreheads.
The grid slowly dispersed.
Walking back from the front row, Wu Shi's eyes briefly flicked toward the grid girls. One blonde stood out instinctively—
—but he immediately refocused.
The closer the start got, the narrower his mental tunnel became. The heat made him irritable, restless. There was no room for distraction.
Once seated in the cockpit again, the temperature surged.
It felt like being sealed inside an oven.
Jonathan leaned over.
"If it's too hot, you don't need to get in this early."
Other drivers around him were still pulling on gloves and adjusting belts.
"I want to feel it early," Wu Shi replied.
Jonathan nodded.
"Don't put too much pressure on yourself. Pole position was beyond expectations."
Anyone who'd spent years around race tracks knew this truth well.
Drivers who start from the back often drive freely. But place them at the front, and hesitation creeps in. Fear of loss replaces hunger.
Drivers were human.
The more precious the position, the heavier it weighed.
"Can you loosen the belts a little?" Wu Shi asked. Sweat had already soaked his forehead.
Jonathan complied.
One engineer held an umbrella over the cockpit. Another fed cool air through a ventilation hose.
Finally, Jonathan passed him the steering wheel.
Wu Shi glanced sideways at Hamilton.
A random thought crossed his mind.
Is old Hamilton more heat-resistant than me?
The grid cleared.
His heart rate climbed steadily.
Even with a formation lap to come, tension crept into every breath.
The green light flashed.
It took him a fraction of a second to remember—
I'm on pole.
---
Formation Lap
Vroom.
Wu Shi pulled away, leading the field.
He weaved moderately, careful not to overload the tyres. On a surface this hot, aggression could backfire instantly.
Then Jonathan's voice came over the radio.
"Your tyres are slightly cold."
Wu Shi froze for a moment.
Cold?
Any hotter and I'll lose grip entirely.
He immediately understood.
There was a gap between data and feel.
To put it simply: the Williams had a brutally narrow operating window.
This had already appeared in practice. Massa had mentioned it once—then stopped talking about it.
Wu Shi licked his lips, tasting sweat.
"Everyone except Button and Alonso is on mediums. Prepare for the start."
Cars lined up.
Engines revved.
The sound swelled into a single, vibrating roar.
Five red lights illuminated.
Wu Shi's heartbeat thundered. His head swelled. Limbs tingled.
Then—
Lights out.
Everything vanished.
Only instinct remained.
---
The Start
VROOOM—
He released the clutch.
The car surged forward like a horse breaking free.
The launch was clean.
Perfect.
Wu Shi exhaled sharply and checked his mirrors.
Hamilton had started just as well.
But Wu Shi had half a car length.
Enough.
Approaching Turn 1, he drifted slightly to the outside, setting up the standard racing line.
Hamilton attacked from the inside, trying to shorten the distance into Turn 2.
Wu Shi reacted instantly—cutting toward the apex.
Hamilton held firm.
Anyone who'd seen Hamilton's scalpel-like front wing knew better than to hang a rear tyre near him on lap one.
But Turns 1 and 2 flowed in opposite directions.
Exiting Turn 1, Wu Shi switched lines decisively—outside to inside—shutting the door completely.
Turn 2.
Hamilton, now on the outside, lost momentum.
He had no choice but to back off—or risk Vettel slipping past.
The start passed without incident.
Wide track. Plenty of runoff.
A clean launch.
Jonathan's voice came in.
"Excellent start. Very good. Hamilton doesn't have much pace right now."
Five seconds later:
"Bottas reports a puncture, but the car is still moving. No yellow flag."
Lotus really is cursed, Wu Shi thought.
"What's the gap?" he asked.
"Four tenths."
Not far enough.
Not safe.
After a few corners, he asked again on the main straight.
"Gap?"
"Five tenths."
Better.
But not enough.
At the end of Sector 1 on lap two, Jonathan spoke without being prompted.
"Still five tenths. He's very stable."
Pause.
"If you push harder, tyre degradation will increase."
Wu Shi's mouth felt dry.
He ignored the drink tube. Warm water would only make it worse.
"Maintain pace," Jonathan said.
This wasn't good.
"Kimi has a puncture," Jonathan continued.
"Watch for debris at Turn 1."
---
Heat Builds
Screeeech—
Lap two, Turn 15.
Wu Shi braked hard.
White smoke burst from the tyres—brakes screaming under extreme pressure.
Behind him, Hamilton, Vettel, and Rosberg did exactly the same, smoke trailing as they exited onto the main straight.
"You've set fastest lap: 1:45.112," Jonathan reported.
Wu Shi frowned.
"Is Hamilton still right behind?" he asked.
"Why isn't Vettel attacking him?"
The calm start hadn't created safety.
It had only delayed the real fight.