"...Dear passengers, we are about to arrive at Shanghai Pudong International Airport. The ground temperature today is a high of 17 degrees Celsius and a low of 13 degrees..."
A flurry of rustling and movement rippled through the cabin. The flight attendants had to repeatedly announce that the plane was descending, urging everyone to fasten their seatbelts and remain seated. But the warnings did little to deter the passengers, who continued to squirm in their seats, loudly organizing their belongings. The noisy chatter simply wouldn't stop.
There was, however, a rare exception.
Tucked away in a window seat in the very last row, a young man dressed casually in a hoodie, jeans, and sneakers was entirely dead to the world. A red Ferrari Number 22 baseball cap covered his face. Whether the plane was descending or actively landing, nothing could interrupt his passionate rendezvous with the sandman.
He remained completely motionless until the plane touched down smoothly and the cabin doors opened. The passengers formed a long, impatient queue in the narrow aisle, eager to escape the confined space. Only when the dense crowd had mostly emptied out did a flight attendant finally have to wake the sleeping teenager.
"Sorry! Thank you!"
The teenager finally roused from his slumber, letting out a massive yawn and stretching his limbs wide. He casually flipped his cap back onto his head, smoothly yanked a backpack from the overhead bin, and moved swiftly down the now-clear aisle. With a final, polite nod of thanks to the cabin crew, he disembarked.
He traveled incredibly light. Moving with a brisk, effortless pace, he bypassed the baggage claim entirely without slowing down. He truly embodied the concept of traveling light.
He wove quickly through the surging crowds in the arrivals hall. Just as he was navigating a busy intersection, an elderly woman with snow-white hair pushing a luggage cart stumbled awkwardly, nearly colliding with the pedestrians in front of her. She hit the brakes in a panic, narrowly avoiding a crash, but the sudden stop sent the bags and suitcases piled on her cart toppling over in a spectacular avalanche.
Total chaos.
Mumbles of complaint and noisy chatter erupted from the surrounding crowd. The elderly woman apologized profusely, frantically trying to gather her scattered luggage to get out of the way.
But someone beat her to it.
The teenager in the Ferrari cap was already there, swiftly and efficiently loading the luggage back onto the cart, his voice ringing out clearly.
"Excuse me. Sorry about that. Coming through."
With a polite apology directed at everyone around them, the restless, grumbling onlookers immediately fell silent, withdrawing their judgmental stares and keeping their complaints to themselves.
The elderly woman tried to help, but her stiff legs couldn't keep up with his speed. She could only offer a continuous stream of breathless thanks.
In a matter of seconds, the teenager had everything neatly organized on the cart. He flashed a bright, wide smile, showing off a row of perfectly straight teeth. "Need a hand getting outside, Grandma? The taxi line is probably pretty long at this hour."
The woman waved her hands hurriedly. "No, no, thank you! My son is outside waiting to pick me up, he drove here. I've troubled you enough already."
"It was no trouble at all," the teenager replied with another easy smile. "Take care then, no need to rush."
Without lingering, he turned and continued on his way.
The entire interaction played out openly in the middle of the bustling arrivals hall, visible to anyone who happened to look.
Not far away, Zhang Hao was standing by the baggage carousel, waiting for his checked luggage. He was currently fighting the urge to complain loudly about the glacial pace of the baggage handlers, estimating he had at least another thirty minutes to wait. Just as he was pulling out his phone to kill time, he caught a glimpse of that vibrant Ferrari red baseball cap out of the corner of his eye. It instantly grabbed his attention.
Any other week, he wouldn't have thought twice about it. But today, the context was entirely different.
Just this past weekend, Kai had piloted the number 22 Ferrari to secure the 2018 Formula 1 Drivers' World Championship. He had made history and authored a miracle. It wasn't just massive news in Asia; it had swept across the entire globe. Formula 1, a sport historically dominated by Europeans, had finally seen a long-awaited new dawn.
The shockwaves were relentless, hitting like a tsunami.
More importantly, Kai had led Ferrari out of a decade of darkness and back into the glorious light. The Tifosi worldwide had completely abandoned their sanity.
For the Ferrari faithful, the season had already been a massive success the moment Kai conquered Monza. They would have been satisfied with whatever happened next. They never expected him to drag the championship battle all the way to the final lap in Abu Dhabi. Win or lose, they had already gotten more than they dared to hope for.
But then! Monza! And a World Championship!
And to top it all off, this was the very first World Champion Ferrari had cultivated entirely from their own driver academy!
It was madness. Utter madness.
Reason? Logic? Those concepts no longer existed.
Overnight, legions of new Tifosi seemed to sprout up across mainland China like bamboo shoots after a spring rain. Motorsport was entering a golden age of popularity.
Zhang Hao was one of them.
His sharp eyes locked onto the Ferrari red cap. Taking a closer look, he realized it actually had the number 22 on it!
Before he even realized what he was doing, Zhang Hao took a third, lingering look, and then—
!!!
His heart stopped.
A wave of pure shock utterly annihilated whatever rational thought he had left. Zhang Hao started questioning his own reality, his brain completely flatlining.
Before he could process his own actions, his legs moved on autopilot. Even though his mind was still completely scrambled and lost in the clouds, Zhang Hao yielded to pure instinct and chased after the figure. Seeing the long-limbed teenager walking faster and faster, he broke into a full sprint and cut him off.
"Wait! Hold on a second!"
It was only a short dash, but the sheer anxiety and excitement left him completely out of breath.
Zhang Hao swallowed hard. "K-Kai?"
The teenager standing in front of him looked completely calm and unbothered, showing no signs of panic. The corners of his mouth drifted upwards into a smile. "The F1 driver, right? You aren't the first person to say I look like him. Do I really look that similar?"
Zhang Hao: Huh?
The teenager didn't wait for a response, seemingly unfazed. "I can take a picture with you if you want, but I can't give you an autograph. I don't know how to forge his signature, and that feels a bit wrong anyway."
Zhang Hao: ...
He froze. His brain completely crashed. "No, no, no, no, it's fine. I'm so sorry, I got the wrong person. Really, uh, I'm so sorry."
Without giving it a second thought, Zhang Hao stammered out a frantic apology. He was so mortified he wished the floor would open up and swallow him whole. Tucking his tail between his legs, he fled the scene in utter humiliation.
With his chin practically glued to his chest, Zhang Hao curled into himself, his wildly hammering heart threatening to explode out of his ribcage.
Only now did reality finally crash back into him. Right. Of course it couldn't be Kai.
The real Kai was currently worth tens of millions. He flew on private jets, traveled with a massive entourage, and probably had a small army of bodyguards. There was absolutely no way he'd be wandering through a crowded airport alone, dressed like a college student with a single backpack, looking entirely ordinary.
No wonder! He had felt something was off from the start, but the resemblance was so striking that his brain had simply short-circuited.
But still, thinking back on it... that guy looked exactly like him!
Zhang Hao couldn't resist looking back over his shoulder. Even without a spotlight, it was easy to spot that slender figure in the sea of people. The way he moved, the effortless aura he exuded—he stood out instantly, commanding attention as if he carried his own natural halo.
Maybe he's an idol trainee getting ready to debut, Zhang Hao thought to himself.
Up ahead, Kai remained the picture of absolute composure. Unrushed, completely at ease, wearing no sunglasses or face mask, just a simple baseball cap.
And not just any cap. A Ferrari cap. It was a frontal assault on common sense. And ironically, that made him even less likely to be recognized.
If someone did spot him, it all came down to a battle of psychological dominance. It was exactly like playing poker; it wasn't about the cards in your hand, but making your opponent believe the story you were selling.
As long as he confidently claimed he wasn't Kai, then he wasn't Kai.
There was no need to panic, and certainly no need to rush. With his backpack slung casually over his shoulders, Kai blended seamlessly into the bustling crowd.
Neither Lu Cheng nor Jiang Mo had come to the airport today. Kai expertly navigated the terminals, heading straight for—
The subway!
The Abu Dhabi Grand Prix, the ultimate climax of the 2018 F1 season, was already six days in the rearview mirror.
Right now, Kai's overriding sensation was pure, unadulterated exhaustion.
The night he secured the championship, there was a small celebration. But the moment he woke up the next morning, he was thrown into a torrential storm of media obligations. Interviews. More interviews. And then even more interviews. Television, print, digital media; official F1 channels, team sponsors, independent outlets; Europe, Asia, the Americas. It was an endless, suffocating barrage. Face-to-face, over the phone, via video call, live broadcasts—the sheer variety of formats was dizzying.
And then came the photoshoots. Endless photoshoots. Posing in the Ferrari team kit. Posing in his race suit. Posing while holding the championship-winning helmet.
And in the tiny gaps between all of that, he had to sign autographs.
To put it bluntly, Kai had been turned into a Barbie doll. The same questions, or slight variations of them, were repeated ad nauseam. At first, he had the energy to give thoughtful, engaged answers. But after repeating the same spiel five, ten, twenty times, he morphed into a Q&A robot. Input a prompt, output a pre-recorded response. He felt physically nauseous, yet the machine wouldn't stop. He pushed on until his soul effectively left his body, leaving only a hollow shell sitting there in purgatory, endlessly copy-pasting answers.
And that wasn't even the end of it.
After four days of relentless, day-and-night bombardment in Abu Dhabi, Kai boarded a flight back to Italy, landing directly in Maranello.
At the Ferrari headquarters, over two hundred thousand Tifosi were waiting for him. It felt like just yesterday he had stood there as a raw rookie, preparing to embark on the 2018 season. Those memories were still incredibly vivid. Yet, he returned as the Drivers' World Champion, the new Captain of Ferrari.
And it wasn't just Maranello. In Milan, Rome, Turin, Venice, and every major city across the country, fans watched the live broadcast of his return and flooded the streets in mass celebration. These weren't officially sanctioned events; the Tifosi had mobilized entirely on their own.
A magnificent, roaring ocean of Ferrari red swept across the entire Italian peninsula.
It was a carnival, a grand festival that raged for two straight days. The simple, honest faces of everyday people merged into an awe-inspiring tapestry of devotion.
You truly had to witness it with your own eyes to comprehend the terrifying power of the Tifosi.
No wonder people always said that in Italy, Ferrari wasn't just a team; it was a religion.
The noise, the surging crowds, the deafening cheers, the sheer fanaticism... Kai was caught in wave after wave of this hurricane. It had only been six days—not even a full week—but Kai felt more physically and mentally drained than he had during the entire racing season.
He was completely serious; it wasn't an exaggeration. He felt like he had been flayed alive.
Even Jean Todt had privately joked with Kai about the sheer scale of the mania: it was unprecedented.
It was a perfect storm: the compelling narrative of Kai's personal journey, the overwhelming catharsis of Ferrari finally ending their decade-long drought, and the monumental achievement of breaking Mercedes' five-year stranglehold on the sport.
These factors stacked on top of one another until they triggered a nuclear explosion of hype.
Compared to the tidal wave washing over the paddock, the fervor of the Tifosi almost felt tame. Even the FIA had aggressively capitalized on the momentum, moving swiftly to position Kai as the new face of Formula 1, setting him up as the ultimate rival to Hamilton. The official governing body pouring gasoline on the fire had caused the situation to spiral wildly out of control, exceeding anyone's wildest imagination.
After three consecutive waves of this relentless bombardment, Kai had actually... lost weight.
It was groundbreaking news for the fitness industry: apparently, you can lose weight just by sitting in a chair and talking!
Having witnessed the entire spectacle, Todt had simply noted that this was only the beginning. Kai needed to get used to this new reality. The heavy crown of "Youngest World Champion," a title Sebastian Vettel had shouldered for years, now rested squarely on Kai's head. Starting from such an impossibly high peak meant the expectations would only continue to climb.
Scaling the mountain is brutal, but compared to what comes next, the climb itself is relatively straightforward. The true test of greatness lies in staying at the summit, maintaining that absolute dominance, and continuing to look down upon the rest of the world. That is the line that separates the excellent from the legendary.
Kai's brand new challenge had officially begun.
For Kai, however, the new season could wait a minute. Right now, his absolute top priority was simple:
A vacation.
Even a workhorse needs to take a breath. The agonizingly long season was finally over, and Kai couldn't wait another second to enjoy his time off.
Only when his media obligations were finally complete did Kai's season truly come to a close. While Leclerc, Gasly, and the others were already sunbathing on the Mediterranean coast, Kai had still been trapped in an endless cycle of grueling work. But regardless of the delay, the work was finally done, and his vacation had officially started.
Having survived the relentless barrage of media mania, Kai was currently experiencing a completely alcohol-free hangover. His brain was buzzing constantly, his blood felt hot, the world was still spinning, his head was splitting, and his muscles ached. He finally understood why Hamilton and Vettel made the choices they did.
The exact second the season ended, they fled as far away as possible—to remote islands or isolated mountain cabins—escaping the crowds and the noise, seeking absolute silence.
Kai felt the exact same way. He craved silence more than he ever had in his life. Genuine, undisturbed silence. He just wanted to collapse in a corner and enjoy a fleeting moment of peace.
Having learned a painful lesson during the summer break, Kai completely changed his strategy for his return to Shanghai. He explicitly told Lu Cheng and Jiang Mo not to pick him up at the airport. He intended to slip quietly into the massive ocean of humanity, becoming just another face among China's 1.3 billion citizens, seamlessly and invisibly melting into the chaotic rhythm of the city.
The bigger the spectacle, the bigger the target. Breaking into pieces and moving silently was the only way to avoid detection.
And sure enough!
He was proven absolutely right.
From the airport terminal to the subway carriage, roughly 99% of the people were staring intently down at their phones. Even those dragging massive suitcases were glued to their screens, their entire consciousness absorbed by the digital world, completely oblivious to their physical surroundings. Even with Kai standing right in front of them, not a single person bothered to look up. It was perfectly safe.
Furthermore, Kai had deliberately dressed in the most ordinary, low-profile clothes possible. He hadn't tried to obscure his face with sunglasses or a mask—which often just drew more attention. He looked exactly like any other young guy you'd see on the subway. Even if someone's gaze accidentally swept past him, it wouldn't register as anything unusual. Everything was perfectly normal.
Clack-clack, clack-clack. The subway car swayed gently along the tracks.
While everyone else was captivated by their screens, Kai was busy observing the carriage.
Having been trapped under blinding studio lights for the past few days, what Kai desperately needed right now was to disconnect from the machines and feel the reassuring weight of gravity beneath his feet.
The crowd in the subway was a fascinating cross-section of life.
There were ambitious newcomers arriving in Shanghai with heads full of dreams; exhausted corporate drones commuting to their daily grind; young couples returning from a trip, still buzzing with lingering excitement; and college students recklessly burning through their youth... This tiny carriage was a microcosm of society, filled with vibrant, breathing lives.
Another stop arrived. People shuffled off; new people squeezed on.
Kai was standing in a corner. As the surging crowd pushed closer, he pressed himself tighter against the wall. A young man standing next to him was forced to shuffle closer to make room.
The young man was wearing earbuds and staring intently at his phone, completely absorbed. He appeared to be watching a video, his face practically glued to the screen.
Catching a glimpse of the screen out of the corner of his eye, Kai almost broke character.
It was Song Bo.
The young man was actually watching one of Song Bo's videos!
It was a profoundly surreal feeling. Kai knew that F1 was gaining massive traction domestically, and he knew the subscriber count on Song Bo's channel was skyrocketing. But because Kai had practically abandoned all his own social media accounts, leaving them to gather dust, he had never truly grasped the scale of it.
Until now.
It wasn't just raw data or traffic metrics anymore. It was a real, breathing human being in the real world, actively consuming Song Bo's content.
It was quite incredible.
Involuntarily, Kai took another peek.
He had genuinely intended to ignore screens entirely today, but his curiosity got the better of him. A quick glance was all it took to understand the video's premise. It was a comprehensive, deep-dive analysis of the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix, breaking down everything from the overarching tactical strategies to the pivotal on-track execution and the race-defining turning points.
It seemed that after two years of grinding and refining his craft, transitioning from clunky early attempts to smooth, professional execution, Song Bo had truly mastered the formula. By synchronizing his content with the live season and ensuring a steady stream of fresh, weekly analysis, he had built a dedicated audience. No wonder Song Bo always complained that editing videos consumed his entire life.
"...The Captain's ability to make history wasn't born of luck, nor was it an accident..."
The corners of Kai's mouth twitched upward. It seemed Song Bo was keeping up with the latest trends. "Boss" had officially evolved into "Captain." Honestly, Kai was still completely baffled by the new nickname. He had no idea why the entire team had suddenly started shouting it. Yes, motorsport was fundamentally a team sport, but did they really need a 'Captain'? And even if they did, surely the driver wasn't the one supposed to fill that role?
Then, Kai saw the barrage of bullet comments flood across the screen.
Captain. Captain. Captain.
They flashed by in a blinding array of neon colors—red, orange, yellow, green, cyan, blue, purple—rivaling the intensity of the Abu Dhabi fireworks display.
He couldn't hold it in any longer and let out a soft chuckle.
The sound startled the young man. He looked up, his brow furrowed in visible annoyance, and shot Kai a harsh, irritated glare.
Kai offered an apologetic smile and gave a slight, polite nod.
Ultimately, the young man didn't say anything. He clamped his mouth shut and returned his gaze to his phone. The video was nearing its end, displaying footage of Kai, helmet removed, individually hugging Laurent Mekies, Jock Clear, Pierre Borreipaire, and the rest of the crew. Song Bo clearly understood that the championship was the culmination of massive team effort. While they marveled at Kai's individual brilliance, they could never forget the dedicated group of people who had united so fiercely behind him.
'Captain' wasn't just a nickname; it was a badge of honor and a mark of profound respect.
The young man paused. He subconsciously looked up, sneaking another glance at Kai.
Kai casually looked away, staring straight ahead, feigning perfect composure.
The young man looked down at his screen. Then he looked back up at Kai. His eyes darted back and forth so rapidly it was like he was watching a high-speed tennis rally, ping-ponging relentlessly between Kai's face and the video footage.
Then, slowly, agonizingly slowly, the young man's tightly sealed lips began to part. They kept opening wider and wider until you could comfortably fit a fist inside, looking dangerously close to dislocating his jaw. He stared at Kai in absolute, dumbstruck silence. Not a single sound escaped his throat, but the sheer shock and disbelief screaming from his eyes were unmistakable.
His entire world seemed to stop spinning.
"Uh... #%&$..." The young man tried to force a sound from the depths of his throat.
He failed miserably. He stood there paralyzed, staring blankly like a wooden chicken, his brain completely crashing.
Kai could physically feel the weight of that stare. It was so intense, so laser-focused, it felt like it was going to burn two holes straight through his cheek.
Playing dumb wasn't going to work anymore.
Kai met the stare head-on. He looked back with an expression of mild confusion, as if entirely bewildered by the young man's behavior, silently asking, What's wrong?
The young man: ...
He stood frozen, his jaw hanging open wide enough to rival a hippopotamus. All the strength slowly drained from his fingers, and his phone slipped violently from his grasp.
Reacting instantly, Kai shot a hand out and caught the phone mid-air. He smoothly pressed it back into the young man's palm. But the kid remained completely unresponsive, his soul seemingly having evacuated his body. Kai realized that acting oblivious wasn't going to cut it this time.
So, he pivoted.
Kai flashed a wide grin, showing off his perfectly straight teeth. He raised his right hand, mimed zipping his lips shut, and gave a firm nod, silently demanding secrecy.
The young man: ...
Still no response. Not a muscle twitched.
Feeling slightly exasperated, Kai resorted to a more direct approach. He raised his thumb and slowly drew it across his throat, flashing a bright, predatory smile that carried a distinct, unspoken threat.
The young man: Gulp.
He swallowed hard. This time, the message definitely landed. He nodded dumbly, still unable to produce a single sound. He followed it up with a series of frantic, aggressive nods, desperately trying to convey his absolute sincerity.
Perfect timing. The train pulled into the station.
Kai patted the young man on the shoulder without saying a word. Pulling the brim of his cap down slightly, he merged into the departing crowd, preparing to transfer at Century Avenue station.
Standing on the platform, separated by the glass doors of the subway car, Kai couldn't suppress his grin any longer. A mischievous glint danced in his eyes.
Their eyes met through the glass for a brief second.
Kai pressed his index finger to his lips, issuing one final reminder.
"Shh!"
The young man finally snapped out of his trance. He violently slapped both hands over his mouth, his eyes practically bugging out of his skull.
Was that really—
Clack-clack, clack-clack. The subway doors closed, and the train rumbled out of the station.
Kai turned and walked away without breaking stride, vanishing into the bustling crowd in the blink of an eye.
Thinking about it now, it had been roughly two years since Kai last took public transportation. He thought his memory of the routes might have faded, but the moment he stepped into the station, the familiarity came rushing back. He found his way home effortlessly.
It was mid-morning. Jiang Mo, along with Zhang Qiaomu and her husband, were all at work, and Song Bo was likely in class. After a moment's thought, Kai decided against heading straight home to an empty apartment. Instead, he made his way directly to Lu Cheng's auto repair shop.
Calling it a "repair shop" was slightly generous; it was essentially just a small, double-bay garage formed by knocking out the wall between two storefronts. When repair work was slow, they also offered car washing services. At maximum capacity, the garage could squeeze in exactly four cars. Any more than that, and there simply wasn't room, which was why Lu Cheng also provided roadside assistance.
Behind the garage sat a small playground, a popular spot for middle school kids to play basketball and soccer. It was also the exact spot where Kai had first learned to drive.
It was no exaggeration to say that Kai had spent the vast majority of his childhood in this very garage.
Arriving at the shop, Kai saw a Jeep parked inside the open bay, but there was no one in sight. Lu Cheng was nowhere to be found.
Kai casually tossed his backpack onto the floor near the front desk. Just as he was about to head out back to look for his dad, he heard the familiar rumble of an approaching engine. He stopped and turned back toward the entrance—
"Welcome to Lu Cheng Auto Repair."
A light brown Fiat was pulling in. A quick glance at its approach and attempted parking maneuver was all it took to see that the chassis was swaying violently from side to side. It had to be a nightmare to drive, feeling completely untethered, like it was floating without a center of gravity.
A middle-aged man in his forties was struggling to park the vehicle.
Kai stepped forward, using hand signals to guide the driver. He eventually managed to guide the car into an empty bay, but clearly, the vehicle's alignment and balance were completely shot.
The man opened the door and stepped out, looking exasperated. "I have no idea what the hell is wrong with this car..." He paused mid-sentence, noticing the unfamiliar young face standing before him. "Where's Master Lu?"
Kai ignored the question, his eyes fixed intently on the vehicle. "Sir, your fan belt is loose; there's a distinct rattling noise when you accelerate. Also, you seem to be pressing the brake pedal all the way to the floor, which means there's air trapped in your brake lines."
The middle-aged man: ...
His expression soured, and he rolled his eyes dramatically. "Is there anything else?"
It was clearly a rhetorical question, dripping with heavy sarcasm. His tone practically screamed: Listen kid, don't pretend you know what you're talking about.
However, Kai didn't seem to notice the hostility—
Or perhaps he noticed and simply didn't care. He stood his ground, arms crossed, carefully reviewing the details he had just observed and heard.
"No, that's about it. Except..."
The man thought the impromptu diagnosis was finally over, only to be hit with a dramatic pause. He rolled his eyes so hard he nearly saw his own brain, fighting the urge to let out a massive sigh of frustration.
Did Kai notice the man's annoyance?
No. Not at all.
His attention was entirely captivated by the car. It was a solid vehicle, but its routine maintenance and basic upkeep were a complete disaster. It was genuinely painful to look at.
"Except your rear brakes are severely worn, and your front tires are dangerously under-inflated. That's why your center of gravity is constantly swaying, and why you couldn't park in a straight line. Honestly, if you drove this on the highway, the traffic police would have every right to pull you over for suspected drunk driving."
The middle-aged man: ...
Having completed his initial visual inspection, Kai finally looked up and saw the man's deeply depressed expression. He flashed a quick, apologetic smile. "Sorry, just a little joke. The police didn't actually pull you over, did they?"
The middle-aged man: ... "I just had this car fully inspected last week! They said everything was perfectly fine. But today, the whole thing just kept swaying left and right."
Kai raised an eyebrow. "Then whoever did that inspection was completely negligent."
"That's impossible!" the man blurted out instinctively.
Kai understood immediately, a knowing smile touching his eyes. "I hope you didn't pay a premium for it."
"It was complimentary. But that's not the point! The point is, how the hell did you know all that just by looking at it?!" The man was nursing a heavy lump of frustration in his chest, feeling utterly bewildered.
Kai tapped the side of his head. "Eyes. Ears. And a brain."
The man froze, and then flared up. "Are you calling me brainless?!"
Kai offered a calm smile. "I'm saying that coming to find Master Lu was the smartest choice you could have made."
The man finally remembered his original purpose for being there. He looked around the garage again, still not spotting Lu Cheng, before his gaze drifted back to Kai.
"Wait a second... you... uh..."
This young guy actually looked incredibly familiar!
Just then, a figure hurried out from the back office. It was Lu Cheng. He immediately spotted his son standing casually in the center of the bay.
"Kai!"
Kai turned around. "Dad, we have a customer."
Lu Cheng offered the customer a polite nod before speaking briskly. "My apologies, my son just got back from overseas. I'll be right with you."
Lu Cheng couldn't help but look Kai up and down. Although he had just seen him in Abu Dhabi a week ago, witnessing the chaotic, heart-stopping climax of the season, seeing him standing here now felt like a lifetime had passed.
Taking a deep breath, Lu Cheng reached out and patted Kai's arm.
"You've lost weight."
A thousand unspoken emotions were condensed into that single, brief sentence.
Kai didn't know whether to laugh or cry. But this time was slightly different—
Because he couldn't deny it. For once, his parents' perception wasn't just an illusion.
Kai fired back with a half-joking response. "Perfect timing, I came back specifically to fatten up. I need to pack on the pounds now so I can go straight into a bulking phase when off-season training starts."
Lu Cheng chuckled. "Alright then. You tell me what you want to eat. Make a list. Your mom and I will spend the next few days preparing a proper seven-day 'fatten the pig' protocol."
"Dad!"
Over Kai's loud protests, Lu Cheng let out a hearty, booming laugh.
Finally, Lu Cheng stepped forward to address the customer. Recognizing the man, he greeted him warmly. "Mr. Li, what brings you by today? Are you looking for a full inspection?"
Lu Cheng remembered him. The man had broken down nearby recently and sought Lu Cheng's help out of sheer proximity. Lu Cheng had recommended a comprehensive inspection, noting several glaring issues with the vehicle. But the man clearly hadn't trusted the small, independent garage. After Lu Cheng provided a quick, temporary fix, the man had taken the car to a massive, corporate repair chain for the actual inspection. Yet here he was, back where he started.
The middle-aged man hesitated. "Is that your apprentice? He just rattled off a whole list of problems without even touching the car. He was just talking nonsense."
Lu Cheng blinked in surprise. "That's my son. When it comes to fixing cars, the student has definitely surpassed the master." But Lu Cheng didn't elaborate further. "Why don't we run a full, detailed diagnostic and see exactly what's going on?"
A nagging thought had been circling the middle-aged man's mind, refusing to let go. Hearing Lu Cheng's words, the suspicion suddenly broke through to the surface.
"Your son... his name wouldn't happen to be Kai, would it?"
The moment the words left his mouth, he shook his head vigorously—
That was impossible! The owner of a tiny, run-down auto repair shop is the father of the hottest, most universally hyped rookie racing driver on the planet? That was taking a joke way too far.
Lu Cheng's eyes lit up with pride. "Yes, he's Kai. You follow racing too?"
The middle-aged man: ...
He looked completely shell-shocked, as if he had just been struck by lightning. The awkward smile on his face, along with his entire brain, froze instantly. He lost all capacity to react, his logic incinerated and turned to ash in a fraction of a second.
Even as he finally left the garage much later, he still felt top-heavy, stumbling away as if walking on clouds.
After seeing the customer off, Lu Cheng turned back to find his son already underneath another car, actively working on a repair. Catching sight of Lu Cheng out of the corner of his eye, Kai offered a casual observation.
"That Fiat was basically a bumper car. If he kept driving it like that, it would have completely broken down within thirty minutes."
A smirk touched Lu Cheng's lips. "That customer just paid several thousand yuan for a 'comprehensive, top-to-bottom' inspection at a chain shop. You basically ripped the scab right off his wound the second he walked in. Was that really necessary?"
"Several thousand yuan? Tsk, talk about easy money," Kai replied, entirely unbothered. "If they actually delivered a quality service, then fine, a willing buyer and a willing seller. But charging an exorbitant premium and failing to actually do the work? That's just unethical."
Kai slid out from underneath the chassis.
Lu Cheng reached out a hand, hauling Kai to his feet. "You've been running on a completely packed, exhausting schedule for months. You finally get home, you should be resting. Why didn't you go straight back to the apartment and lay down? What are you doing here?"
Two days ago, Lu Cheng had called Kai to check in. While they were talking, Kai had literally fallen asleep mid-sentence, phone still pressed to his ear. You didn't even need to ask Lorenzo for an update; just looking at the relentless flood of interviews and media appearances dominating every platform over the past few days was enough to know Kai hadn't had a single second to breathe.
Kai waved a dismissive hand. "Resting isn't just about lying in bed and sleeping. Being here, working on cars, is a form of relaxation for me."
He paused, tilting his chin toward where the customer had departed. "These new customers don't trust you. They'd rather get absolutely fleeced by a massive corporate chain than take a chance on our little shop. Why don't you just hang my name over the door? That should definitely drum up some business."
Lu Cheng laughed out loud. "What, you don't trust your old man? I've built up a solid base of loyal, long-term customers over the years. You don't need to worry about me."
After the brief joke, Lu Cheng offered a serious explanation. "You are you, and I am me. There's no need to parade your name around to attract business. My ability as a mechanic doesn't suddenly improve just because my son is a World Champion. I refuse to become a burden to you."
Kai froze. His brow furrowed slightly, a hint of sharp sternness leaking into his expression. "Did someone say something to you? Was it Nicholas or Lorenzo?"
Lu Cheng hurriedly waved his hands. "No, no one said a word. But your mother and I aren't completely clueless."
"Right now, you're standing at the absolute peak. You've become a massive target for everyone. Even if you don't do a single thing wrong, people will relentlessly try to tear you down, desperately searching for flaws where none exist. That means we have to be even stricter with ourselves. We have to walk a perfectly straight line and maintain our integrity. That is the only correct way to fight back against the doubters."
"Just imagine if people started flocking to this repair shop solely because of your name. It would all be a fragile bubble, a complete illusion. They'd just be one-off customers. They wouldn't be coming here because they trust my skills as a mechanic; they'd be coming here to gawk and take pictures for social media."
"And when the hype dies down, they'll just have another angle to attack you from. We could end up dragging you down..."
Kai understood all the worries and concerns perfectly well.
He knew that the moment Lu Cheng and Jiang Mo stepped into the glaring spotlight, they would instantly become targets for online vitriol. They wouldn't have the same defenses as Kai; they would just become collateral damage in the media circus.
As of right now, Lu Cheng and Jiang Mo hadn't actively hidden themselves; they occasionally appeared in live broadcast footage. But they had consistently maintained a low profile, ensuring they hadn't yet become easy targets for the paparazzi.
Just as Lu Cheng said, the moment they actively utilized Kai's brand for personal gain, the situation would spiral entirely out of control.