Chapter 146: Has Passed
"Wow! That's unbelievable! He really went under one minute forty-six! This result is absolutely acceptable!"
The commentator known as the Soldier shouted excitedly in the studio.
Fei Ge clapped repeatedly.
"That speed is insane! I don't know if this guarantees a front-row start, but this is definitely Q3 pace!"
As the two commentators celebrated like madmen, the broadcast replayed Wu Shi's final team radio.
The interpreter hesitated for a moment, then translated carefully:
"Uh… Wu Shi reported no power, which suggests the car experienced a loss of electrical or engine output."
Those words barely needed explanation.
When the replay ended, the camera cut to the Mercedes garage.
Compared to the jubilation elsewhere in the pit lane, it felt oppressively quiet.
The Soldier frowned immediately.
"Why isn't Mercedes celebrating? Every other team looks ecstatic."
"Could Toto be thinking about… replacing someone?" Fei Ge joked.
"Haha, that's actually possible," the Soldier laughed. "Hamilton and Rosberg are both monsters — that is a real headache."
At that moment, a second radio replay was aired.
Interpreter:
"Wu Shi requested another flying lap. The team agreed and instructed him to pit for tyres after fully recharging the battery."
"What?!"
The Soldier froze. "That's elite treatment."
He sounded half impressed, half suspicious. Burning another set of tyres in practice — just for a rookie — was extraordinary.
"Something's off," Fei Ge said slowly. "Even with talent like that, teams don't casually throw away another set of tyres."
Despite their confusion, both commentators leaned closer to the screen.
Would Wu Shi go even faster?
---
At the Marina Bay Street Circuit, Mercedes recalled Lewis Hamilton's No. 44.
The moment the car stopped, Toto removed his headset.
"Peter," he said coldly, "take over. Replace Tony."
The temperature in the Mercedes operations room dropped instantly.
Tony didn't argue. He calmly removed his headset and placed it on the table.
Rosberg instinctively tried to say something — but Tony avoided his gaze and walked away.
Peter inhaled deeply and sat down at the engineer's station. Around him, several crew members were quietly replaced.
Moments later, Hamilton emerged from the changing room.
He took one look at the scene and raised an eyebrow.
"What happened? Did the kid put it in the wall?"
"No," Peter replied. "He's going out for one more lap."
Hamilton blinked.
"Then why did you swap engineers? Where's Tony — is he unwell?"
He stepped behind Peter, glanced up at the timing screen…
1:45.879
There was a long silence.
Then Hamilton spoke softly.
"…Why does he need another lap?"
"He's fighting for a Mercedes seat," Rosberg said bluntly.
The air went cold.
---
"Box, box."
Wu Shi's voice came over the radio.
After completing the recharge lap, he turned into the pit lane.
Another set of supersoft tyres was wheeled out.
Hamilton and Rosberg stood shoulder to shoulder, watching the familiar silver car glide in, stop precisely on its marks, and rise on the jacks.
3.6 seconds.
Buzz.
The car launched.
Rosberg swallowed.
"I'm… nervous."
He had always been sensitive to pressure. The idea of driving the same car and being slower than Wu Shi unsettled him deeply.
Hamilton said nothing.
The boy he'd met back in 2007 was now standing right beside him — not as a junior, but as a threat.
---
Wu Shi finished his out-lap.
Before even starting the flying lap, his voice came through the radio — strained, certain.
"The gearbox… something's wrong. The shifts feel stiff."
Toto closed his eyes.
For a moment, he wanted to rip off the headset and smash it onto the desk.
He didn't.
Peter replied immediately.
"We see it. Mechanical issue. Can't fix it remotely. Bring the car back."
"Copy."
Wu Shi's voice was hoarse. Emotionless.
He lifted early and cruised back to the pits.
After stopping, he removed the steering wheel and headrest, sat quietly in the cockpit for a moment, then climbed out.
Every nearby camera locked onto him.
Sid walked straight up to Toto.
"Mr. Wolff, I believe we're owed a proper explanation."
"You'll have one," Toto replied. His expression was heavier than ever.
---
Sid's phone rang.
It was Martina.
"Something unexpected?" she asked.
"Yes," Sid said. "The power unit output fluctuated at the end of the lap."
"I see. Ferrari believes pole will be around 1:45.8. With that lap, Wu Shi would likely start in the top three."
Sid paused.
"A Ferrari is still slower than a Mercedes."
Martina fell silent.
---
Wu Shi removed his helmet.
His hair was soaked, his face pale.
Hamilton approached and extended his hand.
"Kid, you still need more conditioning."
Wu Shi shook it and smiled weakly.
"I'm already training like my life depends on it."
Hamilton hesitated, then asked quietly,
"Do you feel regret? That power loss probably cost at least a tenth."
"Of course," Wu Shi replied. "But that's racing. Same as Shanghai 2007, right?"
If Hamilton hadn't gone into the gravel then — just two points more — history would have been rewritten.
Hamilton smiled faintly.
"Yeah. It's always a pity."
"Yes," Wu Shi said, glancing back at the W05.
"But this session… has passed."
He knew what he'd done.
He'd driven on instinct alone.
Ignored fear.
Ignored consequences.
A crash would've ended everything.
Was the lost time regrettable?
Of course.
But he had no regrets about this lap.
Hamilton patted his shoulder once.
After Wu Shi walked away, Hamilton said quietly to Rosberg:
"He's stronger than you."
Rosberg looked at him.
And said nothing.