"Ruuuuuu..." The boos were mixed with shouts of denial, fans waving their hands frantically. "No, no, no, that's Max!" "Sebastian is right behind him, don't boo our own guy!"
"Ahhhhh!" The cheers were laced with harsh curses. "Don't cheer for him!" "Why are we celebrating the Baby Driver's win?"
Contradiction, confusion, infighting. The scene was lively but messy. Everyone had an opinion, but no one could agree on what to do.
On the track, Kai looked at the chaos he had caused with satisfaction.
Next second, he saw Verstappen about to pass him. Even though they were wearing helmets, Kai gave Max a thumbs up. Great fight.
Win or lose, they had both given everything, burning themselves out to the very last second.
Kai didn't know what Max was like before this season, but this year, Verstappen was clearly evolving. His judgment, decision-making, and execution were becoming sharper and more mature. Dealing with him in the future would only get harder.
Kai had a feeling that Verstappen would be on the podium—and fighting for wins—more and more often.
In the number 33 car, Max noticed Kai's gesture. He froze for a moment.
He hadn't expected that.
Was it praise? Respect? Or... a challenge?
Canada, France, Austria. Three consecutive P2 finishes. It was an excellent, stable run—even Hamilton wasn't this consistent. But... it wasn't enough.
Far from enough! He was sick of being second best!
Maybe for others, three podiums in a row was a cause for celebration. But Max craved victory. The top step.
If Kai could do it, Max would push his limits too!
He floored the throttle, leaving the #22 car behind. Even on the cool-down lap, he wanted to be ahead. He would chase, fight, and push. He would follow Kai's footsteps and prove himself on the track. He couldn't wait for the next race.
In his memory, Kai was the first driver in the paddock to treat him as an equal. The "Baby Driver" believed in his ability, his talent, his potential. No condescension, no disdain, no rejection. Just 120% focus and a fair fight on the track.
Win or lose, face it head-on.
Vroom, vroom. Amidst the roar of the engine, the proud and stubborn soul finally shook off the heavy pressure and ubiquitous scrutiny. He stretched out, growing into a giant, breaking free from shackles to explore his limits.
With that, the chaotic, accident-filled Austrian Grand Prix came to an end. People expected Mercedes to continue their dominance, but the twist ending surprised everyone.
Kai, Verstappen, Vettel on the podium. Ferrari was undoubtedly the biggest winner. After struggling in Canada and France, they seized the opportunity of the double Mercedes DNF to return to the Constructors' Championship fight with an advantage.
Grosjean P4, Magnussen P5. Haas achieved their best result of the season, redeeming themselves after the Melbourne disaster.
Perez P6, Ocon P7. Force India also had their best result, injecting hope into their difficult season.
Alonso P8, Raikkonen P9, Leclerc P10. Sauber scored double points for the first time this season. The veterans Alonso and Raikkonen proved their stability and experience amidst the chaos.
And Renault—
A heavy blow. For the first time this season, neither car scored points. After the divorce with Red Bull, this was bad news.
Perhaps the Red Bull-Renault split hurt both teams, giving their rivals a chance to rise.
Especially Ferrari.
And within Ferrari, the man who turned decay into magic—Kai—was once again in the eye of the storm, shining brightly.
From Vettel to Hamilton to Verstappen and now Kai, generations of talented drivers faced immense pressure under the microscope. This was the paddock—a small circle breeding billions of dollars in interests.
Life and death, open spears and hidden arrows.
Talent and ability only knock on the door of F1; they don't guarantee entry. Once inside, it's a different world.
Attacks, slander, conspiracies, backstabbing, encirclement. The pressure is unmatched in any other sport.
Yet, no one could deny that Kai was the best of the best.
Facing difficulties and pressure, dropping into the paddock from the sky, he miraculously found his footing amidst wave after wave of attacks. From Monaco to Austria, these two wins were convincing, showcasing his courage in every aspect.
Not just luck.
It was foreseeable that after this battle, the knives aimed at Kai wouldn't dull; they would sharpen. Because Kai was now a genuine threat to the leaders.
Surpassing Verstappen, no longer just a talented boy. Surpassing Ricciardo and Vettel, truly capable of fighting for the championship.
Different positions, different roles, different strategies of encirclement. Kai would face ten times, a hundred times more suspicion and attacks.
However, this precisely proved that Kai had truly established himself.
As Kai said back in GP3: Attention comes because you have value; attacks come because you are a threat. In the paddock, the fiercer the attack, the greater your threat to others.
For Kai, who had popped out of a crack in the rock less than six months ago, this was the best affirmation.
Direct proof: During the champagne spray on the podium, Vettel completely ignored Kai, spraying only Verstappen.
Kai made a polite effort to spray Vettel and Max, but Vettel didn't even bother with appearances.
This was the first time Vettel publicly showed alienation, revealing the rift within the Ferrari garage.
Post-race, Vettel claimed he was just focused on celebrating Max's growth, happy for his recent performance, and that he and Kai had a good relationship based on healthy competition. But in the paddock, where everyone uses a magnifying glass, the distance between them couldn't be hidden.
Clearly, Vettel was unhappy. But he wasn't foolish enough to rant about who he was unhappy with in the press conference.
Because of the podium drama between Vettel and Kai, people ignored Ricciardo, who was hiding in the shadows, staring blankly into the distance.
Until Kai found him.
"...Kid, are you lost? Where's your mom? Need help?" Kai asked with a straight face.
Ricciardo was squatting with his legs wide open, a very ungraceful frog pose, at the entrance of the garage. He looked up at Kai quietly, then—
"Fuck."
Ricciardo looked serious, but the smile in his eyes betrayed him.
Serious for less than a second, the corners of his mouth twitched, revealing his signature big white teeth.
"Fuck! Piss off!"
Kai raised his hands in surrender, looking meek, and started to walk away without lingering.
Ricciardo saw the slyness in Kai's eyes. It was intentional. He shouted at Kai's back.
"I hate you, do you hear me? You better not show up in Perth, or you know, those one hundred Ricciardo fans will corner you."
Even his threats were unserious.
Kai turned back. "One hundred?"
Ricciardo stared at him for a moment. "Okay, ninety-nine."
Kai paused. He noticed Ricciardo's mask—using humor and teasing to cover the loss in his eyes.
Honestly, Ricciardo shouldn't play poker. His poker face was terrible. Luckily, he didn't choose that career, or he'd be broke.
The always sunny Ricciardo had a hidden side. Thinking back to the race, Kai walked back.
He sat down on the ground next to Ricciardo, criss-cross applesauce.
Ricciardo looked disgusted. "Isn't the ground dirty?"
Kai glanced at him. "Your pose isn't much better."
Ricciardo looked down. "Ah, my balls are touching the floor." He burst out laughing and fell onto his butt. "Sorry, there shouldn't be any ladies here. Don't go ruining my handsome image. I said nothing, remember that."
Kai looked at Ricciardo's laughing face. "You look especially down. Is it because I passed you so hard today?"
"Get lost." Ricciardo raised both middle fingers.
Kai laughed heartily. "I was just thinking, we all know the logic—mechanical failure is part of racing. But when it happens, you still feel powerless. I believe you know this better than me. Your engine has failed, what, one, two, three, four, five, six times?"
"Hey! Don't insult my car, okay?" Ricciardo protested, bumping Kai's shoulder hard. "Although you're right." He muttered to himself, then couldn't help laughing. "Do you also think the Renault engine is unstable?"
Kai was surprised. Ricciardo was surprised too. Both paused. Friends are friends, but teams are teams. They shouldn't leak secrets.
Ricciardo hadn't expected to blurt that out.
Strictly speaking, it wasn't a secret—everyone in the paddock knew—but discussing it with a rival was taboo.
Kai paused. "I don't know. You're the driver. You should know your car best, even better than the engineers."
"Yeah, right? That's the logic." Some things couldn't be said to outsiders, but the problem was, Ricciardo couldn't say them to insiders either.
He was stuck. He couldn't tell his family (they'd worry), his agent (who only cared about money), or his friends (who wouldn't understand the team dynamics).
Strangely, facing Kai, Ricciardo felt a weird trust. Even though Kai was a rival, he believed Kai wouldn't leak secrets. He couldn't explain why.
Just intuition.
Ricciardo sighed. "I don't know. I still believe in Renault. I think the engine isn't the problem. Even though we had issues in Monaco and failed here, all my wins with Red Bull came with Renault power. I think we're on the right path."
Sure enough—
It wasn't just today's race. The recent Red Bull-Renault drama was affecting Ricciardo.
In Kai's view, Ricciardo still trusted Renault, but Red Bull was divorcing them. This affected his confidence, and thus his performance.
Kai paused, a crazy thought popping into his head. "Daniel, is Renault secretly trying to poach you?"
Ricciardo: ...
Kai: ...
Kai had just said it casually, but Ricciardo looked like he'd seen a ghost. Even his smile vanished. Kai was startled—he'd guessed right. That explained Ricciardo's irritability and loss.
Ricciardo's contract expired at the end of the season.
Horner swore to the media he wanted to keep Ricciardo, but there was little response from Ricciardo's camp.
knowing Horner's bullshit from last season, Kai knew if half of what Horner said was true, that was amazing. The real negotiation status was known only to them. But the summer break was approaching, a critical time for contracts.
And now Red Bull and Renault were fighting. It complicated things. Kai had dealt with Abiteboul last year—a master of painting cakes (making empty promises). Whether they could be realized was a question mark, but the pitch was always dazzling.
Kai blinked, not waiting for an answer.
Honestly, that was Red Bull and Renault's business. He didn't want to get involved or spy on Ricciardo.
So, Kai changed the subject. "You don't trust Honda's engine?"
Ricciardo swallowed, not continuing the previous topic. "If they were good, they wouldn't have left the paddock before, right?"
Honda had a long F1 history, starting in the 60s, peaking in the 80s. But their relationship with F1 was on-again, off-again. They even had their own team once.
Sadly, poor results led them to leave for the 101st time, only to return for the 102nd time in 2015 with McLaren.
Look at the last three years. McLaren fell to the back of the grid. Now Honda was moving to Toro Rosso.
Ricciardo had reasons to doubt Honda. Compared to the long-term partner Renault, Honda looked like an opportunist.
However, Kai grasped a key point. "Have you talked to the engineering team? Have you read Renault and Honda's technical roadmaps? Do you understand their R&D direction and progress? Or is it just intuition?"
Ricciardo opened his mouth slightly, stunned and stiff.
No answer needed. Kai had his answer.
Connecting the dots, Kai continued. "We can't do anything about the team changing engine suppliers. That's a capital game, it's complicated. So, is your hesitation about the engine, or... Max Verstappen?"
The air froze. They stared at each other.
Then, Ricciardo let out an exaggerated laugh. "Ha! Ha. Ha. Ha. Me? Max? Impossible!"
Kai could hear the guilt in his voice. The dry laugh betrayed his panic. But Kai didn't press.
Going further would be probing Red Bull's internal affairs.
Kai changed the subject again, joking, "If Azerbaijan happened to me and the team didn't handle it properly, I wouldn't be happy either."
That was broadcast to the world. Everyone in the paddock discussed it. So it was fair game.
Ricciardo relaxed slightly and grinned again. "So is that why you and Seb don't get along?"
Kai didn't mind, joking back. "You know we haven't spoken in a long time?"
"Haha." Ricciardo was amused by Kai's half-truth and laughed heartily.
But this time, the smile didn't reach his eyes. His mouth drooped. "He's getting more aggressive, more reckless. Pushy, crossing the line. Regardless of consequences. Trying to destroy his own race and everyone else's."
"F1 isn't bumper cars."
Though he didn't name names, "he" was obvious.
"The point is, they didn't stop him."
"No, not only did they not stop him, they encouraged him. I don't understand. He's ruining everyone's race, and they cheer for him."
"I'm winning. I'm leading the team forward. But I don't feel the support."
This was a Ricciardo no one had seen.
Usually sunny, now he was pulling his hair in frustration, hesitant and conflicted. His anxiety was visible.
Kai didn't know what happened in the Red Bull garage this race, but clearly, Horner hadn't managed the atmosphere well.
Not just Azerbaijan. Something else must have happened. Max's three consecutive P2s weren't simple. The problem was, Ricciardo was performing well too. He was still their title hope. So how did Red Bull maintain order?
Or... did they?
Kai raised an eyebrow. "Are you talking about me? My knees are full of arrows." (Reference to "I took an arrow to the knee" / taking friendly fire).
Ricciardo froze, looked at Kai, and they both burst out laughing. No explanation needed. Everyone could see what was happening in Ferrari and Red Bull.
Kai paused and thought. "You think you aren't getting fair treatment?"
"Yes—No—" Ricciardo stammered. "I mean, I'm not sure. I think it's okay. I'm just frustrated the team is switching engines. I'm not sure it's the right choice. I wish they valued my opinion. But my agent says I deserve better."
Hesitation, wavering, confusion.
Like Ricciardo's thoughts—scattered.
Kai caught the keyword. "Better treatment?" So this was about contract negotiations? That was different.
Ricciardo nodded. "Yeah, salary. You know we don't drive for fun, right?"
"Haha." Kai laughed.
Ricciardo: "Last year, before Max's contract was up, Christian offered him a deal. He hadn't even proven himself yet. But this year, my contract is ending, and we're still going in circles. I don't understand why it's so difficult."
In Ricciardo's career, everything was Red Bull. He never had to consider other options. This was his first time facing renewal issues.
It was indeed complicated.
Ricciardo leaned in, whispering. "Actually, Christian offered me the same contract as Max. Same salary."
Kai looked up to see a smug smile on Ricciardo's face, eyes full of joy.
Kai was surprised. He thought Horner was just acting for the media while suppressing Ricciardo. But it seemed Horner genuinely wanted to keep him.
Kai looked at him. "You look happy."
Ricciardo's smile collapsed. "My agent says I deserve more."
I see. The key was "Same."
Kai understood agents. Their job was to stir the pot and fight for maximum benefit.
But as a driver, the check was one thing; winning was another.
Like football—go to the Middle East for money, or stay in Europe for glory? That's the eternal question.
Of course, Kai didn't know the full story. Were Mercedes or Ferrari contacting Ricciardo? The agent's moves might just be leverage.
From Ricciardo's distress, Kai guessed he wanted to stay at Red Bull.
Just like Zhou Guanyu's dilemma—be the core of a small team or fight in a big one. Kai's attitude was consistent.
Kai grasped the core issue. "Are you afraid of Max?"
Straight to the heart. It stung.
Ricciardo froze, then laughed. "What? No way! What are you talking about?"
Kai shrugged. "Then stay and fight. Prove yourself. Prove you're worth more. Prove they should bet on you."
Ricciardo stared wide-eyed. "But F1 isn't that simple. I won't mention you, but look at Nico Rosberg. He proved he could be champion, but Toto still trusted Lewis more. Why do you think Nico retired without telling them?"
That's the difference between F1 and other sports. The power of capital is irreversible.
Kai curled his lip. "So, go to another team and win the championship to prove them wrong, right?"
Ricciardo nodded instinctively. That's what his agent said.
Kai continued. "Just like Fernando?"
Ricciardo nodded again, then froze. Alonso had been wandering for years, searching, but never won another title.
In the paddock, everyone agreed Alonso's skill was top-tier. He shouldn't have only two titles. He just lacked a good car.
Wait, a good car? Was that Kai's real point?
Ricciardo looked at Kai, stunned.
Kai didn't look away. "Of course, you can go to another team to prove yourself, make them regret it. We hear that story a thousand times in basketball and football. But Daniel, this is F1, not the NBA. Changing teams doesn't solve everything."
Ricciardo's mind was a mess. Buzzing. He stared at Kai and swallowed hard. "What do you mean?"
Kai met his gaze and shrugged. "If you aren't afraid of Max, you should hit back." He added, "Of course, not literally with fists."
He dragged out the last word. "Ah... actually, if it were boxing, I think you should throw a right hook. Are you lefty or righty?"
Seeing Kai's serious face, Ricciardo froze, then burst out laughing. Harder and harder.
"So confident?" Ricciardo said. "You know we have the ability to beat you. No, we have the ability to beat anyone and win the championship."
"Ha. Ha. Just like the Red Bull Ring." Kai looked focused. "Wait, let me think. Who had the last laugh today? Oh right, not Red Bull!"
Ricciardo punched Kai's shoulder without hesitation.
Kai rolled his eyes, brushing off his shoulder like it was dust. "Welcome! We welcome all forms of competition!"
"You know, what's sweeter than victory? Being the one laughing last after the opponent has given everything and burned out. We welcome competition. The title means more when you beat the strongest. We've been waiting for you guys to fulfill your potential."
That confident, arrogant look shone in the sunset, radiating youthful energy, awakening dormant fighting spirit.
Ricciardo punched Kai again. He was about to retort.
Unexpectedly, Kai laid down on the ground, shouting, "Where are the reporters? They need to document this! Red Bull's ace beating the Austrian GP winner! Can't win on track, so he uses fists! The paddock has become a boxing ring! Is this moral decay or twisted humanity?"
Ricciardo: ???
Just as Ricciardo prepared to teach Kai a lesson, a voice called out on the wind. "Daniel!"
Ricciardo looked over instinctively, putting away his playful demeanor. "I have to go. Talk later."
Before he finished speaking, he stood up. He turned back and lightly kicked Kai's calf. "Hey, mate. Thanks."
Then, without waiting for a response, Ricciardo jogged away.
Kai sat up. Backlit, he couldn't see clearly, but the person calling Ricciardo seemed to be his race engineer. The figure glared at Kai, clearly unhappy about Ricciardo getting too close to the competition.
Kai laughed.
In Kai's view, if Red Bull hadn't failed to address the issues, how could Ricciardo have confided in a stranger like him?
Sometimes, you can't talk to family or friends, but you can open up to a stranger. In the small circle of the paddock, Kai's unfamiliar face let Ricciardo drop his guard.
From the brief chat, Ricciardo didn't care about engines, salary, or even Azerbaijan. He cared about the team's attitude—
How to deal with Max's rise? How to handle their relationship? How to manage the skewed competition?
Maybe Max was the future, but Ricciardo was the present. If Red Bull hadn't mishandled it internally, Ricciardo wouldn't be wavering.
Or maybe Horner believed he gave Ricciardo the best terms—equal to Max—and thought Ricciardo should be grateful.
Then things looked different.
Of course, easy for an outsider to say. Look at Mercedes, look at Ferrari. It's never simple. This is the central theme of F1, watched hungrily by the media.
"...I didn't expect you two to be friends." A voice grabbed Kai's attention. He turned to see Vettel.
Standing tall, looking down. No special tone, but the sarcasm was hidden there.
Kai remained sitting, looking back calmly. "I didn't expect you weren't."
A rhetorical question punctured Vettel's calm facade. "How can you be sure he isn't spying on us? We don't talk to rivals in private. Keep distance. Be professional. Or did you already make a deal?"
Vettel regretted it immediately—anger briefly controlled his brain. This season wasn't going as imagined. The pressure and frustration tortured his fragile nerves. He didn't know where it went wrong, but the only answer in front of him was this guy.
But Vettel realized he crossed a line. An apology was on his lips, but the young man didn't care.
He didn't panic. He smiled.
That smile was blinding, seeming to mock Vettel's stupidity.
"He can spy on us, I can spy on them. I thought you knew how the paddock works better than me," Kai said. "Otherwise, there wouldn't be many drivers to choose from.
Wait, is that why teams pick drivers from academies?"
Vettel used to be Red Bull's superstar. If anyone leaked secrets, clearly Kai wasn't the prime suspect.
Vettel glared, stepping forward aggressively. "What are you implying?"
Kai remained steady as Mount Tai. "I'm implying, don't worry. I'm chasing victory just like you. I know who we need to beat."
Sarcasm, easy come, easy go. Not just a counterattack, but a sting to Vettel—he shouldn't focus entirely on his teammate.
Now, Vettel laughed. A laugh of extreme anger. Was this infant, barely six months in the paddock, teaching him how to act?
"Hehe, maybe we should start by holding hands to build chemistry. Don't worry, I won't bully you."
Vettel was a master of dry humor too.
As soon as he finished, the smile vanished. Vettel turned and walked away without stopping.
Kai sat there, watching the sunset burn in the distance—
See? Not just Red Bull. Ferrari had its own mess. No time to worry about Ricciardo; Kai should worry about himself.
Obviously, Marchionne must have noticed the problems in the Ferrari garage too.
That was Kai's first thought. Otherwise, why would Marchionne call him personally? A direct summon from the big boss meant serious business. It seemed Ferrari's internal issues were surfacing, and they were ready to do damage control.
That was the best explanation.
Last time it was Arrivabene. This time, Marchionne?