F1: In Ferrari, Schumacher at the start.

Lin Feng drove the Ferrari SF-24 race car with the number 55 on it slowly into the vehicle inspection area.

In front of parking sign number 1, which represents the highest honor, the red Prancing Horse stood steadily, its body gleaming brightly under the lights.

The moment the engine shut off, the exhaust pipe emitted a series of crackling metallic cooling sounds.

Lin Feng sat in the dimly lit cockpit, his hands off the steering wheel, letting his heart, which had been pounding wildly with extreme excitement, slowly calm down.

After fifty laps of intense pulling, even with the system's support, his back was completely soaked with sweat, and the fireproof racing suit clung tightly to his body, feeling heavy.

Lin Feng took a deep breath, removed the steering wheel, and placed it steadily above the instrument panel.

This time, unlike in qualifying, he didn't scramble and fall due to exhaustion. He braced himself with both hands on either side of the cockpit, unleashed his core strength, and leaped off the car with remarkable agility, landing firmly on the Ferrari's towering nose.

He took off his helmet, and his black hair, soaked with sweat, flew wildly in the night wind.

Then Lin Feng raised his arms high and roared at the sea of ​​red flags and Ferrari team flags waving wildly in the main stands, a roar that echoed through the night.

"ah--!!!"

This is the most unrestrained release of a racing dream that has been suppressed for twenty years!

"Lin!! Lin!! Lin!!"

Outside the fence, hundreds of Ferrari team staff had gone completely wild. Mechanics hugged each other, wept, and some even excitedly tore off their team emblems and kissed them.

As Lin Feng jumped out of the car and ran quickly toward the convoy, a large, round figure broke through the security line of the fence and grabbed him tightly.

"You incredible little rascal! You saved Ferrari's weekend! You saved my heart!" Frederick Vassell, his face flushed with excitement, slapped Lin Feng hard on the back. "It was amazing! Those incredible fifty laps! You're a machine!"

Lin Feng was being choked so badly he could barely breathe: "Fred, take it easy, my ribs are going to break. If you strangle me to death, who's going to drive you to the next stop?"

"God is my witness, I want to stuff a ten-year lifetime contract into your fireproof underwear right now!" Vaselle laughed heartily. "Forget about those lousy fast food and mindless burgers! I've already notified the best Michelin three-star chef in Maranello to fly to Saudi Arabia tonight! White truffles, top-quality caviar, the most authentic pasta—whatever you want, Ferrari will make it for you! Even if you want the stars in the sky, I'll have my engineers pluck them down for you!"

Lin Feng felt a surge of secret pleasure upon hearing this.

As expected of Ferrari, the prestige and treatment are simply off the charts.

Just then, heavy footsteps sounded beside me.

Lin Feng turned his head and saw the Red Bull duo—Max Verstappen and Sergio Perez—who were parked right behind him at license plates 2 and 3, walking towards him.

Verstappen took off his helmet, and his face, which always carried an air of defiance, was now filled with exhaustion and frustration.

As the absolute overlord who has dominated the paddock for the past few years, today's match is undoubtedly a complete torture for him.

But he is, after all, a three-time world champion, and possesses the mindset of a true champion.

Verstappen walked up to Lin Feng and extended his right hand.

"Congratulations." Verstappen looked Lin Feng up and down. "That defensive play you made when you came out of the pits with cold tires at the first corner, I really thought we were going to retire together."

Lin Feng smiled and shook his hand: "Actually, I thought I was going to be on the wall too, Max. But luck seems to be on my side. The pressure on you was incredible. If the race had gone on for another five laps, my rear wheel might have completely given up."

Verstappen shook his head and said with a wry smile, "No, your defense was perfect. There were no unnecessary moves or illegal changes of direction; you won fair and square. However, in the next game in Melbourne, I definitely won't let you lead so comfortably again."

"I'm really looking forward to it." Lin Feng released his grip, his eyes equally sharp.

Perez, standing nearby, enthusiastically stepped forward, gave Lin Feng a big hug, patted him on the shoulder, and laughed, "Well done, buddy! To be honest, seeing Max so frustrated on the radio was actually quite enjoyable for me. Welcome to the podium, China!"

"Thank you, Checo." Lin Feng also expressed his respect for the Mexican veteran.

……

After a brief post-race weigh-in, the top three drivers, guided by FIA officials, walked into the lounge leading to the podium.

The air conditioning in the lounge was on full blast, and the table was covered with chilled bottled water and towels.

Lin Feng plopped down on the middle sofa, grabbed an ice-cold towel, covered his face, and let out a long sigh of relief. Verstappen and Perez also sat down, and the three of them drank water while looking up at the large screen on the wall, which was replaying the highlights of the match.

When the scene cut to lap 19, Lin Feng encountered Verstappen after exiting the pits, and at the first corner, he used a cold tire to drift wildly and block the inside line. All three in the locker room fell silent.

"My God, from this God's-eye view, your left rear wheel is less than ten centimeters away from my front wing." Verstappen pointed at the screen, gasping. "How on earth did you manage to pull the car back?"

Lin Feng removed the towel, looked at his miraculous emergency maneuver on the screen, and silently thanked the "Schumacher Peak Experience Card" in his heart, but laughed it off, saying, "I was probably too scared at the time, and my hand shook so I turned the steering wheel the wrong way."

Verstappen rolled his eyes, clearly unconvinced by this slapstick answer.

Just then, Ferrari's public relations manager, Mia, hurriedly pushed open the door and handed Lin Feng a cell phone that was vibrating wildly and had a hot back.

"Lin, your phone. It keeps ringing like a time bomb, I'm really afraid it'll explode in my pocket," Mia said with a laugh.

Lin Feng took the phone and pressed the fingerprint unlock button.

"Buzz—"

The moment the screen lit up, the phone froze for a full three seconds.

Immediately afterwards, a deluge of message notifications poured out like a torrential downpour, and the number of unread messages in the upper right corner of WeChat turned into a red "...".

[Dad]: Son!!! You're awesome!!! I just set off three strings of 100,000-shot firecrackers in the alley! When the city management officers came, I gave them all a pack of cigarettes! Your old man drank two bottles of Moutai today, so satisfying!!!

[Mom]: Xiaofeng, I saw on TV that you won first place! Thank God! Your car wheels were smoking when you turned the corner, it scared me to death. Go take a shower and change into dry clothes quickly, don't catch a cold!

[Zhou Guanyu]: Bro!!! You're a god!!! I was totally stunned watching the big screen from backstage! P1! We both scored today! See you in the interview area later, you have to treat me today!

[Karting Instructor Lao Ma]: Lin Feng, well done! I knew you were no ordinary kid back then, and you didn't let Chinese drivers down!

[Tengyue Karting Drivers Group (Blocked)]: (999+ messages) Holy crap, our club has a world champion?! Lin Feng is awesome! Brother Feng, do you remember me? I borrowed a set of tires from you back then...

Several girls who used to ignore him and think he had no future in driving lessons even sent him extremely ambiguous voice messages.

This is the cruelty and reality of competitive sports, and also its most fascinating aspect.

If you win, you're the center of the world; if you lose, even breathing is wrong.

But Lin Feng wasn't blinded by the flowers and praise, because he knew that the system's support played a huge role in his ability to stand here.

Without the support of his "steel neck" and the absolute composure of his "precise flow," he might have had to retire from the race on the tenth lap due to exhaustion.

"This is just the beginning." Lin Feng silently locked his phone screen and put it back on the table.

"Gentlemen, it's time."

FIA staff pushed open the door, indicating that the awards ceremony was about to begin.

Lin Feng stood up, straightened his red Ferrari racing suit, took a deep breath, and strode out of the lounge.