Spring Night Kiss.

Davis, who didn't understand Chinese, asked with a puzzled look, "What were you saying just now?"

Without batting an eye, Song Qingjia fabricated a story: "He said he'd treat everyone to dinner after it was over."

Davis laughed: "That's too expensive."

Song Qingjia: "It's alright, he earns a lot."

On the track, Xu Zhouye had already passed the timing point of the first timeout, the number frozen in purple, 0.158 seconds faster than Lin Bosheng. Subsequently, the second timeout also ended in purple, and his lead widened to 0.394 seconds.

Song Qingjia stared at the screen, a slight smile playing on her lips.

But the next moment, an unexpected event occurred.

A sharp, piercing sound of heavy braking came from the TR, the screech of the tires locking up was shrill even through the headphones.

The in-car footage of Xu Zhouye on the screen shook violently. The race car lost control at the exit of Turn 14, and the rear of the car swung out, kicking up a cloud of white smoke.

Everyone in the P room stood up at the same time, and several mechanics rushed towards the garage door and ran out.

Song Qingjia felt as if her heart had been gripped tightly by a hand, but as she stared at the screen, she saw the race car slide a full circle and then stop, the white smoke dissipating, and the front of the car pointing in the right direction.

He didn't crash; he was saved.

The timer stopped; in the third timing segment, it was still purple.

Song Qingjia looked at the purple number and slowly exhaled.

Xu Zhouye drove the race car back to the pit lane. The tires were covered in flat spots, and the brake discs were emitting blue smoke. The mechanics pushed the jacks to meet him, lifted the car, and removed the tires for inspection.

He came out of the cockpit, took off his helmet, his hair was messy and there were red marks on his face from the helmet strap.

He immediately looked at Song Qingjia.

What was your lap time?

It was as if that spin just now was nothing more than an insignificant little incident.

Song Qingjia glanced at the data on the screen, looked up, and asked in Chinese, "What reward do you want?"

Xu Zhouye was taken aback for a moment, then smiled: "Then I'll have to think about it carefully."

Song Qingjia remained silent, tacitly agreeing.

Xu Zhouye walked to the front of the race car, leaned down to look at the flat spots on the tires, and said, "The kerb on the way out of Turn 14 is too bumpy. Every time I drive over it, the rear wheels bounce, causing the rear of the car to become unstable."

Davis nodded, glanced at Song Qingjia, and noticed that she was already taking notes.

"In addition, the downforce of the front wing is sufficient in high-speed corners, but the response in medium and low-speed corners is too slow, and the problem of understeer still exists," Xu Zhouye continued.

A good driver has an extremely keen sense of the car and the track, and his perception is crucial for improving the car.

Schumacher did the same thing back then, bringing his team to Ferrari and creating the glorious Ferrari dynasty.

The test certainly wouldn't end prematurely because of this little incident.

The mechanics re-inspected the race car and, after confirming it was undamaged, replaced the soft tires with medium tires for long-distance testing.

After all the data was collected, Xu Zhouye had driven more than eighty laps.

He took off his helmet, his face was flushed, his hair was soaked with sweat, and he was dehydrated.

Davis patted him on the shoulder and said, "You've worked hard." Xu Zhouye nodded but didn't say anything; his throat was so dry he couldn't make a sound.

Song Qingjia handed him a bottle of electrolyte water, which he took and gulped down half of it.

"Let's take an ice bath first," she said.

She had already asked people to make preparations in advance.

Xu Zhouye hummed in agreement and turned to walk towards the rest area behind the P room. After taking two steps, he stopped and glanced back at Song Qingjia.

The implications are obvious.

Song Qingjia ignored him and continued packing her things before slowly walking towards the rest area.

Everyone was busy, and no one noticed her.

The door to the lounge was ajar. She pushed it open and went in, the door closing gently behind her.

Xu Zhouye was taking off his clothes when he heard the door open. He paused for a moment, then continued as if nothing had happened.

The racing suit was zipped all the way up, and he pulled his upper body out of the tight fabric, revealing his shoulders, back, and narrow waist.

He turned around, and his bare chest went straight into Song Qingjia's eyes.

Are you satisfied?

Song Qingjia's assessment: "Not bad."

Xu Zhouye knew she was being stubborn, so he chuckled and continued to take off the last piece of cloth he had left on his body, casually tossing it aside.

Song Qingjia didn't flinch, but instead looked down and stared at her for a while.

Even though she had seen it many times, she was still amazed by its magnificence.

No wonder it felt so good.

Xu Zhouye's smile deepened. He stepped to the ice bucket, lifted his leg, and sank in.

The icy water reached his waist and then his chest. He leaned against the tub, tilted his head back, his Adam's apple bobbed, and he exhaled.

Soaking in ice water doesn't feel good, but you have to do it.

The cockpit of an F1 car is like a mobile sauna. At high speeds, the temperature inside the cockpit can reach 50-60 degrees Celsius due to the immense heat from the engine, brakes, and tires, combined with the confined space.

On some particularly hot and humid tracks, such as Singapore or Qatar, the temperature can even soar to 80 degrees Celsius.

If muscle temperature is too high and not cooled down quickly, the inflammatory response will persist for a long time, significantly hindering recovery the following day. An ice water bath can constrict blood vessels, reduce metabolic activity in muscle tissue, and minimize fatigue and injury.

After more than eighty laps and over two hours of intense driving, Xu Zhouye's muscles now feel like they've been burned.

"come over."

Song Qingjia raised an eyebrow and walked to the ice bucket.

Xu Zhouye reached out and grabbed her wrist, pulling her closer. A smile flickered in his eyes: "Worried about me?"

Song Qingjia: "No."

"TR is on, I can hear your breathing."

Xu Zhouye looked up at her, his hair wet and clinging to his forehead, water droplets trickling down the curve of his brow bone.

He tightened his grip on her wrist, pressing his fingertips against the spot where her pulse was beating, and stroking it.

The moment he lost control of his race car, her breathing suddenly quickened.

She was just worried about him.

This realization put Xu Zhouye in a good mood.

"So?" Song Qingjia was always very calm.

"So your heart is in turmoil because of me."

Song Qingjia neither denied nor admitted it, but simply pulled her hand out of his palm.

"I'm just worried about my happiness for the rest of my life." She put her hand in the ice bucket and slid it down. "After all, you're really good in bed."

Xu Zhouye scoffed, "Stubborn to the end."

He took her hand out and kissed the back of it: "The water is too cold, don't get cold."