Chapter 188: Clear Awareness
At 3:48 PM, Q3 officially began.
The first car released from the pit lane was Nasr in the Sauber. For Sauber, simply making it into Q3 was already beyond expectations, so the team had no intention of pushing for grid position. They only hoped he could complete a clean flying lap and bring the car back safely.
In the Williams garage, Wu Shi sat strapped into the cockpit, three displays positioned in front of him.
The center screen showed the Shanghai International Circuit layout, with braking points and corner references highlighted, while the two side screens displayed track evolution, wind direction, and tire surface temperatures.
Seeing Sauber already sending a car out, Wu Shi couldn't help but sigh inwardly.
McLaren was really struggling this season—Sauber had made Q3, yet both McLarens were eliminated in Q1.
Motorsport was cruel like that: the car always came first, then the driver. Among drivers who reached Formula 1, the skill gap inside the top ten was never astronomical. More often than not, the championship was decided by machinery.
That was why, even though both were seven-time world champions, Hamilton's titles were often questioned, while Schumacher's were rarely challenged.
From 2014 to 2021, Mercedes always had at least a title-capable car, and in some seasons it was a true "alien car." Many believed that if Hamilton had been replaced by Vettel or Alonso, the championships would still have gone to Mercedes.
That perception inevitably diluted the value of those titles in public opinion.
But Schumacher was different.
The "Iron Triangle" — Schumacher, Brawn, and Todt — rebuilt Ferrari from the ground up. It wasn't something another driver could simply step into and replicate.
History had already proven that even the greatest driver alone could not revive Ferrari.
Of course, later generations also viewed Schumacher through a halo of nostalgia, which was another reason why his seven titles faced less scrutiny than Hamilton's.
As for this season…
Alonso and Button were simply unlucky, trapped in Honda's worst power-unit year. Even with supreme driving skill, they couldn't show even half of their true level.
Bang, bang.
A mechanic tapped the side of the car.
"Wu, standby. We're opening the release window."
Wu Shi snapped back to focus and gave a thumbs-up.
Jonathan, monitoring the traffic gaps on the timing screens, immediately issued the call.
"Go, go, go."
Vrooom!
Wu Shi planted the throttle. The rear tires spun briefly as the car shot into the fast lane and headed for pit exit.
"Same plan as before," Jonathan said over the radio.
"Fuel for two push laps and four cooldown laps. Second run should be quicker. We'll update you on gaps."
"Understood."
As Wu Shi joined the circuit, the grandstands erupted. The roar of the crowd rolled across the track in waves.
"There are three cars ahead warming their tires," Jonathan reported.
"They're well clear. You'll have clean air for the flying lap."
Half a minute later:
"Grosjean and Bottas have completed their first push laps. Times are 1:38.121 and 1:38.201. They're on cooldown laps now."
Wu Shi quickly mapped their positions in his head.
In Q3, drivers weren't allowed to crawl excessively on track—minimum lap time rules applied.
"Hamilton has started his flying lap."
About thirty seconds later, Wu Shi was approaching Turn 14, preparing to begin his own push.
Before turn-in, he subtly shifted his posture and glanced at the rotary switches on the steering wheel:
Engine mode: push.
Tire phase: optimal.
Brake bias: 53%.
Everything was set.
He lifted his eyes, turned in, clipped the apex—
—and the engine exploded into full song.
Turn 15 flashed by.
Flat out down the short straight, heavy braking into Turn 16, perfect apex, throttle pinned within half a second on exit.
The white Williams blasted onto the main straight under deafening cheers, charging toward Turn 1.
Wu Shi braked noticeably later than most drivers.
That had always been his style—perhaps influenced by training alongside Verstappen, whose approach was similarly aggressive.
In the Turns 1–4 complex, drivers normally adjusted brake bias before entry and after exit.
But Wu Shi was different.
He made the first adjustment before turn-in—
and the second mid-corner.
This was almost unheard of.
Perfectly controlling steering angle at mid-corner was already difficult. Adjusting car settings at the same time made mistakes extremely likely.
From the onboard camera, Wu Shi's right hand was a blur.
Shifting gears.
Tapping brake-bias up four clicks.
Rotating differential preload.
All while the car was still loaded in the corner.
By the time he exited, the setup had already been reset for the straight.
Roar!
Every micro-advantage stacked together, allowing the Williams to squeeze out performance far beyond its baseline.
Jonathan's voice came through:
"Hamilton Sector 1: 25.681. Sector 2 split: 29.207."
Wu Shi rocketed through the gentle kink of Turn 5 and braked hard into Turn 6.
Hamilton carried more mid-corner speed.
Wu Shi focused on maximizing exit traction and straight-line acceleration.
Different philosophies. Neither inherently superior.
After Turn 6 came the short straight into the fast Turns 7 and 8.
"Good job," Jonathan said.
"Your Sector 1: 25.778. Repeat, 25.778."
Only 0.097 seconds slower than Hamilton—
and Sector 1 was never Williams' strong point.
On broadcast graphics, Wu Shi ranked second only to Hamilton in Sector 1.
In the Six-Star Sports studio, Brother Bing and Brother Fei barely dared to breathe.
"He might really have a chance this lap…"
"Depends on Sector 2."
Wu Shi held seventh gear through Turn 7.
This corner punished arms and neck. Most drivers lifted slightly.
Wu Shi barely did.
The car began to understeer.
He clenched his jaw, forcing absolute precision through his hands.
Any excess steering would mean sliding wide—
and the lap would be compromised.
"Whoa, that speed is insane!"
"That was so close!"
But he made it.
Down to fourth for Turn 8, then into the double-apex Turns 9 and 10.
Third gear into Turn 9, wide exit, clipping the outer curb with millimeter precision to set up maximum acceleration.
As he turned into Turn 10, he was already upshifting before the apex.
Jonathan noticed immediately—Wu Shi was shifting earlier than Hamilton here.
And on exit, the car drifted naturally to the right-hand curb without any corrective steering.
After Turn 10 came the short straight before the final technical section.
Jonathan called:
"Engine mode one. Brake bias to 58.5. Adjust diff for traction."
But Wu Shi had already begun his adjustments before Turn 11.
Turns 11 to 13 demanded completely different setup from the coming straight.
Downshifts rattled rapidly.
Right through Turn 11, long arc through Turn 12, still turning right into Turn 13—
only then did he finish his second adjustment sequence.
"Sector 2… 29.337."
Brother Bing slapped his palm in frustration.
"Ah… still slower."
"Hard to make up 0.13 seconds on the straight," Brother Fei said.
"Williams can barely match Mercedes in top speed."
Wu Shi blasted onto the back straight, engine fully unleashed, climbing into eighth gear.
331 km/h.
Jonathan stayed silent now.
Turn 14 braking was coming fast.
Complex adjustments again.
Hard braking.
Perfect apex.
Hamilton's time flashed at the top of the screen:
1:35.783.
Six-tenths faster than Q2.
Breaking into the 1:35s.
Rosberg followed:
1:36.062.
Still half a second clear of the rest.
"This is suffocating pace…" Brother Bing muttered.
"Wu Shi's first two sectors are close to Rosberg's," Brother Fei said quickly.
"He's about to cross the line—here comes the time!"
The Williams streaked across the line.
1:36.100.
Just 0.038 seconds slower than Rosberg.
"So close!!" Brother Bing shouted.
"That's P3! That's third on the grid!"
Across the grandstands, cheers erupted.
Shouts of "Wu Shi!" echoed through the circuit.
As Wu Shi drove past the main grandstand, he glanced sideways.
A massive red flag waved beneath his portrait.
"P3, 1:36.1," Jonathan said.
"Excellent job."
But Wu Shi replied calmly:
"Why was my Sector 2 still slower?"
Jonathan hesitated.
"In high-speed corners, braking too late hurts overall momentum.
That's not something you can fix immediately. Don't try to force it next run."
"Okay."
Wu Shi began his cooldown lap.
Back in the studio, Brother Bing finally exhaled.
"This lap was already extraordinary."
"Massa's time is coming soon."
"Massa: 1:37.137, currently P4."
"Vettel: 1:36.964."
Brother Bing sucked in air.
"That's… slower than Wu Shi."
Silence followed.
Ferrari was about a second off Mercedes.
Williams should have been too.
Yet Wu Shi had dragged the gap down to two-tenths.
Was Williams secretly faster than everyone thought?
Or was Wu Shi simply that exceptional?
"Mercedes letting Wu Shi go was a real mistake," Brother Bing said suddenly.
"Who could've imagined a rookie—especially a non-European rookie—would reach this level?"
On track, Nasr had already returned to the pits.
Grosjean and Bottas completed second runs in the high 1:37s.
Ricciardo managed 1:37.540, P7.
Raikkonen ran 1:37.232, briefly P5, then dropped by Massa's final lap:
1:36.954.
Williams clearly had pace.
But Wu Shi was on another level.
Jonathan, however, was not relaxed at all.
"Forget what I said about the corner," he repeated on radio.
"Just bring the car back safely."
"Don't worry," Wu Shi replied.
"I'll bring it home."
Which somehow sounded even less reassuring.
Claire looked at Jonathan.
"He's very stubborn sometimes," Jonathan said.
"Or maybe he just understands exactly what he's doing," Claire replied.
And she was right.
Wu Shi knew perfectly well that no miracle driving could overturn Mercedes' advantage today.
His optimized lap was already maxed out.
Without simulator preparation and step-by-step setup changes, there was no way to suddenly change driving philosophy during Q3.
On his final push lap, he improved slightly:
1:36.077.
Still behind Rosberg's 1:36.062.
He had extracted everything.
Jonathan announced final results:
"Final classification:
Hamilton pole, 1:35.782.
Rosberg P2, 1:35.824.
You are P3, Wu Shi.
Vettel P4, 1:36.687."
"You gave us this result," Jonathan said sincerely.
"You were incredible today."
"Yeah," Wu Shi replied with a soft smile in his voice.
"I did my best. The rest is fate. Thank you, Jonathan."
"Congratulations. Second row again."
In the studio, Brother Fei laughed.
"He's clearly earned everyone's respect."
"If this isn't worthy of respect, what is?" Brother Bing replied.
Wu Shi looked again toward the stands.
The red flags waved—
just like Abu Dhabi, seventeen years ago.