"Calm down. Stay cool. It shouldn't be anything major."
Beside him, Lorenzo was rambling. They were in Milan, driving to visit Sergio Marchionne.
Lorenzo was trying to comfort Kai, but to Kai, the one who was nervous wasn't him. "Breathe, Lorenzo. Don't forget to breathe."
Lorenzo, caught out, didn't blush. "It's fine, don't worry about me. You're not nervous, so I'm nervous for you. Balance."
"Haha." Kai couldn't help laughing.
Honestly, saying he wasn't nervous at all was a lie. But Kai was worried about Marchionne, not the meeting.
Because the meeting place was—a hospital. In a ward.
Kai remembered seeing Marchionne in Monaco. He looked tired but spirited, commanding the room full of celebrities. As long as he was there, Ferrari stood at the peak.
However, Marchionne hadn't been seen at the next three races.
Initially, Kai didn't think much of it. Marchionne was busy; missing races was normal.
But then came the news: Marchionne was hospitalized.
More importantly, there was total silence. No leaks. That was the real reason for Kai's unease.
If it wasn't serious, Ferrari wouldn't need a news blackout. But now, with zero media reports, it usually meant Marchionne's condition was grave, and Ferrari feared stock market volatility.
Yet, in this condition, Marchionne summoned Kai?
Even Kai couldn't figure out what was happening, so he asked Lorenzo to drive him.
Lorenzo, ever the optimist, said, "I guess Sergio realized Maurizio's negligence. Last year, the conflict between Seb and Kimi spiraled out of control because Maurizio didn't handle it well. So Sergio is stepping in."
"Given Sergio's intelligence, he won't let the team repeat the same mistake."
Lorenzo glanced at Kai in the passenger seat.
"As for the hospital, don't worry. Rich people go to hospitals all the time for treatments and maintenance. Not because they're sick, but to extend their lives."
"You know how intense Sergio's work is. Even a healthy young man like me couldn't handle it. Without modern medicine, how could he keep going 365 days a year?"
The playful tone relaxed Kai slightly. He smiled. "Are you talking about yourself, the representative of youth who works one day and rests for a year?"
Lorenzo straightened up, righteous. "Who says I'm resting? Aren't I supporting the greatest talent in history to create miracles?"
The atmosphere lightened instantly.
However, it didn't last long. Entering the hospital, the pressure returned.
The smell of disinfectant, the white walls, the groans of pain, the oppressive atmosphere. Steps naturally lightened, shoulders tensed.
But the good news was security wasn't tight. No checkpoints every three steps. Marchionne was just in a VIP ward. Four bodyguards guarded the corridor to prevent disturbances. That was all. No "storm is coming" oppression.
That was a positive signal.
Lorenzo was stopped outside. Only Kai was allowed in.
Pushing the door open, passing through a corridor into a spacious, bright room, Kai saw Marchionne sitting up in a hospital bed, wearing a patient gown.
He was flipping through a magazine, bored, frowning as if the content lacked appeal. He wasn't covered in tubes, just an IV drip. Yet, there was a fragility Kai had never seen before.
Hearing the sound, Marchionne looked up. Seeing Kai, his face brightened. "Come in, Kai. Finally, a living person."
Kai smiled. "Sir, saying that makes it sound creepy. Are there zombies outside?"
"Haha!" Marchionne laughed heartily. "Even if there were zombies, I wouldn't worry about you. I think I can hold out until the end."
Kai sat by the bed. "I'm not worried about me. I'm worried about you."
Marchionne looked down at himself and waved a hand. "No, don't worry. Just a shoulder surgery. Old problem. They're making a fuss about nothing."
I see—
A surgery. Big or small, it's still surgery.
Kai looked at him. "But it's still surgery."
Marchionne smiled. "True. At my age, any illness could be the end. Caution isn't bad. That's why you see me lying here so obediently."
"Obedient?" Kai doubted it.
Marchionne laughed harder. "Shh, don't let my wife know. If she knew, my ears would suffer again."
"She's worried. But I'm not worried at all. Even if this is the end, it doesn't matter."
"Life has a beginning and an end. This old bag of bones has lived long enough, seen countless sights. Unlike you young people with infinite possibilities, leaving at my age leaves no regrets."
Kai froze. "Sir—"
Although Kai was wise, he was only eighteen. He lacked life experience and hadn't truly faced life and death.
"Ha, since we met, I've never had the upper hand. Today, finally, I see you speechless. Rare." Marchionne joked.
That open-mindedness was admirable.
Marchionne looked at the helpless Kai. "I'm serious. I've experienced everything a person can experience in this world, including driving an F1 car on a track. Let me tell you, that's nothing. I've also experienced things you can't."
"But—"
Marchionne paused, eyes showing a hint of longing and regret.
"I've always yearned to see Ferrari reborn in my hands, returning to the top of the world."
"You know, the sight of the Tifosi gathering into a vast red ocean at Monza to celebrate victory is always the most breathtaking art."
"Unfortunately, we've missed the World Championship for a long time. Longer than I imagined. Michael and Kimi's titles feel like a lifetime ago. I always thought I was omnipotent, that nothing I wanted was impossible. But this is the only exception."
"World Champion—ah, it's hard."
Marchionne was immersed in his own world, bitterness and happiness intertwined. The burning passion was still palpable.
Kai didn't interrupt, playing the listener.
Then, Marchionne's focus returned to Kai. Before Kai could speak, a gaze full of hope enveloped him.
"Kai, now that hope rests on your shoulders."
The words were light, but they landed heavy on Kai's chest. His heart sank slightly.
He thought of Hervé Leclerc.
Actually, Kai and Marchionne had little personal interaction. Purely business. But Kai knew it wasn't that simple.
Without exaggeration, Marchionne's protection allowed Kai to realize his dream, securing a place in the profit-driven paddock. A dream he once dared not hope for was realized because of Marchionne. This trust was heavier than words.
And now, Kai heard regret and fear in Marchionne's voice.
This old man who stood at the top of the world, facing the Reaper, showed a rare vulnerability. It hit Kai hard.
"Sir."
Kai called out, straightening his back slightly, smiling.
"I'm looking forward to it too."
"I look forward to going to Monza, leading the Tifosi to the top step of the podium; I look forward to returning to Maranello, leading the team to the top of the world, letting the red Prancing Horse flag fly in the paddock again."
"Honestly, I was too young during Michael's era. I have almost no memory of it. I can't picture it just by imagination. I want to witness it with my own eyes."
"You too, right?"
"When that day comes, you should stand on top of the world with us, plant the Prancing Horse flag, call on the Tifosi to cheer and shout with us, and then get drunk on joy."
"You shouldn't place your hope on me. No, actually, you shouldn't place it on anyone. You led us here, so you should fight side-by-side until the end. Then, we'll enjoy the view from the peak together."
Marchionne froze.
Kai looked at him with bright, unwavering eyes.
"The Sergio Marchionne in my memory is always confident, always firm, always full of hope and drive. Your dream should be realized by you."
Then, Marchionne smiled. The smile spread fully.
He nodded gently. "Oops, I got lectured. If my family heard this, they'd applaud you. Only you dare talk to me like this."
Indeed, Marchionne felt weak. This illness, though not major, made him feel frailer than ever.
He was always tough, a pillar at home, refusing to admit weakness. But he was seen through.
Looking at Kai again, Marchionne marveled. He and Todt hadn't misjudged. This young man was different. Not just on track, but in life. That tenacity and wisdom shone through, undeniable.
"Don't worry, it's not serious. I'm not giving my last words." Marchionne was superstitious about such things.
But now, joking, his tight nerves relaxed. "I want to see Ferrari return to the peak. I also know we can't wait any longer. We need to make changes."
"Now, the time has come."
Actually, Marchionne was visionary. He had been planning, laying the groundwork, hoping to cure Ferrari's fundamental illness.
Remember the start of the story?
The Catfish Effect. Kai was just a catalyst. Marchionne's real focus was always Ferrari itself, from the Academy to F1. He and Todt knew Ferrari's stubbornness and decay needed changing, or they'd only treat symptoms, not the cause.
Like their arrogant insistence on staying in Maranello, refusing to move to London's information hub.
Like their stubborn adherence to the Italian system, setting higher bars for talent from France, Germany, the UK.
It was a culture. A culture that once created glory, but now dragged Ferrari down, losing the initiative.
Everything needed to change.
In Marchionne's view, the Academy reform sparked by Kai was just part of a grand blueprint. Next, uproot the corporate culture, fully embrace the times, destroy to rebuild. That was the only way to sustain the championship bloodline.
Of course, timing was key. Even Marchionne couldn't act recklessly.
But even he hadn't expected the seed he planted to grow so fast. The burden of change quietly fell on this young man. Now was the best time to push the plan further.
Looking at Kai, Marchionne's eyes showed relief. "I heard you have objections to the team's upgrade direction?"
Kai didn't hide his surprise—
Small things in the team, technical things... Marchionne knew?
Marchionne smiled. "I'm not Maurizio. No need for tricks. You told Laurent hoping I'd hear, didn't you?"
Kai didn't deny it, chuckling. "I had that thought, but didn't expect a direct line."
Mekies was a special role arranged by Marchionne. A link between the Team Principal and the technical team, a buffer between the rookie and the No. 1 driver. His position was unique and complex. Kai, Arrivabene, and Vettel were all testing how to work with him.
Marchionne's eyes were full of smiles. "I don't know much about technical things. However, you can trust Mattia."
Binotto?
Although Kai had been at Ferrari for six months, he had little interaction with Technical Director Mattia Binotto. A distant working relationship.
Binotto seemed low-key, a tech nerd, gentle, avoiding conflict, generally following Arrivabene to maintain harmony.
Kai assumed Binotto wouldn't break the peace. If Kai raised an objection, Binotto would likely side with Arrivabene and Vettel.
But now... Binotto was a hidden player?
"In Maranello, you always boldly voiced your opinions. Now in F1, I hope you maintain that attitude. You aren't always right, you make mistakes, you need to learn. But Kai, that spirit and attitude are exactly what Ferrari needs."
"There are too many authorities in the team, but no voices challenging authority. We need more inspiration, more opinions. We need to change models and innovate, or we'll stand still. Forget beating Mercedes; Red Bull might pass us."
"Who knows? In a few years, McLaren might overtake us too. Compared to Toto and Christian, Zak Brown is the dangerous one. No one in the paddock cares about his ambition yet, but give him three years, McLaren won't stay at the bottom."
Marchionne's eyes flashed. Sweeping away the fragility, he showed the tycoon's demeanor again, looking at the big picture.
Technical upgrades?
Important, yes, but not Marchionne's strength. For him, the real key was Kai.
The variables and inspiration Kai brought were like a fresh breeze, injecting vitality into the team, eventually becoming the catalyst for innovation. That was Marchionne's true expectation.
Now, Kai was no longer just a catfish. He should be Ferrari's power source. Archimedes said: Give me a fulcrum, and I can move the Earth.
In Marchionne's view, Kai could be that fulcrum. The once chaotic, distant blueprint was unfolding.
Then, Marchionne saw Kai's helpless smile. He glared. "What, unwilling?"
Kai spread his hands. "Sir, you're making me a target. Haven't I offended enough people in the team? Sponsorship, resources, connections—I'm behind in all of them. And you want me to light fires and look for trouble? Are you sure that's right?"
Marchionne didn't buy it. "What, are you scared?"
Without waiting for an answer, he continued. "I don't think you're scared at all. Maurizio can't handle you."
Kai blinked, thoughtful, looking innocent. "Is that my image to outsiders?"
That serious confusion made Marchionne laugh.
Kai continued. "No, I'm not scared. Worst case, I walk away. I'm not the one cleaning up the mess."
Marchionne: ?
Kai: "I'm securing backup. Sir, I worry Mr. Arrivabene might explode on the pit wall. You know explosions—blood and brains everywhere, hard to clean up, affecting the flowers nearby. It's unhygienic."
Marchionne couldn't hold it back, eyes full of laughter. "Fine. I'm here. Do what you want. I'll cover you."
Seeing the smile in Kai's eyes, Marchionne's mood brightened.
Actually, even if Kai didn't ask, he planned to act. That was the real reason he summoned Kai today. But he wouldn't say much.
Consider it a small gift?
Step one: Race Engineer.
From Shanghai to Monaco to Austria, the confusion and slow decision-making of the Ferrari pit wall were fully exposed.
Of course, Marchionne knew he couldn't just blame one person.
Arrivabene could take the fall, but replacing him without changing the essence was useless.
Like football—blaming the coach for a loss transfers attention but solves nothing. Strategy decisions in the paddock happen in a split second. The indecisiveness and lack of big-picture thinking in Ferrari's strategy team were the real disease. Arrivabene was just a symptom.
Top team principals are rare.
Not to mention Arrivabene's deep roots in Ferrari.
Luckily, Kai could strategize for himself. Observation, timing, danger sense—all top-tier. Visible in GP3, shining in F1 this season. He was key to Ferrari turning the tide.
However, Greenwood was dragging him down.
"...Kai, do you still keep in touch with your GP3 teammates?" Marchionne asked casually.
Kai didn't suspect anything. He thought Marchionne was bored alone in the hospital.
"Of course. Antoine [Hubert] comes over often. His apartment isn't far from Monaco. When Charles and I are away racing, if anything happens at home, Antoine helps out—"
"—And I text Pierre occasionally. When I went back for exams, he wished me luck. I think last week was his birthday; I asked Lorenzo to send a gift."
"Oh, not Gasly. My race engineer at ART, Pierre Borreipaire."
Marchionne lifted his chin, surprised. "You're still in touch? I thought he'd be focused on his current driver."
"Haha, true. He's got a headache coaching the rookies now." Kai laughed. "I don't know the specific reason. Maybe because he was my first race engineer? Or maybe because he balances personal and professional boundaries perfectly. We still talk often."
Marchionne quipped, "Isn't it because you two hold the GP3 Feature Race unbeaten record together?"
"Yes, that's very important too. If we lost every race, he'd probably avoid me now. Hahaha." Kai was amused. "Of course, partly because Antoine is still at ART this season. When we chat, Pierre comes up."
Marchionne looked curious. "I thought it was hard for drivers to be friends."
"I mean, normal friends? Maintaining basic social etiquette? No problem. But becoming true friends off-track, that's not easy. If I recall correctly, besides Antoine, you and Charles and Zhou Guanyu are good friends too."
Kai waved his hand. "Not my credit. Mostly them. After all, I keep winning. I have no psychological barriers; I'm willing to be friends with everyone I beat."
"Hahaha." Marchionne laughed loud, eyes smiling. "No, you've never beaten Charles head-to-head. What do you think of him?"
"Genius. Undoubted genius." Kai didn't hide his praise. "He doesn't need my praise; he's already proved his ability."
This season, first Kai's emergence, then Leclerc's brilliance—
In Azerbaijan, Leclerc finished P6, scoring his first points. In a way, more impressive than Kai.
Because Kai drove a Ferrari. Leclerc drove a Sauber.
Not only that. Since then, Leclerc was unstoppable. Spain, Canada, France, Austria—top 10 every time.
Only exception: Monaco DNF.
For a rookie in a backmarker car to perform miracles repeatedly, completely overshadowing teammate Raikkonen... More importantly, Leclerc came up as a champion. GP3 champ, F2 champ. A glittering resume.
Actually, Leclerc and Verstappen were the same age, birthdays 16 days apart. Verstappen stumbled into F1; Leclerc was polished and ready. He was considered a complete genius.
Compared to Kai, who was full of uncertainty, Leclerc was the paddock's true golden child.
That was why the FDA was in the spotlight recently.
Marchionne's eyes showed curiosity. "If you and Charles drove the same car, who wins?"
Step two: Teammate.
"Me."
Crisp. Direct. No hesitation, no repetition, not even raising his voice. Casual, yet powerfully confident.
Facing Marchionne's probe, Kai gave the answer without hesitation. No explanation needed. Just a verdict.
So firm, Marchionne was slightly surprised. "That simple? You know in sports, top duels are never simple. Like Federer and Nadal. Every clash is unpredictable. That's the charm."
"Of course, I know." Kai's eyes gleamed. "But sports is also about confidence. If even I don't believe I can win, I've lost before stepping on track."
"So, I believe in myself. No matter the opponent, I believe I'm the one who breaks the limit first."
"The rest is left to the track."
"Charles's excellence is undeniable; the 'FDA Prince' isn't just a title. Accidents happen, no one can predict them accurately. But I still believe I can win. It's that simple."
Marchionne lifted his chin slightly. "That's why you could pass Max at the Red Bull Ring. You never doubted yourself, did you?"
Kai didn't answer. The confident smile was the best answer—exactly what Marchionne needed. Young, raw, but possessing leadership and championship aura.
Ultimately, age is just a number.
As early as Melbourne, Kai proved this. Subsequent races saw him withstand pressure and shine. The fiercer the challenge, the firmer his will.
The quality Marchionne had been searching for finally revealed its edge.
"Haha, young people are unstoppable." Marchionne's mood brightened completely.
He paused, looking at Kai with interest. "So you dare to face Charles's challenge openly?"
"Of course. Bring it on. We've always wanted to compete on track." Kai was frank. "Actually, the competition has already started. Although Charles hasn't complained, F1 is different. The car's presence can't be ignored."
Marchionne pursed his lips. "Are you praising our car?"
"Compared to the Sauber." Kai retorted coolly.
"Haha." Marchionne burst out laughing.
However, Kai didn't stay too long. He noticed Marchionne's fatigue. He joked a bit, then took his leave, hoping Marchionne would rest well for the surgery. Other work could wait.
Standing at the door, Kai stopped and turned back. "Sir, will you go to Monza this year?"
Marchionne looked up, surprised. "Are you inviting me to watch the race?"
Kai smiled confidently. "I'm inviting you to Monza to witness the Tifosi's frenzy. I've longed for that legendary red ocean. Let's fight to the end, chase the limit of speed, and see if we can wake that ocean up."
Monza. Ferrari's home. But their last win there was 2010 with Alonso.
Since then, they hadn't seen Ferrari red shine at Monza.
Marchionne felt a surge of emotion. He met Kai's eyes. "I'll be there."
"Haha." Kai laughed heartily. "It's a promise!"
Light words, heavy meaning.
Then, Kai left, pushing open the door.
The sound attracted attention in the corridor. Approaching were not just Lorenzo, but Jean Todt.
Kai was surprised—why was Todt here? As a friend or FIA President? But he greeted him.
Todt looked him up and down, patting his arm. "Great win at the Red Bull Ring. Michael won a race like that in Hungary once. Turning impossible into possible. Even if our car isn't the fastest, we have the best driver."
"Good!"
One word, profound meaning. Todt patted his shoulder again and went in.
Lorenzo noticed the worry in Kai's eyes but was smart enough not to ask. "Are you okay?"
Kai realized he was in public. His actions could be misinterpreted by the media.
He exhaled lightly, put away thoughts of Marchionne and Todt, straightened his back, and opened his shoulders. "Yes, everything is fine." He walked forward, facing the storm.
Inside the ward, Jean Todt fell into deep silence.
No sighs, no shock. But the silence reflected his worry. He thought he was prepared, but hearing the news, he needed time to digest the impact—
Marchionne planned to replace Vettel with Leclerc.
And the real bombshell: Not waiting for 2019. During the summer break.
This wasn't just bold; it was insane. The paddock would explode. No one would stand with Marchionne—
Vettel hadn't done anything wrong.
Todt needed a moment.
Marchionne watched Todt's expression, reading the hesitation accurately.
"Jean, are you scared? No guts at all?"
Todt was unmoved. "No need to provoke me. You're scared too, or you wouldn't have called me today."
Todt looked up. "You need my help because you know how ridiculous this is, but you're still going to do it?"
Indeed, the old fox couldn't be fooled.
Marchionne exhaled, organizing his thoughts.
"Of course, I know."
"We built the team around Sebastian. Car design, data, technical team, strategy... Sebastian is fully committed. I know he desperately wants to win the title with Ferrari. I never doubted his belief."
"Replacing Seb now is overturning everything we built in the last four years. Starting from zero."
"And mid-season?"
"Currently, Seb hasn't done anything wrong. We still have a title shot. If I act rashly now, it's unreasonable, loses the initiative, and risks a violent backlash."
Marchionne wasn't a fool. He knew the rules. That was why Todt didn't veto it immediately. He believed there was logic behind the madness. He waited for the explanation.
"But, Jean, if we realize this path won't work, continuing is just wasting time. Better to start early than late."
"Not because Seb did anything wrong, but we must pave the way for next year, for the future. Wasting this half-season, starting next year... that only sacrifices time to build the blueprint."
The key was never what Vettel did. It was adjusting the framework from a macro level. The pieces just had to follow.
This was the iron fist of a tycoon.