"Tracks may change, but the essence of technology doesn’t."
"Back in ’93, Senna managed to pull off the Circle of God at Donington Park; give him any other track, he could do it again."
"Xiangbei, you won’t always be a low-tier Formula driver, nor will you forever imitate others’ cornering trajectories."
"Data is dead, but people are alive. From now on, you need to understand the essence of racing and apply it to any track to create your own style."
Odetto gave a long speech to explain, but in Chinese, it could be condensed into eight words.
Study and live; imitate and die!
Chen Xiangbei has already shown his potential beyond low-level Formula drivers with pole positions and race wins, so he must look at his career with a long-term perspective while achieving a breakthrough in his philosophy.
Imitating and borrowing racing line experience can only be temporary; it’s ti to think and create by oneself. Otherwise, the ceiling of Chen Xiangbei’s career will remain forever locked under soone else’s shadow.
"Odetto, I understand."
Chen Xiangbei has a high level of understanding; he can grasp what Odetto wants to convey.
The old man isn’t training him according to junior Formula standards; he aims to create the next F1 driver!
"GOOD, now that you understand, head to the Racer Club for a few drinks."
"What?"
Odetto was lecturing one second and the next instant urged for a celebration, this 180-degree turn truly caught Chen Xiangbei off guard.
"Xiangbei, you ntioned obsolete track data, which ans you were studying when you returned."
"Racing requires work-life balance; you can’t be tense all the ti."
The first thing Odetto asked after returning was if Chen Xiangbei checked the track data, hinting at what the boy did upon returning.
Indeed, Chen Xiangbei didn’t give himself any ti to relax.
Odetto wasn’t sure if this was Chen Xiangbei personally, or if Chinese people generally work this hard.
But he knows one thing for sure, prolonged high-pressure tension will eventually negatively impact a driver.
Even if Chen Xiangbei’s ntal strength is robust, temporarily feeling no signs,
compared to other sports, a racer’s career is long; there will inevitably co a day they can’t handle it anymore.
Young man, appropriate indulgence is reasonable!
"I understand, but..."
Chen Xiangbei wanted to say sothing, but Odetto interrupted, "Xiangbei, even if you don’t need a break, look at your team mbers’ expressions."
Then, Odetto clapped forcefully to draw the attention of the base team mbers.
"Let’s go, let’s have a drink to celebrate the championship, tonight’s expenses are all on Xiangbei!"
Upon hearing Odetto’s words, the previously exhausted crew mbers imdiately erupted in enthusiastic cheers.
[You’ve got it, old Odetto...]
Chen Xiangbei realized that Odetto’s entire setup was just leading up to the final line where he covers all expenses.
Though he internally complained, Chen Xiangbei wasn’t a stingy person.
He couldn’t treat the entire team according to his own habits and standards; they needed post-race celebration and relaxation.
Thus, joining in Odetto’s statent, Chen Xiangbei proudly led the team mbers to the "Racer Club" bar near Silverstone Circuit.
This bar is known as the largest and most famous bar near Silverstone Circuit, affiliated to the "British Racing Drivers’ Club," with many renowned British F1 drivers as mbers.
Such as the familiar seven-ti champion Lewis Hamilton, Jenson Button, and Lando Norris, etc.
Due to the influence of these famous F1 drivers, it attracts tourists from all over the world hoping to et their idols.
In fact, this bar is just in na; the actual Racer Club is elsewhere.
Of course, Chen Xiangbei and others weren’t there to visit or et idols; they were purely for relaxation.
Upon arriving at the bar, Chen Xiangbei and Sawano Hiroyuki, the Asian mbers, remained relatively restrained, while the European mbers completely let loose.
It was evident they had been holding back for a while, just waiting for this mont of indulgence.
Even Odetto, the old man, went to the dance floor to shake wildly; Chen Xiangbei truly feared he might hurt his back...
During the revelry, Lu Xiaoman approached with her phone, shouting to Chen Xiangbei: "Xiangbei, you’re going to be famous!"
"What?"
With the loud music and Lu Xiaoman’s cryptic statent, Chen Xiangbei had no idea what she was talking about.
"There’s a compilation of your race and post-race interview today on YouTube; the Renault official channel’s play count has exceeded a million, more than all other drivers combined."
As Lu Xiaoman spoke, she handed over the phone.
Upon taking it, Chen Xiangbei saw a foreign video website resembling China’s Youku or Tudou at the ti.
The video showed him on the podium, with a highly captivating title.
"The Rise of the Chinese Driver, He Has Dominated Renault Formula!"
Indeed, clickbait titles are similar both dostically and abroad.
For those who know, Chen Xiangbei won a race; for those who don’t, it seems he won the entire championship.
To be honest, if the report weren’t about himself, Chen Xiangbei would have been curious enough to click and watch it.
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