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Chapter Text

Australia, Melbourne.

He Tian, a 24-year-old Red Bull driver, secured his first podium of the year, getting out of his car as the fans are chanting his name and the song dedicated to him. He's best among the best, the "Mad Tian" as they called him at the start of his career, something he labeled on his helmet to appreciate the creativity.

And then, there is another car parking next to him. Blond hair, cold personality, yet the suiting "Red Monarch" or "The Ice Prince" nickname given by the Tifosi. Zhan Zheng Xi. An asshole himself, coming second, with his poker face and idgaf attitude present.

They exchange quick glances before Jian Yi, Zheng Xi's teammate, comes to congratulate him. The smug look The Ice Prince gives him is promising nothing but a rough fight. Damn. He Tian wants to smash him to the ground, but gets distracted by his team celebrating his glory.
***
They were rivals. Enemies. Death threats to each other.

He Tian has to remind it to himself as he watches Zhan Zheng Xi entering the cooldown room right after the post-race interviews. Ferrari performed good today. Zhan Zheng Xi, on the other hand, was complete shit. They bumped on track, nearly DNFing both, right at the final laps of the race. What a lame performance.

"Second place again, huh, Xi-Xi? You're already getting familiar with losing to me?" He Tian can't even hide how furious and salty he was about that incident. Motherfucker did it on purpose. He was like that from their karting days.

Zhan Zheng Xi ignores him, giving one annoyed look while staying his usual cold and stoic self, and without arguments takes his second seat, moving his chair as far away from He Tian as possible. They were broadcasted to millions of fans, to the press, but Zhan didn't give a single shit as he distanced himself from this provocative freak. If he had to sit with this annoying bastard, he'd finish this all with a punch on the Red Bull driver's face.

"Ignoring me now? Where did all your PR training go? To trash, just like your championship hopes?"

He notices the moment this Ferrari golden boy snaps, and its like a painkiller to his broken heart. Zhan Zheng Xi rises up from his seat, looks at him with a death stare, wants to say something offensive, but shuts up once again, furrowing his big brows as he sits down, taking a deep breath. Doesn't want to appear aggressive as they claim him to be, how... Flattering.

"Wanted to say something, Your Highness?" He Tian can't help but push the other's buttons once again, moving closer, but receives only silence and a disapproving look from Mo, his dear teammate, who came third.

They started like that as well, having to put up with each other's bullshit from the start of their Formula 1 career as the Red Bull drivers. They fought. And then, they've fucked. Multiple times. He Tian thinks about fucking Zhan Zheng Xi as well, taking him from the back, making the Ferrari driver face all his championship trophies, but it's a dead end. Zhan Zheng Xi looks like he didn't even think about sex.

"Fuck you, Clown," Zhan politely responds, as subtle and straightforward as ever, taking a bottle of a cold water and drinking half of it in several huge gulps. He Tian wants to joke about making Zheng Xi gulp on something else, but Mo, seemingly knowing his thoughts, land a hit on the back of his head. What a jealous ex he has!

***
The podium they share is fascinating. He Tian, as the winner of the first grand-prix of the season, stands at the first place, looking menacingly down at Zhan Zheng Xi on the second place, listens to the anthem politely and finally gets his hands on his new trophy, which is... Zhan Zheng Xi's waist, as he stands right next to him for the group photo, looking rather irritated as He Tian pulls him closer, right till their hips bump into each other, and squeezes the hell out of him, giving his waist a few taps as the photographers take pictures of them.

He knows exactly what fans are thinking about as he smiles proudfully, standing between his ex and former rival, hugging both of them as if he owns this place and will always be there, no matter what. He Tian is familiar with an RPF, edits of him and half of the grid sharing their special moments, proofs of being with someone with them being rather completely stupid or strangely accurate, and with the fact that an upcoming title fight made Zhan Zheng Xi his most popular love interest. Funny, but he's an asshole.

"Try to smile, Your Highness. You have a pretty face despite a shitty personality," whispers He Tian to his ear, receiving a hit on the back as Zhan Zheng Xi gets out of here as soon as the shoot finishes. No sprays of champagne even. What a waste of a good podium.
***
He Tian celebrated his first victory lavishly, as if he had won the championship outright — he invited all the drivers, friends, and acquaintances to the club, where he partied hard, drinking and dancing on the dance floor like an 18-year-old teenager, until he caught sight of him.

Zhan Zheng Xi stood apart from everyone else, drinking something from a faceted glass and staring at him with such a bedroom eyes that He Tian couldn't help himself. Approaching his opponent, he leaned toward Zhan's ear with a silly grin, swaying to the beat of the music, and asked quietly, “Wanna suck me off?”

He immediately received a sharp slap in the face, which only made his smile grow wider. He Tian was ready to swear that he would fuck him. He would fuck him so hard that it would be difficult to even open his eyes, let alone act like a noble virgin.

"Think about it, Zhan Zheng Xi. I won. Come on... Let's make a bet. If I win, you do what I say. If you win, it's the other way around, mm?"

The Ferrari driver even considers his request, weighing the options, but then seems to see the light, knowing how rotten He Tian's mind is, and responds with a laugh:
“Yeah, yeah, of course. Don't even hope for it. I won't let you fuck me.”

His hand slides to the Ferrari driver's waist, wrapping around it as usual, as he did millions of times before it started to feel intimate. He Tian snuggles closer, like a kitten, and leans his drunken body on Zhan, burning his neck with his hot breath. Zheng Xi thinks he's drunk. The Red Bull driver has never thought so clearly before.

"No, I'm not going to fuck you in the ass... Right away. There are other ways to have fun. But if I win the championship...“ He Tian pulls Zhan closer to him, so that his opponent has to put his hands on his shoulders to try to push him away, but the other man holds him tight and doesn't let the Ferrari driver escape. ”... You'll bend under me yourself. You'll work yourself up, come to my room, and take my cock as your reward for second place. Of course, the conditions are the same for you. So, are you in?"

Zheng Xi thinks for a long time. He looks into Tian's drunken eyes, as if assessing his interlocutor's condition, lowers his head, as if calculating the probability of winning, but he himself is drunk and clearly has no intention of giving up a good competition, so after a moment's hesitation, he nods his head, eliciting a devilish smile from Tian.

“Let's start small, then. Since I won... I want you to jerk me off in the bathroom of this club. And don't resist if I try to kiss you.”
***
They break into the bathroom together, in a mad rush, as if afraid that someone will catch them, and immediately rush into a stall together, locking the door behind them. It's cramped inside, with absolutely no room to stand, and they have to press their bodies against each other, especially when Zheng Xi, without hesitation, pulls down Tian's pants, eliciting the first satisfied moan from the dark-haired man. Having this guy next to him, the Ice Prince, so passionately eager to please him... It was a gift better than any trophy.

He Tian leans against the flimsy wall, tilts his head back, and moans when Zheng, spitting on his hand, makes the first movement along the entire length of his cock, causing the man to move his hips toward him. It's unbearably hot here, he wants to scream until he goes crazy, and He Tian even regrets not calling the Ferrari driver straight to his hotel room, but Zheng Xi covers his balls with his other hand, massaging them lightly, and He Tian forgets everything.

He reaches for a kiss, not allowing his rival to pull away, buries his fingers in Zhan's wheat-colored hair, and pushes his head against his own tongue, which he immediately shoves into Zhan's protesting mouth. Zhan bites his lower lip, wanting to pull away, but as soon as he opens his mouth, He Tian is already trying to explore it, so he has to give in. Zheng Xi will have to get used to giving in.

The first especially loud moan escapes and gets consumed by the Ferrari driver's lips, and as soon as he picks up the pace a little, He Tian reverses their positions, pressing Zheng Xi against the wall of the cabin and leaning on him, breathing hotly into his neck.

The Ferrari driver laughs at his need, wanting to tell him how ridiculous his opponent looks, but the dark-haired man leans toward his ear and begins to whisper, pushing his hips against the ring of fingers wet with saliva and lubricant:

"I imagine that this is your hole, Zheng Xi. How I enter you while you lie on my bed, in my house, unable to say no to me, because you never pull out of competitions. How you whimper and beg me to stop when my cock stretches your ass and hits your prostate... I dream of you cumming without your hands, just from me entering you, just from my power over your body, because you are mine and no one else's."

Zhan swallows. His eyes cloud over, he clearly sees the image before his eyes, blushing from the alcohol and He Tian's hot body pressing him against the club bathroom wall. The cock in his hands only gets hotter, harder, and Zhan misses the moment when Tian, with a loud moan, spills into his palm, finding his neck with his lips and leaving a bite mark on it that will remind him of this night for a long time to come. Of a deal that neither of them will break.

Leaving the stall, the two no longer speak to each other. Zhan Zheng Xi washes his hands, looking thoughtfully and a little absent-mindedly in front of him. He Tian fixes his appearance and approaches the Ferrari driver, rewarding him with one last, demanding kiss on the lips, which he accepts, opening his mouth pliantly to his tongue. He Tian wants to get used to this, to enjoy this moment and make the time freeze, but quickly pulls away, cutting Zhang off with a short:

“Until the next race. Tell your team to do their best in this championship. Or get ready for me.”

As he leaves, He Tian doesn't even realize how badly Zhan wants to win their bet, and how he returns to the stall to shamefully jerk off, cumming in the toilet while thinking about how he himself will beat the Red Bull driver. They have the whole season ahead. 23 races. 23 wishes to make. And He Tian had the same thought in his mind.

Chapter Text

Shanghai, China.

Media day. Man, fuck that.

The whole thing with racing was good. You get in the car, practiсe, sprint, qualify, win the race and move on to the next location, then repeat it all over again and again until the season ends with you being a champion. Fun, not annoying at all, brings nothing but warm memories. Talking to the press, on the other hand...

When they take their places and turn on the mics, the crowd cheers and roars, chanting their names. It’s four of them, as usual - two sets of two rival teams, set up like that to bring some spice to the boring life of the fans. Zheng Xi is also there, on the other side of his teammate, as far as possible from the Red Bull driver. Nuh-uh, he won’t let that slide.

"Are you so scared of me that you’re trying to escape, Your Highness? Come closer, I don’t bite."

The fans below the stage giggle, shout, raise up the edited pictures of them being together with their ship name written down below, and Zhan Zheng Xi cracks a little, his eyebrow twitching nervously. He raises his mic to his lips, and the world outside blurs.

"You do bite. And, no, thank you, I’m good where I am."

That’s it. The reminder of what they did a couple of days ago. The loud music. The ragged breath they both shared. The hungry kisses, not resolving the tension even slightly. Too much, but not enough. This little royal wants to play games, huh?

"Don’t know what you’re talking about. Perhaps, you’re so obsessed with me you’re starting to hallucinate?"

The Ferrari driver clenches his jaw, looks at him for a long moment, and then turns around to the host trying to get their attention, giving the poor woman an apologetic smile. That’s how Zheng Xi always was. Calm. Cold. Unbothered by anything He Tian threw at him.

The dark-haired man wants to push him again, to turn him around, make Zhan look at him once more, but Mo stops him. Not the right time and the right place. Their fans are watching. They’re supposed to be all cool and professional, not some teenagers who can’t accept being ignored.

Zhan Zheng Xi can feel it. His stare. Long, promising, sending chills all over his spine. The only thing He Tian could be irritated about was being completely ignored, and a smile forms on the Ferrari driver’s face as he senses his rival’s anger.

"Let’s start with the questions, please!"

It all goes downhill when one of the fans asks them about their collision in Melbourne.

It was not even a deal: they’ve touched wheels barely, He Tian almost lost his control of his car in the corner, but he managed to fix it and pushed to the end, and Zhan Zheng Xi received a fair penalty of five seconds, that didn’t even heavily impact his second place. The problem is... They didn’t settle it between each other.

"You know, it’s just racing. If you don’t go for the gap that exists, you’re no longer an F1 driver," Zheng Xi responds calmly, with no banter in his stern voice. He receives a nod of approval from Mo and a thumbs up from Jian Yi seemingly agreeing with his teammate. He Tian is still salty, so he clears his throat and raises his mic to his face. The Ice Prince rolls his eyes. Here we go again...

"If you create a gap by pushing other drivers off the track, it’s not the F1 driver thing, it’s arrogance and complete ignorance of the rules."

Funny thing is, the same dialogue happened between them in 2023 in the press conference as well. He Tian was just repeating what the Ferrari driver had said to him back then with a menacing grin on his face.

Zhan comes up with no answer to this. His eyes don’t even move to give him a side glance, zero muscles twitching in his expressionless face as he looks at Jian, hoping for his teammate to come up with something cleverer than what Zheng Xi is about to say.

The air electrifies between them. Zhan Zheng Xi breathes in, breathes out, barely listens to what Jian and Mo are talking about, and wants to continue with the questions. He Tian doesn’t give him an opportunity.

The Red Bull star can’t help himself. His fingers twitch, his legs move before he even realizes what he’s doing...

When his hand touches the Ferrari driver’s wrist, the crowd goes silent, their teammates stop their banter and look at them in a complete misunderstanding. The silent "answer, Zheng Xi" hangs in the air unspoken as they stare into each other’s eyes until Zhan frees his wrist from Tian’s hold.

What was that even? Some kind of a twisted joke the universe plays on him every time they meet? And why does his breath hitch when the annoying show-off pulls him closer?

They are rivals. They have hated each other since childhood, since karting days and Formula 3 and 2, where both of them danced on track, pushing each other’s limits. They came here to be each other’s biggest opponents. If that’s what it is, and Zheng Xi highly believes it, then why He Tian look at him like that every time he silently turns away?

"I have nothing else to add. Let’s go to another question."

Cameras flash. The sounds around them go silent right until the host clears her throat and continues with the questions. He Tian and Zhan Zheng Xi don’t talk to each other for the rest of the media day.

Never mind. He Tian will destroy him on track - and claim him right after.
***
Qualification on Saturday brings some good mood to the Red Bull team and He Tian himself.

The car felt good in the sprint session - fast, with good aerodynamics, perfectly heated tires and new rear wing that balanced He Tian’s girl. Of course, his car was a girl. He’d never ride a dude.

In Q1, he was third, in Q2 - second, with his main opponent dangerously close and his teammate unable to get out of Q1 due to brakes failure. Then, Q3 comes, the final 10 best drivers coming to the pits to start the final stage of the qualification right from the pit lane. And, of course, Ferrari’s garage is right in front of them. Great... Means He Tian will chase after Zhan Zheng Xi, getting in his dirty air.

Ding Xiao Hui, He Tian’s engineer, connects with him through the radio to check on the feedback about the car, and He Tian can’t help but hide his excitement, but his thoughts... They’re elsewhere. At the front, where the red car with the number 16 is parked.

"Stop acting like an obsessed psycho. Your goal is to win the race."

Xiao Hui’s words cut through his whole act of nonchalance and indifference, and He Tian wants to tell the man to fuck off, but He Cheng’s voice comes in the next, making him bite his tongue:

"He’s right, Tian. Why don’t I see you being passionate about something rational?"

His brother doesn’t know anything. He Tian mutes the radio and starts the engine once again, lowering his visor as he sees Zhan Zheng Xi leaving the boxes.

Unmuting the radio a moment later, He Tian catches the end of He Cheng’s phrase and a clear "5 seconds gap from Zheng Xi." The engine roars, and the RB21 gets out of the pits, catching a glimpse of SF25 up ahead. 5 seconds is a gap only on paper.

He Tian decides to go for it as his best opportunity - the team might disapprove, but the only thing that matters is a red colour right in front of him, like a red flag for an angry bull.

He gets closer to the SF25 at the end of the first sector, reducing their gap to only half of a second, and Zheng Xi starts to feel nervous. Doesn’t like being chased, huh?

"Purple sector 1, Tian. Overtake Ferrari."
"Trying!"

They meet at the first corner of the sector 2. He Tian is fast and furious, aggressively pushing to escape the SF25’s dirty air. Zheng Xi is as calm and clean as ever, respectfully leaving space for Red Bull to block him at the very next corner. No clemency, just pure mockery. And God, how He Tian loves that.

"DRS enabled. Overtake," Ding Xiao Hui’s steady voice only adds to the growing irritation. He Tian presses the radio button to answer as he gets right behind Zheng Xi’s Ferrari. One turn, going on the inside, and The Ice Prince blocks him again. Dammit.

"He’s blocking! Fuck- I’m stuck behind."
"Your pace is better. You’re just stuck behind him because you enjoy it. Focus."

He Tian wants to mute the radio once again, but doesn’t, only to hear "white sector 2." That’s fucking ridiculous. He’s losing his pace and patience, and the motherfucker in front just holds him on a leash. The Red Bull driver can’t let him win.

They drive through the sector 3 glued to each other. He Tian can swear he even smells Zhan Zheng Xi’s cologne as he gets closer and closer, reducing their gap to 0.206 at the straights. It’s unbelievable how close he is, and yet, still not able to overtake the bastard. Not because his driving is bad today. Just because Zheng Xi is the King of Quali. Fucking royalty.

When the finish gets closer, He Tian gives the remaining distance his best. He’s quick to try and overtake Zhan Zheng Xi on the line, their cars getting side by side with each other as they finish, and the time freezes as the judges clarify the information. He Tian turns on the radio, and Ding Xiao Hui speaks to him, delivering the news:

"P2. Gap from Zhan Zheng Xi - +0.037 seconds. Great result."
***
Sunday. The race day they all awaited.

The cars get into their positions. The crowd of fans cheers for their favorite drivers, lifting up posters, pictures and signs with some supportive words. He Tian barely waves to anyone, his gaze fully concentrated on the SF25 in front.

It’s not the victory that he wants today. It’s the battle. Tension. Him.

When the lights go out, He Tian smoothly positions his RB21 on the inside line of the future corner, going in to overtake Zheng Xi, but the Ferrari driver has other plans.

He loses his grip on the exit. The red car snaps sideways and hits the wall. The leader of the race DNFs at the first corner, giving the leading position to his biggest rival. Damn, what a shit show.

The yellow flags are flying high in the air, gasps echo through the stands.

"Zheng Xi out. Engine failure. You’re P1."
"Yeah mate, I can see."
...
"Is he alright?"
"Yes. Focus on the race."
***
He Tian gets to see him after he secures yet another win on the calendar, two in a row. Zheng Xi is surrounded by his team, talking to them about the car problems, arguing in the high tones. He’s visibly irritated, and a glare he shoots the dark-haired man shows how pissed he actually is.

He Tian even wants to comfort him. Instead, he just watches him silently right until the Ferrari engineers get the message and leave them alone.

"Tough race, Xi-Xi?"
"Kinda. Congrats on your win."

And silence. No knowledge about how to calm down or cheer up each other. Zhan Zheng Xi just looks at him, and He Tian looks at him back, holding his helmet in his hands. It’s awkward.

"Wanna meet up in my hotel room? Since I won and you lost, you know?"

It’s not even a taunt or a bait, Tian is genuinely concerned, and somehow, the twitch in Zheng Xi’s expression makes him rethink his own statement. Yeah, maybe it wasn’t his smartest idea to demand something from a guy who got screwed by his car.

"Fuck, sorry- I didn’t mean it, we don’t have to... "
"I’ll be there at 9 pm."

The Ferrari driver wasn’t a crybaby or a pussy in the slightest, and Tian highly respected it, looking rather impressed as Zhan Zheng Xi departs to the boxes. Honestly, He Tian would kill himself today. Zhan doesn’t even think about it, more concerned about the car and its problems. Damn... What a difficult person to read.
***
Wine, strawberries covered in chocolate, two beers and a plate of snacks.

Zhan Zheng Xi sees that as he enters He Tian’s hotel room, and he can’t help but raise his brows in a silent question. Who the fuck this bastard expect?

"Is that?.."
"I just didn’t know what you’d like."

The awkward silence fills the room again. Zheng Xi just stares at him, and He Tian returns his gaze, realizing how stupid he seems to be. He is terrible at comforting people.

"Can you just say what the hell you want? I’ll do it, say goodbye afterward and go to sleep?" Zheng Xi asks with a skeptical look on his face. But somehow... he’s not weirded out, and it’s already a good sign.

"It might seem a little strange, but... can we just watch a movie, drink and spend a good evening together? As, you know... healthy rivals."

"Why?" doesn’t slip from Zheng Xi’s lips as he nods, taking one of the bottles.
"Because you’re stressed with your DNF enough," He Tian silently responds, taking the remaining beer and bringing snacks to the couch, where the Ferrari already got comfortable on.

"Is it a weird way to say you feel pity for my bad result?" Zheng Xi says with a smirk, watching He Tian settle right next to him, almost too close for it to be casual.
"Nah, I’m just too tired to humiliate you further."

Both know He Tian lies, but nobody breaks it as the movie begins.

They don’t talk at all, just silently watching some romantic comedy the dark-haired man chose for today, barely even looking at each other. Right until He Tian’s hand gets on Zheng Xi’s back. Their eyes meet. The movie stops as one of them pulls the other closer, connecting their lips in a hungry kiss.

Zheng Xi makes out just like he races: intense, dominant, aggressive even, yet always leaving his partner an opportunity to participate in the kiss, and He Tian takes it. His fingers tangle in the blond’s hair, his tongue consumes little sounds Zhan makes, claiming his mouth as he opens it.

Somehow, they end up on the floor, constantly rolling around on the carpet to gain the upper hand over one another. Zhan is on top. The Red Bull driver doesn’t mind, placing his hands on the man’s hips.

Both drivers stare into each other’s eyes, realizing how twisted it all is. Wrong. They’re not supposed to be in a one hotel room, making out and enjoying it. Actually fucking enjoying it.

Zheng Xi gets up and leaves silently, his face not betraying a single emotion. He Tian just stays where he is, on the floor of his hotel room, covering his face with his hands. Oh Lord, how he wishes to return to that moment.

Chapter Text

Suzuka, Japan.

The atmosphere in the Red Bull garage was as heavy as the weather during race week. The whole team gathered at He Cheng's cabinet, filling the tight space with whispers of both curiosity and concern: their boss never called them that early if it wasn't for something significant.

Near the RBR principal, leaning against the wall, Mo Guanshan stood, looking at the door with a hint of lingering tension in his steely gaze. He Tian wasn't there. They couldn't start without him.

"Where's Tian?" He Cheng asks him, massaging his temples, and Mo barely even opens his mouth to answer as the Red Bull star himself storms into his brother's cabinet, his eyes filled with fury. "What the hell does that mean? Mo is leaving the team in just three races and you're deciding to tell me only now?!"

Silence falls heavy on everyone's shoulders. The team of engineers and strategists looks between two brothers, expecting to hear more details. Mo avoids He Tian's gaze, exchanging a tired look with Cheng, as if saying "I knew it would be difficult," before clearing his throat and answering, his voice barely betraying the bitter taste of tiredness:

"Thanks for delivering the news, Tian. It was my decision to leave the team this early to give another driver the chance to participate in the title fight."

"Why?! Why are you leaving? Money? You've found a better opportunity? Cheng, you're allowing them to snatch our Mo away?"

It's hard to see He Tian like that. Distressed. Trying to figure out why his dear partner is retiring. He Cheng almost cracks his professional act, but Mo stops him from answering, handling it himself. It was painful for him as well, but He Tian deserved to know the truth.

"I don't want to be a second driver to you anymore, Tian. My only purpose in the team is to help you secure a championship. And I want to win a championship myself."
"But why didn't you talk to me about it first? To the team?"

He sees how Mo starts to seethe with anger, and it yet again reminds him of how Mo was at the start of his career. Aggressive. Passionate. With a pace and a race craft that matched him perfectly. How they crashed into each other on the track and then apologized in the hotel rooms for hours, exploring each other's bodies with patience and tenderness.

Now it's just a faint spirit of the past. They grew up, became smarter, separated. The only thing connecting those two is racing for the same team now.

"Nobody can suppress you, He Tian. You're the best driver on the grid. Even if I wanted to fight you, you'd keep racing better. It's a natural thing."
"Maybe get fucking better yourself instead of giving up, then."

Someone shifts uncomfortably. A pen clicks, twice, then stops.

His harsh words feel like a confirmation of Mo's words. They stare into each other's eyes for a long second, before He Cheng finally steps in, clearing his throat to stop their banter:
"Tian, Mo, enough. It is what it is. We have another topic to discuss: the new Red Bull driver."

Their heads snap at him as the huge file with a name on it lands on the table in front of Tian. The Red Bull star lifts it with anger still present on his face, and he makes a show of opening the file and going through the pages before he actually does so, captured by the age and appearance of his future partner.

"Ethan Hayes, 19 years old, American F2 champion," He Tian reads with his eyebrows rising in surprise. In the photo attached to the file, a light-haired boy with wavy hair looks at the camera with a confident grin. His deep blue eyes are provocative, but his plump lips, stretched into a smile, give him an almost childlike charm. "We're hiring models now?"

He Cheng doesn't look impressed, nor does Mo, already familiar with his future replacement.

"We did some tests back at Red Bull headquarters. The kid's pace and skill at his young age are just enough for us to win the Constructors Championship. And for you to secure the first place in WDC, of course."
"He's 19, Cheng. He was born yesterday. Accepting a rookie at the start of the season while Ferrari lineup is so dominant? It's a mistake and you know it."

"The only dominant figure in Ferrari is Zhan Zheng Xi now, and it seems like you don't have any problems with holding him down so far," Ding Xiao Hui adds to their banter, catching a glance from He Tian and handling it with professional calmness. He had been his engineer for too long to be intimidated.

"As if Zheng Xi is not a threat himself! No rookie will be able to fight him. He will always be third, if not any lower-"

Another file lands on top of the first one. Some strategists peek from He Tian's shoulder at the graphics and tables on the papers, inspecting them with peaked curiosity. The Red Bull driver does just the same, and he lets out a sarcastic whistle, throwing the file back onto the desk.

"What are those? Are those numbers supposed to tell me about something?"
"It's Ethan's pace compared to Zheng Xi. He's winning by -0.029 seconds in each sector."

The team behind He Tian's back responds positively—their rookie is performing well both on the track and in the simulator, but Tian is concerned about another thing, his eyes narrowing as he asks He Cheng yet another question:

"Why compare his results to Zheng Xi's in the first place?"
"He asked about it himself. Zheng Xi is... something like an idol for him."

The corner of He Tian’s jaw tightens. Of course, it’s him. It had to be him.
***
Saturday brought He Tian P1, and his teammate - P2, leaving SF25 consuming dust close behind them.

They're starting close, mere inches away from each other, as if the time stopped in 2017, when it was just the two of them at the front, fighting for the first place as the rest of the grid watched from afar. When Tian was younger, nobody was as meaningful to him as Mo Guanshan. Now, all that's left is respect for their shared past and for one another's work for the team.

When the lights go out, the sounds blur with the powerful roar of RB21. His car is flawless as he dives on the inside line smoothly, blocking Mo’s immediate aggressive attack, then enters the tricky corner, watching Mo through his rearview mirrors, and for once in this season, he’s happy that the car behind him is not the Ferrari with number 16.

Memories flow like a river on the very next lap, the same corner their cars collided for the first time in their careers. They were ruthless back in the day, but strangely matched. They blinked at the exact same time. Shared the same deep breaths when another one tried to rile his partner at the press-conference. Had the same sense of humor.

The car with a number 3 lines up next to his own as Mo tries to overtake, but He Tian refuses to give him a leading position, braking late to make Mo go wide. His teammate doesn’t disappoint, moving just as the Red Bull star predicted. The only one who knew how to counter this move was Zhan Zheng Xi.

"Should I let him pass?" Tian presses the radio button and asks Ding Xiao Hui, and his engineer’s voice crackles in the car with a restrained laughter:
"Mo demands a battle. Give him one. Don’t destroy the car."

They don’t even race now - they chase each other lap after lap, cutting their distance to mere seconds as Zheng Xi at the back struggles to keep up with their pace. He Tian barely remembers their agreement, fully concentrating on Mo currently ahead of him, overtaking him beautifully in the DRS zone. His driving today is flawless. He Tian already misses it.

Both are called to the pits almost simultaneously, their team letting Mo go first because of his current lead in the race. The pit crew does their work with perfect tempo, not allowing any team undercut both drivers as they come out of the pits ahead of Zhan Zheng Xi with Mo leading the race once again.

They bang wheels at the corner, He Tian gets a better position and goes ahead, but Mo follows close behind, and Tian swears to God he hears a chuckle from under the other’s helmet. His heart is pounding as the laps pass, and at the finish one, they meet again. He Tian is still ahead at the final corner, preparing to secure a win. He sees Mo going to the inside line, and...

"Mo! You’re P1! Good job, brilliant race!" Mo’s engineer shouts on the radio, the fans accompanying him with the same scream of joy as Guanshan secures his first win of the season, his teammate finishing second and the infamous Ferrari third.

He Tian could’ve blocked this overtake.
He didn’t.

Tian takes off his helmet, gets out of his car and goes to the redhead to give him a tight hug and congratulate him on his win. Mo clings to him, his smile as bright as the sun itself, and He Tian can’t help but smile at him back. Gods above... He’s already missing him.
***
The night in Suzuka was quiet. Maybe too quiet for Tian’s liking.

He walks through the circuit, slowly exploring the now silent and empty track, too lost in his own thoughts to care about the cold air brushing through his Red Bull jacket. Without Mo on the team... Will everything be different or will it stay the same?

His pain aches in his chest, and Tian wants to take a seat somewhere in the grandstands until he sees a lonely figure watching him for a while now. He doesn’t have to get closer to realize who it is. Blonde hair. Emotionless face. Number 16.

Tian takes a seat near Zhan Zheng Xi and they fall into comfortable silence, staring at the track below, until the Ferrari driver turns to him with a faint smirk, looking somewhat impressed:
"You let him through on purpose. That’s very human of you."
"How do you know? Mo is just a good driver."

Zhan laughs, the rich sound sending chills down his spine, and turns back to stare at the rubber stuck on the road.

"You’d never let such a predictable overtake slide. And it’s not that the overtake wasn’t great. Just... Too easy to counter."
"... He retires after Saudi Arabia. I wanted him to have this win. Farewell gift."

Zheng Xi’s expression barely changes, but He Tian can see a subtle hint of understanding in his eyes.

"So, two more races, huh? And... where will he go?"
"Probably NASCAR. He has some chances in there. Why?"

The Ferrari driver sighs, looks at his crossed fingers, and lifts his head back to meet He Tian’s concerned gaze. Does Zhan’s hesitation mean..?
"Ferrari didn’t extend my contract. They want to swap me in 2026."

No. He can’t be serious. Ferrari are willing to give up on Zheng Xi? Zheng Xi, of all people? Their golden boy?

"You have to be kidding me."
"I wish. And, you know... all top teams are already packed pretty tight. I don’t have many opportunities."

He Tian wants to offer him a Red Bull seat, but bites his tongue, not wanting to raise the Ferrari driver’s hopes up. He was trained, smart, talented, and Tian liked him, but... he was also competitive. Furious. Desperate to win. In Red Bull, in the same car as his own... they had a high risk of becoming next Hamilton and Rosberg. And He Tian had enough of ruined relationships per season.

"Damn... If you retire, I’m gonna win every race, Your Highness. Don’t leave me," He Tian says as a joke, his words lingering in the air as Zheng Xi gives him a sly smirk. Both of them know it’s nothing else but a raw truth said in a heartfelt tone.

Zheng Xi gives his shoulder a light shove, gets up from his seat and leaves the Red Bull driver alone in the cold Suzuka circuit. The only reminder of his former presence is a warm seat next to his own. He Tian wants to say something to him, but his rival is already gone. They’re going to drive him crazy.
***
When He Tian returns to the Red Bull garage, the space is strangely alive and flooded with people. He makes his way through the crowd to his brother at the center, who shakes hands with...

"Hello! You must be Mr. Tian? I’m Ethan Heyes."

The American accent is undeniably thick, and it makes the dark-haired man wrinkle his nose a bit as he stares into those deep blue eyes. His new teammate, huh?

His grip is strong, his gaze - passionate and promising, and He Tian can feel trouble wrapping around the boy like a soft blanket. He will be a pain in the ass.