She flashed Xiong Yibai a genuinely relaxed and confident smile.
“I get it. Thank you, Yibai.”
At that moment, the team staff began calling the drivers to their cars, preparing for the qualifying session.
“It’s my turn,” Feng Miwan said to Xiong Yibai.
“Good luck.” Xiong Yibai nodded slightly.
Feng Miwan turned and walked toward her Maple Leaf Red Racecar.
The tension of the qualifying session thickened the air almost to a standstill.
The sound of engines warming up heralded the fierce battle to come.
Feng Miwan sat in the cockpit, took a deep breath, and worked to steady her heartbeat.
She no longer thought about “heads” or “tails.” Instead, Xiong Yibai’s words echoed repeatedly in her mind:
“The only thing that can define your destiny is your own choices and actions right now.”
“All drivers, prepare for the out lap,” came the instruction over the radio.
Feng Miwan’s eyes sharpened. She fired up the engine, and the racecar surged onto the track like an awakening cheetah—a circuit with 14 distinctly varied corners.
According to the Modu Circuit’s format, qualifying consisted of two 15-minute sessions, with the final starting grid determined by the combined times from both.
As the first session began, the drivers quickly found their rhythm, probing the track’s limits while conserving their tires for the second session.
Song Zhe took the lead, displaying his usual dominant strength. He nailed an extreme line through the high-speed T7-T8 complex, clocking a 1:59.764 lap time to claim provisional first place.
Jiang Chengfeng showcased his signature flashy driving skills but suffered understeer at the T14 hairpin, botching the braking point. His time stood at 2:00.030, placing him sixth for now.
It was Feng Miwan’s turn.
Her line was impeccably precise. At the end of the long straight, she braked hard and dove into the corner decisively, then fed the throttle smoothly and fluidly on the exit.
She didn’t chase risky extremes but maximized the stable rhythm she’d honed in practice.
The timer ticked down, and her result flashed up—1:59.864, just 0.1 seconds behind Song Zhe, securing second place!
“Nice one, Little Wan! Perfect braking timing at the T14 hairpin! Tires are in great shape—you can push a bit more!” Feng Yuxiao encouraged her over the radio.
In the pit lane, the engineers huddled around the data, screens flickering with red and green sector times. Feng Miwan had quietly set the purple benchmark in T7-T8.
Forty minutes later, Q2—the second qualifying session—kicked off on schedule.
Every driver gave it their all.
Song Zhe improved again, hitting 320 km/h on the long straight before setting a new benchmark of 1:59.471!
The pressure now fell squarely on the drivers yet to set their laps.
Jiang Chengfeng adjusted his approach, refining his line through the esses, and jumped to 1:59.800, vaulting into fourth.
Feng Miwan’s racecar took the track last.
All eyes in the stadium—including Xiong Yibai’s from the VIP stands—locked onto that streak of red.
“Sister Wan, you can brake 0.02 seconds later into T4. BOP tuning matches the current track temperature!” a team engineer advised over the radio.
“Got it.”
Feng Miwan focused utterly: into the corner, hard brake, apex, full throttle out.
Through the high-speed T7-T8 complex, she didn’t touch the wheel for correction, relying on the car’s superior aerodynamics to maintain downforce.
Approaching the T14 hairpin, she delayed her braking. The car traced a perfect arc at the limit, the chassis twitching slightly but always under control.
Under her command, the racecar moved as one with her will, slicing through the apex at astonishing speed!
She crossed the line!
The big screen froze the time:
1:59.360!
0.111 seconds faster than Song Zhe’s fresh benchmark!
“Pole position! We’ve got pole!”
The Maple Grove Racing Team pit erupted in massive cheers!
Feng Miwan guided her racecar back to the pits at a crawl. Through the windshield, she saw her brother Feng Yuxiao and the entire team beaming with ecstatic joy.
She looked up toward the VIP section in the main stands.
Though she couldn’t make out faces, she knew Xiong Yibai was there.
She gently pressed her hand to her chest, where the coin rested. But the power she felt now came from within herself.
Xiong Yibai lowered her binoculars and smiled with satisfaction.
What she witnessed wasn’t just a pole position—it was Feng Miwan breaking free from her mental shackles, truly mastering her own fate.
That Saturday afternoon, the sun scorched the track as Race 1 got underway.
From pole, Feng Miwan idled her Maple Leaf Red Racecar at the front of the grid—the starting area divided by qualifying positions, with the pole sitter in the #1 slot.
Beside her lurked the predatory Song Zhe, along with the third-place driver.
The red lights illuminated… the crowd fell silent.
Five red lights flashed on one by one, then—
Extinguished together!
The race was on!
Feng Miwan’s start was textbook perfect—lightning-quick reaction, the car exploding off the line like a released arrow. She held the inside line firmly and swept cleanly into Turn 1, the critical first corner after the start.
Song Zhe’s car shadowed her, using her slipstream—the low-pressure zone behind a speeding car that reduces drag for the follower—to attempt an overtake at the end of the straight.
But Feng Miwan’s defensive line was watertight, deadlocking the position.
“Beautiful start! Hold that spot!” Feng Yuxiao shouted over the radio.
The stands erupted in gasps and applause, especially from the Maple Grove fans’ section, where red flags waved wildly.
“Hold steady, Sister Wan!”
“Take ’em down!”
In the opening laps, Feng Miwan and Song Zhe formed the lead group, quickly gapping the pack behind.
Their lap times stayed rock-solid in the track’s optimal 1:35 range, the gap hovering between 0.5 and 1 second.
Song Zhe kept the pressure on, but Feng Miwan’s rhythm never faltered.
Her tire management—controlling her pace to minimize wear and preserve grip—was flawless, offering no openings.
Jiang Chengfeng, chasing flair over substance, got mired in a brutal midfield scrap. Flashy passes and defenses drew roars from the crowd, but the traffic and disrupted rhythm kept him from challenging the top three.
As the race hit its midpoint, teams began their pit strategies—plans tailored to tire wear and rivals’ moves, a pivotal factor in the standings.
This was the make-or-break phase; pit efficiency for tires and fuel could make or break positions.
