Chapter 1137: Chapter 431: You Forced My Hand (2)
And because of the yellow flag caused by Perez’s mistake, this qualifying session came to an end, and the two drivers who were setting laps behind Perez, Qin Miao and Hamilton, could only back off.
...
"Ah shit!"
"Perez! He’s gone off. Yellow flags on track, Qin Miao and Hamilton’s lap times are deleted!"
Seeing the dust cloud rising from the track, the commentators of Five-Star Sports were even more dejected than Qin Miao and the Mercedes crew.
As for the reason...
Qin Miao had gone purple in the first two sectors, the last sector time hadn’t even come out yet, but in this session he had a very good chance of taking pole.
But in the end, because of Perez’s mistake, both Qin Miao’s and Hamilton’s times were wiped.
Already carrying a bellyful of anger from the pressure of the Dutch crowd at the track, Qin Miao had pushed so hard on that final flying lap only to end up with this result, so of course he was furious.
"FUCK!"
Since the start of the 2022 season, the frequency of Qin Miao dropping F-bombs on team radio had noticeably gone up.
"How the hell do you make such a rookie mistake in such an easy corner? If you can’t drive, go home and raise your kids!" After cursing once, Qin Miao still wasn’t satisfied and tacked on another line.
"Calm down, Qin Miao. What’s done is done, getting worked up and angry won’t change anything. The race is where we really get to perform and show what we’ve got.
By the way, we’re P5 in qualifying, that’s already pretty good. Just bring the car back safely," Frankie said over the team radio.
Qin Miao didn’t have any better options either. Just like Frankie said: at this point, the result couldn’t be changed.
In the end, the Dutch Grand Prix qualifying results and Sunday race starting grid were as follows:
1: Verstappen
2: Leclerc
3: Sainz
4: Hamilton
5: Qin Miao
6: Perez
7: Norris
8: Mick
9: Tsunoda
10: Stroll
The two Mercedes drivers were thus kept out of the top three. It was a bit of a shame, really. Judging by the one-lap pace, Mercedes and Ferrari weren’t much slower than Red Bull; if not for that incident of Sainz’s, the two Mercedes could very well have been quicker than Red Bull—after all, Qin Miao had been purple on that final flying lap.
After parking his car in the box, Qin Miao let out a long breath and, in a way, accepted the fact.
But as soon as he climbed out of the car and took off his helmet and earpieces, the laughter, cheers, and whistles of the crowd on site flooded into his ears.
If it were the old Qin Miao, he probably wouldn’t have thought too much of it. The crowd having their fun didn’t have much to do with him, really.
But thinking back to the "special attention" he’d been getting from the crowd all weekend, and combining that with the result he’d just pulled, he couldn’t help but feel that this was the spectators mocking him.
He didn’t look up at the grandstands. Instead, he casually glanced over at the post-qualifying interview area, which was now surrounded by a crowd.
At that moment, Verstappen hadn’t even come back yet. After taking pole, he’d done another lap around the track, interacting with the fans.
That’s the perk of being the home hero.
Because of that, Qin Miao was sure the laughter, cheers, and whistles weren’t for the polesitter; they were directed at him. It was naked ridicule.
A surge of anger flared up inside him.
Motherfucker, I’m just driving a car here, what the hell did I ever do to you?
But he didn’t show his emotions on the surface. He just had zero interest in waving or interacting with the crowd anymore.
Taking his gear with him, Qin Miao left the track and headed for the post-session weigh-in.
After finishing the media interviews and attending the post-session team meeting, where they confirmed he’d stick with a yellow-to-red one-stop strategy for the race, Qin Miao’s Saturday work was done. Back at the hotel, he quietly pulled up his system interface.
He hadn’t paid much attention to his system quests lately.
But as his performances improved more and more after the opening stretch of the season, the system quests it issued had gradually become more "normal."
The rewards had gone up as well.
Half a season in, the system quests Qin Miao had completed had brought him over 17 million US Dollar in income, 7 Free Attribute Points, all sorts of assets, and a vial of something he’d never seen before: an Overlimit Potion.
He remembered the system had given him that item after the Monaco Grand Prix.
The system’s explanation was that he’d created a miracle in an impossible situation, winning the Monaco Grand Prix through his godlike defensive driving.
So he was granted this potion as a special reward.
But at the time, Qin Miao had just given it a habitual glance and then stopped paying attention.
At the start of this season, his attitude toward system quests and prompts was honestly similar to how he treated app push notifications on his phone.
See one, instinctively close it or swipe it away.
So he hadn’t looked carefully at the potion’s description then; he’d only memorized the name and its grade.
Now he suddenly remembered there was still a vial of medicine sitting in his system inventory, and its effects seemed to match his current situation perfectly.
[Overlimit Potion (Gold)]
[Dosage and Administration: oral. Adults, one capsule once daily; children take only under a doctor’s advice.]
[Adverse Reactions: after the effect wears off, you may experience dizziness, headache, nausea, loss of sense of direction, loss of appetite, etc. Resting for 24 hours will alleviate the symptoms.]
[Storage: best kept in the system inventory; for daily storage, maintain at a constant 13℃.]
[Effect: boosts the user’s neural reaction speed for two hours.]
[Contraindications: do not use this drug more than once within seven days. Any consequences arising from violation are entirely your own responsibility; this system accepts no liability.]
As the image of the vial surfaced in his mind, the detailed explanation and instructions for it also appeared in his head.
To be honest, the system’s wording gave him a weird sense of déjà vu, like he’d seen it somewhere before.
But he didn’t dwell on it. In his heart, he silently swore: because you assholes booed me in this race, Verstappen can forget about having an easy time out there.
I’ll make damn sure he can’t get past me!
...
Sunday, race day.
Recently, the temperatures in the Netherlands had been pretty comfortable. Of course, that might also be because the Zandvoort circuit is right by the sea; compared to inland, coastal areas warm up more slowly and feel cooler.
Today, air temperature was 23°C, track temperature 37°C.
That kind of temperature posed a real challenge for getting the tyres into the right window, but this bit of difficulty wasn’t going to affect Qin Miao’s performance.
Before the race started, he was in the team hospitality’s lounge, eyes closed, resting.
In the past, he basically never did this, but today, to be in better shape, he was trying something new.
He’d just been resting for a short while when someone knocked on the door of his room.
Qin Miao opened his eyes, then went to open the door.
To his surprise, standing outside wasn’t Barber like he’d expected, but Hamilton.
He didn’t leave the guy standing there, though; he stepped aside and said, "I was just wondering why the music next door suddenly stopped."
Hamilton usually liked to listen to music when he was in the lounge, whereas Qin Miao preferred to game. Both of them had rather unconventional ways of relaxing and getting ready.
Hearing that, Hamilton replied, "I noticed there was no game noise coming from your room, and these past two days I’ve felt the Dutch fans’ attacks on me easing up a lot. So I figured maybe all the pressure they used to put on me has been shifted onto you. Then I saw you resting like this, which is pretty unusual for you..."
At this point Hamilton glanced at the laptop set aside with the lid still shut, and his meaning was very clear.
