"There was a reporter who wrote in a column that Vann Winston would never be king in Formula 1."
"That's it, it shouldn't be." Hunter said "this story is boring".
"That reporter said Vann Winston will always be just a shadow of Jaws 'The Shire' or Lawrence Owen."
Charles and Owen, known as "Double Heroes" by F1 fans, are the top drivers who have been in Formula One for more than a decade.
Hunter paused.
"Actually, I don't think so. Because this is largely the media strategy of the Mercedes-Benz team. But you are very angry. When you see the reporter, you want to scold him but you can't make a sound."
Winston's expression was serious, so serious that Hunter seemed to have seen the scene.
"and after?"
"The reporter smiled and left. You are very depressed. You told me that you clearly wanted to scold him and wrote it on the back of your hand, but you would still be disgusted when you saw that guy. You stretched out the back of your hand and showed it to me, I say… "
"You said you would beat the Shire at this Grand Prix."
When Hunter finished saying this, he was stupid himself.
Because of the scene and the mood that Winston described, it seemed as if it had really happened, not Winston's assumptions about the "previous life".
"Yes, I'll beat Ciel and wait for you at the throne." Winston stretched out his hand and flicked Hunter's forehead.
He woke up, but something in the depths of his heart was surging and bursting out at any time.
At 5:30 p.m. local time, the players of each team started practice at Silverstone Circuit.
Marcus looked at Hunter's lap speed and touched the back of his head: "This kid is in good shape."
"Hopefully it can last until qualifying."
At eight o'clock in the evening, the second round of practice matches will begin. Hunter came to a small corner with his pockets in his pockets, squinted, and lit a cigarette for himself.
After about a third of the pump, someone came to sit beside him. According to the length of the other's legs, Hunter didn't have to look up to know who the other was.
Neither of them said a word until Hunter's cigarette was burning halfway, and the person beside him said, "Give me a puff."
Hunter pulled the corner of his mouth and smiled: "You won't bring it yourself!"
Saying so, he still held the cigarette butt and leaned towards him. This time he deliberately pinched the part of the mouthpiece so that Winston would have to pick up the cigarette himself.
But he didn't expect Winston to hold his cigarette butt together with Hunter's fingers.
"Hey!" Hunter felt frightened.
He wanted to retract his finger, but he didn't expect that the other party directly bit his fingertip, and the force was not small. He could only watch the other party take a sip, and push the tip of his tongue under the cigarette holder to send the cigarette out.
"You bite me!" Hunter stared at each other with round eyes.
"Then why did you squeeze like that on purpose?" Winston asked coolly.
Hunter found himself speechless, and it sounded like he was wrong... But it was clear that the guy in front of him was like an emperor, and he even had to be served when he smoked.
The second round of qualifying was about to begin, and Hunter and Winston got up at the same time and walked back to their respective teams.
Mr. Marcus was a little uneasy: "If Hunter can keep it up, I feel it is still possible to get the eighth or ninth place!"
At 10:30 p.m., the practice session ended.
Hunter took off his gloves, moved his wrist, and suddenly remembered his finger that was bitten by Winston, and suddenly felt a little pain.
He sent an unbalanced text message to the other party: You bit my finger, and if the qualifying situation is not good, you have to pay full responsibility.
Not expecting the other party to reply to him immediately, Hunter went back to his room, took a shower and went back to bed to get ready to sleep. He found that there was an unread message on his mobile phone, and when he opened it, it was Winston's reply: "Wait for the London Eye. I'll let you know what really hurts.
"Ah?" Hunter scratched the back of his head, "What do you mean?"
Two seconds later, he suddenly remembered his chat with Winston about the London Eye, and his ears instantly turned red.
You never imagine that one day, the game is over and you take your loved one to sit on the London Eye for sightseeing. Can hug, can kiss, why be bored
I understand. Thirty minutes is enough for sex.
Hunter quickly pressed a text message on the phone: be careful it will rot underneath.
Then, with a deep sense of satisfaction, Hunter threw the phone aside and fell asleep.
The next morning, he touched his phone to check the time, and was overwhelmed by a text message from Winston: You're holding it, it won't rot.
"Believe it or not, I'm showing your text messages to the global media!" Hunter indignantly.
After thinking about it again, forget it... I guess everyone will think that Winston's phone has dropped.
Hunter was inexplicably saddened by the feeling that there was no evidence to bring down the opponent.
At six o'clock in the evening, the third round of practice sessions ended, and two hours later, the qualifying session began.
Hunter played smoothly in the first paragraph, which made Marcus very gratified.
"Just like this... just like this... be a good boy..."
In the middle of qualifying, Hunter's ranking fluctuated between eighth and seventh.
Just when Marcus thought Hunter would take this favourable position, his lap times plummeted.
"What's going on?" Marcus became nervous.
"There's something wrong with Hunter's oil pump!"
"He's driving back to the pits now!"
Marcus raised his hand to hold his face, and shouted: "What are you doing—"
Ultimately, Hunter's ranking dropped to thirteenth.
When he came back, everyone looked at him with regret.
And Maddie also had a schadenfreude expression on his face.
"That... Hunter..." Marcus wanted to comfort him, but it was pointless to say anything at this time.
After taking off the heat shield, Hunter scratched his sweaty hair: "Can the oil pump be repaired?"
"It should be possible before the race."
"Oh. Then I'll go get a cigarette." Hunter took the water bottle and walked out while drinking.
No one said anything else, and the mechanics felt very sorry.
"We have checked the oil pump, and we don't know how such a problem could occur..."
This is a major mistake by the mechanic team, which will directly affect Hunter's race results.
Everyone could feel that Hunter was still in good shape at this stop, but it was wasted.
No matter which driver will have the feeling of being splashed with cold water.
Hunter, who had already reached the door, suddenly turned his head back, shrugged his shoulders and said, "Hey... It's not the first time I've started from such a ranking. You don't have to be unlovable."
Hunter twitched the corners of his mouth, smiling savagely, not showing any discomfort at all.
"Hey, we will definitely hold on to you in the race."
"Okay, let's see how fast you change tires."
Hunter blinked, then went to a small corner and felt sad, ah, no, it was smoking.
Take a deep breath, then spit it out.
Someone sat down beside him, and Hunter, with his eyes closed, muttered dissatisfiedly, "Is it possible that I can run into you wherever I hide and smoke?"
"It didn't happen, I was looking for you." Winston's voice sounded.
"How was your qualifying?"
"Pole position."
"...Damn!" Hunter opened his eyes and looked at each other indignantly, "I can't be your friend anymore! Are you here to show off, or to comfort me!"
"neither."
Hunter suddenly started smoking hard.
"Why are you smoking so fast?"
"I don't want to leave you a mouthful."
"You will also be a regular on the pole position in the future, so I don't have the capital to show off in front of you."
"How soon? I'm not on pole this time, I'm screwed... Maddie's going to call me a stammer again."
He will even talk to you about things.
Hunter looked up at the sky melancholy.
"Starting from an unfavorable position and getting on with the following grams is your specialty." Winston's voice was indifferent, meaning that starting thirteenth was no big deal.
"I really want to feel melancholy. But when you say that, I seem to be a god?"
Hunter laughed and took a closer look at Winston, thinking that this guy is really sexy and tasteful.
"Ah, it's over."
Hunter flicked the butt, thinking you won't have to.
But unexpectedly, Winston next to him took out an aluminum cigarette case in a hurry and hooked his finger at Hunter.
"I don't have a lighter," Hunter said sincerely.
Winston's chin was raised, his eyes were cold, and he seemed to say: Do you want to die
Hunter crooked his mouth and took out the lighter. He was about to throw it to Winston, but he didn't expect the other party to sit there with the cigarette between his lips.
Meaning: give me a cigarette.
Lying on the grass! Believe it or not I burned your eyebrows!
The cigarette curled up between Winston's lips, as if to say: Why don't you light a cigarette
"Believe it or not I ran my F1 over your head?" Hunter said, staring.
Winston's expression didn't even change.
This kind of low-level provocation has no effect on him at all.
Hunter had to lean over, block the fire with one hand, and light a cigarette for him.
He took out his mobile phone and wanted to play Xiaoxiao, but found that the phone was about to run out of battery.
"Ah... so boring..." Hunter was about to say that he was going back to listen to the beeping game tactics of those old guys when Winston threw his phone at him.
"Take it and play."
Hunter trembled in his heart: "Oh? Why do you also have Xiaoxiaole on your phone?"
The whole team laughed at his lack of game taste.
But I didn't expect Winston to be playing too!
Since Winston is also playing, it's a super cool game!
"I can't take it myself, and one day you'll put it in my phone too."
The author has something to say: Salted egg time:
Hunter: I'm the best at following the gram! The following grams are on!
Winston: I put you on top.
Hunter: …I can’t communicate with you…