My Formula 1 System

Luca only had one day of recreation before calling to duty at the Xiángshuǐ Jiāháng... Facility with the rest of the team.

Take rest; a field that has rested gives a bountiful crop—a proverb Luca knew not of its origin but fully adhered to. He believed that sometimes, relaxing before work and important events would help one become more productive.

So, that evening, he set out with Vance into the heart of Shanghai to experience the pulse of the city before the storm of the Grand Prix weekend and everything that might follow.

Luca and Mr. Vance's first destination, as suggested by the tourist guide bulletin, was Lujiazui, a financial district in Pudong, dominated by towers and a single mall.

When visiting the place, Luca understood why it was suggested to tourists as the first stop. It was because the district had the most banners and advertisements for the Chinese Grand Prix. They must've assumed the majority of tourists at this time were flying in for the race, so this should be their ideal first stop.

Luca smiled delightedly with satisfaction, his hands on his hips as he stared at himself on these bills and posters. Finally, he could see Chinese text, and a couple just passed by, speaking religiously in Mandarin about something of importance, no doubt.

After Lujiazui, Nanjing Road was the next stop. Luca had one more in mind, a location that featured more of Chinese culture than just modernity, but it seemed Nanjing Road fielded the rest of the day.

It was Shanghai's most famous shopping street, stretching for miles and packed with massive LED billboards, high-end stores, and a sea of people. In other words, a Chinese version of Times Square in New York.

When Luca and Vance arrived, it was already getting late, and the popular street transitioned into its true beauty. Neon lights and the bustling crowd were always going to be a dazzling spectacle, and Shanghai had it all.

LED billboards flashed the Grand Prix advertisement in a more eye-catching manner than the banners in Lujiazui. The wide pedestrian-only street was crowded with tourists and native citizens alike, strolling, shopping, or simply taking in the atmosphere like Luca did.

On both sides of the wide street, luxurious boutiques lined up and stretched to infinity. Luca found himself entranced by the way the glass windows of these boutiques reflected the uncoordinated combo of neon lights.

Mr. Vance had to snap Luca out of his daze a couple of times. Then he suggested they patronize the street vendors who were calling out to all the passersby for some snacks.

Immediately after Vance mentioned it, Luca fished out the aroma of hot, steamy Chinese noodles! How splendid!

He immensely appreciated Vance's suggestion and moved into the crowd, weaving his way toward the stalls. The closer he got, the stronger the scent of sizzling spices, broth, and freshly cooked noodles became. His stomach rumbled in approval.

He and Vance arrived at a modest-looking stall where a middle-aged Chinese woman stood behind a large pot of steaming noodles. She was short and stocky, and her apron was stained from a long day's work.

Luca greeted her with a charming smile when his unmasked face appeared before the woman. The golden light bulbs in the stall were starkly different from the neon lights out in the streets, creating a strange harmonious contrast.

"Hey there. Can I get a bowl?"

The woman lifted her gaze and blinked with surprise. She hesitated before offering a polite but uncertain smile. "Ah… hello… uh… noodle?" She gestured toward the pot with her ladle.

"Yes, noodle," Luca confirmed, pointing at it eagerly with a watery mouth.

She let out a small, relieved laugh and nodded rapidly. "Yes! Yes! Spicy? Little spicy? No spicy?"

Luca chuckled. "Spicy. Give us the real experience."

Vance's brows furrowed as he watched Luca lift two fingers, indicating he would like two bowls for him and his friend behind.

Vance carefully leaned in. "Us? Spicy?"

"You don't like Chinese noodles? They're great!"

"I do. But I'll pass today, thanks," Vance said and reclaimed his stance.

Luca sighed and turned back to the woman, changing his order back to a single bowl.

As the woman served, she couldn't help but stare at Luca, wondering where she might have seen him before. An aging lady like her, uninterested in motorsport or any sport for that matter, would definitely not recognize the very face that was being broadcasted on the LED billboards now.

She tilted her head. "You... from where?" she asked sweetly as she scooped the noodles.

Luca considered for a second, realizing she might not be asking about his nationality but where he had just traveled from.

"England. UK," he said, pointing back over his shoulder, as if indicating a distant place.

The woman's eyes brightened. "Ah! Yīngguó!" she repeated excitedly. "London? Big city?"

"Yeah, big city," he repeated in a low tone, salivating at the sight of the noodles.

The woman set the bowl down carefully and leaned forward a bit. "Why... China? What... you do?"

Before Luca could respond, something—or rather, someone—was emerging from the interior of the stall where their accessories must be stored.

An older man revealed himself, and Luca presumed him to be the woman's husband. The age just seemed right, his face a rumple, and his size just so.

The man wiped his hands on a cloth as he glanced between Luca and his wife with curiosity. "Who is this?" he asked his wife in Mandarin.

The woman turned to him and responded in Mandarin, waving toward the noodles. "A foreigner. He's from the UK, wants spicy noodles," she said.

The old man grunted at Luca and Vance before turning his back to head to another task when he suddenly froze. Realization had never struck this old man like this before, causing even his wife to panic.

"Husband? What's wrong?" she asked, still speaking Mandarin.

Luca was all smiles. He had no idea what had just been said, but he was enjoying hearing Chinese up close. With a big smile, he looked at the man, who was now muttering something under his breath before pointing at him.

Luca wanted to ask if there was a problem, but before he could speak, the man's finger moved away from him and then pointed at the billboard, where a massive image of himself, dressed in his race suit and helmet, was displayed in a loop.

Oh... I see, Luca thought.

The wife turned and gasped. She then looked back at Luca with that disbelief that often looked highly exaggerated by Asians.

"You... you!" she stammered, pointing at him, then at the screen. "You... big driver?!"

Luca wasn't going to deny it, so he nodded proudly. "Do big drivers get extra noodles?"

The woman clapped her hands together, delighted, while the old man was still in shock. He had bet on Luca for the Monaco Grand Prix and made a huge gain. And now, the same Luca was patronizing his stall.

"Ah! Famous!" the woman said excitedly. "You... you race car? Big race?"

"Yes," Luca nodded. "Formula One."

The man nudged his wife knowingly. "This is that one! That race driver!" he exclaimed in Mandarin, making her realize that Luca had, in some way, contributed to their living.

The woman practically beamed at Luca, clearly proud that he, of all famous people, had stopped by her stall.

"I give! More noodle! More noodle!" she insisted, scooping extra into his bowl.

Luca looked at Vance as he grabbed some chopsticks. "Now it's free. Will you eat?"