The next time she runs into Joy is just before free practice in the paddock and Seulgi's not sure how she's going to react. But then she flashes a brilliant smile and shakes Seulgi's hand and says, 'You drove a hell of a race last week. That might be the best debut race any driver's ever had. No. I tell a lie. It definitely is.'

'Thanks.'

'That move you did? The one on the inside at turn four.'

'Yeah, I'm sorry about that.'

'Sorry? Why? Look, it might've been dangerous, but it worked, no?'

'You're not angry at me?'

'A little. I'd be lying if I said otherwise. I thought I had it in the bag. But watching it back, seeing the way everyone was talking about it, the way everyone still is talking about it? That was some serious stuff. You showed you belong. So, well done. Just don't try it on me again, because it's not going to work.'

Seulgi laughs. Immediately there's a comfort between them that puts her at ease. The other drivers fill the paddock one by one. Three doors down in the Samsung garage Irene and Yeri are already seeing to their overalls and starting their cars. The day is long and the afternoon sweltering hot and the sky clear and cloudless. There's not going to be any rain and that much is for certain. In the grandstands the crowd sit and murmur with impatience and the atmosphere is alive already. Joy nods to one of the monitors behind Seulgi and Seulgi turns to see what she's looking at. It's a heads-up display of the live points table. The screen flashes with the ranking of the teams and Apex is at the top. Then it switches to the individuals and Seulgi has to do a double take. It might be obvious but it's still rather unbelievable.

'Oh my God.'

Joy laughs. 'Yeah,' she says. 'Having trouble believing it?'

'First place. I'm in first place.'

'Well, you did win. But it's only one race. Don't get ahead of yourself too early.'

'I'm in first place, Joy.'

'Want me to pinch you or something?'

She turns and smiles.

'You got something in your eye?'

'Sorry,' Seulgi says. 'I'm just, I mean, I don't know how to process this.'

'Save the processing for after the race. Or after qualifying, at least.'

'Yeah. Yeah, I will.'

Joy looks up and sees Wendy coming over and smiles politely again. 'I'll catch you later,' she says. 'Good luck.'

'Thanks. You too.'

She turns to Wendy and Wendy pulls her in for a hug.

'What was that for?' Seulgi asks.

'For Bahrain.'

'You already hugged me in Bahrain.'

'Yeah, well. How you feeling today?'

'Like a million bucks, and then some.'

'That's the spirit. Just don't get ahead of yourself or anything.'

'Exactly what Joy's just said.'

'For good reason.'

'I won't.'

'Look,' Wendy says. She points out to the crowds. 'They love you out there. You're their favourite.'

'It's only been one race.'

'All the more impressive. Seriously. You know what they're calling you? Dynamite. That's a pretty cool nickname. Kang Seulgi, Dynamite.'

Seulgi laughs. It's the only thing left she can do that distracts her from the fact she's actually there, actually about to race, actually with one trophy already stuffed into her suitcase in a hotel room about half an hour's walk down the road. The Chinese fans stand and cheer and Seulgi turns to the TV monitors to see what they're cheering at. It's her. A replay of the divebomb on turn four from Bahrain. 'God damn,' Wendy says, folding her arms and nodding in appreciation. 'Looks even better from that angle. Absolutely beautiful.'

Before Seulgi can respond they're pulling up the stats from the last Grand Prix and the marshals are herding people about outside. Wendy steals a glance at the other mechanics and at Joy stood by the far side of the garage with her own engineers. 'Alright,' she says. She hands Seulgi her helmet. The red and white livery, the number forty-four printed on the side. Her own name on it. She takes it and holds it up and opens the visor and turns it around again. 'Maybe I should get Dynamite printed on it,' she says. 'What do you think?'

'Yeah,' Wendy says with a giggle. 'Good idea.'

Practice is a breeze. Qualifying is even easier.

Maybe it's the crowd, or perhaps it's the fact both Friday and Saturday are the nicest days she can remember in a long time, or it could be that she's truly already settled in and they were right all along. She's a natural. Whatever the reason is irrelevant. What matters is that when she pulls the car into the Apex garage after the final round of qualifying and cuts the power and pulls herself out the screens on the wall are showing the order of the grid for Sunday's race and she's in second. She takes off her helmet and passes it to Wendy and ruffles her hair. 'How'd I do?' she asks, already confident of the answer.

'I'm starting to seriously think you've got something special in you,' Wendy says. 'Special for racing, I mean. It's like that thing's a part of your body.'

'It feels it.'

'Yeah?'

Seulgi nods. 'The car felt even better today than it did in Bahrain. I don't know how. Like I can control it with my mind or something, dumb as that sounds.'

'Good. That's good to hear.'

'Wish I could've gotten first, though.'

Wendy sets the helmet on the table next to a handful of cables and old radios and passes her a cloth to wipe the sweat from her face. 'Second is great,' Wendy says. 'The best we could hope for, at any rate.'

She nods towards the board again. Yeri's in third, Jennie in fourth. Joy's all the way back in sixth. She looks around and finds the garage is half empty and Joy's nowhere to be seen. 'What happened there?' she says, pointing to her name on the board.

'Had a couple bad laps. I think she's still shaken from last week.'

'She told me you get used to it after a while.'

'Yeah. But something like that? I don't think she expected it. I don't think anyone in the world expected it.'

'Not even me.'

'Makes it all the more crazy. But yeah. Second is great, considering the pace of the Samsungs today. They've got some serious straight-line speed.'

'Faster than us?'

Wendy gives a grave little nod. 'So far, yeah. Looks that way, at least. Whatever they've tweaked since Bahrain is obviously working. The good thing is we've got them in the corners and the downforce is better. A lot smoother. And you're like a wonder child on the softs out there. Seriously.'

'I just hope it's good enough.'

'You're starting from the front row, Seulgi. That's good enough already.'

'Yeah, but I'm starting next to the reigning world champion.'

'Three-time world champion.'

'Thanks for reminding me.'

'If you race like you raced last week, it won't be a problem.'

Seulgi wipes the sweat from behind her ears and tosses the cloth on the table again. The crowd has begun to settle. She hears the last of the engines splutter away down the pitlane. The afternoon sun is blinding hot but there's a cool wind unlike in Bahrain and it's utterly refreshing. 'I should go,' she says. 'Get back to the hotel. Chill out for a bit.'

'Good plan.'

'Catch you tomorrow.'

'For your second podium.'

'Yeah,' Seulgi says with a smile. 'Here's hoping.'

She catches Irene sat on the wall just out front of the hotel at about half past six. In the low light there's something about her Seulgi can't quite explain. The rawest core of the sun burns merlot in the very west of the world and the paleness of Irene sat there kicking her legs in front of her on the low wall and smoking a cigarette is almost intoxicating. She looks adorably childlike, feet tapping back and forth idly. It takes her a minute to notice Seulgi stood staring. She stops kicking and squints and looks at Seulgi and looks away again. Perhaps she wants to be left alone. But if that were the case Seulgi likes to think she'd be inside, alone, and not out where all the world can see her soaking up the evening sun. She goes over and offers her kindest smile and tilts her head a slight.

'Hey. Fancy seeing you here.'

Irene takes the cigarette from between her lips and Seulgi notices in a moment of embarrassment that it isn't a cigarette at all. It's a candy stick. She takes the carton from the pocket of her coat and holds it out to Seulgi like a deck of cards. 'Want one?' she says. Seulgi just looks at her. Doesn't know what else to do. This is a side of Irene she's never known to exist. What they never show on TV. On the big screen she's the cold and ruthless cover-page star of Formula 1. Here on the wall she's idle and nonchalant and a little cute and the juxtaposition is almost offputting. 'I'm okay,' Seulgi says. 'Thanks, though.'

She motions for Seulgi to sit and Seulgi does. They sit there for a few minutes in silence. Seulgi doesn't know what to say and Irene is content not saying anything. She chews one of the candy sticks and pulls out another and holds it between her teeth like John Wayne. 'I saw you got pole,' Seulgi says.

'Yeah.'

'Congrats. You drove really well.'

'Did you see me drive?'

'Well, I mean, no. But, you know. You've must've driven well to get pole.'

Irene studies her in the waning light. 'Looks like we'll be partners on the front row,' she says, rolling the candy stick between her lips in a way that's mildly distracting and probably entirely accidental.

'Yeah,' Seulgi says. 'Looks that way.'

'How are you feeling?'

'What?'

'For tomorrow. How are you feeling.'

'Okay, I guess. Excited to get racing, you know? Thank you, by the way.'

'For what?'

'For what you said to me in the hotel the other week. It kind of stuck with me. Kind of made an impact.'

'It's nothing,' Irene says. Seulgi tries to gauge something from the glint in her eyes and fails spectacularly. Is it a competitive fire stoked inside her? Is it a desire to see them both succeed? A friendly rivalry? Or perhaps she's feeling the heat already. Perhaps it's that she sees Seulgi as a threat and is keeping her cards close to her chest. Seulgi can't tell. Those eyes speak of many things and all them are shrouded in great mystery and are voiceless. She snaps a candy stick in half with her teeth and chews. 'What happened to Sooyoung?' she says.

'Sooyoung? Oh. Joy. I don't know. I think she just had a bad day. I'm sure she'll be fine tomorrow.'

'You think she'll win?'

'I think I'll win.'

Irene laughs. It's the first laugh Seulgi's ever heard from her. 'I like that confidence,' Irene says. 'It's good to be a little cocky. And hey, maybe you're allowed to be after last week. Maybe you've earned it.'

'Thanks.'

'But you're not winning this time. Trust me on that.'

'I'll take your word for it.'

'No hard feelings. I like you. But this one's mine.'

Seulgi says nothing. She doesn't know what she can say.

'I love Shanghai,' Irene says. 'Might be my favourite place, after Monaco. There's just something about it I can't quite explain but it's lovely. Maybe it's the culture, I don't know.'

She talks, rambles. Mostly about Shanghai. Seulgi sits and listens to her and a couple times she steals a glance at the flush of Irene's cheeks in the evening's cool heat or the way her hair falls so neatly like dark ink over her shoulders or how well she fills out that navyblue coat or the myriad other things Seulgi picks up on without noticing. Every move Irene makes is refined, slender. Almost calculated. The way she crosses and uncrosses her legs. The way she runs a hand through her hair and pushes it away from her face. The low hypnotic hum of her voice as she speaks. Even the way she eats the candy sticks is like something from an old Hollywood movie. It takes a lot of effort to work up the courage to speak and ask, 'Do you fancy going for a walk?'

'Where?'

'Don't know. Just around the grounds, I guess.'

Irene is quiet a moment. Then she breaks into a small and elegant smile. 'Yeah,' she says, voice small. 'Sure.'

They mosey around the hotel garden in the dappled light like wanderers in a dream, talking about nothing and watching the paperthin imprint of Shanghai burning hot in the narrow eye of the sun slanted and unshaping and reforming in slender shadow. Far across the quivering rim of the world the image of Shanghai Tower falls like a dark stylus and birds flit about the air in tangled skeins and disappear again against the ochre backdrop like ghost birds. They don't talk at all and the silence is oddly comfortable. While she's there Seulgi isn't thinking about where Joy might be. She isn't thinking about Wendy or Yeri or the Renault drivers or even the race tomorrow. She's only thinking: I could grow to like this. I could grow to like it an awful lot.

'I don't get much time to do this,' Irene says.

'Do what? Go walking?'

'Just be like this.'

Seulgi looks at her. She looks as if she wants to continue and Seulgi lets her.

'My whole life is basically F1. I know you have to put in so much time anyway but it's literally my life. I don't have anything outside of it. I don't have a social life, or personal time, or anything like that. I don't go clubbing, I don't celebrate. If I'm not in that car I'm in the sim, and if I'm not in the sim I'm in the garage with the mechanics fine-tuning everything. And if I'm not there I'm in the team meetings giving my feedback, or reading up on different things to do with the engineering of the brakes, or the suspension, or the splitter, or the gearbox. Every little detail. I can't remember the last time I sat down and had some proper me time. Maybe that's a bit sad, I don't know. But I love it, so I guess not. I love it like I don't think I could ever love anything else. It's everything to me. And hey, it's worked out well so far.'

'I guess so,' Seulgi says with a soft smile. She studies Irene's face and realises she can't parse anything from it, no modest sadness or regret or anything at all. Is she lying? Is she trying to convince herself she's made the right choice? Or does she truly believe every word of it? Seulgi doesn't know. It's impossible to tell.

'When I'm out there on the track, I'm like a different person,' Irene says. 'Completely different. But that's only because I can't imagine myself ever doing anything else. I don't know what I'm going to be doing if I ever retire but I've got a good feeling I'll end up being a broadcaster for this or something. I don't think I'll ever leave the sport.'

'You must really love it.'

'Don't we all?'

'Yeah,' Seulgi says, and it's the truth. Irene breaks into a faint smile. She looks at her watch and looks back at the quietude of the hotel and says, 'I suppose I should get back.'

'Get some sleep?'

'Yeah. Big day tomorrow.'

'Time to win your fourth Chinese GP win in a row?'

'You're keeping track,' Irene says, mild smirk playing on her lips again.

'I'm a bit of a fan.'

'Of me?'

'Of the sport in general, I guess.'

'And now you're here. Fighting for the lead.'

'Already in the lead,' Seulgi says. It's cheeky and she knows it but what the hell. Why not.

'Careful now,' says Irene. 'It's still early days. There's a lot could happen in the next eight months. An awful lot.'

'And I look forward to every bit of it.'

The strategy's playing in her head even as she's sat with the engine rumbling waiting for the safety car to open them onto the formation lap. Just so she doesn't forget any part of it. They pull away and Irene leads and starts snaking to warm up her tires and Seulgi follows suit and she's still thinking of what Wendy told her.

'The Samsungs have got the pace on the straights but we've got the corners. Play it well, play it smart, and you're right in there. Then we'll see how the tires are holding up. Remember, you've got the fresh softs, but we're going for a one-stop strategy this time around. So don't go overdoing it in the early parts. Take it slow and steady. No rushing into things.'

They pull up back on the starting grid and the marshals move aside and the crowd are on their feet already. Seulgi takes a quick glance at them. They're losing their minds. There are Korean flags draped over the sides of the stands and Apex Motorsport banners bearing her name and Joy's and the numbers of their cars and people taking videos of her on their phones and people waving as if they know she's looking at them. It all feels a little surreal still. The engines murmur like they're alive. The white of Irene's Samsung on pole position is stark against the afternoon sun. 'Okay,' Wendy says in her ear. 'It's all down to you now. Good luck. Just stick to what you know.'

'Thanks.'

She's already got the first lap planned out. She's played it again and again and again. Two hours she spent last night sat on the end of her bed with her eyes closed tracing the circuit in her head. Each tight hairpin, each long straight. When and where to do what, and how. The first red light comes on and her foot's on the gas and she's shaking and it's not with nerves now. It's excitement. It's the brash and reckless desire to smash expectations. The crowd cheer and holler and the second light comes on and then the third. Good luck, she hears Wendy say again. The plan is to take it easy and gauge the race but the fans want a show and Seulgi feels like she can take on the world and maybe she can. Maybe she's that good.

Four lights.

Five.

The Samsung gets a blistering start off the line. Seulgi's own start isn't bad but she's fighting for position already. The number twenty-two LG-Renault grows in her wingmirror and she catches sight of Joy jumping up into fifth place and on turn three she's forced to take an awkward inside line to keep the Renault in her rear view. Irene's already seven tenths of a second ahead. On the straight after turn six the different is up to a whole second and slowly stretching. Wendy was right. The Samsungs do have the pace.

She soars past turns nine and ten and the crowd explode like figures at a parade in the distorted view of her mirror and vanish again very small. The car is so fast. That's the one thing she'll never fully get used to. Sims are one thing but sims don't generate 5G in the corners and sims don't make her head spin. Sims don't make her feel alive. One minute a turn is a quarter mile ahead and then suddenly it's nothing at all and she's hard on the brakes. On turn twelve she glimpses Joy in third behind her. The gap to Irene ahead of her is down to seven tenths again. Seulgi almost laughs. Wendy was right about that, too. The Samsungs might be faster in a straight line, but the corners are hers.

The next straight is the longest on the circuit. It's one she remembers vividly from so many hours of simulators and practice laps. At the far end turn fourteen is a sharp right-hander, the slowest turn on the track. Wendy's words play in her ear again but the tires are feeling good and so is Seulgi. Halfway down the straight DRS kicks in and her car gets the boost she so desperately needs and the crowd come alive once more. They've never seen anything like it. A championship fight on lap one.

'Seulgi,' Wendy says through her earpiece. The gap between her and Irene is almost nothing at all. The Samsungs have the speed but she's got DRS and everything is moving so quick it's almost nauseating. She hits eighth gear barrelling down the straight and the grandstands evaporate.

'Seulgi.'

It's now or never.

Later she knows she'll look back and realise what a stupid thought that is but later is later. They slow for the tight corner and Irene slows first and Seulgi does it again. She cuts along the inside just like in Bahrain and hits the brakes late and takes the shorter line through the turn. The image of Joy hits her again, but Irene isn't her teammate and there's a reason she has three world championships to her name.

The crowd hold their breath. It's the most dangerous half-second of Seulgi's life.

Joy gave her room. Irene does not do the same.

She cuts in early on the corner and Seulgi turns too late. Her brakes lock up in a cloud of superheated smoke. She throws the wheel violently to the right but Irene's front wing is already alongside her and Seulgi's late braking means she's doing sixty miles an hour instead of forty and it's all too fast, too sudden, too terrifying. She feels the wing scrape against her front left tire and lift the entire side of her car. She's still doing fifty miles an hour into the spin. Irene's front wing explodes in a shower of carbonfibre and Seulgi turns desperately into the slide but it's useless. The whole car has no control to it anymore. They go veering off into the gravel and her front left tire erupts and crumples into itself and snaps half off like it had never been secured at all. Seulgi turns just in time to see the safety wall, the crowd awestruck beyond. Then she closes her eyes and holds her breath and braces.

There are three people in front of her car when she looks again. Her heart's beating so fast she thinks she might die. The first thing she does is shake her legs and feel her forearms to check that she isn't paralysed. The marshal in the safety uniform waves at her and holds up a thumb and she gives him a halfhearted thumb back. She climbs out of the cockpit and dusts herself off and inspects the car. There's nothing left of it. The entire front wing has disintegrated and the tire sits neatly where it shouldn't be sitting and she can smell smoke and gasoline.

'Are you okay?' the marshal asks.

'Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine.'

She hears the static crack in her ear again. The crowd have gone dead silent. 'Seulgi,' says Wendy. 'Seulgi, talk to me. Are you okay?'

'Yeah. I'm good.'

'Jesus. What happened?'

She looks at the car again. A thin plume of dark smoke rises out from the rear. 'I binned it,' she says. 'I messed up bad.'

'Are you okay, though?'

'I'm fine.'

She nods to the marshals and gives a thumbs up and turns to spot Irene storming towards her. The two marshals try in vain to pull her away and calm her down but she keeps on coming. She takes her helmet off and tosses it aside and Seulgi sees the fury twinned in her welling eyes with such immediacy she's scared for a moment Irene might hit her. Instead she stands there all manic and dishevelled and witchlike and says, 'Are you ing insane?'

'I'm sorry.'

'Sorry.' She laughs in disbelief. The marshals grab her by the shoulder and try and pull her away and she shrugs them off. 'You're sorry,' she repeats. 'Are you out of your mind?'

'I didn't mean—'

'What the were you thinking? Who in their right mind would try cutting down the inside like that? Right there?'

'I'm sorry. I messed up.'

'Messed up?' Irene curses under her breath. 'You're reckless,' she says. 'You're a danger on the track, is what you are. Forget messing up. You know, I had this feeling last week was a fluke. I don't know why, I just thought it. Guess I was right.'

Seulgi just stands there, scorned like a child. What is there to say? What can she possibly say to that? Irene looks back at the ruined Samsung and curses and kicks the gravel about. She turns back to Seulgi only for a second. Only long enough for Seulgi to see the hurt in her eyes. The disappointment of it all. Long enough for Seulgi to see that and think:

She was right. This is her entire life. This is everything she has.

The other white Samsung peels around the final corner and weaves a slight on the straight and crosses the chequered flag to the thunder of the crowd and then it's Joy in the Apex and one of the Renaults in third. Seulgi watches them from the garage with tears in her eyes. Thinking: That could've been me. That should've been.

She looks for Irene but Irene's already gone.

'It's okay,' Wendy says, hand around Seulgi's shoulder. Seulgi sits there and weeps. It's hard to even look Wendy in the eye.

'It's okay.'

'No,' Seulgi says. 'No it isn't.'

' happens. Everyone makes mistakes.'

'Not like that.'

'A lot like that.'

'I took out another driver, and it was entirely my fault. I can't blame the brakes or the gearbox or even her. It was me. All of it. I tried to get fancy and give the crowd a show and I paid for it with my entire race. Irene was right. I am reckless.'

'Truthfully? A little.'

Seulgi just sits there.

'You shouldn't have done that,' Wendy says. 'It was dangerous and unnecessary. You should've stuck to the strategy like we'd said.'

'I know. I'm sorry.'

'But that's not important. What's important is you know that. You're aware of it. It's the sign of a great driver to be able to fall and get back up, to learn from their mistakes and work past them and come back stronger next time. And that's what we'll do. Come back stronger next time.'

'I'm so sorry.'

'You're still third overall, thanks to Bahrain,' Wendy says. 'That's better than, well, everyone except two people. And since Joy's in first, the team aren't as angry as you'd expect.'

'I could've won today. I've never felt as confident about anything in my life.'

'Could've, should've, would've. No point living in the past. It won't help you in the future. It never does. You made a stupid mistake and you paid for it. And next time you won't. Will you?'

'No.'

'No,' Wendy says. 'Of course not.'

'I could've had the lead.'

'It's been two races, Seulgi. You've got a long way to go yet. A lot can happen. The important thing is you don't let this get to you.'

'What's the damage to the car like?'

'Well, it's not good.'

'How bad.'

'Front wing, a new set of tires. Gearbox is busted too. And the brakes, of course. You locked up way too hard.'

'.'

'Hey, what did I just say?'

'Don't regret the past.'

Wendy smiles and pulls her in for a warm and reassuring hug. It's times like this Seulgi's grateful to have a friend like her. 'I've always got your back,' she says.

'Thanks, Wendy.'

'Anytime.'

When she's back at the hotel an hour later she goes out front and sits on the wall and waits for a long time in the long cool dusk. She's there an hour and then she goes around to the garden grounds and wanders. She stands and waits. She makes sure they can see her from the second-floor windows at the rear of the hotel. The last of the light bleeds away to a silent night and Seulgi waits it out but Irene never comes. In the morning when she stuffs her suitcase into the cab ferrying her to the airport she turns and looks back one more time at the hotel, palely illuminate in the early Shanghai sun, but Irene isn't there either.