At ten o’clock the next morning, James Vowles, Team Principal of Williams F1, arrived promptly at the entrance of the MP Motorsport base.
He wore a dark blue Williams team jacket.
He was tall, with short cropped hair and sharp eyes, but the corners of his mouth held a sincere smile.
With him was a drafted contract.
Sander received them in the meeting room.
“James, let me make one thing clear right away,” Sander said, getting straight to the point.
“Julian is not who you think he is.”
Vowles raised an eyebrow.
“How so?”
Sander thought for a moment and decided to answer in the most intuitive way possible.
“Before he decided to sign yesterday, the first thing he did was call his dad.”
Vowles paused, then laughed out loud.
“I like this kid more and more.”
The contract negotiation process was surprisingly smooth.
Williams’ terms were simple and clear: Julian would immediately become a reserve driver and official simulator driver for Williams F1.
He would represent MP Motorsport in F2 for the entire 2023 season.
If he finished in the top two of the F2 championship, he would be promoted directly to a race seat at Williams F1 for the 2024 season, partnering with Alex Albon.
There were no complex additional clauses.
No vague phrases like “subject to good performance.” It was all in black and white, clean and decisive.
When Sander called Julian over from the simulator room, his hair was still messy, clearly having just been running laps.
He glanced at the dozen pages of the English contract.
The dense legal terminology made his eyes dizzy.
“Sign here, here, and here,” the Williams legal advisor pointed to the blank spaces on the contract.
Sander had already highlighted all the key terms for him in advance, circling the lines “2024 Race Seat” and “No Additional Buyout Clauses” in red pen.
Julian picked up the pen and obediently signed his name at every marked spot.
Throughout the process, his expression hovered between “serious” and “confused,” like a primary school student called to the blackboard to solve a math problem.
After signing the last name, he put down the pen and looked up at Vowles.
“Um…” he asked weakly, “Is it done?”
Vowles looked at his crooked signature and could not help but smile.
“It is done.
Welcome to Williams, Julian.”
He extended his hand.
Julian paused for a second, then quickly wiped his hand on his hoodie before shaking it.
Vowles’ hand was large and firm.
Julian’s fingers hurt slightly from the grip, but he did not pull back.
He obediently completed the handshake.
“I will not let you down,” Julian said.
His voice was not loud, and his tone was calm, as if stating a fact.
Vowles looked into his eyes and suddenly understood what Sander meant by “not who you think he is.”
There was not a trace of the sharpness or aggression common among professional drivers in this teenager.
He spoke softly, walked slowly, and would shyly lower his head when stared at by a crowd.
In a crowd, you would never associate him with an “F2 driver traveling at three hundred kilometers per hour.”
But his eyes were different.
When he said “I will not let you down,” there was a certainty in those eyes that did not belong to a seventeen year old.
It was not confidence.
It was not pride.
It was something more essential.
He knew what he could do, and he knew what he could not do yet.
He had a nearly instinctive, unadorned understanding of his own talent and abilities.
Holding his hand, Vowles suddenly felt a strong premonition.
This signing might be the most correct decision of his career.
[Ding! Enjoying the story? Read on at novelping.com.
Detected that the host has signed an F1 race seat invitation.]
[Quest Issued]: The Road to the Top Team
Objective: Finish in the top two of the 2023 F2 Championship.
Reward: Unlock F1 Race Seat.
Unlock Track Proficiency Module.
Julian’s fingertips paused slightly.
A pale blue light screen flashed before his eyes, fast enough to be mistaken for an illusion.
He blinked, calmly withdrew his hand, and silently noted the system prompt in his mind.
There was no ecstasy.
There was no surprise.
To him, this was more like a natural progress bar update.
He was always going to finish in the top two.
He was always going to drive in F1.
The system had simply turned the goal in his heart into a line of clear text.
He secretly scanned the quest reward in his mind.
When he saw “Unlock Track Proficiency Module,” his eyes lit up slightly.
That sounded much more interesting than new skins.
As for whether he could achieve the top two finish?
Julian thought about the taillights of the cars he had left behind during the winter test.
He thought about his red soft tires that did not lose pace even after seventeen laps.
It should…
not be too hard.
As long as it does not rain.
He silently added that condition in his mind, then looked up and gave Vowles and Sander a shy smile.
On the surface, he looked no different from the obedient teenager who had just signed the contract.
No one knew that at that very moment, his life trajectory had been gently pushed toward a farther place by an invisible light.
The news of the signing spread throughout the paddock that afternoon.
Official F1 media released the news immediately: “Williams Signs Rookie Julian Vance, Potential New Star for 2024 Season.”
The attached photo was from the signing ceremony.
In the photo, James Vowles stood beside Julian with a broad smile, while Julian kept his head slightly lowered, looking a bit shy, as if he had just finished homework assigned by a teacher.
The comment section instantly exploded.
“Has Williams gone crazy?
Signing a rookie who has not even raced in an F2 feature race?”
“The guy who spun out on the spot in the rain?
Are you serious?”
“Lol, Williams finished last last year.
Are they just giving up this year?”
“What do you guys know?
This is a market strategy!
Results do not matter, sponsor money matters!”
“I bet he will be fired before half the season is over.”
Of course, there were supportive voices too.
“Finally a young driver with real pace gets a shot!
The next big thing?”
“Have those haters seen the long run data from the winter test?
Aside from the rain, he was first in everything.
Is that no skill?”
“Williams is gambling, but what if they win?”
“Looking forward to Julian’s performance in F2!
Go for the top two!”
When Dr. Follow the newest chapters on g.com.
Marko saw the news, he was drinking coffee in his office next to the Red Bull Ring.
He stared at the signing photo on the screen for a long time, his gaze landing on Julian’s slightly shy expression.
Then he picked up his phone and sent a message to Sander.
“Are you sure he is ready?”
Sander’s reply was quick.
“He says he is ready.
I believe him.”
Marko looked at the reply and was silent for a moment.
He did not reply again.
He just placed his phone on the desk, picked up his coffee cup, and looked out the window at the Red Bull Ring in the night.
Ready?
Then let the track decide.
Three weeks later, the F2 opening round.
Bahrain.
Same track.
Same opponents.
By then, everyone would know the answer.
And thousands of miles away in Oxfordshire, UK, at the Williams team headquarters.
Technical Director Dave Robson stood in front of the floor to ceiling window in his office, overlooking the busy mechanics in the factory below.
He held a freshly printed data analysis report in his hand.
Julian’s name was written on the cover.
“James,” he called out to Vowles, who was passing by the door.
Vowles stopped.
“What is it?”
“Do you think he can get a top two finish?”
Vowles thought for a moment and answered seriously.
“If he cannot, six F1 teams would not have contacted us on the same day.”
Dave nodded.
“Let him come,” he said.
“Oxford has the best simulators in the UK, the most professional fitness training team, and the most advanced aerodynamics lab.
Since we signed him, let us not waste his talent in the Netherlands.”
Vowles smiled.
“It is already being arranged.
We will send someone to pick him up next week.”
Dave turned around, his gaze falling on a row of black and white photos hanging on the office wall.
Those were memories of Williams’ glory days.
Nine Constructors’ Championships in the eighties.
Seven Drivers’ Championships in the nineties.
Mansell, Prost, Senna, Hill, Villeneuve.
Those legendary names had all driven the blue and white liveried Williams cars.
But those were a long time ago.
The current Williams had struggled at the bottom of the standings for five consecutive years.
“James,” Dave’s voice was low.
“We cannot lose anymore.”
Vowles did not speak.
He just looked down at the signing photo of Julian on his phone screen.
The teenager with messy hair, a shy expression, and a crooked signature on the contract.
Then he said one sentence quietly.
His voice was not loud, but every word was clear.
“I know.”