The Speed Of The Stars

Over in the parking area, Ningguang was meticulously reviewing the final specification sheets of the Lancia alongside Navia. Meanwhile, Keqing and Collei were caught up in an animated conversation by one of the support vehicles.

"It's pretty cool, what Clorinde did," Keqing remarked, her tone tinged with admiration. "Helping someone out, even when they're technically our opponent."

Collei nodded with a knowing smile. "That's just who Clorinde is. She works on her own cars when Navia isn't around, so she gets it. She'd be the first to lend a hand if a fellow street racer had car trouble, no matter who they are."

Keqing glanced over at Ningguang, curiosity lighting up her features. "Hey, Ningguang? Didn't you say this course was set up specifically for Clorinde? What's the deal with that? Is it some kind of training?"

Ningguang closed her folder with a decisive snap and strode over to join them. Her composed demeanor carried an air of authority. "That's right," she confirmed, nodding.

Keqing tilted her head, one eyebrow raised. "But why?"

"Clorinde has this relentless drive—she doesn't hesitate to slam her foot to the floor. She's a fighter through and through, but sometimes that aggression works against her. On a smooth course, she can dominate. But here?" Ningguang gestured toward the track with a subtle flick of her wrist. "This course demands finesse. It's not just about raw speed; it's about adapting, strategizing. I want Clorinde to experiment with a new approach, a new pedal technique. There's one specific style I have in mind for her—something inspired by a former Formula One driver who raced decades ago. This track is the perfect proving ground."

Across the lot, tension simmered among Kazuha's team.

"Where's Firefly? She's running late, and the race is about to start," Kazuha muttered, his brows furrowing.

Kokomi sighed, glancing toward the dimly lit corner of the lot. "I hope she didn't lose it on one of the tighter turns. She's our only real shot at winning this."

As if on cue, the roar of a single-turbo rotary engine echoed across the area, slicing through the night air. Kazuha squinted into the shadows, his breath catching as a sleek black RX-7 FD emerged. Its pop-up headlights illuminated the parking area, casting long, dramatic beams of light across the asphalt. The car pulled up smoothly to the starting line and came to a halt, its engine rumbling like a restless predator.

Firefly stepped out of the RX-7, her movements deliberate and unhurried. Her gaze locked onto Kazuha as he approached.

"I've decided I want to lead first," Firefly announced, her voice steady but firm.

Kazuha studied her for a moment, then nodded. "If that's the case, be aggressive. But think about strategy, too. Shouldn't you stay behind the Lancia, watch its moves? That car was built for courses like this."

Firefly shook her head, a defiant spark in her eyes. "No. I'll outrun her with the raw power of my FD. I want to prove that lightness isn't always the key to mountain pass racing."

The conversation was interrupted by the low growl of the Lancia pulling up behind the RX-7. Clorinde stepped out, her expression cool and composed as she walked over to Firefly.

Firefly's eyes narrowed slightly. "I never introduced myself properly. The name's Firefly. It's a pleasure to finally race you."

Clorinde nodded curtly. "Clorinde, from Team Speed Stars, if you couldn't guess."

Without another word, Clorinde turned on her heel and strode back to her car. She climbed in, expertly fastening her five-point harness. Firefly mirrored the motion, securing herself in the cockpit of her RX-7.

Ningguang approached Clorinde's Lancia, rapping lightly on the Lexan window. Clorinde rolled it down just enough to hear her mentor.

"Listen, Clorinde," Ningguang began, her voice measured and calm. "During the race, if anything feels off or unexpected, keep in mind—her car runs on a single turbo."

Clorinde smirked faintly. "I know. Single turbos have lag when accelerating out of corners. My supercharger will give me the edge there."

Ningguang's lips curled into a subtle smile. "Good. Then give her hell." She tapped the roof of the Lancia and stepped back.

Keqing raised her hand with an eager grin. "Alright, light 'em up! The race is about to begin!"

The night came alive with the symphony of engines revving. The turbo in Firefly's FD whined and fluttered as it built pressure, while the high-pitched whine of the Lancia's supercharger cut through the noise.

Firefly eased off the line with a deliberate pace, but as they approached the first corner, she slammed her foot down. The RX-7 roared to life, launching forward with blistering speed. Clorinde's Lancia followed closely, its short gear ratios allowing it to stay in the hunt.

The race was officially on.

Back at the starting line, Kokomi sidled up to Kazuha. "So, do you think Firefly has a chance?"

Kazuha exhaled slowly, his eyes fixed on the disappearing taillights. "She should. But sometimes, she lets her emotions take the wheel. Clorinde fixed her car earlier, and I think that's weighing on her mind. She might ditch strategy and try to win purely on willpower."

On the track, the two cars streaked through a sweeping right-hand corner. Firefly maintained the lead, her RX-7 carving through the curves with surgical precision. Clorinde stayed close, her eyes narrowing as she studied her opponent.

"I've got to admit, Ms. Firefly," Clorinde muttered to herself, gripping the wheel tightly, "you've got talent. But let's see how you handle this."

As they approached a sharp left-hand corner, Clorinde allowed the rear tires of the Lancia to slip slightly, executing a flawless counter-steer to maintain control. They hit the first hairpin—a tight right-hand turn—and Clorinde slammed on the brakes, downshifting with a smooth heel-and-toe technique. Flames shot from the exhaust as the Lancia decelerated, then rocketed out of the corner with ease.

Firefly wasn't far ahead, her turbocharged rotary engine screaming as she navigated a fast-paced S-turn. Both cars flowed through the serpentine curves like water, their precision captivating.

The straightaway loomed ahead, and the battle was far from over.

Firefly's hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, her knuckles whitening as she threw the RX-7 into another corner. Her eyes gleamed with a fiery determination, and her voice barely rose above a whisper, as if she were confessing to the car itself.

"This is... so different," she muttered, her breath quickening with excitement. "I've never felt this kind of fulfillment driving on a mountain pass before. Every corner feels alive. I have to push harder—to drive as fast and as cleanly as I can to keep this pace! I want you to watch me, Clorinde. See what I can do!"

Behind her, Clorinde smirked, a glint of amusement and respect in her eyes as she expertly navigated her Lancia through the winding roads.

"Not bad… not bad at all," she murmured, her voice calm yet tinged with excitement. "Watching you handle these corners is impressive, Firefly. But now that I've studied your technique, I can see the gaps. By the halfway point, it'll be my time to make a move."

Back at the base, Keqing had just finished a call with one of their spotters. She approached Ningguang, her expression a mix of disbelief and curiosity.

"You won't believe this," Keqing reported, "but it looks like Firefly's FD is holding Clorinde back!"

Ningguang nodded knowingly. "It's not entirely surprising. The FD's single-turbo setup makes it vulnerable in situations like this. Turbos, especially older designs, suffer from lag after the boost dies down. Modern turbo systems have mitigated this with technologies like variable nozzle turbines (VNT) or anti-lag systems—like the one in Feixiao's Lancer Evolution. But a supercharger? That's a different story altogether."

Keqing raised an eyebrow, her interest piqued. "What makes a supercharger so different?"

Ningguang turned slightly, gesturing for Navia to step in. "I think it's time for our resident Lancia expert to explain," she said with a faint smile.

Navia chuckled, crossing her arms. "Alright, alright, I'll take over. The Lancia's supercharger is a unique piece of engineering called the Volumex supercharger. At its core, it's a roots-type supercharger, but its operation is far from ordinary. Let me break it down."

Keqing and Collei leaned in, captivated as Navia continued.

"The Volumex works like this: air enters through the filter box intake and flows to the intake manifold before reaching the supercharger itself. At high RPMs, the system injects cold water just before the compressor. This vaporization process lowers the air temperature, counteracting the heat generated by compression. It keeps the intake charge cooler, which means denser air for more efficient combustion."

She gestured with her hands, mimicking the flow of air through the system. "The supercharger has two outlet sections. The lower outlet connects to the intake manifold and throttle valve, feeding air into the engine. The upper outlet leads to a long aluminum pipe with a pop-off valve—or blow-off valve—at the end. This ensures precise pressure regulation, even at high speeds. The result? Immediate throttle response and faster acceleration out of corners."

Ningguang nodded in approval. "Exactly. And because the Volumex is belt-driven, unlike a turbo, it doesn't rely on exhaust gases to build boost. The power delivery is almost instant. Pair that with the Lancia's weight—under 1,000 kilos—and it's as agile as a classic Formula One car. Clorinde's ability to put her foot down earlier in corner exits gives her a critical edge over Firefly's RX-7."

Keqing rubbed her chin thoughtfully. "So, this race isn't just about speed—it's about technique and adaptation."

"Precisely," Ningguang said. Her sharp gaze flicked to Navia, Keqing, and Collei. "We entered this race for one purpose: to hone Clorinde's acceleration and pedal techniques. Tatarsuna's mountain roads are uneven and unpredictable—bumpy surfaces, poor traction. On this course, smoothness and precision are everything. Clorinde's current accelerator control operates on five distinct levels. This race will push her to refine that technique, elevate it to ten levels, and give her mastery over every nuance of throttle modulation."

Collei's eyes widened, her voice rising in surprise. "Ten levels? Is that even possible?"

Ningguang smirked, the faintest hint of pride flashing across her features. "It's more than possible. It's something I've done myself in the past."

Collei stared at her, slack-jawed, while Keqing folded her arms, clearly intrigued but skeptical. "You? You've mastered ten levels of throttle control?"

Ningguang's smirk deepened. "Let's just say that there's a reason I chose to mentor Clorinde. She's the only one I trust to match, and perhaps even surpass, what I've accomplished."

The room fell silent for a moment as the weight of Ningguang's words sank in. Then, the roar of distant engines from the mountain reminded them that the race was far from over.

Back in the race, the two cars had already navigated countless corners and hairpins. Firefly's FD RX-7 continued to lead, its sleek body hugging the road with ease, while Clorinde's Lancia stubbornly stayed glued to its tail. Despite their proximity, not once had they swapped positions.

Clorinde's grip on the steering wheel tightened, her knuckles pale against the leather. Frustration bubbled over, and she muttered under her breath, her tone sharp.

"I'm starting to lose patience. I know you're holding me back, Firefly. Your car's eating up the entire road. Come on! Pick up the pace!"

As they approached another hairpin, the Lancia struggled to maintain grip. Clorinde instinctively pumped the gas, trying to keep her wheels from losing traction entirely.

"Damn it!" she cursed, her frustration spilling out. "I'm still having trouble with this throttle control! How am I supposed to balance it without losing grip? Son of a bitch!"

The race pressed on through another series of hairpins. Clorinde's struggles were beginning to show. The FD glided through the turns effortlessly, while the Lancia slid precariously, its tires scrabbling for grip.

Her mind raced just as fast as the cars. "I know the difference between a single turbo and a supercharger. But what did Ningguang mean by 'a certain Formula One driver's throttle technique?'"

As another left-hand hairpin loomed, Clorinde watched Firefly's FD grip through the turn, its balance and poise almost mocking her. In contrast, her Lancia drifted through the same corner, its tires howling in protest.

"This doesn't make sense!" Clorinde growled. "I have to be more delicate. If I'm pressing the accelerator by two centimeters, I need to scale it back to just one—or even less! Step by step, I have to wait, breathe, and then push a little further."

Testing her theory, Clorinde pressed down on the accelerator with a fraction more force than she had intended. Her rear wheels slid, throwing the Lancia off balance as they barreled through another corner.

"I'm still pushing too hard!" she yelled, slamming her hand against the wheel. "Damn it!"

The straightaway ahead offered a brief reprieve, and Firefly's smile grew as she glanced at the Lancia in her mirrors.

"I can feel you back there, Clorinde," Firefly said, her voice alive with exhilaration. "This is electrifying!"

But for Clorinde, another piece of the puzzle suddenly clicked into place.

"Ningguang said something about a Formula One driver's throttle technique. But who was she talking about?"

Her mind flashed back to the previous night. She'd been sitting in her Lancia while Navia fine-tuned the car's setup. Ningguang had sent her a video—a grainy, amateur recording from the stands of the 1992 Italian Grand Prix. The footage focused on a white-and-red McLaren MP4/6 navigating Monza's infamous Parabolica corner.

In the video, the McLaren's engine note was strange—blipping rhythmically through the turn before the driver planted the throttle and roared down the straight.

The memory ended abruptly, and Clorinde's eyes narrowed. "That's it!"

Back at base, Keqing turned to Ningguang with a curious expression.

"You mentioned a Formula One driver's technique yesterday. Who was it?" she asked.

Ningguang smirked knowingly. "Ayrton Senna."

Keqing's eyebrows shot up. "Senna? The legend himself?"

Ningguang nodded. "Precisely. Senna had a unique way of handling corners. Back in the '80s, Formula One cars were turbocharged, so drivers often blipped the throttle mid-turn to keep the turbo spooling. But here's the thing—Senna kept using that blipping technique even after the sport transitioned to naturally aspirated engines. He did it for one reason: to intentionally induce a balance between oversteer and understeer."

Keqing's eyes widened as she began to understand. "But why would you teach Clorinde a technique like that? It sounds counterintuitive!"

Ningguang smiled. "Because that technique balances the car perfectly during cornering. On a course like Tatarsuna, where traction is practically non-existent, it's invaluable. If you've ever watched footage of a Lancia 037 racing up Monte Carlo's mountain passes, you'll hear the driver blipping the throttle through tight corners. It's not just a quirk; it's a survival skill."

Keqing's expression hardened with realization. "So, if Clorinde blips the throttle through the hairpins, she can balance the car and grip the corners without sliding out."

Ningguang winked. "Exactly."

Back on the mountain pass, Clorinde's grip on the wheel tightened. "I have to do it," she told herself. "I won't get another chance at this run. This is the only way."

The next hairpin loomed ahead. Clorinde slammed on the brakes and entered the turn. This time, her foot danced over the throttle, blipping it in quick, precise bursts. The Lancia responded beautifully, gripping the road with newfound stability and exiting the hairpin without a hint of sliding.

Clorinde's eyes lit up. "That's it! That's what Ningguang was talking about—Senna's throttle technique!"

With renewed determination, Clorinde closed the gap between her Lancia and Firefly's FD. As they approached a fast-paced left turn, Firefly's car hit a small bump. Her RX-7 jumped momentarily, causing her boost to drop.

Clorinde seized the opportunity. "This is my chance!" she exclaimed, slamming her foot on the gas.

The Lancia surged forward, pulling alongside Firefly's FD. For a brief moment, the two cars raced side by side, their engines roaring in unison.

Firefly's eyes widened in desperation. "No! Please! I need to keep driving! Don't pass me!"

They entered a right-hand hairpin, and Clorinde blipped the throttle expertly. The Lancia gripped through the turn, allowing her to edge ahead. By the time they exited the corner, Clorinde had taken the lead.

On the final straightaway, the Lancia's lighter weight and quicker acceleration gave it the decisive edge. Firefly pushed her RX-7 to its limits, but it wasn't enough.

Clorinde crossed the finish line first, marking the end of an intense uphill battle. The victory was hers.