Feature: How an 'Internet Celebrity' outdrives stereotypes at F1 Academy

Shi Wei, a self-funded racer and social media influencer, became the first Chinese driver to complete an F1 Academy race, defying odds and stereotypes to carve her place in motorsport history.

by sportswriters Dong Yixing and Xu Dongyuan

SHANGHAI, March 27 (Xinhua) -- When Shi Wei's car veered off the Shanghai International Circuit during her F1 Academy debut last Saturday, the gasps from the home fans echoed louder than the engines.

By Sunday afternoon, the 27-year-old self-funded racer, once dubbed an "internet celebrity" by skeptics, steered her car across the finish line, becoming the first-ever Chinese driver to complete an F1 Academy race.

"Pressure either cracks you or polishes you," Shi said post-race. "I chose to let it grind me into someone stronger."

Shi's journey to motorsport history began far from racing's gilded pipelines. A former vlogger from north China's Inner Mongolia Autonomous Region, she discovered racing by chance in 2020 at a rural Zhejiang track.

"I took one lap in a Formula 4 car and fell into it," she laughed. Four years later, the journalism graduate turned Challenge Cup champion now straddles two worlds: a social media star with 6.5 million Douyin followers and a scrappy underdog mortgaging her savings to chase speed.

Her breakthrough moment came when she unexpectedly finished third in the 2024 China Formula Grand Prix event held alongside Shanghai's F1 weekend. "Last year, my goal was simply to stand on the F4 podium. I never imagined it would happen during an F1 event," Shi recalled, her voice still tinged with disbelief.

"When I made the podium, I was ecstatic but immediately started thinking, What's next?" That answer arrived in the form of F1 Academy, an all-female development series.

"These drivers have trained since childhood. I knew I couldn't beat them," she admitted. "But some battles are worth fighting even when you know you'll lose. You give everything anyway."

For Shi, racing represents the ultimate crucible. "It's the hardest sport I've ever tried. It's a dual assault on body and mind," she said. "You're constantly fighting instincts. At 200 km/h with your heart rate at 180, and summer cockpit temperatures hitting 41 degrees Celsius, your body screams at you to stop."

"But coaches demand you think: adjust braking points, recalculate turn-in angles, all in milliseconds. It's training in darkness, reshaping yourself under extremes," she paused, flexing hands calloused from wrestling with the steering wheel. "After sessions, normal life feels easy. Sitting here talking calmly? That's racing's gift. It makes you feel in control of everything."

This grueling metamorphosis was on full display during video analysis sessions with her coaches. "They'd dissect lap times down to 0.1-second segments: You're slow from turn-in to apex. Why?" Shi explained. "In that sliver of time, you must read the car's balance, decide how much throttle to feed, how much wheel to turn. It's chess at 200 km/h."

Such precision demanded sacrifices beyond the track. During a trip to the Paris Olympics, she bought a luxury handbag and then returned it. "At checkout, I realized it cost as much as a set of tires," she said. "My friends argued, A bag lasts years; tires burn up in a day. But I told them, This isn't about objects, it's about investing in my growth."

Her Shanghai breakthrough almost unraveled before it began. During Saturday's frustrating first lap, unfamiliar car settings sent her spinning, the result of a clash between her Chinese team's methods and the European-run Hitech TGR squad's protocols.

"I trained for months at the Ningbo Circuit, but stepping into that car felt totally different," she admitted. "I didn't even know the setup at all."

Overnight, as online critics mocked her as a "rich girl playing racer," Shi and her coaches huddled in simulators until dawn. "Athletes can't explain failures, but only fix them," she said.

What nearly broke her resolve, however, came from an unexpected corner: dozens of fans waiting outside her garage until dusk. "They stood there for hours just to shout, 'We believe in you!' That's when I cried. For them, I had to rewrite the story."

By Sunday, Shi delivered a clean 11-lap run to finish 14th. Though far from the podium, her blue-and-white porcelain inspired race suit still symbolized a quiet revolution.

"I wanted our culture on that track," she said. "Girls need to see they belong here too."

Shi's path mirrors China's accelerating embrace of motorsport. Shi noted that crowds at the event now "understand racing's soul, not just its noise." Yet hurdles remain: from ill-fitting gear to enduring stereotypes.

"People said I couldn't handle G-forces or a steering wheel," she said. "But racing teaches you to thrive where others see limits."

As she preps for upcoming races in Japan with a trusted Chinese crew, Shi is eyeing redemption in 2026's F1 Academy season. "I traced every corner during my slow-down lap, terrified I'd never sit here again," she confessed, her helmet bearing Zhou Guanyu's No. 24 in tribute to China's first F1 racer.

For young fans who mobbed her garage post-race, her legacy already glows. "Kids said, 'Sister, I want to race like you!' That's why I'm here," she smiled. "To plant seeds." ■