UAAG CH56

Spanning a distance of 8,000 kilometers, separated by half a continent and ten degrees of latitude, an experiment precise to a 1kg TNT equivalent was underway.

After the experiment began, UAAG and GCAA investigators first confirmed the data with Teichi Tsunai in Tokyo from their investigation headquarters. Once the data was verified, they drove to the Emirates warehouse located at Dubai International Airport. A Boeing 777 was parked there.

Massive black machines were positioned beneath the aircraft’s fuel tanks, with thick cables connecting them to the tanks in the right wing.

Zhuo Huan changed into a white protective hazmat suit.

The first round of experimental data had already been transmitted from Tokyo. Zhuo Huan and Maiha walked into the experiment room to observe the real-time monitoring data of the aircraft’s fuel tanks. Fu Cheng and Old Joseph went beneath the engines. Instantly, searing airflow penetrated their heavy protective suits. The suits offered no resistance to the heat; instead, they trapped the sweat inside, soaking them instantly.

Zhuo Huan’s voice came over the walkie-talkie: “Data check.”

Sweat rolled down Fu Cheng’s forehead and landed on his eyelashes. He blinked, shaking off the droplets. He exchanged a glance with Old Joseph, and after confirming the data with the other researchers, Fu Cheng picked up his walkie-talkie: “Fuel tank temperature, 96 degrees Fahrenheit…”

After two rounds of experiments, the teams in the experiment room and those beside the engines swapped places.

No one could withstand staying beside an aircraft engine in such a nearly airtight environment for half an hour. Especially not in April, in Dubai.

The experiment proved to be more complex than Zhuo Huan and Teichi Tsunai had anticipated.

After the first day of testing concluded, Teichi Tsunai reviewed the data from the day’s 27 experiments. He looked up and said, “Zhuo-kun, if we continue to demand precision down to 1kg of explosive yield, I think we might need to conduct several more runs. Worst-case estimate, it might take a week.”

Zhuo Huan: “We continue tomorrow.”

Teichi Tsunai nodded slightly: “Alright.”

Teichi Tsunai did not ask where the funding for so many experiments was coming from. That was a problem for UAAG to worry about. All he had to do was find the possibility Zhuo Huan had proposed: At what explosive yield would an explosion inside the wing’s fuel tank not affect the aircraft’s flight—an explosion that would act like a muffled thunder, contained within the wing, completely invisible from the outside?

Tokyo University, Tsunai Laboratory.

Students were packing up the experimental equipment and discarded materials.

The young professor, dressed in a white lab coat, stood by the window. He pushed up his glasses and thought: Well, you can’t say it would be completely invisible from the outside. What they were looking for was an explosion that was almost invisible from the outside, yet possessed a shockwave specific enough to crack the aluminum alloy skin of the wing’s surface.

…Ah, it seems a bit annoying.

Teichi Tsunai turned his head to look at his assistant: “Next time UAAG contacts us for a collaborative experiment, let’s just refuse.”

The assistant asked curiously, “Professor, but you personally agreed to it every single time.”

Teichi Tsunai paused. He thought for a moment and said, “Help me replace my laptop.”

Assistant: “Okay.”

Meanwhile.

Washington, D.C., USA, NTSB Headquarters.

Three black sedans pulled up at the NTSB entrance. Lowrence got out of the car and entered the elevator with a young investigator who was clutching a metal briefcase. They arrived at the Deputy Director’s office. Lowrence knocked on the door.

“Come in.”

Lowrence and his subordinate pushed the door open and entered.

Levi Andrew was 51 years old this year, one of the current Deputy Directors of the NTSB. He was also the most promising candidate for promotion to Director, bar none. He had naturally pure gold hair, meticulously slicked back with gel. Although he was over fifty and possessed a stern, rigid face, Andrew looked very young—perhaps only forty—carrying an air of mature handsomeness.

Seeing his trusted aide, Andrew showed no surprise. He closed the file in his hands.

Lowrence walked over, tacitly skipping any small talk, and motioned for his subordinate to place the metal briefcase on the desk.

Lowrence: “Patrick asked me to bring this back for another round of testing. I figured, Director, he knew I would come to see you.”

Andrew stood up, entered the code, and opened the briefcase. After taking out the glass jar inside and observing it for a moment, he placed it back.

“I understand the general situation. Take these fragments and perform a cross-section experiment.”

Lowrence: “Yes.” Just as he was about to leave the office, he stopped and asked, “By the way, Director Andrew, is Patrick still continuing the salvage operation for Rogue 318?”

Andrew looked up at him: “Why are you curious about that?”

Lowrence shook his head: “No reason. I just feel that, even for Patrick… it’s been almost a year. With his financial resources, I’m afraid he can’t hold out much longer.”

Andrew: “He is still salvaging.”

Lowrence sighed inwardly and left the office with the briefcase.

Old Joseph never knew where Lowrence got so much news about Zhuo Huan. Indeed, he heard it all from Levi Andrew.

The fact that Zhuo Huan was self-funding the salvage of the Rogue 318 wreckage was not a secret in the industry. But very few knew that he had hired three salvage companies simultaneously. Only officials at Levi Andrew’s level would know such details.

“Rogue 318… Mr. Patrick is still looking for it?” The accompanying investigator’s eyes widened, gasping in disbelief.

Lowrence glanced at him: “Yes. He sold his private island, sold a lot of real estate. He’s practically at the point of selling his McFly shares.”

The young investigator was dumbfounded: “…He really, really has money.”

Lowrence didn’t comment.

Isn’t that the truth?

If it were them, forget about selling assets to fish out a plane; they wouldn’t even have the eligibility to sell anything! Selling their entire net worth wouldn’t cover a single day of the salvage company’s wages!

In Dubai and Tokyo, the fuel tank explosion experiments were ongoing.

In Washington, the cross-section experiment on the engine fan blade fragments began silently.

May 3rd, 2:00 PM Dubai Time.

The Boeing 777, which had roared for six full days, finally shut down its engines. The warehouse, which had been like a steamer, finally had a chance to cool down. Zhuo Huan held the latest experimental data, looking it over. On the other side, Su Fei typed on his keyboard, quickly connecting the computer screen to Teichi Tsunai’s laboratory.

Teichi Tsunai’s face appeared on the screen. He spoke, “Zhuo-kun.”

“Tsunai.” Zhuo Huan put down the documents. “Thank you. I got the data I wanted.”

Teichi Tsunai: “Although it took 124 experiments, getting the desired data is the best outcome. However, this experiment has an element of chance; the coincidence factor is high. Achieving this on a real aircraft won’t be easy.”

Hearing this, Lina laughed: “Professor Tsunai, you are an excellent physicist, but you don’t understand airplanes.”

Teichi Tsunai was stunned. He sat up straight and looked at Lina seriously: “Please explain.”

Lina: “I’m not a professional either.”

Su Fei was eager to speak but was stopped by Lina: “You are also a non-professional.”

Su Fei: “…”

Fu Cheng’s elegant, calm voice spoke up: “Professor Tsunai, the inventor of the German aircraft turbine, Pabst von Ohain, once proposed a theorem called ‘Heinrich’s Law.’ It states that behind every serious accident, there are inevitably 29 minor accidents, 300 near-misses with warning signs, and 1,000 hidden hazards. What aircraft accident investigation aims to do is to find every possibility that has a chance of occurring. Even if it’s one of those 1,000 hidden hazards, we cannot miss it.”

Teichi Tsunai thought for a moment: “So as long as it can happen, it will happen?”

Everyone laughed.

Hearing the laughter, Zhuo Huan looked up and glanced lightly at Fu Cheng.

The experiment concluded. In the car back to the investigation headquarters, Zhuo Huan said to Lina, “Contact Boeing.”

Lina: “Now?”

“After returning to HQ, I want a direct video conference with Boeing’s ‘Ground Aircraft Group’.”

“Okay.” Lina agreed with a smile, but looking at Zhuo Huan’s face, she asked, “Or should we contact Boeing tomorrow? Reid, you don’t look very well. Did you not sleep well this week?”

Due to the time difference, UAAG had completely accommodated Tokyo’s schedule. They started work whenever Teichi Tsunai started his experiments.

Old Joseph added, “Now that Lina mentions it, Reid, you do look exhausted. Haven’t you been resting well?”

Old Joseph found it very strange. Although their schedule had been affected by the experiments, they still got sufficient sleep, and he felt quite energetic.

Su Fei: “Brother Fu, you don’t look too energetic either. I saw you yawning several times today.”

Fu Cheng paused. He asked back, “Did I?”

Su Fei: “Yes. I counted. You yawned on average once every hour.”

Fu Cheng: “Maybe because I’m not used to sleeping so early. I’ve had insomnia lately…” His voice stopped abruptly. Fu Cheng’s body went completely stiff. He slowly turned his head to see a certain man suddenly collapse onto his shoulder, resting against his collarbone, closing his eyes, and actually starting to rest.

Old Joseph and Su Fei stared blankly.

Lina was also stunned for a moment.

Fu Cheng: “…Teacher Zhuo?”

Zhuo Huan: “I’m sleepy.”

Because I’m sleepy, lend me your shoulder to sleep on.

Fu Cheng: “Mn…”

Old Joseph snapped back to reality: “Looks like Reid is really tired. What have you been doing every night?”

Lina’s gaze shifted between Zhuo Huan and Fu Cheng, and she smiled meaningfully.

Fu Cheng moved his gaze away from the man. He stared intently ahead, but no matter how hard he tried to ignore it, the man’s hot breath gently sprayed onto his exposed collarbone. Thump, thump—it was as if he could clearly trace the beating of this person’s pulse.

Soon, Lina began contacting Boeing, and Old Joseph and Su Fei started chatting about other topics. Gradually, the conversation drifted toward industries and behaviors that were legal in Dubai but illegal in China.

Su Fei chuckled: “RIP is so sleepy… could it be that he’s been doing that every night…”

Old Joseph gave him a ‘knowing’ look: “Although minors shouldn’t discuss this topic, I think what you’re saying is very possible.”

Fu Cheng: “…”

If not for the fact that he went to Zhuo Huan’s room every night this week to help organize the Rogue 318 data as soon as they returned to the hotel, he would have believed it himself!

Old Joseph crossed the line more and more: “I prefer taller ones, over 170cm. My late wife was 171cm. That height is quite common in the US, but not very common in China.”

Su Fei: “I like big eyes and long hair! What kind do you think RIP looks for every night?”

Old Joseph took a peek at Zhuo Huan and deliberately spoke loud enough for him to hear: “I guess sexy and hot, the 90-60-90 type!”

Lina coughed: “There is a lady in the car.”

Old Joseph: “Sorry, Lina, please forgive my rudeness.”

Su Fei, being a minor, had no concept of female body measurements. He pulled at Old Joseph: “What does 90-60-90 mean? What does that look like?”

Just as Old Joseph was about to answer, a languid male voice spoke up: “It means they look like the one I like.”

Su Fei and Old Joseph simultaneously turned their heads to look at Zhuo Huan.

He was resting on Fu Cheng’s shoulder, eyes open, looking at them with a faint smile. “The one I like… sexy and hot, very good at kissing. Every night I have to kiss him. As soon as I caress his waist, he trembles. He’s ticklish; I found that out early on.”

Su Fei’s eyes bugged out: “You really went to find a woman every night?!”

Old Joseph whistled, finding the key point: “Wow, and the same one every time? Reid, you like her that much? Ticklish, sensitive… Reid, you’ve got skills.”

Zhuo Huan leaned against Fu Cheng’s shoulder, laughing low: “His waist is very thin. You can’t tell when he’s wearing clothes, it’s so beautiful. Hmm, I have to blame him for never wearing fitted clothes. I like to kiss his collarbone, then take off his clothes, touch his waist… and when he can’t take it anymore, I kiss his lips… mmn…”

Fu Cheng suddenly sat up straight. Zhuo Huan’s cheek was hit hard by his shoulder, knocking him to the side.

The movement was very natural; Old Joseph and the others didn’t think anything was amiss.

Zhuo Huan touched his throbbing cheek, looked up, and called his name: “Fu Cheng.”

Fu Cheng looked at him indifferently: “My shoulder is sore.” Saying this, he stood up and walked to Old Joseph. “Switch seats with me, Old Joseph.”

Old Joseph said happily, “Of course.” He went over and sat down. “Reid, feel free to use my shoulder. By the way, you can whisper to me… hehe, where did you find this woman…”

Zhuo Huan scoffed, leaned his head back against the seat, closed his eyes to rest, and had absolutely no intention of resting his head on Old Joseph’s broad shoulder.

Twenty minutes later, the car stopped at the Investigation Headquarters entrance.

Zhuo Huan was the last to get off. Chewing gum, hands in his pockets, he stepped out with his long legs.

Just as he got out, a cold, indifferent voice sounded from beside him: “Have you taken off his clothes, Teacher Zhuo?”

Zhuo Huan paused. He straightened up and looked to the side.

Fu Cheng was leaning against the Rolls-Royce, his clear eyes fixed on him.

Zhuo Huan smiled, righteous and bold: “No.”

Fu Cheng glanced at him, then turned to walk away.

Zhuo Huan suddenly grabbed his wrist.

Old Joseph, Su Fei, and Lina were walking into the headquarters gate, talking and laughing.

Zhuo Huan held Fu Cheng’s wrist and looked up at him: “But I’ve kissed his collarbone, touched his waist… I want to take off his clothes tonight, okay, Fu Cheng?”

Their eyes met. After a long while, the handsome, beautiful young man said expressionlessly: “The data for Rogue 318 has been fully processed.”

“Then you can still come to my room.”

The fingers of the hand that wasn’t being held curled slightly.

Fu Cheng didn’t say a word, quietly looking at Zhuo Huan.

Zhuo Huan looked at him too, and suddenly, he let go of Fu Cheng’s hand.

Su Fei turned his head: “RIP, Brother Fu, what are you guys doing?”

Fu Cheng: “Coming.”

The two walked toward the investigation headquarters together.

Entering through the glass doors, the cool air of the air conditioning hit them, blocking the fiery sunlight outside.

The noise of the street instantly diminished. There weren’t many people in the headquarters corridor; aside from the five UAAG members, only a few people passed by occasionally.

Another GCAA investigator walked past. Fu Cheng strode forward. Su Fei and the others were walking just two or three meters ahead of him. Suddenly, he was yanked from behind. Physical reaction overriding everything, just as he was dragged and pressed into the corner of the corridor—a blind spot for the security cameras—Fu Cheng instinctively raised his leg to counterattack. But then, Zhuo Huan kissed him.

His wrists were pinned down tight.

Old Joseph’s laughter echoed in the empty corridor, but the world before him was invaded by this man named Zhuo Huan.

After a moment of shock, slowly, his heart began to beat violently in his chest.

Fu Cheng closed his eyes and extended his tongue to kiss back.

In the quiet corridor, perhaps because it was too quiet, the sound of lips and tongues entangling pierced Fu Cheng’s ears. It felt like an illicit affair; the thrill and pleasure made his scalp tingle.

Only when the voices of Old Joseph and the others had almost disappeared at the end of the corridor did Zhuo Huan stop the kiss. He lifted Fu Cheng’s chin with one hand, his lips almost touching Fu Cheng’s, his voice husky: “Just now on the street, I wanted to kiss you…”

Fu Cheng lowered his head, panting.

Suddenly, he heard Lina’s voice: “Where did Reid and Fu go again?”

Following the voice was the sound of Lina’s high heels. She was coming back, getting closer and closer.

Fu Cheng’s body stiffened, but for some reason, he didn’t push the man away. Instead, he opened his eyes wide and looked up at him.

Zhuo Huan looked down at him as well.

Neither spoke.

The blonde woman walked halfway, just about to reach the small corner of the corridor, when she seemed to sense something and suddenly stopped. Lina turned around, no longer looking for them. However, behind her, Zhuo Huan walked out calmly, hands in his pockets.

“Have the Boeing people been contacted?”

Lina turned around, somewhat surprised: “Reid?”

Zhuo Huan walked up: “Did you reach them?”

Lina: “Mn, contacted. Why do you suddenly seem to be in a bad mood?”

Fu Cheng walked out from the corner and followed them.

Hearing Lina’s words, Zhuo Huan gave a half-smile, a cold chuckle escaping him: “No, I’m in a pretty good mood… Fu Cheng.”

Suddenly hearing his name, Fu Cheng stopped and looked back at him.

Zhuo Huan took a black room key card out of his pocket and, in front of Lina, Old Joseph, and Su Fei, handed it over. He smiled: “You dropped your room card.”

Fu Cheng looked at him silently. After a long time, he took it.

“Thank you.”

Author’s Note:

Zhuo RIP: I feel like a tool. Rogue 318 is done, I have no work left, and Fu Cheng won’t even damn well look at me.

Fu Chengcheng: …Just tell me the name of the person you were kissing! Say his name!

Support me on Ko-fi