UAAG CH38

“Why are you here!”

“Why!”

“How dare you come here!”

An unimaginably immense force burst from the woman’s emaciated and frail body. Like a madwoman, she frantically raised her handbag and smashed it at Old Joseph. Like a torrential rainstorm, each strike was packed with full force, hitting Old Joseph viciously on the body, smashing his face several times, making him stagger backward.

All this happened so suddenly that no one reacted immediately. It took half a minute for Zhuo Huan and Lawrence to snap out of it and go up to stop her.

Her pale, exhausted face had become hideous and distorted due to extreme hatred. She roared as she hit Old Joseph, carrying a terrifying ruthlessness. Thus, even though she was just a frail woman, the men present were all intimidated, and no one dared to step forward.

Lawrence pulled Old Joseph to dodge the attacks. Zhuo Huan, with a cold face, grabbed at the woman’s hand. But a person gone mad is not so easily controlled; Zhuo Huan missed several times.

“Ahhh!!!”

Zhuo Huan raised his eyes, and suddenly his vision went dark as a lady’s handbag appeared before him. He stood frozen in place, and the next moment, the handbag smashed forcefully onto his face, making an impossible-to-ignore thud.

Great Master Zhuo was completely stunned by the hit.

However, Mrs. Harrison continued her indiscriminate attacks.

Lawrence dragged Old Joseph away in a wretched escape. Zhuo Huan tried to grab this crazy middle-aged woman, only to be beaten black and blue by her.

And you can’t hit a woman.

By the twelfth hit, Zhuo Huan gritted his teeth, veins popping on his forehead.

“Fuck!”

In the end, everyone had to step in to control this crazy woman.

It is said that the ruthless are afraid of the reckless, and the reckless are afraid of the crazy. For the first time, all personnel present at the investigation headquarters truly realized just how terrifying a crazy person could be.

They soon learned who this woman was.

She was the mother of Co-pilot Tim Harrison, Mrs. Harrison.

After learning her identity, Zhuo Huan calmly glanced in Old Joseph’s direction. He naturally knew who Mrs. Harrison was. Associating it with her sudden violent rage, Zhuo Huan lowered his eyes in thought for a moment and gave a soft “Oh.”

Lawrence sent people to comfort her for a long time before finally sending Mrs. Harrison away. He returned to the office, still looking speechless: “What is going on! Originally, we invited her to the investigation headquarters to assist in the investigation, to ask her if she knew about any dispute between her son and Captain Kyle. As a result, as soon as she arrived, this happened. Is she crazy!”

Someone said: “If your husband and son died, maybe you would go crazy too.”

“…” Lawrence had nothing to say.

Lawrence quietly raised his head and looked at Old Joseph, who was sitting in the conference room with his head down, silent. Suddenly, he caught a glimpse of a figure out of the corner of his eye and looked up. Lawrence subconsciously shouted: “Hey, Patrick, where are you going!”

Zhuo Huan stood up and walked towards the conference room.

Zhuo Huan didn’t answer him, but strode into the conference room and slammed the door shut with a bang.

The door crashed against the wall, shaking the whole house. The NTSB investigators cautiously sized up the direction of the conference room and whispered among themselves. Lawrence: “What are you saying, stop chatting, hurry up and get busy with your own business!”

In the quiet conference room, Old Joseph sat on the sofa while Su Fei held a first aid kit, applying medicine to him.

When Old Joseph was beaten, Su Fei was on the second floor and wasn’t at the scene. Now that such a big thing happened, the minor swallowed his saliva, sneakily looking at Old Joseph, then at Zhuo Huan. He didn’t dare to speak.

Their faces look so terrible…

Old Joseph crossed his arms and hugged his chest silently, not saying a word.

Su Fei raised his eyes and suddenly saw: “Eh RIP, your brow bone there…”

“What happened,” Zhuo Huan said coldly.

Su Fei shut his mouth.

Old Joseph: “Nothing happened.”

Zhuo Huan sneered: “Nothing? Hah, since you say it’s nothing, then it seems like hitting people for no reason? Not bad, did Lawrence call the police?”

Old Joseph immediately got anxious: “Reid, what are you doing?”

Zhuo Huan was so angry he almost laughed out loud.

What is he doing?

Fuck, how many years has it been since he was hit by someone!

Seeing Zhuo Huan sneering and about to leave to find Lawrence to call the police, Old Joseph quickly grabbed him. “You all know who that person was just now, right? Harrison’s mother, Anna Harrison. She has always hated me, thinking I caused her husband’s death.”

Su Fei said in shock: “You caused her husband’s death? Ah, you mean the AA384 crash seventeen years ago? No, what does this have to do with you? I remember the accident report didn’t attribute any responsibility to you.”

Zhuo Huan sat on the conference table, looking down at his two members.

“Continue,” Zhuo Huan said.

Old Joseph was silent for a long time and didn’t speak again.

Not talking?

Zhuo Huan: “Why does she think you caused her husband’s death? Because when the accident happened, you didn’t help her husband? You didn’t offer to help? Or did you do something that wasn’t recorded by the black box seventeen years ago, nor investigated by NTSB investigators, but she, with her magical powers, deduced it with a logically rigorous brain comparable to Sherlock Holmes?”

Old Joseph: “Enough, Reid, stop asking.”

Zhuo Huan: “Then why.”

Old Joseph refused to speak.

“There must be a reason.”

“…”

“Not speaking because of a guilty conscience?”

Old Joseph: “Enough!”

Zhuo Huan shut his mouth and looked at him quietly.

Old Joseph’s body trembled, and he kept his head down stubbornly. His face was buried tightly in his hands. He didn’t shed tears; seventeen years had passed, and even the greatest sorrow had been ruthlessly eroded by time, then buried and forgotten.

Old Joseph suddenly felt incomparably ashamed because he actually found that he couldn’t cry. He couldn’t squeeze out tears; what was engraved deep in his heart was the fear and despair at the moment of the crash.

His body couldn’t stop shaking and trembling; his shoulders and teeth were shivering.

Su Fei couldn’t help asking: “Old Joseph, are you okay?”

A hoarse voice sounded muffledly: “I wasn’t familiar with Michael Harrison, not familiar at all. Just colleagues from the same airline, met a few times in the company. AA384 was our second collaboration. Why? Reid, you ask me why? I want to know why too! Why didn’t he ask me for help? Why didn’t he tell me until he died why he crashed the plane without saying a word!”

“We weren’t close at all!”

“What exactly did I do wrong!”

The gray-haired old man’s eyes were bloodshot, staring fixedly at Zhuo Huan, seemingly wanting to get the truth from his mouth.

Zhuo Huan’s lips moved.

After a long time, he stood up, walked to the conference room door, opened it, and walked out.

At 8 PM, Fu Cheng and Lina returned from Washington.

Upon entering, the two didn’t notice anything unusual. After greeting their companions, Lina familiarly walked into the pantry to brew herself a pot of delicious coffee. Having not been able to drink coffee all day, she was suffocated. Fu Cheng took the voice recorder and interview materials to the computer. He needed to compile all these materials into a booklet.

This was not a simple job. They interviewed more than twenty people today, and it would probably take until tomorrow to finish organizing.

Before that, he had something to tell Zhuo Huan.

Fu Cheng turned his head and was suddenly stunned.

Zhuo Huan wasn’t in his seat?

Thinking for a moment, Fu Cheng went downstairs, but after searching the first-floor warehouse for a long time, he didn’t see Great Master Zhuo’s figure.

Returning to the second floor, Fu Cheng searched again and finally found the man on the balcony. He walked over, but before he could enter the balcony, he was stopped by Su Fei.

The punk boy mysteriously kept his mouth shut, winking and making exaggerated gestures at Fu Cheng, pointing at Zhuo Huan’s back.

Fu Cheng: “What’s wrong?”

Su Fei’s eyes widened: “Shh!!!”

Fu Cheng: “…”

Huh?

Worried about being heard by a certain man, Su Fei quickly pulled Fu Cheng aside: “Don’t provoke RIP, he’s in a bad mood. Before you came back, he had been smoking on the balcony, almost finished a pack!”

“…”

“What exactly happened?”

Su Fei lowered his voice: “He got beaten.”

Fu Cheng couldn’t believe what he heard for a moment: “What?”

“RIP got beaten!”

Fu Cheng: “…”

Roughly knowing what happened from Su Fei, Fu Cheng’s expression gradually darkened. Ignoring Su Fei’s obstruction, he walked onto the balcony.

Hearing his footsteps, the man still leaned against the railing, looking up at the sky, smoking unhappily. The strong and heavy smell of tobacco pierced into the nasal cavity, seemingly lingering around him, not dissipating for a long time.

Zhuo Huan was obviously extremely unhappy.

Su Fei only knew he was unhappy, but didn’t know exactly what he was unhappy about—whether he was unhappy about being beaten, or something else.

The salty sea breeze blew directly at his face. Standing on the balcony looking far away, the reflection of the full moon on the sea surface was stretched long and slender, undulating with the waves. The clear brilliance shone into the depths of the water, rolled onto the beach with the seawater, and then fell silently, tides rising and falling.

“The Bismarck of American Airlines.”

The young man’s clear voice was like broken jade and gold, unhurried, neither warm nor fiery, transmitted into the ear along with the evening breeze.

Zhuo Huan turned his head slowly to look at him.

Fu Cheng leaned against the railing, his voice calm. His already handsome and plain face was illuminated by the watery moonlight. His eyebrows and eyes were extremely faint, but his gaze was gentle, and the depths of his eyes seemed to be immersed in a whole piece of quiet amber.

The two looked at each other silently.

Zhuo Huan held the cigarette between his fingers but didn’t smoke anymore.

Fu Cheng said: “This is Captain Kyle Shulman’s nickname, the Bismarck of American Airlines. Seventeen years ago, when Old Joseph was still at American Airlines, he was also called by this name. Old Joseph didn’t have a direct conflict with Michael Harrison, so no one said he was wrong, and even he himself couldn’t answer that question. Only the dead Harrison himself knew why he didn’t ask the experienced captain, known as Bismarck, for help at the beginning.”

“But this time, Tim Harrison had a conflict with his Bismarck captain.”

“Teacher Zhuo, is it confirmed that the plane didn’t have any mechanical failure?”

After a long time, Zhuo Huan answered him with just one concise word: “Yeah.”

Neither spoke again.

Finishing the last cigarette, throwing it into the glass ashtray to extinguish it, Zhuo Huan was about to leave the balcony.

“Teacher Zhuo.”

“Hm?”

“Your brow bone is broken there.”

Zhuo Huan’s body paused.

Fu Cheng took out a disposable iodine swab from his pocket and tore open the plastic bag. The distance suddenly closed; he raised his hand, leaned forward straightforwardly, and gently cleaned the wound for this man. His fingers inevitably brushed against the man’s skin. Only after making sure it was cleaned did Fu Cheng let go.

“Done.”

The place wiped by iodine felt a piercing chill when the wind blew.

Zhuo Huan: “Hey, Fu Cheng.”

Fu Cheng looked up: “Hm?”

“Did you do that on purpose?”

He didn’t react: “…What?”

An extremely fast and light chuckle.

The next second, with a bang, the man’s arm suddenly pressed on his shoulder, pushed hard, and his whole person was pressed against the balcony railing. His back hit the railing, not painful, but it made Fu Cheng stunned instantly. He looked up at this man in astonishment, but all the questions he wanted to ask vanished without a trace under the other party’s sudden approach.

The elegant and narrow eyes pressed extremely close, his brain suddenly went blank, as if his soul was seized by a hand.

Fu Cheng’s pupils constricted.

The thin lips almost touched his lips, but left a sliver of a gap; as long as Fu Cheng moved, he could touch them.

At this moment, Zhuo Huan spoke, his warm breath falling gently on Fu Cheng’s lips.

“—I said, did you do that on purpose.”

His nasal cavity was filled with the strong and powerful smell of tobacco. The man’s voice was low, hoarse and pleasant to hear, deliberately lowered, extremely ambiguous.

With a roar, the world suddenly fell silent.

Until the laughter of young men and women came from the beach not far away.

No one knew why some people would have a bonfire night camp on Boston Beach in winter. The laughter and singing of young people reached Fu Cheng’s ears, but he only heard a boy affectionately sing a line of a love song in that ethereal and illusory singing.

Seeing him not speaking, Zhuo Huan sneered, reached out and pressed Fu Cheng’s forehead, then turned and walked away.

Hands in his pockets, he strode away very freely and casually, leaving the world a dashing and arrogant back.

The night wind blew silently.

Fu Cheng came back to his senses, and he suddenly calmed down.

Leaning against the cold balcony railing, he realized something for the first time.

“Zhuo Huan is gay.”

The heart in his chest beat much faster than usual. Fu Cheng lowered his eyelids and expressionlessly took out a cigarette from his pocket.

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