Chapter 3 – Save the Rush for Next Time

December 14, 2023, 15:11:31.

Cabin alerts flashed one after another.

“Prepare for 2200 meters.”

“Prepare for 500 meters.”

As they drew closer to the ground, the air inside the cabin seemed to grow colder. Takeoff and landing were known as the ‘five minutes of death,’ and everyone held their breath, hands clenched tightly, awaiting their fate.

“Cabin crew in position!” Bian Ji declared with authority, “Demonstrate the brace position!”

Outside the Chengdu Shuangliu Airport tarmac, fire trucks and medical teams were assembled, standing by at a distance, watching anxiously as the flight approached.

One wing of the plane was smoking as it rapidly entered view. Closer inspection revealed gaps in several fan blades.

Ground staff gasped in shock, “Shit, a fan blade broke! Clear the runway! Watch out for debris!”

“It’s moving too fast, didn’t the engines shut down?”

“No, the captain probably turned off the malfunctioning engine, now we’re landing on one engine.”

“Damn, it’s risky.”

“Hush — “

“We’ve landed! We’ve landed!!”

With a deafening roar, the plane touched down on the runway. Outside, the crowd clenched their fists and hugged their knees, holding their breath for the safety of the one hundred sixty-seven souls aboard.

Inside the cabin, the crew’s nightmare was far from over.

The moment the doors opened, fresh air flooded in, but no one knew where new dangers might lurk. Would opening the cabin ignite a sudden fire? Could panicked passengers cause a stampede?

Bian Ji didn’t even grab a microphone, leaping to the window to direct the evacuation. His already hoarse voice screamed through the cold wind, “Slide down the chute! Don’t take your luggage!”

Flight attendants, their hair disheveled from the chaos, ankles swollen from hours in high heels, shouted at capacity, “Run! Leave your luggage! No luggage!”

In such confined quarters under extreme stress, every half-second spent inside could lead to congestion or worse, being consumed by flames. People stumbled in their escape; expensive shoes were trampled, coats torn off, and some carried frightened children, sobbing as they fled.

Bian Ji kept his eyes locked on the closed lavatory — position three still stood guard with an extinguisher in hand — smoke billowing out from within.

“Keep the lavatory closed to prevent backdraft!”

After Bian Ji’s instructions, position three nodded through tears, gripping the handle tightly. Even during the most violent turbulence, she hadn’t left her post for a single step.

Some passengers ignored the warnings, insisting on opening the overhead compartments. Bian Ji silently cursed in his mind, grabbing the man and pushing him toward the exit, “Leave it! What’s more important than life?”

The man refused to move, sobbing uncontrollably, “These are my wife’s keepsakes, all that’s left… I need to take her with me!”

Bian Ji didn’t hesitate, dragging the man to the window, clearing the way for others behind. The man struggled, mumbling, “I need to take her home… take her home…”

Bian Ji pulled him onto the slide, shielding his head and hands, then pushed him down, yelling, “You have to be alive to go home! Go!”

The passenger screamed as he was thrust out the window, sliding to the ground, his legs collapsing in relief upon realizing he was safe.

December 14, 2023, 15:14:29.

As the wails of fire trucks and ambulances sounded, all passengers had been evacuated.

Strangers embraced, weeping or laughing hysterically, applauding the crew, calling loved ones, taking pictures with people they’d never met before, and receiving basic medical checks. A cacophony of sobs, shouts, coughs, and shutter clicks filled the air.

Bian Ji followed the other crew members, leaving the plane last. He stood at a distance from the crowd, leaning against the vehicle railing, closing his eyes and taking a long, deep breath.

Eleven minutes and twenty seconds.

From the discovery of the fire to the complete evacuation, it took only eleven minutes and twenty seconds.

This was a rescue mission that seemed almost impossible. Without a doubt, this incident would soon grace the headlines of many media outlets. If the crew handled the situation correctly, they might even be hailed as company heroes.

But Bian Ji, overwhelmed by intense anxiety, felt nauseous.

He avoided the crowd, leaning against the wall to catch his breath, finally realizing he was safe on solid ground.

If the firefighting efforts had been delayed, or if calming the passengers failed, the one hundred sixty-plus individuals on the square today might not have survived. A wave of delayed fear washed over him, suffocating him.

Bian Ji stopped himself from dwelling on it, forcing himself to stand up straight. Suddenly, a hand holding a bottle of water appeared before him.

The fingers were long, the knuckles prominent, with some chaotic, protruding veins on the back of the hand, looking both sensual and powerful.

Bian Ji looked up, recognizing the man as Yan Ankuo thanks to his good memory.

Yan Ankuo didn’t speak immediately, so Bian Ji mentally prepared his response. If Yan Ankuo thanked him, Bian Ji would happily reciprocate, acknowledging his assistance during the crisis. If Yan Ankuo asked about compensation, he would offer options for rescheduling, changing flights, or reimbursement for accommodation and meals.

However, Yan Ankuo remained silent, merely extending the water bottle further. Confused, Bian Ji accepted it, while Yan Ankuo turned around to continue his work call.

Bian Ji realized that Yan Ankuo simply noticed his condition and offered him a drink, nothing more.

The situation on the plane had been so urgent that Bian Ji hadn’t noticed a small mole beneath Yan Ankuo’s eye. Yan Ankuo had a sharp, serious appearance, with a high nose bridge and deep-set eyes, which contrasted with the playful mole.

Bian Ji stared for a bit longer than was polite, just as Yan Ankuo turned and caught his gaze.

Bian Ji subconsciously touched his chest, feeling an unusually rapid heartbeat, a sign of survival.

When Yan Ankuo hung up his call, Bian Ji greeted him first, “Mr. Yan — cough, sorry, my throat is still sore.”

“Drink some water,” Yan Ankuo raised his eyebrows, “Your memory is impressive.”

The teasing undertone was clear, but Bian Ji didn’t engage, sticking to his planned response. “After all, you assisted in the rescue effort, I’m truly grateful!”

“You’re welcome,” Yan Ankuo said, casually hanging his suit jacket with one hand. In doing so, he exposed the left side of his shirt.

Bian Ji couldn’t help but notice that the left side of the white shirt had clear scratches, a button torn off by force, the collar open, revealing a defined collarbone.

Five minutes ago, this shirt was still intact.

Bian Ji recalled the events of those five minutes, certain that this compliant passenger had a smooth escape, with no falls or accidents that could have damaged his clothing. The only variable was himself.

However, Bian Ji didn’t think he had exerted enough force during the turbulence to tear the shirt. He cautiously asked, “Did I do this to your shirt?”

Yan Ankuo seemed unaware of his exposed neck, adjusting his collar and switching the suit jacket to his right hand. With a dismissive wave, he said, “No, it’s just poor quality.”

A tailor would likely fly from Italy to China in anger if they heard this excuse.

Bian Ji couldn’t figure out when he had damaged the shirt. But since the passenger suffered economic loss due to him, he bowed apologetically, “Sorry, it must have been… too much force?”

“No problem,” Yan Ankuo reassured Bian Ji.

Having inhaled smoke, Bian Ji’s throat still hurt, coughing twice before speaking. Out of politeness, he covered his mouth.

Yan Ankuo noticed the bruise on Bian Ji’s wrist, his brows furrowing deeper as he asked if it was severe.

Bian Ji denied it, but not convincingly.

Yan Ankuo insisted, pushing a tube of ointment into Bian Ji’s hand. He explained that it was a pain-relieving medicine distributed by a nurse earlier, “Take it.”

Bian Ji didn’t resist, simply thanking him.

Yan Ankuo looked at him, asking, “How many more thank-yous?”

Bian Ji was taken aback. Yan Ankuo pointed to his hand, saying, “If anyone should be thanking, it’s me.”

Bian Ji really didn’t want to participate in the upcoming passenger gratitude session, considering it part of his job and knowing that credit didn’t solely belong to him. He didn’t expect Yan Ankuo to break convention, saying, “You made my birthday quite special.”

Bian Ji chuckled bitterly, “Indeed, it was quite special.”

Yan Ankuo joked, “I’ll probably remember today every year from now on.”

“That better not happen! It wasn’t exactly a good thing.” Bian Ji waved his hand, coughing again during the conversation.

A nearby plane was taxiing for takeoff, its loud roar interrupting their conversation.

Yan Ankuo watched the plane depart, gathering his thoughts. Unexpectedly, he asked, “Were you afraid?”

Bian Ji didn’t anticipate the question, pausing.

Yan Ankuo repeated, “Afraid? Just now.”

“I don’t know,” Bian Ji answered honestly, “There wasn’t time to think.”

“In truth, I was terrified. Until touchdown, I thought I wouldn’t make it back.” Without waiting for Bian Ji to respond, Yan Ankuo changed the subject, “Fortunately, I bought travel insurance yesterday, so it’s a win in that sense.”

Bian Ji was about to offer comfort, but held back upon hearing this, “…”

Yan Ankuo’s phone rang again. He checked it briefly, then disconnected the call, continuing to chat with Bian Ji as if nothing happened.

Bian Ji didn’t want to distract Yan Ankuo from his work, steering the conversation away from flight-related topics, “The company is arranging a new plane to Kunming, but the departure time is still pending. After the health check here, I’ll distribute accommodation and meal vouchers. Mr. Yan, do you have any plans afterward?”

Yan Ankuo replied, “I won’t wait for the new flight, I’ve already bought a high-speed train ticket to Kunming, it’ll be faster.”

“Very urgent?”

“Yes, I have a case to attend to.”

That meant they wouldn’t see each other on the next leg of the journey. Bian Ji didn’t feel sad, but his stomach pain was becoming more noticeable, “I see, then I wish you success in court!”

“Safe takeoffs and landings.” After exchanging wishes, seeing Bian Ji hadn’t left, Yan Ankuo patiently asked, “Anything else?”

Around them, survivors chattered noisily, and in the distance, a smoking plane. It wasn’t an ideal setting for a conversation. Yet, Bian Ji didn’t want to end this dialogue.

“Right, should I compensate you for your shirt?” Bian Ji slapped his forehead, pointing to Yan Ankuo’s collar, “We can exchange WeChat contacts, let me know if you need anything.”

In reality, if there was a need, Yan Ankuo could file a claim with the airline rather than seek personal compensation from a flight attendant. Thus, after giving this awkward reason, Bian Ji began to suspect whether his language system had failed due to excessive stress.

Yan Ankuo hesitated for a few seconds, quietly studying Bian Ji’s face, about to speak.

At that moment, a medical worker nearby called out, “All crew members, come for health checks, hurry!”

Bian Ji sighed, turning to shout a “Yes,” then looked back at Yan Ankuo. His eyes shone with hope and moisture, a sign of survival.

Yan Ankuo pondered for a moment, tapping his watch, “Save the rush for next time.”

Adults knew that the probability of “next time” was close to zero. Therefore, Bian Ji naturally interpreted this as a rejection, not pressing further, and jogged toward the medical team.

Thus, he missed the sight of Yan Ankuo lowering his head to search his pocket, pulling out a business card a moment later.