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Kuala Lumpur International Airport.
Six hours had passed since the disappearance of the flight. In addition to local media arriving first, the first wave of international journalists had also arrived. Security personnel were working hard to maintain order at the airport, and the inquiry desk was overwhelmed with people. When a representative finally came out to answer questions, they were immediately bombarded.
Soon after, some family members of the missing passengers arrived on the scene. Cries, accusations, and helpless screams wove a suffocating web, casting a tragic and sorrowful shadow over the entire airport.
Standing outside the crowd, Chu Ning heard and saw everything, her hands trembling uncontrollably. When her bag fell to the ground, Zhou Qin reminded her, “President Ning.” Her voice tight, she could no longer suppress her emotions, covering her mouth as she sobbed and wept.
“Just a little bit more... just a little bit...”
Chu Ning’s mind was foggy. She wanted to find somewhere to sit. Feeling like she had lost her soul, she reached out blindly but grasped only air, losing her balance and falling to the ground.
“President Ning!” Zhou Qin, tears still in her voice, crouched down to help her up.
A large patch of skin had been scraped off Chu Ning’s palm, the sharp pain bringing her back to some semblance of clarity.
The airport announcements continued in three languages, looping updates—government attention, vigorous search efforts, active comfort for families.
Giving hope, yet also despair.
Chu Ning stood up and moved closer to the crowd. Beside her were two elderly people, stranded in a foreign land, unable to speak English or know whom to ask for information. They were like lost children, murmuring repeatedly, “Where is Zhao Zhiguo? Has anyone found Zhao Zhiguo?”
Zhou Qin, ever kind-hearted, pointed to the southeast corner. “You can check the list over there.”
“My eyesight isn’t good. Is it there?” The elderly man squinted, roughly discerning the direction.
“I’ll take you there,” Chu Ning said.
Zhou Qin communicated in English. The staff quickly understood and, after checking, nodded gravely. Lowering her voice, Chu Ning turned to the elderly man and said, “...Zhao Zhiguo, passport number...”
Tears instantly streamed down the old man’s face, flowing along the deep wrinkles of his eyes, blurring his vision.
“Today was his mother’s birthday. He said he’d rush back to celebrate with her. How could he just be gone?” This almost self-muttered lamentation made Chu Ning’s heart ache. She wasn’t someone who liked to console others; she felt that comforting words often carried a hint of self-deception.
“Please rest assured, perhaps it’s someone with the same name.”
But at this moment, aside from offering comfort, she didn’t know what else to do.
In the airport, the crowds grew thicker, and the cries became more piercing. Chu Ning was like a fish swimming against the current, aimlessly drifting in an ocean.
She should have been on that plane.
But an hour before boarding, she suddenly developed a high fever, convulsing from the heat, scaring Zhou Qin half to death. Frantically calling airport staff for help, they rushed her to the hospital. Blood tests ruled out infectious diseases—it was a severe viral flu. Chu Ning had been busy with factory matters these past few days and hadn’t taken any medication, letting it drag on until it worsened. An X-ray showed it had invaded her heart and lungs—it was too dangerous.
Thus, the flight was rescheduled, and she couldn’t leave even if she wanted to. At the time, Chu Ning had muttered complaints, blaming herself, “How could I not handle such a small matter? Look, I’ve delayed things.”
But she never imagined that this delay saved two lives.
Truly, fate worked in mysterious ways.
After a night of IV fluids, Chu Ning’s symptoms eased. With too many company matters waiting for her return, she booked today’s ticket. As they boarded, Zhou Qin trembled all over, looking at the cabin door and then back at the airport hall filled with crying families. It was not a good omen.
“President Ning, I’m scared,” Zhou Qin whispered, tears streaming down again.
Chu Ning took a deep breath, then silently squeezed Zhou Qin’s hand, gripping it tightly.
Several hours later, the plane landed safely in Beijing.
Chu Ning turned on her phone. Over twenty missed calls bombarded her, along with a flood of text messages. Most were from company employees, their concern genuine. Chu Ning scrolled through them and found Ying Jing’s at the bottom. He had called twice, half an hour apart, and sent one message asking if she had returned from her business trip.
Chu Ning replied to a few important ones first, and by the time she finished, she had forgotten about him.
When she returned to her apartment and saw the familiar bed, table, and sofa, she finally completely relaxed. Chu Ning first turned on the TV, where rolling news updates on the missing aircraft played. After listening for a while, her head spun, and she drank glass after glass of water.
The cruelty and favor of fate, the ups and downs, easily toyed with people. In the face of life’s unpredictability, one was utterly powerless.
Only then did Chu Ning truly feel fear. Until she heard a knock at the door. She opened it with a cold sweat—it was Zhao Mingchuan.
Probably not expecting anyone to be there, Zhao Mingchuan’s expression was slightly surprised, quickly returning to its usual coldness.
Chu Ning had no energy to argue today. “What are you doing here?”
Zhao Mingchuan: “When did you get back?”
“Just now.”
From the news, the cries and accusations of the families were vividly transmitted.
Chu Ning paused, thinking of something. She looked at Zhao Mingchuan, her gaze piercing.
Zhao Mingchuan frowned. “What’s with that look?”
Chu Ning, wary, instinctively said, “I’m still standing here—are you disappointed?”
Zhao Mingchuan’s face changed abruptly, pointing at her. “Watch your words.”
Chu Ning realized belatedly that she had overstepped. But she couldn’t help it. After a day and night between life and death, the voices from the TV were like a cursed mantra, constantly stimulating her nerves. She could hardly hear Zhao Mingchuan’s voice clearly.
He said, “I don’t like you, but I wouldn’t stoop to such means. Besides, can’t you think rationally? How the hell would I know in advance that this plane was going to crash?”
Chu Ning clutched her head, suddenly squatting on the ground.
Zhao Mingchuan froze, listening carefully—it sounded like… she was crying.
But it might have been an illusion. When she raised her head again, her eyes were dry, her lips pale.
Chu Ning swayed as she tried to stand. Zhao Mingchuan’s strong arm reached out to support her.
...but was weakly pushed away.
Zhao Mingchuan’s patience had reached its limit. Watching this obstinate sister’s back, he gritted his teeth in frustration. He poured her a glass of water, slammed it heavily on the table, and stormed out, slamming the door behind him.
For a long time afterward, Chu Ning watched the news every day. In her free moments, she unconsciously browsed the Weibo accounts of the families of the missing passengers. Later, various accident analysis theories emerged—political conspiracy theories, even alien abductions. The slightly more plausible ones dissected the aircraft’s structure, speculating whether a core component failure led to the disappearance.
Chu Ning was drawn to one such report. Those dry, technical terms extended to the state of global aviation development, including China’s. The concluding sentence left a deep impression on her—
“The development of the aviation industry is a great, difficult, courageous, and beneficial endeavor. It is not an unsolvable extraterrestrial mystery; it is embedded in each of our daily lives. Airplane takeoffs and landings—no room for error, only certainty and necessity.”
A gust of wind howled through Chu Ning’s mind.
At this moment, her phone rang—it was Ying Jing.
Seeing this familiar name was like flipping a switch, unexpectedly connecting a gap in her heart.
“You finally answered the phone!!” Ying Jing’s voice boomed. “Good heavens! You scared me to death! Did you see the news about the missing Malaysia Airlines flight? They still haven’t found it! You told me you were traveling to Malaysia—it was terrifying!”
Chu Ning’s eardrums vibrated from his sudden shout.
Ying Jing suddenly lowered his voice. “Your phone was off—I thought you… ugh, never mind the bad luck talk. Anyway, I’m glad you’re safe!”
Chu Ning said, “Ying Jing.”
“Hmm? I’m here.”
“Do you have time tomorrow?” Chu Ning’s voice was calm.
“Yes.”
“Can we cash in on that hot pot from last time?” Chu Ning asked.
There was a brief hesitation on the other end, then quickly, “Of course!”
________________________________________
Xiaoqiang Hot Pot was genuinely thriving. Despite three or four similar hot pot competitors nearby, it remained unshaken. The owner, Li Xiaoqiang, wasn’t particularly handsome or young. His inverted triangle physique was arguably the only thing worth looking at.
Sitting amidst the bustling noise of the hot pot restaurant, Chu Ning roughly estimated the foot traffic. The daily income of this shop… well, it was inversely proportional to the owner’s appearance.
“Sorry I’m late!”
A gust of wind blew behind her as Ying Jing appeared, hugging a basketball.
Chu Ning gave him a once-over from head to toe. “Uh, aren’t you cold wearing so little?”
Ying Jing was dressed in short-sleeved basketball attire, holding half a bottle of mineral water in his other hand. Smiling, he said, “My basketball uniform today is the new Nike model—I wanted to show off.”
“...” This excuse left her speechless.
“Haha, I’m joking.” Ying Jing’s jokes carried a warmth that had a certain endearing clumsiness. Sitting across from Chu Ning, he waved his hand. “Waiter, please take our order over here.” Then, glancing at Chu Ning, he exclaimed, “Wow, you seem thinner than last time.”
It was true. Chu Ning had grown quite gaunt recently, even seeing a psychologist twice before recovering somewhat.
Ying Jing placed the basketball beside him, gently patting it. “Behave, no drooling.”
Chu Ning couldn’t help but smile.
“Did you put on lipstick today?” Ying Jing stared at her earnestly. “So red, so pretty.”
This natural compliment was more pleasing than any embellished praise. Chu Ning relaxed and joked with him. “So red, right? I just ate a child before coming here.”
“...” Ying Jing quickly hugged himself. “I’m not a child!”
Chu Ning furrowed her brows slightly.
“I ordered pig’s brain for you—will two portions be enough?” The waiter brought the menu, and Ying Jing checked off items. “Let’s make it three—I’m afraid you won’t have enough. Do you prefer shredded kelp or kelp slices? Let’s go with slices—they’re crunchier.”
He quickly finished ordering. Chu Ning glanced at the menu—at least thirty plates.
“And a large bottle of Coca-Cola,” Ying Jing added.
Chu Ning reminded him, “Drink less soda.”
“Why?” Ying Jing looked up, his pupils reflecting in her eyes.
Chu Ning held his gaze for three seconds, then lightly averted her eyes. “It kills sperm.”
Ying Jing suddenly coughed, his face turning red from the coughing fit.
“...Was that really necessary?” Like a pure-hearted young boy, Chu Ning found it amusing. “There’s scientific evidence for that.”
Ying Jing, rendered speechless, scratched his head awkwardly, completely stumped.
Chu Ning got to the point. “How much of your current work is left unfinished?”
Ying Jing understood she was referring to Zhao Mingchuan’s project. “The first phase is almost over. After that, it depends on their progress.”
Chu Ning: “It won’t be that quick. From data collection to organization, to strategy adjustments, it still needs to go through board discussions.” Her sense of timing was precise. “You’re done with this.”
Ying Jing made a sound of acknowledgment, unable to guess Chu Ning’s thoughts.
At this moment, the waiter brought the hot pot ingredients, steaming hot, with chili oil that looked invigorating. As Ying Jing drooled, he suddenly heard Chu Ning ask, “Do you want to come work for me?”
Ying Jing was momentarily stunned, thinking he might have misheard. “What?”
Chu Ning repeated calmly, “The project from last time—I’m taking it on.”
“...” Ying Jing’s brain froze. “Ah. Ah?”
“Aviation simulation modeling technology.” Chu Ning elaborated further, tapping the table. “This project—I’ve decided to do it.”
The restaurant was noisy, the aroma of the hot pot rich and spicy, filling the senses.
But at this moment, Ying Jing’s eyes and ears were solely focused on Chu Ning’s every word and movement.
“Did you hear me?”
“Yes, I heard.”
Then, Ying Jing remained silent for a long time.
Chu Ning smiled faintly, guiding him. “It’s okay. If you have any thoughts, you can tell me. Or, if you want to refuse, that’s fine too.”
Ying Jing shook his head. “I’m not refusing.”
Chu Ning hummed in acknowledgment, waiting for him to continue.
Ying Jing lifted his head, excitement evident on his face. Turning this corner, his chatter resumed. “Do I need to work at your company? Will you pay me? Will you buy insurance and contribute to my housing fund? Are there birthday benefits?”
Chu Ning nodded seriously. “You can choose. Birthday trips—France, Italy abroad; Sanya, Jiuzhaigou, Leifeng Pagoda domestically... none of these exist.”
Ying Jing: “...” Suppressing laughter, he whispered, “You’re such a harsh boss—you don’t even say a few words to comfort your employees.”
Chu Ning remained composed and unruffled. “Are you my employee yet?”
Realizing he had fallen into her trap again, Ying Jing pouted proudly. “I haven’t agreed yet.”
Unexpectedly, she suddenly stood up, leaned forward, and without warning, reached across the table, covering his hand with hers.
Chu Ning’s touch was gentle yet firm. She gripped Ying Jing’s hand and said:
“Looking forward to our cooperation.”
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