After only staying in Boston for one day, Fucheng flew back to New York the next morning.
Two days ago, as an active pilot of Donghua Airlines, he drove a plane to New York. Now, go back again.
At 9:00 a.m. on July 7th, Huaguo time, a huge Boeing 777 rushed down the sky, broke through the thick and hot air, and landed at Huaguo Shencheng Airport. In the cabin, the stewardesses coordinated the passengers and let them leave in an orderly manner.
After all the passengers had left, Fucheng lowered his head and filled out the flight schedule.
The captain who was traveling with him unbuttoned his seat belt and looked at him: "Are you going to the headquarters to deliver the report this time?"
The movement of writing paused slightly, Fu Cheng raised his head: "Okay."
The headquarters building of Donghua Airlines is located next to Shencheng Airport. Taking a shuttle bus, Fucheng arrived at the headquarters building soon.
After handing over the flight report to the responsible ground staff, Fucheng was about to turn around and leave when a hesitant female voice sounded from behind: "That... Fu, Fucheng."
The black-haired young man stopped, turned around, and gave her a gentle smile: "Is there anything else?"
The ground crew thought for a moment, and then said, "I heard something, but I don't know if it's true. Recently, there seems to be an air accident investigation organization called UAAG, which the authorities attach great importance to. It may be announced in a few days. You They will also be specially recruited into this organization."
The smile on the corner of his mouth hesitated for a moment, Fu Cheng: "Air accident investigation organization?"
Little ground staff: "Yes. Well, I'm not sure if it's true or not, but I just heard the director mention it by chance..."
"thank you, I know now."
"No, you're welcome!" He smiled happily.
Stepping out of the headquarters building, hot and dry air that is so thick that it is almost watery is pressed into the lungs in an instant, and the hot sun shines on the ground, making people breathless. Go directly to the underground parking garage, find your car, insert the key into the lock, and only hear a crisp "click" sound, and the car engine starts.
Holding the steering wheel with his right hand, just as he was about to drive out of the parking lot, Fu Cheng suddenly remembered what the little ground attendant said.
"...UAAG?"
His slender, fair fingers tapped lightly on the black sheepskin steering wheel, making a faint sound with certain syllables. The dim light from the parking lot shone through the front window and fell on the slightly protruding joints of the wrist, reflecting a hazy and transparent shadow.
The next moment, the black-haired young man let out a low laugh helplessly, and drove away.
Three days later, UAAG's transfer notice was sent to the headquarters of Donghua Airlines.
UAAG stands for United Aviation Accident Group.
That is, the Multinational Cooperative Aircraft Accident Investigation Organization.
Although he had prepared for a long time, Fucheng was still surprised when he actually got this transfer letter.
Investigators of aircraft accidents are generally experienced aircraft maintenance personnel, ground support personnel, and not without pilots. It is not uncommon for pilots to change jobs as air accident investigators, but those are all pilots who are too old or not physically fit.
He was still in his prime, so for such a young pilot to be an air crash investigator, firstly, he might not have much experience in handling accidents, and secondly, this might be a hidden talent.
But Donghua Airlines agreed to his transfer notice.
In the afternoon of the same day, Fucheng and other pilots completed the handover of flight tasks and returned home.
As soon as he got out of the parking lot and hadn't gotten into the elevator, his cell phone rang.
Looking at the phone number starting with "0033" on the phone screen, Fu Cheng was slightly stunned and pressed the answer button.
"Bonjour?"
There was a moment of silence on the other side of the phone, and soon, a soft and gentle female voice replied: "Bonjour, vous parlez français?"
Fucheng responded with a smile: "Can you speak English?"
When the other party spoke again, it had already changed into very fluent Chinese: "Mr. Fucheng, hello, I am Stephanie, an administrator of UAAG, you can call me Lina, that is my nickname." She spoke very quickly, But without making people feel rushed, she spoke softly and sweetly: "It is now 17:31 pm on July 10th, China time. I think you are still in Donghua Airlines?"
Fu Cheng: "I'm already home."
There was a moment of silence on the phone, and the female voice apologized: "I'm sorry to disturb your rest time. According to the time on the transfer letter, you should report to the UAAG headquarters tomorrow. But the incident happened suddenly, we were entrusted temporarily, and now I have already arrived in Finland. I have also booked a ticket for you. If it is convenient for you, I will send a car to the headquarters of UAAG, pick you up at the airport, and then come to Finland."
"sure no problem."
"The license plate number that picked you up is..."
Fucheng recorded the license plate number.
The female voice on the phone said in a gentle and polite voice: "Then, we will wait for you in Finland."
us
Fu Cheng was thoughtful, he smiled and said, "See you in Finland."
***
UAAG's headquarters is in the center of Shencheng, where land is expensive.
There are row upon row of skyscrapers around, and luxury cars pass by. The white-collar elites in formal attire walked in a hurry, and they didn't even want to waste a second of walking. They held mobile phones in their hands, and they were either calling to discuss business, or writing messages and sending emails.
The air is filled with the aroma of banknotes.
Surrounded by urban elites walking hurriedly, Fucheng calmly waited downstairs with his hands in his pockets.
Until there was a harsh noise around him.
"Huh? RIP treats his companions like this? He begged me to come, and he just left me like this?"
This voice was immature and astringent, with a clarity and clarity that only belonged to teenagers.
Fu Cheng turned around and looked, as expected, he was indeed a teenager who looked like a teenager. He wears a pair of green headphones around his neck and a silver skull stud on his right ear. He is not tall, visually in his early 160s, wearing a graffiti-style loose big T-shirt, pulling a black suitcase in his right hand, holding a phone in his left hand, full of resentment and impatience.
"...Why isn't he called RIP? Heck, he's called RIP. You tell RIP, I'm going back to Boston, goodbye!"
"Should I tell him face to face? Is he in the country? If he wants to appear in front of me now, I'll tell him the same in front of him!"
The teenager hung up the phone angrily, and when he realized that someone was looking at him, he raised his head.
Because the two were standing very close to each other, and Fucheng was 183cm tall, the punk boy needed to raise his head to meet his gaze.
It's not even a small lift.
Punk boy: "..."
"Humph."
Fucheng: "..."
What's wrong.
At this time, a black Rolls Royce slowly drove up to the two of them. The driver got out of the car and opened the door.
As the car approached, Fucheng could see its license plate number clearly. Now that the driver opened the door, he was about to enter. Unexpectedly, he bumped into a thin figure.
Both of them were taken aback.
"UAAG?"
"UAAG?"
"..."
"..."
Sure enough, you guys at UAAG are amazing!
The two got into the car separately.
Fucheng and the punk boy sat on both sides of the back seat. As soon as they entered the car, the punk boy seemed to have just noticed that it was a luxury car.
"Hey, RIP is really rich, luxury car. I didn't pay attention to it just now, Starry Sky Top, RR?" The punk boy fumbled around excitedly. He pressed a button, and a sterling silver cigar box was picked out on the left; he pressed another button, and the glass between the two of them and the front seat slowly turned into frosted glass, blocking the line of sight and making the punk boy's eyes shine . Thousands of words, but gathered into one sentence: "Fuck, it's nice to be rich!"
Fu Cheng nodded sympathetically.
But the Rolls-Royce that picked him up was just the beginning.
The two had just arrived at Shencheng Airport, and before they got out of the car, a beautiful stewardess opened the car door for them.
"Dear Mr. Fu, Mr. Su, this way please."
Two other flight attendants took the luggage from the trunk.
The punk teenager was dumbfounded.
Fucheng has long known that the airport has such a service, but it is also the first time he has seen it.
The stewardess had a gentle smile, a nice voice, and was very good-looking. After taking them into the lounge, he continued to serve them intimately until they were sent to board the plane. The punk boy seems to be stepping on the clouds, and the whole person is in the air.
Of course it's first class on the plane.
After arriving in Helsinki, the capital of Finland, I got off the plane and changed to a Bentley to pick me up.
The punk boy said blankly: "What the hell is UAAG doing here?" After a pause, he turned to look at Fucheng, his curiosity overwhelmed his face, he couldn't hold back, and asked in a low voice: "Hey, from UAAG, What the hell are you doing here?"
It was also the first day in Fucheng, but he propped his chin with one hand, leaned on the soft leather seat, pondered for a moment, and already had an answer in his heart.
"say something."
Fucheng looked down at him, Qingjun didn't have much expression on his face, and his voice was calm: "Half a year ago, Japan Airlines flight JL917 was bound from Tokyo to Helsinki and crashed above a farmland one kilometer away from Vantaa Airport. 136 passengers and nine crew were killed, 89 survived.
The expression of the punk boy froze.
Bentley stopped slowly, Fucheng glanced at the young man, opened the door and got off the car.
This place seems to be a factory area, inaccessible, and the orange factory shed accommodates all the people and machines, hiding them inside. The car stopped outside a small two-story building. It was dark at this time, and a breeze blew across the vast expanse of land. The elegant fragrance of lilies of the valley blew into the nostrils along the wind.
The setting sun has not completely sunk into the horizon, and near the edge of the earth, there is a magnificent fiery orange.
In the distance, through the dim light, Fucheng saw a long black figure in front of the two-story building.
There was no other way to go at this time, the punk boy got out of the car behind him, and went to get his luggage depressed. Fu Cheng strode forward, wanting to ask for directions.
As we got closer, the fragrance of lily of the valley in the wind became stronger, and there was also a heavy smell of tobacco.
This person was wearing a thin and simple white T-shirt, and he was not afraid of the low temperature of only ten degrees in Helsinki at night, so his two thin arms were exposed to the air. He sat on the upper part of the double-layered iron railing with his upper body. Because it was too high and the railing was too short, his two long legs were at a loss, so he stepped on the lower part of the railing with one leg, and stepped on the ground with one leg diagonally.
With his left hand propped on the railing, he leaned back and looked up at the night sky. A cigarette is held in his right hand, and he puffs out the clouds.
Fucheng's footsteps were not deliberately hidden, and this person should have heard it, but he still looked up at the sky, and had no intention of turning his head to take a look.
The slightly long black hair was tied into a small ball behind his head with a simple rubber band, but most of the hair fell down, covering most of his face, only revealing a tall, cool nose bridge.
Fucheng settled down: "Hello?"
"Bonjour?"
"...Hey?"
"In addition to French, do you speak Finnish?"
In the cold summer night, the man's casual voice passed through the fragrance of lily of the valley and the bitter taste of tobacco, and landed on Fucheng's heart. With a cigarette in one hand, he turned his head, tilted his head slightly, and looked at the black-haired young man in front of him with a half-smile. The thin lips curled up in an arc that should be called kindness.
However, under the gradually lowering night, the black-haired young man's eyes narrowed sharply, and his fingers trembled.
There is no opening.
At the edge of the earth, the last ray of sunlight disappears into the abyss.
He was thrown into the deepest part of the polar glacier, and the blood in his body froze the moment he saw this man.
At this time, there was the sound of dragging luggage behind him, followed by the exclaimed punk boy: "RIP?"
Zhuo Huan let out a soft snort from his nose: "Huh? I'm defeated?"
The punk boy became furious: "Who the hell is your defeater!"
"It's just that I beat you 37 blackjacks." He bit the cigarette with his teeth, and with a slight kick on the iron railing with his slender legs, he stood up straight. Zhuohuan put his hands in his trouser pockets, raised his chin towards Fucheng, "Zhuohuan."
This is introducing yourself to him.
Before Fu Cheng could reply, Zhuo Huan laughed, biting a cigarette, turned and entered the small building: "I know your name is Fu Cheng." After saying that, he lazily raised his hand, and waved it back without looking back. .
He walked in an incomparably chic way, with great confidence, as if he knew that the two people behind him would definitely follow him and enter the door with him, there was absolutely no second choice.
The punk boy dragged his suitcase and followed aggressively.
Just as the man's figure was about to disappear into the shadow of the small building, the black-haired young man who was frozen outside the door also moved. He lifted his foot and followed in.