Flight Traces

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.