Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Every time Feng Chen recalled the disaster from years ago, he couldn't think of any sign that had hinted at it in advance.

If he had to pinpoint an early indication, he wondered if losing the backpack charm Yan Bubu gave him that day counted.

April 7, 2105

"Master Feng, the plane departs for home in half an hour. We need to leave the training base now. Do you have any luggage to pack?"

An officer stood in the sparsely furnished single dorm room, slightly bowing his head, his voice respectful.

Opposite him was a well-proportioned young man, adjusting his suit tie in front of the mirror. The face in the mirror was strikingly handsome. Although he appeared young, his juvenile features betrayed an uncharacteristic maturity for his age.

Feng Chen didn't respond, turning his head and walking out of the room, with the officer picking up a suitcase and backpack to follow.

On the lawn outside the dormitory, several young men were shaking hands and saying goodbye. Upon seeing Feng Chen, they involuntarily paused their conversation, their smiles freezing on their faces.

Feng Chen walked towards the gate without looking around, the sunlight falling from the side, giving his somewhat pale skin an icy, jade-like texture.

One of the boys, looking at his retreating figure, said in a low, reluctant voice, "In this year's Eaglet Special Training, he's taken first place again."

"It's mainly because you've been sick with a fever lately and weren't in good form. Beat him next year," another boy comforted.

"But next year I'll be fifteen, exceeding the age limit for the Eaglet Special Training."

"Ah, what do we do then? Feng Chen is only twelve, aren't we going to be defeated by him for three more years?"

"No need to compare with him; he's just a freak."

Their voices were not soft, yet Feng Chen, expressionless as ever, boarded the waiting jeep at the gate and swiftly left the training grounds.

Half an hour later, at a nearby military airport, a small private jet soared into the sky, heading towards the distant United States.

Inside the cabin, the officer, amid the background noise of a television news broadcast, was arranging the luggage that hadn't been properly stowed. Feng Chen, leaning back in his seat, switched on his phone that had been off throughout the training.

The moment the screen lit up, several messages popped up.

Mother: "Feng Chen, after your training, we'll go on a vacation to the island as a family."

Mother: "Feng Chen, your Uncle Chen is giving a presidential campaign speech in Hongcheng. Your father has been his friend for many years, so we must attend. That's why Vice Captain Wang is coming to pick you up."

Feng Chen glanced down at the date of the latter message, which was from yesterday. He set down his phone, listening to the female news anchor's voice.

"…It remains to be seen if General Feng will appear at Chancellor Chen Sizhe's campaign speech—"

The anchor's voice abruptly stopped as the TV was turned off. Feng Chen tossed the remote onto the table in front, his brow faintly betraying impatience.

The officer turned and tentatively asked, "Master Feng, are you feeling unwell?"

Feng Chen shook his head.

In fact, he did feel somewhat unwell. He had been experiencing unexplained low-grade fevers for the past few days, which would disappear quickly, so he hadn't taken it seriously.

Now, feeling feverish again, he couldn't help but raise his hand to his forehead. The observant officer, after asking a few low questions, set down the military backpack and went to get medicine from the flight attendant.

Alone in the cabin, Feng Chen looked at the black military backpack and suddenly noticed that a charm was missing.

It was a brown, fluffy accessory, perhaps a bear or a rabbit—he hadn't looked closely. He only occasionally remembered it when he felt something lightly bumping against the backpack.

Of course, it also reminded him of Yan Bubu.

Yan Bubu often stuffed bizarre things into his backpack before he left home, leading to moments when Feng Chen, during a written exam, used a piece of chocolate resembling an eraser, and once, under the watchful eye of a combat instructor, pulled out a brightly colored plastic sword.

He was furious, but since Yan Bubu was only six, he could only scold her, using stern tones and glares as a deterrent.

This approach worked well with others, who kept their distance in respect, but it didn’t include Yan Bubu.

Yan Bubu was remarkably thick-skinned. No sooner had he reprimanded her than she would approach him again, her curly hair bobbing.

Feng Chen could only tolerate and choose to ignore Yan Bubu's presence. After all, in a few years, he would be off to military school, and Yan Bubu would be completely out of his world.

He didn't discard the charm this time, not because he liked it, but because he had become accustomed to ignoring it, to disregarding anything related to Yan Bubu.

"Young master, would you like to rest for a bit? We still have several hours before we land," the officer asked, taking the water glass after Feng Chen had taken the medicine.

Feng Chen nodded and leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes.

He felt the sunshade being lowered and the back of his seat reclined, a blanket was draped over him, and he soon fell into a deep sleep amidst the monotonous drone of the plane.

。

The sunlight was pleasant. After finishing her chores, the maid, Amei, hurried back to the servant's quarters, took out a quilt, and hung it on a rope in the small courtyard to air.

Observing a dark wet patch in the middle of the quilt, Amei asked sternly, "Yan Bubu, did you drink water again before bed last night?"

Under the eaves stood a five or six-year-old boy, hands in the pockets of his deep blue overalls, his curly hair a tousled mess, replying dejectedly, "Yes."

"Didn't I tell you not to drink water before bed?"

Yan Bubu, fiddling with the leg of the table with his sneaker-clad foot, replied in a tiny voice, "I was a bit thirsty and couldn't sleep, so I drank a little."

"How much is a little?"

"Just a little bit, like a cupful."

"A full cup?"

"...Yes."

As Amei unfolded the quilt, feeling somewhat dizzy, she touched her forehead, suspecting a mild fever, and said irritably, "What six-year-old still wets the bed? It's embarrassing. Even if you're thirsty, don't drink too much before bed."

"Understood."

Seeing Amei no longer scolding him, Yan Bubu asked, "Mom, is the young master coming back today?"

"Yes, Vice Captain Wang went to pick him up yesterday."

Joy sparkled in Yan Bubu's large eyes. He hopped twice on the spot, his soft curls bobbing chaotically, a few strands falling over his ears.

Amei glanced at him, admonishing sternly, "Bubu, don't always hover around the young master when he's back. It's not appreciated, understand?"

"Got it," Yan Bubu giggled, squinting slightly in the sunlight, and began to spin around happily with his arms outstretched.

Knowing he only agreed verbally, Amei sighed helplessly and walked towards the main house, reminding, "There's a piece of cake on the table. Wash your hands before eating."

Yan Bubu continued spinning and responding, his view a blur of the spinning sky, the servant's quarters, and the silhouette of his mother entering the main house.

He usually could spin like this for a long time, but today, after only a few turns, he felt dizzy and unsteady.

He tried to reach for a nearby table for support, but his feet felt like they were on cotton, staggering a few steps before collapsing to the ground.

Yan Bubu sat there, dazed, watching the lawn in the yard undulate like sea waves, the distant buildings swaying like wheat fields in the wind, bending at their waists.

A deep rumble, like an unknown beast roaring, emanated from beneath the earth.

The ground shook violently; the cement slab above cracked and fell, landing near Yan Bubu amidst the engulfing dust and the loud crashing of collapsing buildings. Unable to stand, he instinctively crawled forward.

"Bubu—"

He faintly heard his mother's hoarse scream from the direction of the main house. Just as he was about to respond, darkness engulfed him.

。

The plane was descending, and Feng Chen peered through the window at the familiar city below.

Haiyun City, surrounded by the sea on three sides, boasts a particularly striking structure: the Haiyun Tower, a landmark soaring a kilometer high into the sky.

Sunlight streamed through the plane's window, casting a soft golden glow on the young man's fair skin, softening the coldness in his eyes and features, enhancing his handsome countenance.

"Young master, shall we head straight home?" the officer asked.

Having just awakened from a nap and his fever subsided, Feng Chen felt much better and replied, "Straight home."

The airplane quickened its descent, the landing gear touching the ground, gliding smoothly along the runway.

The officer stood to open the overhead luggage compartment while Feng Chen unbuckled his seatbelt.

Bang!

A sudden loud noise erupted from somewhere in the cabin, jolting the aircraft violently.

The officer muttered, "What's happening? Isn’t the runway clear?"

Feng Chen instinctively looked out the window, only to be met with a sight that made his pupils contract, freezing him into a statue.

The distant terminal building was tilting at an unbelievable angle before collapsing under its own weight, kicking up a cloud of dust.

Amidst the white smoke, people were running towards the tarmac, but the smooth surface cracked open suddenly, spreading rapidly like cracks on a glass window, swallowing those in its path.

Sealed within the cabin, Feng Chen couldn’t hear the chaos outside, hearing only his rapid breathing. Before he could even process what was happening, the plane lurched again violently.

Oxygen masks dropped from above, and the officer yelled, "Don’t panic, it’s an assault, stay seated."

The two flight attendants hurriedly took their seats, grabbing the intercom to check with the pilot.

As the plane shook, racing forward, Feng Chen saw the runway and grass beside it being twisted and pulled as if by giant hands—some areas bulging into mounds, others cracking and collapsing into newly formed chasms.

Bang! Another loud noise as the plane tilted to the left, with suitcases falling from the overhead compartment, rolling and crashing against the cabin wall.

Amidst the flight attendants' screams, Feng Chen gripped his seat tightly, watching two airplanes on the tarmac slip into a bottomless crack.

"Put on your oxygen mask," the officer shouted at him.

Feng Chen snapped back to reality, quickly grabbing the swinging oxygen mask and securing it. Following the survival training he had learned, he bent forward, head towards his knees, legs pulled back tightly.

The runway behind them collapsed in sections, while the front twisted like a worm, rough and uneven. The pilot seemed to attempt a takeoff but couldn't gain enough speed, clumsily stumbling forward.

White smoke filled the cabin, alarms shrilling, the plane shaking so violently it seemed on the verge of capsizing. Finally, it swerved sharply to the right, rushing towards the grassy area on the side.

A sudden jolt threw Feng Chen forward, his body hurtling through the air before being sharply reeled back by the seatbelt. Amidst the flight attendants' terrified screams, he felt a buzzing in his head and then blacked out.