Chapter Three: Sorrow and Glory

Hanjiang International Airport, Terminal 3.

The early summer sun streamed straight down from the sky, casting a dazzling glow upon this magnificent, modern architectural marvel.

Liu Jingyang, with a camera slung over his chest and a notebook clenched tightly in his hand, weaved through the departure hall.

Liu Jingyang was a reporter for the National News Agency. At only 27, this energetic young man had just joined the agency but had already earned the praise of veteran journalists for his sharp professionalism, thorough reporting, and meticulous, insightful analysis.

Four years ago, during the devastating sinking disaster that claimed 434 lives and left 8 missing, Liu had demonstrated extraordinary acuity and courage. He broke through four layers of barriers, entered the ship’s hull, and stayed inside for an entire day and night. His harrowing firsthand report shocked the nation, instantly making him a household name and a leading figure in breaking news and in-depth journalism.

Yet now, Liu Jingyang looked weighed down by worry.

The departure hall bustled as usual with people coming and going, but eerily, despite the large crowd, there was scarcely a sound. It was as if everyone was afraid to disturb something; footsteps were light and slow. Still, their gazes involuntarily converged on a single corner.

There, a group of silent people sat.

Among them were white-haired elders, young women in their prime, and babies just learning to speak. They said nothing, quietly seated on silver-gray benches, their eyes stubbornly fixed on the massive LCD screen in the hall, as if willing themselves to find a trace of their loved ones there.

Liu Jingyang sighed deeply.

Though he had grown accustomed to death and farewells after countless emergencies since joining the agency, every time he faced those involved or their families, he could not remain calm.

These people, after the initial shock, had been sitting here ever since, silently praying, silently waiting, never leaving. Now, after five days and nights, their expressions had grown nearly numb, their eyes vacant, yet they stubbornly lingered, clinging to hope for a miracle.

Was he not too waiting for a miracle?

But would a miracle truly happen?

As a prominent reporter with vast connections and access to information beyond the ordinary, and with sharp analytical skills, Liu Jingyang had begun to sense something.

Though the information was sparse and chaotic, he had an uneasy feeling that the disappearance of Flight 370 was no accident, far from as simple as it appeared.

“Mommy, when will Daddy come back?”

A tender voice broke Liu’s reverie. He looked up to see, a few meters away, a little girl in a beautiful lace dress, her face like delicate porcelain glowing with innocence. She clung to her mother’s neck and asked in a soft childlike voice.

Her mother, a stylish yet haggard young woman, gently patted the girl’s back but with red-rimmed eyes bit her lip tightly, unable to speak a word.

A sudden sting rose in Liu Jingyang’s nose. He took several deep breaths, barely suppressing tears that threatened to spill, forcing a twisted smile as he approached the mother and daughter, wishing to offer some comfort.

Before he could take a step forward, the young woman’s phone rang urgently. Hastily, she answered, but after hearing just a few words, she burst into tears.

Almost simultaneously, phones around them began ringing one after another, the hall instantly filled with a cacophony of ringing.

“What’s happening?” Liu murmured in confusion, just as his own phone vibrated violently inside his bag.

“Could it be...?” A sudden possibility flashed through his mind. With unbelievable speed, he pulled out his phone, suppressing the pounding in his chest, and answered.

“Where are you?” The voice on the other end was his superior, Li Jun, and Liu was stunned by the urgency in his normally composed and genteel boss’s tone.

“I’m at—”

Before Liu could finish, Li Jun shouted, “Look! Turn on the TV!”

Liu looked up in astonishment. The giant LCD screen abruptly switched to a vast broadcast studio, where a dignified colonel, holding a document, strode onto the central podium.

Yang Yusheng, spokesperson for the Ministry of National Defense.

Liu instantly recognized the rising star of the military world, known recently for his elegant demeanor and sharp, refreshing rhetoric. Yet why was he now so stirred, his face flushed, steps hurried and uneven, and his right hand trembled as he clutched the document?

Amid Liu’s mingled confusion and delight, Yang Yusheng took a deep breath, slowly opened the file, and in a slightly trembling voice announced:

“Eighty hours ago, our elite assault team launched a raid on the East Ugu Chat terrorists who had hijacked Flight 740 on Bright Island in the South Pacific. Five terrorists were killed on the spot. All passengers and crew escaped without injury and are now being transported back to Hanjiang aboard our military aircraft!”

“Long live—”

People in the departure hall leapt to their feet, wildly pumping fists and cheering, embracing each other fervently, releasing pent-up joy!

A miracle—they had waited for it, and it had come!

Liu Jingyang exhaled deeply, a look of relief softening his face. He fixed his gaze on the screen above as Yang Yusheng’s resolute voice echoed:

“We solemnly warn all violent terrorist forces, separatist movements, religious extremists, and any states or organizations aiding them: The dignity of our great motherland shall not be violated. Our territorial sovereignty shall not be infringed. The safety of our citizens’ lives and property shall not be compromised! Otherwise, what awaits you is utter disgrace and complete annihilation!”

Yang’s expression hardened like iron, his words deliberate and cold: “Consider this your final warning!”

“Long live the Republic—”

An even louder roar of celebration erupted inside and outside the terminal, soaring to the skies!

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The jubilant scenes from the giant screen had frozen, but the cheers still reverberated, echoing long and loud within the Fury Dragon Squad base.

“Captain, you must be comforted in heaven by this celebration. This joyous scene is the greatest tribute to you...” Tears welled in Lei Tiangang’s eyes as he gazed at Huang Xiwen’s large memorial portrait on the podium.

The day after returning to base, at Training Ground One, the entire Fury Dragon Squad gathered for a solemn farewell ceremony for Huang Xiwen.

On the stage stood a large portrait of Huang Xiwen;

Before it stood over thirty soldiers in immaculate uniform, standing at attention with solemnity.

Lieutenant General Lei Tiangang, director of Hanjiang Reconnaissance Academy and commander of the Fury Dragon Squad, clad in camouflage combat attire, stood before the ranks, his sharp eyes sweeping slowly over the men before him.

“Do you see this?” Lei’s voice boomed like thunder. “This is our responsibility, our mission! For the security of our nation, for the peace of our compatriots, we vow to fight to the death—that is our supreme glory!”

Everyone straightened their chests, listening with heart and soul to the oath erupting from the depths of their being—

“We pledge to protect our country, protect our land, protect the dignity and interests of our people. We uphold our beliefs, dedicate our lives. We swear—Those who betray the nation—”

“Death!”

“Those who betray the people—”

“Death!”

“Those who betray our homeland—”

“Death!”

“Those who harm our people—”

“Death!”

“To the martyrs who gave their lives for the country—Salute—”

Lei Tiangang shouted fiercely. The soldiers, eyes gleaming with tears, raised their right hands sharply from their chests in the most solemn military salute to the fallen hero.