Nominal: Hou Liangping blocking the door? He was slapped away!

Inside the cabin, the loudspeaker suddenly emitted a piercing electrical noise.

All passengers instinctively looked up at the loudspeaker overhead.

A young woman's voice came from the loudspeaker, her voice trembling.

"Ladies and gentlemen...we have just received...received a warning from ground military...military control..."

Someone in first class put down their magazine.

Several mothers in the back row of economy class, who had just put their children to sleep, perked up their ears.

The flight attendant's voice grew increasingly broken, completely out of control, and began to sound like she was about to cry.

"Our passenger plane... has been determined to have... illegally entered military-controlled airspace..."

"Two...two armed fighter jets...are currently flanking this aircraft...carrying out armed escort..."

"The military demands that we... return to base immediately... otherwise..."

A suppressed sob came over the loudspeaker.

"Otherwise, this unit will be... shot down with live ammunition."

There was a vacuum in the entire cabin for about two seconds.

Then a woman holding a baby screamed and stood up, startling the child awake, who then burst into tears. This was followed by a chain reaction: cries, screams, the dull thud of a chair being slammed against the back, and the loud crash of suitcases falling as a luggage rack was pushed open.

"I don't want to die! Do it quickly!"

"God! God, save us!"

A white man in a suit knelt down in the aisle and began reciting the Lord's Prayer. Next to him, an elderly Japanese woman clasped her hands together, her lips trembling.

Someone tried to rush toward the cockpit, but was firmly stopped by two male flight attendants.

"Sir! Please return to your seat!"

"Get out of the way! Land now!"

The man punched the flight attendant in the shoulder. The two wrestled and tumbled into the dining car compartment. The dining car overturned, scattering cans and small bottles of liquor all over the floor.

First class is slightly better, but not by much.

The businessman across from them, wearing a large gold watch, jumped up from his seat, gripping the back of the seat in front of him tightly with both hands, the gold chain around his neck jingling loudly.

"Did I pay money just to die?"

No one answered him.

Ding Yizhen sat in his seat, trembling with fear.

Military control.

Armed fighter jets.

It was shot down with live ammunition.

These three words together form the most terrifying nightmare he has ever had.

He gripped the freshly refilled glass of chilled champagne tightly in his hand. His hands were trembling, his arms were trembling, even his shoulders were trembling.

The entire glass of wine overflowed from the rim, and the icy liquid trickled down the back of his hand.

He tried to put the cup down, but his fingers wouldn't obey him at all.

A violent turbulence.

The fuselage suddenly sank.

Ding Yizhen stumbled forward, and the wine glass in his hand flew out of his grasp. The glass tumbled halfway through the air, and the remaining champagne, still covered in ice, poured precisely and completely onto his crotch.

Ding Yizhen didn't care about that. She unbuckled her seatbelt and pressed her face against the cold glass to look outside.

In the darkness of night, a gray-black fighter jet hovered there.

The distance is ridiculously close.

Ding Yizhen was so close that he could clearly see the two missiles hanging under the wings. The missiles were white with a red identification ring around the front.

The deep red August 1st Army emblem on the fuselage flashed under the night navigation lights.

Ding Yizhen's gaze involuntarily moved upwards, landing on the cockpit. Through the reflective glass canopy, he could see the pilot's helmet inside.

His back was soaked with cold sweat, wet and sticky.

Inside the cockpit.

Richard was covered in sweat, and his uniform was soaked through, as if he had just been pulled out of the water.

"UA857 received! We are returning to base immediately! Do not fire! Repeat, do not fire!"

Richard roared in response while frantically jerking the joystick.

The passenger in the front seat had completely given up thinking, huddled in his seat with his hands covering his head, repeatedly muttering "oh god oh god".

Richard gritted his teeth and pushed the joystick all the way to the left.

The Boeing 777, weighing several hundred tons, began to roll and circle violently at an altitude of 30,000 feet.

The entire plane suddenly flipped over in mid-air.

Everyone and everything in the cabin who wasn't wearing a seatbelt was thrown out.

The luggage rack was torn apart by inertia, and suitcases crashed down like cannonballs. Some people were hit on the head and bled profusely. The aisle was littered with suitcases, pillows, blankets, and shattered bottles.

Ding Yizhen was not wearing a seatbelt at all.

His obese body was flung out of the porthole in the weightlessness, his back slamming heavily against the back of the chair opposite him, before he landed on the aisle carpet like a sack of flour.

Bang.

The back of my head hit the metal frame of the seat. My vision went black for a moment.

The plane was still turning. The continuous tilting kept everyone pressed against one side. Ding Yizhen lay on the carpet, trying to get up, but gravity held him down firmly.

He's not afraid of being arrested now, he's afraid of dying.

It is a real, tangible fear of being blown to pieces by a missile in the next second.

Under the combined pressure of fear and the constant feeling of weightlessness, Ding Yizhen's last line of defense collapsed.

Both the bladder and sphincter muscles lose control simultaneously.

A surge of scalding heat gushed from his crotch, mingling with the coolness of the champagne he had just tasted, and quickly soaked through his entire pair of trousers.

The stench spread almost simultaneously.

A strong, nauseating stench spread rapidly through the sealed cabin's air conditioning system.

Ding Yizhen lay face down on the carpet, curled up in a ball. Her hands desperately clawed at the carpet fibers beneath her feet, her fingernails turning inside out.

"Waaaaah... I don't want to die... Let me go back... I'll confess anything..."

The surrounding passengers were already terrified enough. Now this has happened even more.

The first person to smell it was the Korean woman sitting in 2C. She had just gotten up from the floor and straightened her crooked wig when a wave of hot, foul odor hit her face.

"Ooh-hoo! Ooh-hoo-hoo!"

The older woman covered her nose and gagged twice, then scrambled to the back of the row to hide.

Then more people smelled it.

"What's that smell?! Who pooped?!"

"Oh my god, this is disgusting!"

First-class passengers covered their mouths and noses, moving as far away as possible from the thing crawling on the floor in the middle of the aisle.

No one could reconcile the image of this pitiful creature, soaking wet, reeking of foul odor, and wailing on the carpet, with the image of a successful Chinese man just moments before, ordering champagne and exuding an air of self-importance.

The plane's roll finally stabilized.

With two J-8 fighters escorting it from the left and right, the Boeing 777 obediently turned around and began its return journey along the original route.

In the darkness outside the window, the lights of Jingzhou's main urban area reappeared in the distance. From a faint glimmer, they gradually grew larger and brighter.