Author: La Rive Gauche
Volume: 3
Age Rating: Mature
Exlusive Extra: √
Translator：Golden Pavilion
Editor：Smallfry Kn.

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Volume One

Beijing Daxing International Airport, the control tower and Air Traffic Control Center.

The newly opened Daxing Airport featured four runways and saw a traffic volume of more than 40 million passengers annually. During peak hours, as many as 80 flights per hour were coordinated by a team of fewer than twenty air traffic controllers in the compact control tower. At any given minute, each controller managed the movements of more than ten aircraft.

Beijing was not particularly hot at the end of August, and the air conditioning in the control tower kept it consistently cool. However, Approach Controller Wang Zhanbo had broken out in a light sweat. After graduating only two years ago, he had transferred from a small airport in Jilin to Beijing, where he was still adapting to the massive increase in passenger traffic. Fridays, with their influx of weekend travelers, were the busiest days of the week. The busier it was, the higher the chance of errors cropping up. Wang Zhanbo kept his mentor’s advice in mind, striving to issue each of his instructions accurately and swiftly. Fortunately, his mentor was on duty today, which was reassuring. Half of his long day shift quickly flew by in a mix of tension and excitement.

Fang Hao was Wang Zhanbo’s mentor. At first glance, they looked about the same age, and in the beginning, some pilots even mistook Wang Zhanbo for his mentor. This was perhaps due to Fang Hao’s habit of keeping his hair short for the past couple of years, giving him a university-student vibe. In fact, Fang Hao was 29 years old and a senior controller at Beijing Daxing Airport—one of the first controllers who had transferred from Beijing Capital Airport to Daxing. Although Fang Hao wasn’t on the mic today, he was still on his toes as he supervised his apprentice, cautious as ever.

As the flight volume increased in the evening, Wang Zhanbo began to feel overwhelmed. While issuing instructions, he cast a pleading look at Fang Hao, which the latter answered with a simple nod before sliding his chair into Wang’s position and taking the microphone from him.

“Xiamen Air 237, Beijing, radar contact. ETUDE-10 departure, climb and maintain 2,400 meters, QNH 998.

“China Eastern 3488, climb and maintain 3,600 on standard.

“Capital Jet 157, contact Beijing on 123.5. Good day.”

No sooner had he cleared one aircraft than another approached. A Delta Air Lines plane chimed in on the frequency, “Beijing Approach, good evening. Delta 230, with you.”

Fang Hao glanced at the screen and replied, “Delta 230, radar contact, right turn heading 090 to JVN, descend and maintain 2,400 meters.”

Delta 230 repeated back, “Right turn heading 090 to JVN, descend and maintain 2,400 meters, Delta 230.”

Wang Zhanbo looked at him with glowing eyes. English was his weak point; as long as the other party could understand and correctly repeat his instructions, he considered it good enough. However, Fang Hao’s pronunciation was so precise, it sounded like it came straight out of an American TV show. He wanted to compliment his mentor, but there was no time for that—within a single minute, Fang Hao had issued over twenty commands.

“Xiamen Air 237, climb and maintain 3,600 on standard.

“China Eastern 3488, climb and maintain 5,100.

“China Southern 898, Beijing, radar contact, VAK01 inbound, runway 17L, descend and maintain 3,600 on standard.”

After the surge subsided, Fang Hao handed the microphone back to Wang Zhanbo, not without offering a few words of encouragement, of course. “Keep practicing. You’ve got this.” After receiving a vigorous nod from Wang Zhanbo, he told him, “I’m gonna check out Tower. You’ll be fine, right?”

Major airports like Daxing divided air traffic control into three distinct roles: Area, Approach, and Tower Control.

Tower, also known as Local Control, was situated on the top floor, from which all arriving and departing flights were visible on clear days. The office they were currently in, Approach Control, was situated on a lower floor, where instructions were instead issued based on radar parameters displayed on screens. For that reason, only the most outstanding controllers were chosen to serve there. It was also Fang Hao’s preferred position, because rather than being able to see farther, he preferred the reach of Approach’s invisible hands over the airspace.

Chu Yirou was on duty at Tower that day. She had a soft and endearing voice, so when she first started in the position, many pilots would ask around about the new Tower controller. 

At the moment, she was issuing instructions to an aircraft taxiing out. “KLM 1237, runway 17L, cleared for takeoff.”

In Fang Hao’s view, the stunning sky-blue livery of KLM’s aircraft made even Beijing’s sky seem a shade duller. The massive Airbus A330 curved gracefully into the air. All of a sudden, a subtle pop reached his ears. He instinctively grabbed a pair of binoculars and trained them on the ascending KLM A330, where he spotted the problem instantaneously: though the details were hard to discern, the two rear-left tires appeared to have burst, their rubber dangling in the air.

Still, Fang Hao did not hesitate—better to err on the side of caution in matters like these. He immediately moved to the station and pressed the transmit button. “KLM 1237, Daxing Tower, looks like you have a blown tire. Please confirm.”

There was a moment of silence as the crew checked their equipment, then the pilot’s voice came through. “Affirmative. We have two blown tires, uh…on the left side. KLM 1237.”

Holding the microphone, Fang Hao’s voice remained calm. “Roger. Maintain heading 030 at 1,500. Please confirm intentions.”

The response from KLM was equally composed. “We’re going to return and land in Daxing. Maintain heading 030 at 1,500, KLM 1237.”

Fang Hao issued an emergency call to Ground Control. “Runway 17L, blown tire on KLM 1237. Prepare emergency vehicles and shut down the runway.”

Chu Yirou had never dealt with this issue before. She had been directing other landings and had not noticed the KLM aircraft’s situation in the air, so she followed Fang Hao’s lead.

“They’ll still have to come down,” Fang Hao told her. “Give them runway 17R. I’ll provide radar vectors from Approach.” 

Even if a plane encountered an issue during takeoff, simply turning back around was not an option. They would need radar guidance to lead them onto the Approach path before they could land again.

Chu Yirou answered without hesitation, “Got it.”

Fang Hao hung up and quickly ran downstairs, taking the microphone from Wang Zhanbo. “We’ve got a situation. KLM has a blown tire. I’ll handle this one.”

Wang Zhanbo immediately stepped aside for him.

As they say, when it rains, it pours; the ground crew was already in chaos, and one could not expect the planes to just wait in the air. They even had two more aircraft from Hainan Airlines and Shanghai Airlines entering the airspace as they spoke. Fang Hao quickly reassigned them to different runways, clearing out 17L. It could have been tire pressure that caused KLM’s tires to pop, or it could have been debris on the runway. Either way, they had to ensure the runway was clear of any obstacles before it could be used again. This was like adding fuel to the fire during the Friday 5 p.m. rush hour, when there was no room for error.

After settling that part, he checked the radar. The KLM aircraft had climbed to an altitude of 2,100 meters. He quickly followed up. “KLM 1237, can you climb to 3,000? You can use 17R. Emergency vehicles are on standby.”

The pilot responded promptly. “We are a full flight with…221 passengers and fuel. Climbing very slowly. Gonna need to dump fuel. Confirm climbing to 3,000, but we need some time. KLM 1237.”

An A330 fully loaded with passengers needed to climb to a certain altitude to dump excess fuel, which would reduce its weight to ensure the remaining wheels could withstand the impact upon landing.

After confirming with them, Fang Hao swiftly returned his focus to the two planes that were about to reach their final leg, clearing the 3,000-meter flight level for the malfunctioning KLM flight.

“United Eagle 3185, left turn heading 270, descend and maintain 4,200.”

“Left turn heading 270, descend and maintain 4,200. United Eagle 3185,” the Chengdu Airlines flight captain repeated the instructions verbatim.

“China Southern 287, reduce speed to 240 knots, cleared for descent to 2,400. Runway 19R, QNH 1014.”  Next up was China Southern. “Reduce speed to 240 knots, descend to 2,400, runway 19R. China Southern 287.”

At this time, another plane came into range of the control tower’s radar. Fang Hao glimpsed the flight number—CA1332, an Air China flight. If he was not mistaken, it was a Boeing 737-800.

“Beijing Approach, good evening. Air China 1332, altitude 4,800, information H. 300 knots, request ILS approach runway 17L.” 

The captain’s deep and husky voice took Fang Hao aback momentarily. That voice…sounded familiar.

Chen Jiayu’s fingers clenched around the radio. It was a windless Beijing evening. Visibility was excellent, but his mood was far from it. Two minutes after tuning into the Approach frequency, he was bombarded with a flurry of commands, unable to get a word in. It was clear there were many flights tonight, and a long wait lay ahead.

This air traffic controller had a relaxed voice, with a touch of Beijing flair in the standard broadcasting intonation. It surprised him—over the past few weeks, Daxing Approach was usually handled by a familiar female voice, while Tower was often manned by Chen Jiayu’s former classmate from Civil Aviation University, Lu Yan.

Chen Jiayu had been flying this route for over a month, often arriving in Beijing around the same time. He and Lu Yan were tight, and if he asked, the latter was happy to do him a favor, either letting him taxi out or land earlier. Unfortunately for him, Lu Yan was off-duty today, and whoever was on the mic was a complete stranger.

Sure enough, Fang Hao quickly denied his request. “Air China 1332, we have a situation on ground. Runway 17L is unavailable. Descend and maintain 3,600.”

Chen Jiayu immediately responded, “In that case, requesting runway 17R, Air China 1332.” Eager to land, he selected an alternative runway based on his knowledge of the airport’s layout, unaware that 17R had been reserved for the KLM aircraft.

“Air China 1332, 17R is also occupied,” Fang Hao replied.

“Please assign us a runway. Air China 1332,” Chen Jiayu quickly followed up.

However, Fang Hao left him hanging. His attention was on the KLM aircraft climbing to 3,000 meters. He hailed them, “KLM 1237, how is your situation?”

For a few seconds, the KLM captain did not respond, leaving Fang Hao on tenterhooks. He checked the plane’s heading, altitude, and position—everything appeared normal, just as he had instructed. Moreover, the crew had squawked an emergency code, which eased him a little bit. Takeoff and landing were the riskiest phases of a flight; 80% of aviation accidents occurred during these moments, so even a minor anomaly demanded utmost vigilance.

After five seconds, the KLM crew finally replied, “We need radar vectors to a fuel-dumping area. KLM 1237.”

Fang Hao immediately directed, “KLM 1237, Roger. We will guide you southbound to dump fuel. Climb and maintain 6,000. Fly heading 220.” After firing off the long line of instructions, he checked in with Chen Jiayu, reassuring him that he hadn’t forgotten about him. “Air China 1332, we’re working on the conflicts. Hold on a bit longer.”

Chen Jiayu pressed on. “We can accept a deviation. Air China 1332.” As a captain, it was not in his nature to yield; his first priority was his passengers, and he was always straightforward on the radio, never beating around the bush.

Fang Hao rejected the suggestion. “There are already two more flights ahead on 17R…” He glanced at the screen. “I’ll queue you for 19R. Only China Southern and United Eagle are ahead of you, so please wait, Air China 1332.”

Chen Jiayu’s plane got caught in traffic during descent, bouncing between 9,800 and 10,100 altitude under Area Control’s guidance. Frustrated, he protested, “I’ve got 45 minutes of fuel left. We were rerouted at Baiyun on departure, and now we’re stuck circling over Daxing…Sigh. What’s going on today?”

Fang Hao, unsurprisingly, didn’t mince his words either, replying in a strictly professional tone, “Air China 1332, are you declaring a fuel emergency?”

In the cockpit, Xu Hengchuan shot an awkward glance at Chen Jiayu.

Chen Jiayu was tempted to, but he hesitated when he remembered Xu Hengchuan was the captain for this leg. The PF’s reluctance to escalate this situation was clear, so Chen Jiayu swallowed his frustration. “Not for now, but—”

Fang Hao cut him off mid-sentence to check in on KLM. Then, he issued China Southern landing clearance, and, after confirming KLM had climbed to 5,400 meters, instructed United Eagle to descend to 3,000.

Only then did he return to Chen Jiayu. “Air China 1332, blocked just now, please say again.”

Unlike a phone call, two people could not speak simultaneously on the radio. In such cases, one must say “blocked” and ask for a repeat. However, the signal clearly hadn’t been blocked just now—it was the controller who had outright interrupted him.

Before Chen Jiayu could say anything, United Eagle’s captain spoke. “United Eagle 3185, uh…Air China 1332, you’ve got low fuel, so you go ahead and land first. We can wait. Maintaining altitude 4,200. United Eagle 3185.”

Chen Jiayu finally cracked a slight smile. He did not particularly care about fame, but sometimes it did have its perks—like now, being able to speed up his landing felt pretty satisfying. Whether it was because the other captain recognized him over VHF by his voice and the flight’s origin and destination, or simply because they arrived early today and were not in a hurry to land, he didn’t mind either way.

Unexpectedly, Fang Hao overturned the decision. “United Eagle 3185, descend first. You’re at the front of the queue. Runway 19R. Descend to 3,000 immediately.” 

The United Eagle crew had no choice but to comply.

Fang Hao resumed speaking in a relaxed tone, as if nothing had happened. “Air China 1332, caution wake turbulence ahead. Your spacing is short.”

“Fucking…” Chen Jiayu cursed under his breath. He waited until United Eagle descended before transmitting, “United Eagle is queued before us, but we’re at a lower altitude. What…” What was the controller even thinking?

Fang Hao did not budge. “Air China 1332, I’ve explained that there’s an emergency on the ground. Area Control also informed you of a minor delay. Our hotline is 12349. Feel free to file a complaint if you have any concerns.”

Seeing that they were willing to go that far, Chen Jiayu had no choice but to grit his teeth and wait in the air as instructed. He wondered, who was this Approach Controller? One of Lu Yan’s trainees? That’s a lot of attitude he was giving him. Chen Jiayu decided that the first thing he would do after landing was to speak with Lu Yan and get to the bottom of this.

^{Translation: Golden Pavilion
Copy Editor: Smallfry Kn.
Proofreader: Pengie}

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