My dad is the youngest ace pilot in the country.

He's equipped with extremely stellar piloting skills. But on the day my mom suffers from a sudden heart attack and desperately needs to transfer hospitals, he refuses to fly her out with the excuse that the weather is terrible.

Later on, someone records Dad flying a private jet just to scatter flower petals from a high altitude on a sunny day in order to celebrate the birthday of another woman's daughter.

Meanwhile, my mom ends up dying on the stretcher while waiting to be saved. He didn't even show up, right up until the burial.

For the next 20 years, my uncle has to take on cab orders every night just to put me through flight school.

The day I become the youngest chief examiner of the Federal Aviation Administration, an airline delivers to me the file of a piloting prodigy for a captain upgrade assessment.

The CEO of the airline is present as the guarantor of said pilot candidate. He puts himself in a very humble position when he addresses me.

"Mr. Lowe, this young woman is extremely talented. If you drop your signature now, she will become the youngest pilot ever."

I flip through the candidate's piloting resume. When my eyes fall on the list of her family members and her emergency contact, I'm stunned for a moment.

Then, I stare at the young woman's photo for a very long time.

Finally, I close the file and state softly, "Sorry. I won't approve her evaluation."

The smile on Jason Zimmerman's face froze.

He lowered his head and looked at the file I slid back to him before casting his gaze upon me.

"Mr. Lowe, what… do you mean you won't approve it?"

"I mean it literally."

Jason tugged at his tie and continued, "Why don't you go through it again? Yasmin Sullivan's total flight hours exceed the required 300 hours, making her eligible for the promotion.

"She got an A for the simulator assessment. She scored full marks for the three emergency procedure executions last year. You can never get another co-pilot in the country of the same age with comparable achievements."

"Mr. Zimmerman, as the chief examiner, I have the right to reject any record that I find suspicious without the airline's permission."

Jason's hand was still placed on top of the file.

"Mr. Lowe, how about this? I've booked a table at Beston Club for tomorrow night. Why don't we—"

"Take the file back."

He remained silent for a moment, and the faint smile on his face disappeared completely.

He grabbed the file, turned around, and left.

When he reached the door, he paused and said, "Mr. Lowe, you're 29 this year."

"Yeah."

"It must've been hard to get to this position, right?"

His voice wasn't loud, and it sounded like he was mumbling.

The door closed, and the office fell into silence.

I turned around and stared at the faint mark on the file that was placed on the desk.

The name written in the emergency contact column was Zachary Lowe.

I stared at it for a while, then turned and looked out of the window.

It was a stretch of beautiful azure, just like the sky from 20 years ago.

My uncle, Peter Wood, once told me that he had stood in front of the county hospital and kept calling my dad back then.

There were 37 missed calls.

Finally, the 38th call got through. Noises rang out from the other end of the line. There was children's laughter and the sound of propellers winding down.

My dad only replied, "The weather is bad today. The aircraft can't take off."

With that, he ended the call.

Hugging Mom, whose heart had stopped beating, Uncle Peter sat in the corridor outside the emergency room the whole night.

The next day, someone posted a photo on the local forum.

In the photo, a white Cessna flew across the sky, with pink petals drifting down from the aircraft.

The sky was clear.

…

In the afternoon, my secretary, Annie Grant, knocked on the door.

"Mr. Lowe, we've received a call from Zach Airways. They asked if you've finished reviewing the file sent by Mr. Zimmerman and when you will be able to approve it."

"I looked through everything. Tell them that the rejection letter will be posted on the system tomorrow."

Annie hesitated for a second. "Mr. Lowe, the person in charge of Zach Airways is… Zachary Lowe."

"I know."

She met my gaze and fell silent.

That night, I called Uncle Peter.

He was working the night shift, and I could hear the swishing sound of wipers in the background.

"Uncle Peter, have you eaten?"

"Yeah. Why are you calling all of a sudden?"

"Nothing. I was just asking."

He chuckled and didn't probe further.

Before he ended the call, he reminded me, "The day after tomorrow is your mom's death anniversary. Don't forget."

"I know."

That night, I opened up the safe.

There was a brown paper bag inside, and the tape sealing the opening had turned yellow.

There were two documents in the paper bag.

The first document was a weather assessment report signed and submitted by Zachary 20 years ago. The remarks column stated, "Not suitable for takeoff."

The second document was from the same day. It was the hourly weather observation record by the National Meteorological Department's Southon Observation Center.

"Visibility: more than six miles. Cloud ceiling: above two miles. Wind speed: five knots."

The sky was clear.

I had spent seven years getting my hands on these two documents.

One of them was retrieved from the Federal Aviation Authority, and the other one was from the National Meteorological Department.

They had never been placed side by side for a comparison.

Today, at 6:00 pm, the secretary of Zach Airways' board of directors called the Federal Aviation Administration's disciplinary inspection team.

They had filed a complaint against me, the chief examiner, for abusing my power over personal affairs.

I had been waiting for the call for a long time.

…

The next morning, Mike Zeller from the disciplinary inspection team called me. "Ethan, do you know that Zach Airways has filed a complaint against you?"

"Yeah."

"They said you didn't provide a valid written reason for denying Yasmin Sullivan's promotion."

"The reason will be posted through the system today. I'll make sure to write it properly."

"There's one more thing. Zachary is coming this afternoon."

Holding the phone, I didn't say a word.

"Do you want to leave the office for a moment?" Mike kept his voice down.

"It's fine."

…

At 2:20 pm, a black Maybach stopped in front of the Federal Aviation Administration building.

I stood in front of the window on the third floor and watched Zachary get out of the car.

It had been 20 years.

He seemed older than he did in the photo. His sideburns had turned gray, but he was still standing upright.

He wore a navy blue coat with perfect cutting. The way he walked reminded me of Uncle Peter's words.

"Your dad is really skillful, and he's also a tough guy. It's just that he's being tough for the wrong reason."

Instead of coming to me, he went straight to the office to meet the director, Henry Stone.

The door remained closed for 40 minutes.

When they came out of the office, Henry walked to the end of the corridor with Zachary.

Then, his secretary said, "Mr. Lowe, let's meet in Room 307."

When I pushed the door open, Zachary was sitting across from the long table.

Next to Jason was Wynnie Sullivan.

She was in her 40s, and she wore a pearl necklace.

I recognized her. Her photo was posted on the forum 20 years ago.

She stood beside a Cessna with a bright smile, carrying a little girl in a pink dress.

That little girl was Yasmin Sullivan.

"Have a seat." Zachary looked at me, his voice calm, as if he were looking at his subordinate.

I sat down across from him.

"Mr. Lowe, I've reviewed Yasmin's file, and there aren't any issues. Why did you reject her application for a captain upgrade?"

"I'm suspicious of her flight hours."

"Suspicious?" Zachary frowned. "The crew signed and confirmed every flight she handled. The data is complete, and she has passed the airline's internal assessment."

"The internal assessment is for the airline to decide, but I make the final decision for the Federal Aviation Administration assessment," I declared.

Zachary glanced at me. Instead of getting mad, he scrutinized me apathetically.

Wynnie, who was beside him, suddenly said, "Mr. Lowe, Yas has shown talent as a pilot since she was young. She got her license when she was 18. At 22, she has already outperformed many experienced pilots. She's made it this far through her own efforts."

Wynnie's voice was as gentle as her smile in the photo from 20 years ago.

"Ms. Sullivan, I wasn't assessing her talent. I was reviewing her record."

"Tell me, what's wrong with her record?"

"The review comments will be delivered to you through a written statement."

"I want to know it now."

Zachary raised his hand, and Wynnie held her tongue.

He took out an envelope from his pocket and slid it over.

"This is the offer letter from Zach Airways. We'd like to hire you to be the chief pilot. The annual pay is three million dollars, and you'll also be given stock options."

He leaned against the chair.

"It's too tiring for you to be in this position. You're still young, and you shouldn't limit yourself."

I pushed the envelope back to him.

"Mr. Zachary Lowe, I'm Ethan Lowe," I said.

His finger paused on the desk for a moment. "I know your name."

The corners of his lips twitched. "And I know who you are."

Zachary rose to his feet and buttoned his coat.

"Ethan, if you refuse to help, I'll opt for another way out."

With that, he left the meeting room.

The sound of footsteps gradually faded away in the corridor.

When Wynnie walked past me, she paused and whispered, "Young man, you should leave yourself a way out."

After they left, I opened up the envelope.

It wasn't sealed, and there was a banker's acceptance from Zach Airways under the offer letter.

It was for three million dollars.

I kept the envelope in a transparent bag, sealed it, and wrote the date and number on it.

Then, I raised my head and looked at the surveillance camera at the top-left corner of the meeting room. The indicator light was blinking.

…

On the third day, I saw my name on the Federal Aviation Administration website.

It was an internal notice that stated, "The chief examiner, Ethan Lowe, is suspected of violating the policy during a captain upgrade assessment. He will be suspended from his position and placed under investigation by the disciplinary inspection team."

On the same day, three airlines posted an article through the media that read, "The youngest chief examiner has been exposed for abusing his authority due to a personal grudge. A talented female pilot's upgrade to captain was unjustly denied."

There wasn't a single mention of Zachary's name in the article.

The article only mentioned that the talented female pilot had performed well, but the chief examiner denied her upgrade for no reason. It was believed that his actions stemmed from a personal grudge.

A photo of Yasmin flying a plane was attached. She was in her uniform, flashing a bright smile.

Most of the comments were similar.

"I'm siding with Yasmin! Exceptional women shouldn't be held back by those in power!"

"If it's confirmed that he holds a personal grudge against her, this matter should be properly handled!"

In the afternoon, Uncle Peter called. "Ethan, I saw online that you did a young woman wrong."

"Don't read those things."

"It wasn't me who saw them, but your aunt. She asked me if you offended someone you couldn't afford to cross."

"Uncle Peter, I did. But he deserved it."

He fell silent for a moment before he said, "As long as you know what you're doing."

But he didn't probe further.

It had been 20 years, and he had never questioned me.

He had carried Mom from the emergency room to the morgue and finally to the cemetery, without once cursing at Dad.

On the day she was buried, he squatted in front of the grave and smoked half a pack of cigarettes.

Then, he got up and promised, "Lily, don't worry. I'll raise Ethan."