Everyone in the command center froze at Fang Chenyi's words, baffled as to why he would insist on not dumping the fuel.
A water landing without dumping fuel had a one-in-ten-thousand chance of success. Dumping the fuel would raise those odds to at least one in a thousand!
"Dumping fuel into the ocean would be too devastating for the marine ecosystem. Don't worry, I'll land this plane successfully. Now, I need to fly. I'll contact you after we're down. Over and out."
With that, he ignored the radio and focused on piloting the plane. "Menghan, give me the flight data!"
"Altitude 900, speed 530."
...
Back in the command center, the commander frowned slightly and turned to a middle-aged man beside him.
"What's the name of your pilot? What do you think his chances of success are?"
The middle-aged man quickly answered.
"His name is Lü Dong. He's one of Southern Airlines' finest pilots. I'm confident that if he can't do it, no one at our airline can."
