The Boeing 777's engines roared steadily, like the deep breathing of a giant beast. Sikong Daye pushed the dining cart and moved carefully in the slightly narrow aisle, the skirt of his uniform swaying slightly with the movement.
"Sir, would you like coffee or tea?" She had a standard, repeatedly trained smile on her face, but there was a trace of imperceptible fatigue hidden in her eyes. This is her thirtieth flight since becoming a flight attendant. It takes five and a half hours to fly from the southern coastal city to the northwest inland. For Sikong Daye, who has just turned 23, this job is far less glamorous than it seems to outsiders - endless jet lag, passengers' difficulties, and mechanical and repetitive service processes are all eroding her initial freshness.
