Code Name Xuannu: I Just Want to Enjoy a Late-Night Snack in Peace

Three years ago, he made an emergency landing to protect top-secret data. His spine was shattered, and doctors ordered him never to fly again.

Three years later, the radar went completely blind, and a fleet of stealth aircraft closed in. The control tower roared at a “cripple”: “Lu Kunlun! They’re using you like a disposable chopstick!”

Lu Kunlun didn’t waste words. He chose to bind himself to the wrecked iron coffin codenamed “Xuannü,” trading away thirty years of his future lifespan for the chance to take to the skies again.

No radar, no wingman, just a pair of hands that had fixed tractors and a heart yearning to go home for a late-night snack.

“Come on, you little bastards,” he sneered from the clouds. “In this fog, my beat-up plane can take more punishment than any of you.”

Thousands of decoy flares burst into a brilliant “Red Earth.” He taught that pack of stealth aristocrats a lesson with good old-fashioned physical attacks.

After he landed, Old Liu, the head of logistics, stared at the damage report, his face turning as green as spinach. “Goddammit! Take it apart! Get Xuannü dismantled and inspected! No dinner till it’s done!”

Lu Kunlun grinned. This job was better than writing a ten-thousand-word self-criticism.

But could the thirty years he’d traded away still buy him a TV that didn’t buzz and crackle, and one peaceful late-night snack?