King of the Wilderness

Lin Yu’an’s performance turned Hawk’s initial scrutiny into surprise.

The next day.

The focus of the training was emergency handling.

Hawk, in flight, unexpectedly simulated dozens of possible failures.

He would suddenly shut down the main avionics system in the valley turbulence, forcing Lin Yu’an to fly using the most primitive backup instruments.

He would also manually set incorrect navigation data in the snowstorm to test Lin Yu’an’s cross-checking and error correction abilities.

And Lin Yu’an’s response can no longer be described as excellent, it’s simply terrifying.

He seemingly needed no thought; every one of his reflexes was like muscle memory drilled thousands of times.

His calmness and precision made Hawk, a veteran test pilot accustomed to life and death, feel a chill.

The third evening.

When they completed the final high-difficulty crosswind landing and stabilized the plane in the hangar, Hawk solemnly signed two names in his flight logbook:

"High-Performance Endorsement."

"DHC-2T Type Proficiency Endorsement."

After signing, he looked at the young man beside him who seemed hadn’t even taken a deep breath, and said slowly: "Lin, regarding this plane, I have nothing more to teach you; you’ve completely mastered this aircraft."

In three days, Lin Yu’an had thoroughly tamed this beast.

The following four days were an even more suffocating sprint for instrument rating limits.

Lin Yu’an was practically living and breathing the plane and the full-motion simulator, wearing the simulator goggles that isolates his vision, completely immersing himself into the world of cold data and invisible waves.

He spent two days flying all instrument approach procedures of every airport around Anchorage.

Spent one day completing all long-distance solo cross-country flight experiences required by FAA regulations.

He even deliberately flew into a predicted clear air turbulence zone during one solo flight to personally experience and learn how to maintain precise instrument readings amid turbulence.

The last day.

After completing his final night instrument flight training at four in the morning, Lin Yu’an, with Hawk who was also exhausted by his maniacal state, arrived at Anchorage’s FAA examination center.

The examiner he had scheduled was the top inspector from FAA HQ, possessing the highest level of review qualification.

The oral exam lasted for a full three hours. The examiner’s questions were tricky yet penetrating.

The practical flight test took place in Anchorage’s worst weather of the day; the sky was filled with thick clouds and snow showers, visibility extremely poor.

This became Lin Yu’an’s most perfect stage. He piloted the Turbo Otter, diving into the ocean of clouds.

In that uncertain white world, every operation he executed was like performing the most precise symphony.

As the Turbo Otter appeared at the runway’s end with a perfect instrument blind landing under the inspector’s astonished gaze, there was no longer any suspense in the examination.

Ultimately, the inspector signed the word Instrument Rating on the new temporary license.

He handed the license to Lin Yu’an, with a complex look: "Welcome to this club, pilot."

When Lin Yu’an, holding this license filled with countless sweat and effort, walked out of the office, exactly seven days had passed since he began his first aircraft type transition training.

Tailwheel Endorsement—GET

High-Performance Endorsement—GET

Type Proficiency Proof—GET

Instrument Rating (IR)—GET

Total Flight Time: 114 hours.

He completed in seven days the path that typical pilots take a year or even longer to finish, becoming a truly all-weather pilot capable of flying the plane to any corner of the world.

However, even within such a suffocating training schedule, Lin Yu’an still firmly reserved a block of time for himself.

Every afternoon from three to six.

No matter how exhausting the flight training was that day, or how rigorous Hawk’s instruction was, at three in the afternoon, Lin Yu’an would punctually conclude the day’s training.

He would pilot the Turbo Otter from ten thousand meters high back to Merrill Field.

With the food he had prepared for December that morning, he would arrive punctually at the Arctic Biological Research Center.

This time was his only respite to return from being a cold conqueror of the skies to a tender father role.

And his arrival, like a precise sunlight cast into stagnant waters, completely transformed the oppressive atmosphere of the isolation area.

December’s depression and lack of appetite, miraculously vanished the day after Lin Yu’an’s return.

Its appetite was astonishingly good. Every afternoon at two fifty, like a child waiting for their dad to come home, it would consistently guard the isolation area’s door.

Upon seeing Lin Yu’an’s familiar figure, it would immediately let out a joyful "Awoo," like a white rolling snowball, dash into his embrace, using every way possible to act spoiled.

And Lin Yu’an, within those brief three hours a day of family time, would accompany December, rolling and wrestling on the artificial snowfield.

He taught it how to use its paws to dig out the fish he had hidden beneath the ice. He would throw the ball into the cold deep water pool and watch December swimming playfully.