The Premium Member
They were willing to offer me a lifelong green card and an annual research fund of ten million to stay abroad, but I just shook my head.
It wasn't that I wasn't tempted, but every time I video called, the leader said, "The motherland is waiting for your results," and my mother said, "The pomegranate tree at home has borne fruit again."
Those words gave me more resolve than any material offer.
Before I left, the leader specially booked me a first-class ticket worth fifty thousand US dollars and repeatedly reminded me, "The documents are more important than your life. Don't reveal your identity along the way. Safety comes first."
I hid the USB drive with the core parameters of The Light System in my inner pocket, placed the paper encrypted report into a magnet-proof briefcase, and changed into faded jeans and a gray hoodie—so I looked like an ordinary international student and wouldn't draw attention.
I deliberately boarded the airplane half an hour early, hoping to find a quiet place to rest first.
My seat was in first class by the window, offering a good view and making it easy to watch the briefcase at my feet.
Just as I reclined the seat back to a comfortable angle and reached for my eye mask, someone suddenly grabbed the back of my collar with force, yanking me roughly from my seat. My elbow struck the tray table, and the water bottle on it rolled noisily down the aisle.
"Are you blind? Can't you see this is my seat?"
I rubbed the sore back of my neck and looked up at the man before me—his face brimming with arrogance.
"Sir, are you sure you're in the right seat?" I bent down to pick up the water bottle and pointed to the boarding pass on the seat. "This has my name on it—Yale Lincoln."
The man didn't even glance at the boarding pass; he scoffed, "On this plane, my word is the law."
He pointed to the airline badge on his chest, which read "premium member," and said, "See? I'm a premium member of this airline. I can have any seat I want."
I frowned and shifted my briefcase closer to my feet, blocking the spot. "No matter what kind of membership you have, I paid for this seat. Why should I give it to you?"
The man stepped forward, looming over me, his spit nearly hitting my face. "Because my father is a shareholder of this airline! If I'm unhappy, the entire ground crew will be fired."
Nearby passengers were already glancing over, some whispering quietly, but no one dared to speak up.
The flight attendant in the blue uniform quickly approached.
Her name tag read "Tina," and she wore a practiced smile, yet nodded and bowed only to the man.
"Mr. Clark, please don't be upset. Leave this minor issue to us."
When Tina turned to look at me, her smile disappeared instantly, replaced by a look of impatience.
"Mr. Lincoln, Mr. Clark is our premium member and enjoys the privilege of priority seat changes. Could you please move to economy class? We can make you the first row of economy and offer you a voucher."
"Economy class?" My heart sank—economy class is crowded and chaotic; what if someone with ill intentions might be watching my briefcase? If anything happened to the documents inside, what should I do?
"Sorry, I can't." I stepped back, blocking the seat. "There are important things in my bag that I must keep it with me. It can't leave my sight."
Tina's expression darkened, and her tone grew cold: "Mr. Lincoln. Mr. Clark letting you go to economy class is already a courtesy."
I locked eyes with Tina, "Does your airline's policy state that 'premium members can forcibly take the seats of regular passengers'?"
Tina was momentarily stunned by my question, then pulled out her mobile phone, swiped a few times, and shoved the screen in front of me: "We checked your ticket information; the associated identity profile shows you've been working on a farm abroad for the past three years. To be frank, you're just a laborer. What important things could you possibly have? Don't put on airs here!"
A chill ran through me—my leader had clearly said my identity was listed as 'farm technician' in the civilian system to conceal the truth. How dare they conduct unauthorized checks on passengers' profiles?
"You have no right to investigate passengers' personal information without permission; this constitutes an invasion of my privacy." I suppressed the shock welling up inside me, my voice growing colder.
Seeing I refused to back down, Calvin Clark waved his hand impatiently: "Why waste time arguing? Just throw his things into economy class."
Tina hesitated briefly, then bent down to pick up the briefcase at my feet.
"Don't touch my bag!" I reached out to stop her, my tone firming. "If anything inside is damaged, the consequences will be on you!"
Calvin Clark suddenly laughed. He stepped forward, pushed me aside, and reached to grab the handle of the briefcase. "I want to see what treasures you're hiding in this lousy bag, and how I can't bear the consequences!"
I instinctively shielded the briefcase and struggled with him. The zipper of the briefcase was pulled open slightly; I quickly used my body to block it, preventing the documents inside from being exposed.
"How dare you!" Calvin Clark was enraged. He raised his fist and swung it toward my face.
I dodged sideways, and his fist slammed into the backrest of the seat with a dull thud, denting the cushion.
The passengers around screamed in fright; someone pulled out a mobile phone and began recording.
Tina panicked as well and hurriedly pulled Calvin Clark aside. "Mr. Clark, don't!"
Calvin Clark shook off Tina's hand and was about to strike again when suddenly the sharp sound of high heels striking the floor echoed from the end of the aisle.
"Stop!"
I looked up to see a woman in a red chief attendant's uniform approaching, flanked by three flight attendants. Her hair was perfectly styled, her lipstick a vivid red; she exuded a commanding presence. When she reached Calvin Clark, her expression instantly softened.
"Mr. Clark, don't waste your energy on someone like this; it's not worth it."
She patted Calvin Clark's arm and straightened his suit collar. "I'll take care of the seating issue; I promise you'll be satisfied."
This woman was the chief attendant; her name tag read 'Mary Scott.'
When Mary Scott turned to look at me, her eyes were filled with contempt, as if I were something dirty: "Mr. Lincoln, I'm telling you for the last time—either you move to economy class yourself, or we'll have to ask you to leave the plane—the flight is about to take off, so don't waste everyone's time."
"You want me to get off?" I snapped back with angry laughter, "I bought a ticket and boarded according to the rules. What right do you have to make me get off? Just because he is a premium member?"
"Exactly." Mary Scott made no effort to hide her bias. "In this airline, the rights of premium members outrank those of ordinary passengers—that's the rule."
"What rule?" I stepped forward, closing the distance to Mary Scott. "Is it the rule that 'money is god,' or that 'capital can override regulations'?"
Mary Scott was momentarily speechless, then sneered coldly, "Mr. Lincoln. You, a mere employee, trying to reason with someone like Mr. Clark is simply overestimating yourself."
She turned to Tina and gave her a knowing look. "Go call the security guard and say there's someone disturbing the cabin order and refusing to comply with the seat reassignment."
Tina nodded and turned to leave.
"Wait!" I called after her, pulling out a specially encrypted mobile phone from my pocket—given to me by the leader, containing only one number, used exclusively to contact home.
"I'm going to call the so-called 'regulations' maker right now, to see if he really thinks a premium member can forcibly take someone else's seat."
Calvin Clark stepped forward and tried to snatch my phone as I prepared to make the call.
"You still dare to call for backup? I want to see who you can possibly summon!"
I shifted aside and quickly dialed my leader's number. The phone rang three times before being answered, and his familiar voice came through: "Yale, are you at the airport? Ready to take off?"
"Leader, I'm on the plane and there's some trouble." I lowered my voice, trying to keep it steady. "Someone tried to take my seat and even wants to grab my briefcase. The flight employees not only refused to stop him but wants to call security to have me removed."
There was a pause of several seconds on the other end, then a crashing sound like glass breaking.
My leader's voice instantly rose, filled with rage: "This is outrageous! Who dares do this? Which plane are you on? Send me your exact location—I'll immediately have embassy personnel sent over!"
"I'm on a flight bound for the country; it hasn't taken off yet."
I gave the flight number, my eyes fixed on Calvin Clark, cautious of any sudden move.
Seeing me give the flight number, Calvin Clark thought I was bluffing, snatched my mobile phone, and shouted into the receiver, "Who are you? Mind your own business! I'm the heir to the Clark Group; this airline is our family's enterprise. How dare you interfere?"
The leader on the other end of the line grew even colder upon hearing Calvin Clark say, "Clark Group? Fine, I've taken note."
"You better not lay a finger on Mr. Lincoln, nor touch his bag, or the consequences will be beyond what your Clark family can bear!"
Calvin Clark sneered, abruptly ended the call, and threw the mobile phone at me. "Still trying to scare me? Let me tell you, on this plane, I call the shots!"
I caught the phone, checked it, and confirmed it wasn't damaged, feeling a bit relieved—this phone has an encryption system, and if it broke, contacting home would become difficult.
Mary Scott saw Calvin hang up and also sighed with relief.
She said to Tina, "Don't wait for security—escort him off the plane immediately. Otherwise, our takeoff will be delayed."
Tina and another flight attendant stepped forward and reached out to grab me.
"Don't touch me!" I stepped back and leaned against the seat, shielding the briefcase at my feet. "I'll say this one last time: the contents of my bag involve state secrets. If you forcibly take me away and anything happens, your entire airline won't be able to afford the compensation!"
"State secrets?" Mary Scott laughed as if she'd heard the funniest joke, covering her mouth. "You, a farm laborer, have access to state secrets? Mr. Lincoln, if you're going to lie, at least make it believable."
The passengers around also started laughing. Someone whispered, "This young man must be scared out of his mind—state secrets, really?"
The elderly lady sitting beside me couldn't hold back a quiet murmur, "Even if he's not some big shot, you can't just bully someone like this. He bought the ticket—why should he have to give up his seat?"
Calvin Clark heard the elderly lady's words and glanced back at her with a glare. "Old woman, mind your own business, or I'll make sure you are screwed either!"
Frightened, the elderly lady quickly closed her mouth, shrank back, and dared not say another word.
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