August 1st Compound, Beijing

De Xiaofeng, Colonel of the People's Liberation Army, stared at his never-ending stack of paperwork with a deepening frown. The officer counted down the hours until his lunch break, but until then, the endless pile's ominous presence seemed to loom over him.

Not for the first time in his career, Xiaofeng silently lamented his younger self's decision to join the Army. Decades of patriotic zeal and visions of fighting for the motherland had been muddled by a healthy dose of Party bureaucracy and tempered by the messy warzones of intelligence desk work. Low-ranked enough to deal with an endless chain of reports and supply requisitions and the like. High-ranked enough to be stuck dealing with it while his superiors mucked about in Party committees.

He pulled the next sheet of papers from the pile, flipping through its contents for him to read. A corruption issue in a recruitment office, requiring authorisation for convening a military tribunal. Standing orders meant that all disciplinary matters required 'review' from administrative officers and censors, lest it create a publicity scandal. Ridiculous. The only verdict a tribunal would pass was a guilty one. He scanned over the papers again, concerning one naval officer Qin Huazhi. He stamped it and set it aside.

Just as he was about to reach out for another paper, his aide, Tao Qian, entered. Clutching a manila folder with one hand, he made a sharp salute with the other, which Xiaofeng returned.

"Qian," said Xiaofeng, "Welcome back. I've trust you've had a good weekend?"

Qian bobbed his head, grinning. "Some time with the family," he explained. "We took the little ones to the zoo." His lips flattened themselves, the creases on his face folding into a more business-like expression. "I've got a file for you, sir. Orders from the Central Commission."

Xiaofeng's brows rose, and reached out for the file. His eyes ran across the page, lingering at the seal of the Central Military Commission stamped in green.

He turned back to Qian. "A jet?" he asked, nonplussed. "A jet." he repeated. "Why... me?"

The colonel had spent most of his officer's career in intelligence, then had assignments with authority over reconnaissance squadrons, before being promoted into an administrator. For the Commission to directly request a supply requisition of this nature to him instead of a logistics department could only mean one thing: they wanted covertness.

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Qian leaned in, as if to whisper. "The implication has to do with the... incident in Yongshu Reef."

A month ago, a series of reports from one of his intelligence analysts had made its way to his desk. A series of sightings had been spotted over various islands in the South China Sea - a sleek, flying craft, zipping from one horizon to the other. The craft was not always clearly visible, even when being tracked by camera. It did not seem to move like an aircraft, possessing more degrees of motion than even the most manoeuvrable of fighter planes, changing direction smoothly without ever so much as a banking turn. Quite frankly, no one was sure who it was - or what, for that matter - and the craft's extensive activity in a sensitive military zone had prompted escalation to Xiaofeng's superiors.

The files and intrigue had continued pouring in, until suddenly, a final report had found itself in front of the colonel. The craft had landed. On Yongshu Reef, no less.

And the next day, an order from the highest ranks had come in, covering up the whole incident. All of his reports were collected and shredded, and even the normal briefings on the reef had disappeared. It was implied no one was to have loose lips, lest they wanted to take an impromptu visit to the Intelligence Bureau's cellars.

Regardless, speculation had abounded within his subordinates, if not outside them. Some thought that the craft in question was an experimental research craft by the Americans. Others had thought that it was an experimental craft of their own, and it had been kept secret to all but the highest echelons. One fellow had suggested the possibility of aliens - he was ridiculed, but just as much because the idea felt unsettlingly possible as it was ludicrous.

Xiaofeng sighed, and leaned back in his chair. "Delivered unmarked to a spot in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, with training manuals written in English no less..." he remarked. "The Americans must have offered something really good if the commission is sending them a fifth generation aircraft."

Qian raised an eyebrow. "The Mighty Dragon? Our newest fighter, and the most advanced to boot? The State Council must have wanted to sell their own sisters."

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Nai (or Neigh, as she was known in some locales,) walked up to the spacecraft hanger with great trepidation. ENVY had promised her the best, and she would get the best. It was not easy to procure the terrestrial aircraft from Earth, much less one highly prized by one of its powers, but promises of alien technology and liberal uses of blackmail on its world leaders had seen the stealth aircraft delivered into her hands.

Nai stared longingly into Chengdu J-20 twinjet all-weather stealth fighter aircraft's cockpit.

"Oh, Chengdu J-20 aircraft!" cried Nai.

"Oh, Nai!" cried Chengdu J-20 aircraft.

And then they kissed so fucking hard, like holy shit, I had no idea kissing was such a universal concept.