“Mama, I don’t think you’ve ever taken me up here,” Sunny shouts.

“Well, of course not,” Juanli says, chuckling to herself. “This is no man’s land.”

Sunny presses his face against the window of the small black van, utterly fascinated by the wasted scenery outside. The midday light lends it an ethereal quality, as if the small motorcade was weaving through the land of the dead.

The group was relieved to find three cars parked outside the front door of the facility. After dividing themselves among the cars, they began steadily driving back towards civilization.

Sitting in the passenger’s seat with the window down, Monk closes his eyes and lets the wind wash over his face.

“Places like this,” Monk adds, nodding his head out the window. “I think everyone should see them at some point in their life. Just as a reminder of how precious this life is, and how much we stand to lose.”

Juanli briefly glances at Monk from behind the wheel but quickly returns her gaze to the road like a safe driver.

“So…are you going to take back your name and try to bring about peace?”

“I wouldn’t forgive myself if I didn’t,” Monk explains, “I think I’ve had my fair share of the spotlight though. Still, it couldn’t hurt to head back to the States and call up some old friends…particularly that loony president.”

“I suppose it’s good that you’re trying to use your status for good again.”

“I do regret the choices I made, but in some ways, they made me a better man,” Monk explains, “After all, I’ve seen Chinese people suffering first-hand for four years, and if that’s taught me one thing, it’s that this war isn’t about borders or governments or cultures—it’s about humanity. Maybe I’d be the best at explaining that.”

“I think you can do it, Mr. Monk,” Sunny shouts from the back seat. “And if you do, you’ll be a real hero!”

“Thanks, son,” Monk says.

He pulls his hat low, perhaps to hide the tears rolling down his cheeks.

Juanli smiles and glances into the rear-view mirror.

“Sunny, are you strapped in back there?”

“Ummm…yeah, Mama, I am!”

“Don’t lie to me, Sunny! I can see you stretched out across the back seat!”

“G-Gah! Uhh…sorry, Mama! I just thought, using the Morpho-whatever Field, I’d tell myself if there was something dangerous coming up!”

“I don’t think it works that way.”

Sunny quickly straightens up and buckles himself in. Hearing the click, Juanli tries her best not to chuckle, but Monk makes no effort at all. He leans toward the window, guffawing loudly with no sign of stopping.

———————

“We need to turn right here,” Suyin says, glancing at a map.

“I know this territory better than you,” Mao replies, “I assure you, we have to turn left.”

“Mao, I’m the one with the map. Can’t you just listen to me for once?”

“I’ll listen if you have something worth saying!”

While the couple continues arguing in the front, Fujisaki and Amandi sit quietly in the back. Fujisaki stares out the window, contemplating the lush grassland outside. They begin to see other cars on the road.

“How long do you think it will take?” Fujisaki asks.

“To bring Isuzu back?” Amandi replies, “Probably a few months, I’m afraid. It will be hard to put together all the funds and materials I need, especially with the war going on.”

“I know these things take time,” Fujisaki replies, “But ever since that vote, I’ve felt empty. It’s maddening.”

“That’s perfectly natural,” Amandi replies, “You are missing something that used to be a part of you.”

Amandi takes out the green flash drive and holds it in front of him.

“Perhaps this way… I can make things right.”

Suddenly, the car swerves right as Suyin grabs the wheel. Mao fights with her, causing the car to continue straight ahead, plowing through an old wooden sign post.

“Damn it!” Fujisaki shouts, “Watch where you’re going! We only have one flash drive!”

The other two cars in the motorcade slow down as they watch Mao’s car careen wildly through the grassland.

———————

After a long drive, the group returns to Beijing and finds the city in a state of disarray. Driving past the buildings, it’s clear that the city is still recovering from the American bombing.

Of course, the traffic is still atrocious.

Mei sits in the driver’s seat, pounding her fingers on the wheel. Taikong sits next to her, with Amethyst and Qi in the back seat. The bandaged woman hasn’t moved for most of the ride, as if embroiled in deep meditation or simply dead.

“All of this…and we still have to go back to the battlefield,” Taikong grumbles.

“Do you?” Amethyst asks, “I mean, I’m not an expert on the law, but running a death game’s gotta have some consequences, right?”

“You’d be surprised at what they can get away with not discharging you for,” Mei replies.

“Ideally, the two of you would receive some form of rehabilitation,” Qi adds, her head jerking toward the others. “Amethyst, I believe, may not be allowed back on the force, as long as she continues to go by Amethyst.”

“And I’m not going by any other name again,” Amethyst says, “If this game taught me anything, it’s that.”

“Perhaps I could try to convince Mao to get you out of the conflict,” Qi adds, “Due to his beliefs, he would not be against it…though I’m not sure how much longer he will have his position.”

“That would be kind of you, X…err, Qi,” Taikong replies, “As long as I’m with Mei, everything should be fine.”

“I believe everyone deserves a second chance.”

The car ahead of Mei stops again. The street fills with the blare of car horns.

“Oh, fuck this,” Mei says, “I need to get out of here.”

Mei parks the car in the middle of the road and gets out, stepping onto the sidewalk. The other players exchange a glance and then decide she probably has the right idea.

Behind them, Mao climbs out of his car, which is now missing a side-view mirror. Qi hangs back as the former soldiers walk down the sidewalk together.

“Where are they going?” Mao shouts.

“Back to their lives, I assume,” Fujisaki explains, “I can’t exactly blame them.”

A nearby reporter covering the bombing spots Mao out of the corner of his eye.

“You, you’re the general who disappeared in the bombing, right?” The reporter asks, rushing over with the microphone. “What happened to you? Who are these people?”

“It’s a very long story, and I won’t be taking questions at this time,” Mao answers, “I need some time to rest.”

Stepping out of the car, Amandi walks over to the reporter.

“You’re an American journalist, right?” he asks.

“Yes, I am. Why?”

“I have something you might be interested to hear about that general,” Amandi explains, “It’s all here on this flash drive.”

“What?” Mao shouts, “What did you find on that thing?”

“I’d be careful of what you say,” Amandi replies, “Remember, the cameras are watching.”

Mao feels the entire world’s gaze start to leer down on him.

“Take it from a tactician, Mao,” Qi adds, “Sometimes the only way to win is to put your weapon down.”

“Where were you when the war ended?”

———————

Benedict spent the entire day embroiled in peace talks. Despite having no official occupation aside from being a homeless vagrant, his contacts dragged him along for the ride. President Truman at least had the sense to know there wasn’t a better man for the job.

Thanks to showering and getting fitted for a new suit, he looked like he belonged there. He stood at the table where the president and other American diplomats sat, facing the delegates from China headed by President Tan.

Benedict served as mediator of the conflict, helping the group work out the terms of the armistice. They were making progress.

When the pens touched paper, it felt to Benedict like the world was brightening again.

———————

“I’ll let you do the honors,” Amethyst said, sliding the keyboard over. “Don’t mess it up.”

Fujisaki carefully aimed his finger and sharply tapped the Enter key.

Text flooded the screen, tracking the progress of the operation. Fujisaki stared at the form seated against the wall beyond the window, a machine hooked to her head. The slender, black-haired figure matched his wife almost perfectly. Amandi stood vigilantly nearby, ready to act if something went wrong.

Not planning to wait for the terminal to finish, Fujisaki rushed into the operating room. Amandi held his hand up as he entered.

“Don’t get any closer,” Amandi said, “We can’t risk anything interfering with the procedure.”

Fujisaki nodded and stood by the entrance, watching the form of Isuzu. He waited in anticipation…

Until suddenly, she opened her eyes.

“Isuzu?” Fujisaki said, “Is that really you in there?”

For a moment, she was unresponsive, but as her eyes took focus of her surroundings, she returned Fujisaki’s smile.

“Hiro… of course it is,” Isuzu said, “I remember everything, and I couldn’t be happier that we’re together.”

Hiroyuki rushed over to his wife and embraced her. Then he squinted as he looked at her face.

“Honestly though,” he mumbled, “I don’t remember your nose being this big…”

“Oh, Hiro… shut up.”

She pulled him closer and kissed him.

“Excellent, it worked,” Amandi mumbled, “This proves that my methods are effective. Now to find more people that are suffering.”

“Guys?” Amethyst shouted from the other room. “I just saw something online and…I have some great news.”

———————

Sunny came rushing in from the back room while Juanli was restocking the shelves in her store.

“Mama!” he said, “The guy on the TV said that the war’s going to end!”

“What?” Juanli replied, “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I saw it on the news!”

Juanli grabbed Sunny’s hand and rushed outside. She was hit with a wave of cheers as other citizens poured out of their homes, reveling in the joy that can only come with peacetime.

“Come on, Sunny!” Juanli said, turning to her son. “Let’s go get ice cream.”

“But what about your store?” Sunny asked.

“Some things are more important.”

———————

“What are you going to do now?” Suyin asked, cutting into her meat with her knife. “Now that the war is over?”

Mao stared at his plate. He’d barely taken a bite.

“I don’t know,” He said. Options were limited. Soon after the leak of the "rumors" surrounding Mao, he had been forced to resign to save some face. “What am I supposed to do? President Tan won’t even return my calls.”

“I suppose kidnapping children tends to have consequences,” Suyin replied calmly.

“You think I don’t know that?” Mao shouted, causing Suyin to flinch. “But I had associates who were involved in worse. Why am I taking the blame?”

“It seems to me that China is having enough of people like you,” Suyin replied, “Unless you’re willing to change, you’re going to be left behind.”

“I’m not the one here who needs to change,’ Mao said, slamming a fist on the table.

“That’s interesting,” Suyin said, scowling. “Because for the last few months, I’ve been the only one here earning money.”

Mao looked at his wife, taking steady breaths and approaching the dreadful conclusion that she was correct.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me,” Suyin said, picking up her plate. “I have to finish a report for Wen Bolin. We’re going to be meeting with the President in a few days about my future.”

Suyin rose and walked out of the room. Mao remained, leaning over the table and staring into the candle, which was nearly melted down to the stick.

———————

“How does it feel?” Qi asked, “To know that peace has finally dawned?”

“It wasn’t soon enough,” Taikong replied, sitting on a couch with his head turned to the side. “Who knows how many soldiers we lost after they signed those documents.”

“But…isn’t it better for peace to come late than to not come at all?” Mei asked, lying on the couch with her head in Taikong’s lap.

“I suppose,” Taikong mumbled, sighing. “But if I'd just done more—”

"No, we've been over this," Mei chastised him gently. "You left peace in the capable hands of the others. You'd have only destroyed yourself if you kept going."

The group sat in the visitor’s lounge of a rehabilitation center. A latent feeling of exhilaration could be sensed in the muted atmosphere, though many of the people there had little to look forward to.

"Yeah, you're right. My time here…some days I almost feel like I did back before the war. Though this peace I so desperately fought for won't erase the scars the fight left behind."

“Even if scars do not heal, one can learn to live with them,” Qi explained, “What do the two of you plan on doing now?”

Taikong closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead.

“I still don’t feel safe going back out there,” he said, “But I know that someday I’ll be able to. Mei’s been handling it way better than me though. How long have you been clean for now?”

“Uhh…” Mei sighs in embarrassment. “About…three days.”

“What? Where’d you even get—”

“Look, I fucked up, but it won’t happen again,” Mei replied, “It’s hard, but I’m improving. That’s all that matters.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Taikong said, chuckling quietly. “Hell, if I could go three days without having nightmares I’d certainly be celebrating.”

“You are certainly making steady progress,” Qi said, “I believe, with time, you will recover from this.”

The three took a moment to appreciate the silence in the room.

“Taikong,” Mei added, “I want to celebrate the New Years’ with you…out in Beijing. Do you think we can make that happen?”

“You know what?” Taikong smiled, “I think we can.”

“That sounds like an excellent goal,” Qi said, suddenly rising from her chair. “I will leave you to it then. Perhaps I’ll see you there.”

She turned and headed for the door. Mei sat up and watched her go, seeming a little disappointed.

“Qi,” Taikong shouted after her. “Thank you for visiting and trying to help us…It really meant a lot.”

“Don’t focus on what I did,” Qi said, “Focus on what you will do.”

And in a flash, she was gone.

“30…29…28…27…26…”

Mao sits alone in an empty house, drinking beer from the bottle.

The television casts its light over the dim, messy room, displaying the New Years Celebration miles away. However, Mao is no longer a distinguished guest, only another spectator among millions. The war ended without his efforts. It's been a long time since he’s seen Suyin. Even Bao now found it too risky to be seen with him.

Mao always thought he would leave a legacy. Maybe if he was lucky, he'd appear in a history book as a punchline.

He lies on the sofa, ambiguously conscious. The wheel of progress turns, grinding him beneath it.

“25…24…23…22…21…”

Far away in Japan, a couple lies together on the couch in their apartment, tuning into the broadcast though paying very little attention to it.

“The energy of tonight,” Hiroyuki says, “It feels just like four years ago.”

“Yeah, it does,” Isuzu replies, “But no one has to die this time.”

Hiroyuki laughs.

“That’s probably for the best.”

A small suitcase rests near the door, overflowing with paperwork—right where Hiroyuki had left it.

“20…19…18…17…16…”

The medical room is filled with patients, all victims of reckless jubilee. Their eyes are glued to the TV mounted on the far wall. Amandi steps out of his office, slowly pushing a plastic chair along with one foot. He lets out a weary sigh as he sits in the middle of the room.

A nearby patient watches the doctor enter and flashes a smile to him.

“Must be tiring spending every New Year’s like this…”

Amandi raises an eyebrow and chuckles.

“I guess you could call it tradition.”

“15…14…13…12…11…”

The celebration itself is being held once again at the Bird’s Nest Stadium, which had been repaired over the war. The seats are certainly less packed than usual, and more security officials are wandering around than there used to be. However, it seems appropriate to honor the end of the war at the place where it first began.

Once again, Chinese and American delegates are in the center of the stadium, but they share the same stage. It’s harder to spot the divisions between them.

Mei and Taikong sit near the back, watching the show on the massive television screen.

“Well…we did it, Taikong.”

“We certainly did,” Taikong replies, “Though I’m not actually sure how much we accomplished.”

“Might as well celebrate anyway,” Mei says, raising her drink in the air. “To the Year of the Ox, and the old bastard who embodied its worst principles. May he be forever forgotten!”

Taikong laughs, putting his arm around Mei.

“I can certainly drink to that!” he says, clicking their styrofoam cups together.

The two pause, ignoring the performance on-stage and appreciating the view of each other’s smiling eyes.

“10…9…8…7…6…”

Amethyst walks down the steps of the stadium, drink in her hand, though her eyes are locked on the scene below.

“I knew you would be here.”

Amethyst turns toward the sound of the voice, spotting a familiar dark-haired woman.

“Qi?” Amethyst shouts, “What are you doing here?”

“I was invited by Juanli,” Qi explains, “Or, by her son, to be precise.”

“Oh, that’s nice. You’re really making something of yourself, huh?”

“I just wanted to thank you again for allowing me to exist,” Qi says, “Even if it may have not been entirely intentional. I am glad to be in the world.”

Amethyst pauses on the stairs, contemplating the figure her AI had become.

"I always thought Ya-ong could do great things, if she wasn't chained down to being a war machine,” Amethyst says, smiling. “I'm just glad to see I was right."

“5…4…3…2…1…”

“That Miss Qi sure is an interesting woman, huh…” an old woman mutters.

“Yeah, Nainai!” Sunny says, “She really is!”

Juanli looks at her parents from the other side of Sunny, a conspicuously empty seat beside her.

“I’m glad the two of you could finally come visit,” Juanli says.

“We should have come earlier,” Juanli’s father adds, “But it is such a treat to see your sister on the stage there.”

“Of course,” Juanli says, pausing for a moment. “Wait, what?”

“A-Auntie’s here?” Sunny shouts.

“Happy New Year!”

The fireworks blast non-violently into the air, casting their colorful glow across the stage as the delegates begin to stand. Pausing to glance at the fireworks above, they mill about and shaking hands.

Two delegates suddenly notice each other and immediately approach.

“Fancy meeting you here,” Benedict says.

“Of course,” Suyin replies, smiling coyly. “I wouldn’t have thought you’d step foot on the stage here again.”

“That was four years ago,” Benedict says, “A new age is dawning. I mean, just look at yourself. The only people on your side that day were old men.”

“We have a long way to go,” Suyin replies, “But I think the world is really starting to change.”

“I certainly feel like I can breathe easier now…but it isn’t the time to be thinking about that! Happy New Year!”

“Of course. Happy New Year.”

The pair smiles and shakes hands as blossoms blaze bright in the sky above them.

An old Chinese woman picks up a history textbook and starts speaking at length about the Yin and Yang, Daoist philosophies, and how they impacted modern life and adjacent philosophical structures in China.

To the young boy in the back, the subject is unbelievably boring. All those people had died centuries ago, so what does it matter to him? What he really cares about is the new game that’s releasing that afternoon. His mom said she was gonna pick it up, so it oughta to be waiting at home for him!

There’s still five hours until school ends though. Might as well try to make use of them.

He turns to the boy sitting next to him. He had joined the class a few days ago, and honestly he didn’t fit in. He had this strange way of talking, and he barely seemed to make emotions. The boy had never met anyone like him before.

But then again, who was he to say the other kid didn’t fit in? He was the only kid in the class with American parents, and he was reminded of it quite frequently.

After thinking to himself, the kid decides to talk to him. He leans over and starts whispering.

“Hey, do you have any clue what’s happening here?”

The other boy turns to him. He smiles and nods.

“Mm-hm. I know all about this subject,” he explains, “I already memorized the entire textbook.”

“Oh, huh…wait, what?”

“Though if I’m being honest, that only makes the lecture quite dull. I’m looking forward to recess, but I still don’t know any of the games the other kids play.”

“Huh…yeah, that must be pretty lame. I can teach you some of them later.”

“That would be excellent,” the boy replies, extending his hand. “Let’s shake on it—as friends do.”

The other boy cocks an eyebrow but eventually returns the handshake.

“Yeah…friends sounds great.”

The two shook hands.

“I have a strange feeling that you will be…important in the future.”

“Really, huh? I mean, I hope so!”

The fluorescent lights in the ceiling shine on the two children. On the floor, their shadows grasp hands tightly.