Chapter 1
“Modest” is a polite way of describing the house. A more forthright description might use the words “small”, “dark”, and “cramped”. Modest it is, nonetheless, made of a mess of brick and cement, wedged into an alley where you shouldn’t have been able to fit a house. There are three rooms in the house, with the kitchen also acting as a living space, dining room, laundry, and washing area. The squatting toilet is closed off only with a draped curtain, next to where the family washes themselves each night. There is one small room for the mother and father to sleep, and an even smaller one for the son and his younger sister. Everyone sleeps on mattresses on the bare floor, with bed sheets displaying Doraemon and Hello Kitty, including those of the parents. The washing of clothes is done by hand in the same spot where the family wash themselves, and with the same brandless, green liquid soap. The kitchen consists of a small rickety table with four worn chairs, a small portable stovetop with two burners, and a small cupboard which contains an array of spices, herbs, and other ingredients that the mother has procured from the market that morning, including some sacks of rice, meat, and other vegetables. The windows of the kitchen face out to the alley, which is slightly higher than their house, allowing you to see only the lower legs of people walking by, and the wheels of bicycles cruising past. Occasionally you can see a food cart being pushed along by an old man, which your eyes anticipate as the sound of his small metal gong has entered your ears moments before, and the smell of the rice pudding that he is selling wafts into your nose soon after.
The mother, Ming, has just prepared rice for her husband, Zhuang, and gently places it down in front of him. He picks up the spoon and takes a bite without bothering to look up from his newspaper or offer a grunt of thanks. Zhuang is about to go to work in a nearby factory, as he has done every day for the last thirty years. Ming is getting her young daughter ready for school, while the older brother prepares himself in the other room. Zhuang reads about the ongoing World Military Games in Wuhan, with the mayor proclaiming it is a great event for Wuhan and the surrounding region, bringing wealth and prosperity to the city. “During the first few days the Chinese have performed exceptionally, and they are considering themselves a real chance at overall victory. It is an honor to host this prestigious event on our home soil,” it reads.
Zhuang scoffs aloud, “it is no honor, the U.S. will win like they win everything like they always do, and China will bring some genetically modified giants to the games in order just to be able to compete. We like to think we have a chance against the U.S. but they’re still far ahead of us.”
His son, Feng, hears this upon entering the room. “How can you say that father?” He inquires politely. “The nation is prospering more than ever before, and the Chairman has done so much good for the country in the last decade. The economy is growing rapidly, jobs are being created everywhere, our technology is shaping the world and our companies are gaining global reach. TikTok is now one of the hottest applications in the world. It won’t be only China blocking U.S. technology, soon the U.S. will be doing the same. It’s already happened with Huawei. They are scared, we are catching them.”
Ming looks over from helping to put a sweater over the head of her young daughter, Lin Lin, with a worried look on her face. First, she glances at her son, then to her husband. The husband returns her gaze with a knowing look.
Zhuang then scoffs again and says, “that is what the Party would have you believe. We are winning. But we are still lagging far behind. This propaganda that we are winning only serves for the Party to gain more control over our lives. This technology you speak about enables us to have better lives, says the party, all at the slight, insignificant cost of a piece of our freedom. Alipay and WeChat Pay have ridden us of the need for cash, so we can be free of our need to carry it around; and so the government can see every purchase we make with our own money. At first we only needed our phones. But now even our phones are seen as a burden – what if we forget those? So now they use facial recognition. You can’t leave behind your face, what a delight not having to worry about carrying cash ever again! And what a delight to be tracked with cameras everywhere we go, analyzing our every action, movement, and emotion. It has made the city a better place, crime is down, they say. That’s because if I throw rubbish into a recycling bin, the camera on the bin will dock my Alipay 100 Yuan. Real crooks are still out there getting away with deceit and murder, only the honest, working class are here getting punished for petty crimes like littering.”
As her husband is beginning to get worked up, Ming decides it’s time to step in and redirect the conversation.
“Honey, isn’t it time you get to work? And Feng, you’d better run off to catch the bus, don’t want to be late and be docked any points, this is your final year of high school.” The son and father both begrudgingly agree. The wife starts again, “and don’t be worrying too much either of you, I have faith in our current government, they’re doing far better than the ones I grew up with. Honey, I think even you can agree on that.”
The father returns gravely, “that is not much of a comparison.”
As Zhuang and Feng are walking out the door, the daughter turns to her brother and says, “bye big brother, I’ll study hard, I’ll miss you.” Feng smiles at her, waves, and turns out the door.
On the bus to school, after Feng scans his face at the screen beside the bus driver to pay his fare, the boy stands amongst the crowded passengers, with barely any room for himself to breathe. He crams himself against a pole, two other people and the window, and watches as the street passes by. This 40-minute trip he makes each day to school is normal for him now, as he puts his headphones in, listening to his favorite K-pop group. As the bus pulls by a large mall, he sees a sprawling advertisement for the World Military Games, saying “Good luck, success, and do your country proud,” with a picture of a Chinese soldier saluting a raised Chinese flag. The boy smiles, as he ponders what his father said, and decides that he is wrong. He is lucky to be living in the world he is now, and he wants to ensure he makes the most of his fortuitous situation by studying hard and making his family and country proud.
A few days later, Zhuang is watching television in their home in the evening, on the small
ten-inch screen that he has had for 10 years, while his son Feng is busy scrolling through WeChat, checking posts and responding to friends on chat. The news channel that the father is watching then cuts to the mayor, who states that is a great achievement for China to have won the World Military Games today, to have been declared outright victor, and bringing their country an enormous amount of pride.
Zhuang spits out his tea and proclaims that “there is no way in hell we won! How did we beat the U.S.? Or even Russia? We must have cheated. Surely the United States was close!”
The son looks over to his father’s incredulous face, then to the television screen. The reporter then goes on to the results of the top 20 nations, without the United States appearing. He then continues to announce that this is such an honor for China, and shows that the government is doing a great job in all areas, including Defense. As the reporter is talking the screen moves to places 21 to 40, and towards the bottom the United States is listed, at position 38.
“38?!” exclaims the father, shocking Feng with his sudden interjection. “How the hell can the United States, the most powerful army in the world, have managed to come a measly 38th position? That is surely an embarrassment for them. Either they didn’t care about bringing their best squad to China, or something very strange is going on with the scoring.”
Feng replies to his father, goading him, “aren’t you proud of your country, father?”
The father replies, “son, I am proud of what is right and what is true, and that result does not seem like the truth to me. We have made advances in the last twenty years, but trust me, we’re still not ahead of the United States.” Feng dismisses his father’s notion and thinks it better not to contest him on this matter. Stubborn old men seldom change their minds.
He instead returns to his mobile phone, where he sees a live video from a news broadcaster of the Chinese army collecting their trophy at the World Military Games, praising them for their amazing underdog victory. He sees other friends jumping online and, in the comments, congratulating them and cheering their nation on with pride. Feng jumps into the comments as well, stating, “I’ve never been prouder to be a part of the greatest nation in the world! There is no country that can compete with us, and no country that can achieve what we are going to achieve in the next decade and beyond. I will do my part to carry this nation forwards, I hope that we all can do our part to make this prosperous nation into the greatest force the world has ever seen!” His comment immediately receives a like, before another and another, as the hearts continue to pour into his mobile screen, and the notification sound chimes from his speaker.
“What’s that little ‘chin chin’ sound?” Questions Zhuang. “Is that coming from your phone? It sounds like a rat!”
“It’s a notification dad, just go back to your news. You do your thing and I’ll do mine, okay?” Snipes Feng.
“Watch it son, don’t forget I’m the man of this house, while you’re still beneath this roof and being fed by me, you’ll respect me,” cautions his father. “Now go get me some beers from the shop.”
Feng sighs, and replies obediently, “Yes father, please forgive me.” He pushes himself up from the hard concrete floor, takes the ball of cash from his father’s greasy palm, pulls his thin slippers from the dusty box beside the front door, kicks them on in a one-two motion, and slips through the door. He continues to scroll through his feed as he plods through the dark alley, with rats scurrying out of his way as he approaches. He sees a few congratulations posts from his friends, praising the strength of the Chinese team on their great achievements.
He’s approaching the light of the corner store at the end of the alley, as he sees the slogan of the Chinese team from the games appear in another post, proclaiming “Military Glory, World Peace.” He thought this a strange logo, and uttered it out loud, questioning to himself, “Military Glory, World Peace?” The shopkeeper appears from behind a shelf with a chuckle, startling Feng.
“Quoting the military, are we? Not thinking of volunteering yourself are you?”
Feng peers at the old lady, whom he knows well, and replies with pride, “Not necessarily aunty. I will put my name down, as is my duty to my country, and if I am called for duty I will answer.”
The shopkeeper laughs again, indulging the steadfast boy, “oh my, you’re so brave Feng. And what will you do if China goes to war with our greatest rival, the Americans?”
“Then I will do my duty, aunty, and do whatever I must for my country,” Feng responds without a second thought. The old lady’s smile disappears.
“Well, let us hope that it does not come to that then, young man. Now, what is it I can do for you? The buy six get one free Tsingtao promo again – six for your father and one for you?”
Feng smirks, “you’re on to me, then? Well, just don’t tell my father.”
The woman nods, exchanges the cash for seven Tsingtao, and shuffles back behind her counter to sit down. As Feng is walking out, he hears the news on the television set the old woman is now watching, which is displaying a parade in the main street of the city, celebrating the win of the Chinese army in the Military Games. He hears that it will be continuing in a loop of the main street for the next one hour and a half before coming to a close in Zhongshan Park. “I have to check it out!” Thinks Feng, as he hurries back home to deliver the beers to his father, while thinking of a way to get permission to go to the parade.
Walking in the door, having decided to go for the excuse of needing to work on his exam preparation with his friend, Leo, Feng finds his father snoring, with one leg slung across the arm of his chair. The television is still on, blaring loudly while displaying the ongoing parade. Feng tiptoes over to the television and turns the volume down slightly, fearing that a loud cheer will wake his father. He then proceeds to lower the six-pack of Tsingtao onto the small, faded wooden table gently, and slowly tucks the solitary beer into his pants, before backing away slowly and out the door.
Arriving at Zhongshan Park, Feng hurriedly asks a nearby woman from which direction the parade will come. The woman looks confused, and so he proceeds to ask an elderly man next to her, who replies, “it will be coming from the east, as it will be passing the sporting stadium in around 10 minutes, which should give me plenty of time to hobble over towards the stage set up for the grand finale.”
“Thanks a lot, dà yé!” Feng exclaims, quickly sprinting off in the direction of the incoming parade. “A grand finale, this is going to be epic!” He thinks.
After running for five or six minutes, Feng spots the lanterns of the incoming parade, with the dancing dragons bobbing around the front, and sees the main float trailing behind, carrying the soldiers who have just won on behalf of China. Feng feels his heart warm with joy and pride, and can barely contain himself before shouting out “thank you, thank you for bringing pride to our town and nation!” A few girls nearby laugh at his outburst, but several of the soldiers passing by take note of his praise and give a respectful nod. Feng watches in awe for a few minutes as the soldiers pass by on a series of floats, decorated in a wide array of patterns in colors of mostly red and gold. Fireworks zoom by overhead, launched from a nearby location in the park, before exploding directly above the parade in an intoxicating blast of colorful sparks. At either side of the parade dragons dance past, consisting of anywhere from 2 to 20 people beneath the intricate dragon costumes which only appear on special occasions like this. Feng feels as if the New Year has come early with all the celebrations and excitement.
As the parade is almost passed, Feng sees some stragglers at the back meandering along, encouraging the crowd to come and walk with them as the parade continues into the park for its finale. Feng hurries over to the group of soldiers surrounded by the circle of citizens, praising the soldiers and asking them which events they participated in. Feng too, was eager to hear of their heroics on the track and field, outsmarting and outmaneuvering the other countries.
“Well, I was in the archery myself, and I managed to bring home the silver for my country. I should be proud, but only regret that it could not be one better, so that I could bring the ultimate glory with a gold medal,” one soldier states, seemingly a little downtrodden.
“Well, I don’t have to worry about that, I brought home the gold, and against the United States in the final, no less!” Exclaims a soldier beside him.
The crowd all gasp in glee, begging for more details.
“My event was boxing. I faced off against a Brazilian in the semifinal, narrowly winning out on points. But when I saw that I was facing against the United States in the final, I knew there was no other option except victory. And I was right,” the soldier pauses and looks around for dramatic effect, resting his eyes on Feng, before continuing, “I knocked him out cold within the first round.” The crowd surrounding the soldier roared loudly, as the soldier smugly accepted their praise and pats on the back. Feng too joined in the roar, momentarily being in a daydream imagining the victorious punch that sent the American hurtling to the floor.
But Feng wanted to ask a question of this hero, mustering up the courage. “But why are the Americans so bad at the Military Games? Do they not have the strongest military in the world?”
The soldier, a little taken aback, but still with a dry smirk on his face responded, “Boy, I think you’ve been watching too many Hollywood movies.” The crowd surrounding the soldier roars with laughter. “The Americans have the largest military budget in the world, that much is true. But outside of that they are nothing special. Without their endless reserves thanks to their large economy, their tanks, drones, and warships would be nothing, and they would be crushed by other nations with superior military personnel, such as China.” The crowd all seem satisfied with this notion and begin to disperse to other parts of the parade. The soldier takes the chance to approach the boy more closely, before continuing, “This is where the real war lies now, boy. The strength of a nation’s economy is their true power. Political ties of foreign nations all fall in line with powerful economies, and respect is controlled not by those who command authority, but by those who command the economy.”
“Why, then, are you a soldier and not a stockbroker?” Asks Feng brazenly.
The soldier laughs and replies, “that’s a bold question to be asking a hero of your nation, isn’t it now?” Before winking and continuing, “let the Americans be stockbrokers, controlling the flow of invisible money, with its peaks and troughs. They simply dictate the value of something once it has already been made. We are the ones who will create the value. Whether a company is worth seven billion Yuan or eight does not matter. What matters is that we create ten companies worth seven billion Yuan for every one that America creates.”
“Wow you really are an economist; how do you know so much about this?”
“Soldiers can go to university too, boy. I went to an American school, so that’s why I know our advantages over them so well. China has long been the manufacturing center of the world, the coalface. But we are fast taking over the engine room and moving to the cab of the locomotive. We have been mimicking the hardware of Japan and software of the United States and South Korea for many years already, but now the roles are beginning to reverse. We’re on the dawn of a new age, one which will bring wealth and prosperity to the Chinese people the likes of which have never been seen before. You’re lucky to be coming into adulthood just in time to witness it.”
Feng’s eyes glisten with intent at every word the soldier is speaking. In this moment he truly feels alive and has never been prouder to be Chinese. The soldier, knowing he has had a profound impact on the boy simply smiles, feeling his point is well proven. As they now have reached the center of the park, the soldier simply points up to the sky, as the finale of the parade and celebrations begins. Feng looks up in time to see the first bright barrage of fireworks illuminate the entire skyline. He thinks to himself, “The dawn of a new age,” while grinning from ear to ear.
