China already had an autonomous prefecture system, where the governor and provincial leaders share equal rank. Amidst the fierce Taiwan Strait war, the CCP reluctantly devised victory conditions that both Taiwan’s unification advocates and Little Pinks could accept. Only the nation itself knew how much it had truly lost behind closed doors.

According to analyses by international military experts and retired U.S. generals, one-third of Taiwan’s air and naval forces successfully relocated to Japan and the Philippines to preserve combat power.

The Taiwanese military expended nearly all its missiles, inflicting unprecedented damage—far beyond previous war simulations—on China’s coastal military bases and civilian industries.

Unlike the slow-moving frontlines of the Russia-Ukraine war, Taiwan’s military initially attacked like a rabid dog, biting furiously at the PLA. Even though Taiwan could not prevent the PLA from establishing a beachhead, the CCP was clearly shaken. The island had stockpiled a staggering amount of weapons, and the surrounding first-island-chain nations—home to U.S. bases—had yet to be drawn into the conflict. Taiwan’s foreign exchange reserves still ranked fourth globally.

“Fxxk off, Taiwan!”

In addition to intercepting Taiwan’s diverse missile strikes, China’s Rocket Force received orders to fully defend Beijing, yet again exemplifying their “To have one's cake and eat it too” approach. Between offense and defense, missile stockpiles rapidly depleted (as nations worldwide acknowledged China's relatively low missile interception rates). Unfortunately, Taiwan's army suffered heavy losses under the PLA's human wave tactics.

At this point, independence movements erupted in Inner Mongolia. It was unclear who was inciting these external forces, but Russia had abruptly refused to trade energy and food in RMB.

After being burned by Indian rupees, Russia found itself with near-worthless currency and no choice but to wallpaper its walls with it. During the Meteor Shower Event, Russia suffered greater losses than China. Member states of the CSTO refused to cover the costs of the Russia-Ukraine war, and China delayed delivering promised military resources to Russia. Meanwhile, neither Russia nor North Korea wanted to meddle in the Taiwan Strait war.

China refused to disclose casualty figures. U.S. estimates suggested that PLA deaths were five times higher than those of Taiwan’s military. Ten Chinese submarines mysteriously sank in the southwest waters of Taiwan. Citing wartime emergency measures, China returned to a planned economy, with no end to restrictions in sight.

In reality, after two months of combat, neither side could continue the Taiwan Strait war.

The Kennedy Post reported that the U.S. sent secret emissaries to warn China: if they did not cease hostilities, the Seventh Fleet—returning to Guam—had already repositioned to the Second Island Chain. Together with nuclear attack submarines, they would sink three Chinese aircraft carriers within 24 hours (excluding the Liaoning, which was undergoing dry-dock repairs), destroy all bases in the South China Sea, and, alongside India, form a coalition to liberate Tibet.

Incidentally, Swiss banks had already frozen the accounts of Russia-Ukraine war blacklists, with China’s war accounts next in line.

Thus, the Taiwan Strait Peace Agreement emerged at lightning speed, with all CCP generals advocating continued warfare suddenly silenced.

Under immense public pressure to avoid further military and civilian casualties, Taiwan’s government reluctantly accepted the CCP’s ceasefire terms. The president urged the Taiwanese people to face this “new reality” peacefully and rationally—an outcome both unexpected and inevitable, marking the true end of the Republic of China.

Amid a ceasefire window lasting about half a year, under the PLA’s watchful eye, Taiwan conducted chaotic gubernatorial elections. The Democratic Progressive Party’s candidates were absent or withdrew following assassination attempts, paving the way for the Kuomintang to claim governance.

Mass emigration ensued as Taiwanese citizens fled abroad, prompting nations worldwide to accept refugees.

“In this parallel world, it’s not that the U.S. didn’t want to intervene. They prioritized defending their own country first… Taiwan did its best. In the future, independence might be a real possibility, but we can’t rely on rhetoric alone,” Nemo said, covering his eyes with his hand and smiling bitterly.

Every nation worthy of inclusion in world history—no matter its size—undergoes a similar metamorphosis. Only after a people have fought and bled for their identity can they truly yearn for a name of their own.

China now resembled a paper lantern hanging over a bonfire. While it had nominally succeeded in occupying Taiwan, the so-called “World’s Third Military Power” followed the same trajectory as the “World’s Second,” its weaknesses laid bare for all—including the Taiwanese—to see. A war between the third and thirteenth military powers had ended in near-parity.

It was like discovering that the mayoral election in New Taipei City had been lost by only 30,000 votes. A loss is still a loss—but knowing the margin had been that small, someone wouldn’t have overthought it and scared themselves.

The resurgence of war in the Taiwan Strait was only a matter of time. Taiwan had “graduated” from the Republic of China, tasted total war, and shed its reverence for its anthem, flag, and constitution. Having fought once, the temptation to gamble for recovery was human nature. Taiwan had earned international capital for its defiance and now only awaited a new dealer to start the game.

This explained why all Taiwan-U.S. flights had been suspended. Now an autonomous Chinese prefecture, Taiwan strictly controlled immigration and emigration. Former ROC citizens had their green passports cut at customs, replaced with Taiwan Resident Permits.

As for Nemo, who had stumbled into this world, he suspected his real body was still trapped mid-plane crash. And in this parallel Taiwan, his home likely no longer existed.

Hunching against the cold with his hands stuffed in his pockets, Nemo waited at the bus station for an hour. A fellow passenger noted they were lucky to leave thirty minutes earlier than usual.

Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

Nemo fell silent as the station attendant frowned at the bus bound for Lone Star City, as if it were headed for a graveyard.

Finally catching the bus his roommate had directed him to, he now felt the stream of snot trickling down his face. His temples throbbed, his exposed neck stung from the cold wind, hands and feet icy, and his forehead faintly burning.

That illusory hammer, which had been pounding at his head since he woke up, was now hitting harder than ever.

※※※

The next morning, birds chirped and hopped outside the window as brilliant sunlight poured into the room, illuminating the silhouette of a figure buried under two layers of blankets. The pale face hidden beneath sweaty, messy hair scrunched up in discomfort.

With a whoosh, he pulled the blanket higher and curled deeper into his cocoon, but his peace was short-lived. A large hand gripped Nemo's shoulder, shaking him deliberately, refusing to let him rest.

"Don't be so cute. Get up and eat something before you take medicine. You're sick. The weather's great today—this has to be our lucky day!" The voice carried a strong Russian accent, though the tone was unmistakably American English.

Nemo was an adult. He only threw tantrums when he was absolutely certain no one would find out.

From last night until now, he had been furious—angry at this damned time travel, at losing his comfort zone, at his aching body, and even at the fact that he had been late, missing a war he was supposed to attend.

Nemo flung off the blanket and sat up, squinting warily at his parallel-world roommate.

The sunlight plated the Russian’s slightly dark blond hair with a brilliant glow, and the backlight made his eye sockets look like two black holes. His facial features, sharp and commanding, seemed like they belonged to someone chosen for the Red Square military parade. Having heard him mention Moscow over the phone, Nemo was certain this man came from a good family. Russia certainly had its share of black hair and Asian faces, but you can imagine what kind of social status a Central or South American appearance holds in American stereotypes...

Grabbing his phone, Nemo checked the time—10:30 AM! “Damn it! I’m late for work!” he exclaimed, jumping out of bed.

"Whoa, calm down!" The lanky Russian quickly pinned down the feral patient back onto the bed. "I left a message for Boss in the middle of the night, telling him you were sick. He said to take the day off and that he’d find someone to cover your shift. You’d better not spread your germs to the customers. A chef coughing and sneezing in the back? If a customer hears and reports us to the health bureau, we’ll be out of a job."

"Why are you still here?" According to the information Nemo had, this guy was his coworker too.

"I’m on the night shift today. I brought back porridge from the restaurant yesterday and heated it up for you. I heard Asians hate taking medicine on an empty stomach."

The natural way his roommate acted left Nemo momentarily dazed.

Last night, he had searched his roommate's room to confirm that the guy wasn’t using drugs—or at least wasn’t hiding any. The painkillers were, in fact, just painkillers.

After a shower and swallowing a pill, he had gone straight to bed, not remembering if he had locked the door. Perhaps his roommate's wide-open, brightly-lit room made him let his guard down in his muddled state.

Nemo took two sips of the porridge offered by the Russian, a gesture of reluctant goodwill. After all, he was now an amnesiac patient. He could do as he pleased.

“How about your kind girl?”

The Russian wiped his face dramatically. "Things were going great when we got to the restroom, but then she pulled out something bigger than mine. I had to politely buy her another drink and excuse myself to come take care of my sick roommate."

Was this an attempt to make him lower his guard by telling a self-deprecating story? The Russian seemed one step away from pleading, “Don’t bite me! Oh, you’ve got sharp teeth. If you must bite, do it gently, please!”

Nemo took another sip of the porridge. His twisted stomach indeed felt a little better.

“I thought you’d remembered your real name and run to the airport trying to get back to Taiwan. It’s not a safe place for you right now. Besides, there’s no way to get there directly. Taiwan and the US aren’t connected anymore. You’d have to go through Japan or Shanghai to wait for a visa, and that’s expensive. Even if you managed to reach Taiwan, they’d think you were an American spy and you’d disappear.” The Russian sat at the edge of the bed, looking over at him and casually delivering this sharp assessment of Nemo.

“I dreamed about some things… like how I cut ties with my family after graduating high school. I haven’t been in contact with them for years. There’s no place or person that needs me to go back.” The curly-haired young man looked down, speaking half-truths.

The Russian visibly relaxed, his tense shoulders loosening as he let out a breath of relief before winking at Nemo.

Nemo quickly spotted a card next to his pillow and snatched it up for inspection. It had his photo and, more importantly, the thing he desperately needed to survive in America.

“How did you know where my Social Security card was?” Nemo had searched his own room thoroughly last night but hadn’t even found a single hair!

The Russian looked innocent. "You told me to keep it safe, for moments just like this. I put it in the expired blue tea can. If you didn’t know that, then you’ve really lost your memory. Someone has to know where to quickly grab your ID when needed."

The original Nemo had been thoughtful and cautious—good habits. But now, he had serious issues with one particular line on the card.

DOB: 06-06-02

“Fxxk! Since when was I born in the 2000s?” That would make this Nemo only 25 years old! Definitely not information he would have provided willingly.

“What age did you think you were?” The Russian asked with interest.

“I’m thirty-five!”

“Hahaha!” His roommate’s reaction was brutally honest.

“What the hell are you laughing at?”

“I’ve dreamed I was eighteen before—absolutely a deadly handsome young man.”

Nemo gritted his molars.

“Boss found you with no ID on you. Since you’re both Asian, he figured you’d just graduated college and generously reported you as twenty-four. The birthday? Completely made up. So, it’s better for you to just admit you’re twenty-five. That way, you’ll always be my little brother.” The Russian held up twenty-eight fingers.

“I was found by our boss? What does that mean?” Clearly, they were used to dealing with an amnesiac Nemo. To them, his unscientific time travel was just another day with a patient suffering a brain injury?

“I’ll tell you after you take your medicine.”

The Russian smirked, offering terms. Nemo sharply noticed a trace of melancholy flash through the man’s blue eyes. Arms crossed, the Russian silently declared he would not compromise.

Sensing his roommate’s genuine concern, Nemo muttered something before obediently eating the porridge. Despite being ravenous, he had no appetite and swallowed slowly.

The Russian sat nearby, cautiously observing the bedridden man’s every move.

“Recently, a lot of your fellow refugees have been placed in Lone Star City for their one-year observation period. Boss isn’t short on workers for cheap labor. You should be careful not to get replaced.” The roommate added offhandedly.

“Got it,” Nemo replied softly.

The air grew heavy, embarrassment creeping up both men’s spines like ants.

Clearing his throat, the Russian offered, “You probably don’t know my full name. Do you remember what you call me? Here’s a hint—it starts with ‘T.’”

T… It probably wasn’t the common “Tony.” Nemo looked up, warmth trickling into his chest as muscle memory whispered that this was someone trustworthy. His tongue stumbled over its familiar habits, coaxed on by his roommate’s expectant expression and exaggerated mouth shapes.

“T… Толя?”

“Ura! You’re a language genius!”

“And you’re deliberately lowering the average IQ of this room.”

“Hehe! You caught me!”

After finishing the medicine, Nemo wiped the moisture from his lips and leaned back against the headboard, his expression calm and resolute.

“No more dragging it out. Come on—I want to know everything.”