AN: 你好!I had to raise the rating because this chapter has some pretty controversial and very graphic/gory stuff in it. A historical note- many Chinese do not separate the Second Sino-Japanese War (term not used by the Chinese at all) from WWII. Which is why the general, intentional disorganization is present. This covers the ROC, WWII, war crimes, etc. Just an FYI I might re-write this chapter, it's not my favourite.
After the Manchus fell, the scent of revolution filled the air. My mind and body were completely split apart, but the strongest parts of me were Nationalism and Communism. Like oil and water, these two ideologies could never coexist in harmony. Everything within in me wanted to become the most powerful nation in the world, but nothing was functioning. Eventually I discovered to take over myself again, my Nationalist and Communist sides would have to work together. Even after the smaller slashes in my body had healed, the greatest mental split remained. It was difficult, but I let the Nationalist side of me take over at the expense of my Communist side. Eventually I pulled myself together to fight Japan when I realized he was my greatest enemy, but I was always questioning if addressing my inner struggles was more important.
Alas, I never mentioned Japan before this, but he was my little brother. One of my finest tribute lands, he excelled in learning characters though he altered them for himself when I wasn't looking. There were times we got along reasonably well, and times when we fought. I never imagined that he was capable what he did, though. Japan did not just cut me into pieces with his beautiful katakana. He dominated me, forced me to the ground like the Western powers. Japan ended up with more privileges than the Western powers. His men were merciless to my people, murdering and raping my lands. My little brother became my worst enemy in what felt like a blink of an eye. I was helpless in his hands, and he did not hesitate to indulge his sadistic desires.
I fought with my brother so much I can barely separate the memories. The pain from the first part of the war melts into the rest like ice under the relentless heat of the sun on a summer day. I belatedly joined the Allied Powers, comprised of my former enemies, in hopes that the five us of together could defeat my brother and his ruthless Western friends. I even ended up fighting my former friend, the Soviet Union, at one point. He was not a priority, though. Japan was going to be the end of me if I didn't act, and many times, I failed to defend myself. There must have been some victories against Japan- whatever they are, they are buried under some of the worst memories in my history.
I don't remember anything in any sort of order. I recall the cries of a woman as multiple soldiers raped her. The screams of a youth, infected with a vile disease, being sliced open despite his heart still beating so "doctors" could examine him. Groans from my people as they lay dying of the plague, cholera, and anthrax after being intentionally infected by the Japanese soldiers. I can still hear the last weak breath from those buried deep under the ground before their time. To this day, I cannot understand how my brother's troops could do such things to my people.
When my brother was defeated, I must confess I felt a sense of relief. He was weakened so severely that it was unlikely that he would harm my people or me again in the near future. Yet I was also preoccupied in the restart of internal struggles as the Communist side of me had grown strong enough to overthrow the Nationalist side. I had gotten to the point when bloodshed no longer bothered me. Now I wanted to be stable again, to have my head stop spinning from opinions contradicting each other. I was ready to be healed.
I was ready for Communism.
