June 15, 2020

  People's Republic of China, Beijing

  3:53 AM, UTC +8 (China) | 4:53 AM, UTC +9 (Russia)

  At an hour when ordinary folk are long asleep, certain individuals remain locked in a race against time. In the pale dawn of a world where the drumbeats of war are beginning to stir, a man stands on the balcony of his apartment. The dark circles under his eyes are pronounced, his breathing slightly shallow, hands gripping the railing so tightly his teeth grind in frustration.

  Li Huhai is on the phone with his close advisor, Wang Kai. His voice crackles through the receiver, edged with tension:

  "Kai, the situation... it can't be delayed any longer. The Hawks are ramping up the pressure, and if we don't react quickly, everything is going to spiral out of control."

  Wang Kai sighs on the other end, his voice significantly deeper and calmer than Huhai's frantic tone:

  "Director Li, I know. But there's nothing more we can do; you've seen the news reports flooding the television. Any attempt to intervene now will result in immediate purging. At this point, it's simply too late..."

  Li Huhai grinds his teeth, a flash of resentment and helplessness flickering in his eyes. He falls silent for a few seconds, as if searching for a hairline fracture in the wall of pressure crushing his body and spirit.

  "Late? No, Kai, it's not late. It's just that we haven't been willing to look the truth in the eye..."

  His voice drops lower, bordering on a whisper: "If we continue to hesitate, if we let the Hawks run wild, then... everything collapses. And this time, it won't just be a few agencies affected or a few cities losing control. It will be the whole country. It will be our very future."

  "I know, I know... But Russia's actions are feeding the Hawks' fire. That 'Fortress Russia' and this 'Great Rift' have only incited them further... Think about it, Director Li. Russia chose its own path, isolating its economy from the rest of the world; the withdrawal of all their troops from the Middle East back to their homeland is proof enough!"

  Li Huhai closes his eyes briefly, his hand leaving the balcony railing only to tighten its grip on the phone. He looks down at the streets of Beijing, where lights flicker sparsely and few cars pass. Yet, hidden beneath this veneer of tranquility, he senses an undercurrent—a tidal wave he knows is about to break.

  "Kai, you aren't wrong. Russia has closed its doors to the world, but that's exactly what proves they are preparing for a long war. The Hawks don't understand that. They only see opportunity; they think Russia has weakened, that its economy is being strangled... But if we attack, have you thought about what the outcome will be?"

  Wang Kai's voice wavers slightly:

  "...Russia will counterattack. But... many in the Ministry believe they won't have the stamina for a prolonged conflict. Our forces are more numerous, our resources greater, our geographical position more favorable. Director Li, you understand as well as I do; the current balance of power has the Hawks convinced of a swift victory."

  Li Huhai lets out a dry, mirthless laugh—a sound of pure irony.

  "A swift victory? China has never had a 'swift' war in modern history. They forget that Russians never collapse simply for lack of food or oil. On the contrary, it is pressure that makes them most dangerous. In 1812, Napoleon thought he would crush Russia in a few months, only to retreat through the frozen snow with half his army dead. In 1941, Hitler believed the same. And the end result? German corpses littered the path from Stalingrad to Berlin."

  The phone goes silent for a moment. Wang Kai doesn't immediately strike back. The historical reminder sits like a heavy stone in his gut, shaking his cold, rational arguments.

  "Director Li..." Kai finally speaks, his voice dropping an octave, laced with anxiety. "...do you have a plan? Mere verbal opposition won't change a thing. Here in Beijing, the voice of the Doves is being strangled by the day. If you truly want to stop this, you need to take decisive action."

  "I am not one to choose war either. But Russia's actions are clearly in the wrong. Why did they cancel so many of our contracts last year? Especially when both sides maintained a friendship before that? Isn't this a mess of their own making? Even the Great Rift disaster—is that not exactly what they deserve?"

  Inside the cramped space of the apartment, the tired yellow light illuminates Li Huhai's haggard face. He presses the phone hard against his ear, his voice raspy but resolute:

  "Kai, you keep saying Russia is wrong, and I don't deny that. But ask yourself: why did they reach that point? No one chooses to shut their doors to the world for no reason."

  A short breath hitches on the other end, and then Wang Kai responds, somewhat coldly:

  "So you're saying they're blameless? They canceled contracts, pulled all troops from the Middle East, and erected this so-called 'Fortress Russia.' All of that was their choice."

  Li Huhai's lips curl slightly into a bitter smile:

  "Yes, they chose. But it was a choice made after seeing the fate of the West all too clearly. Kai, have you forgotten? The 2008 crisis shattered everything. It paved the way for a dynamic American civil war that lasted until 2019, followed by the disintegration of Europe in 2017. The order they once relied upon has vanished, collapsing piece by piece. Russia watched it all and realized: there is no one left to trust but themselves."

  There is silence on the line, save for the faint hum of electronic static. After a while, Kai lowers his voice, sounding somewhat confused: "You mean... Russia is just trying to survive?"

  Huhai's voice turns heavy: "To survive, and to be ready for the day this world descends into chaos again. You think they withdrew because they grew weak? No, Kai. They are hoarding their strength. History has proven time and again: a Russia pushed into a corner only becomes more dangerous. Attacking them won't be a quick win; it will be throwing ourselves into a bottomless pit."

  On the other end, Kai clears his throat, speaking softly, almost in a whisper:

  "But in the Ministry, who is willing to hear that? They only see opportunity. Doves like you... your voices are becoming fewer and further between."

  Li Huhai looks up and out the window, the Beijing night still dotted with occasional lights. He closes his eyes slightly, each word coming out clear and heavy as lead:

  "You're right. But even if mine is the only voice left, I must speak. Because if war begins, Kai, there will be no China intact enough to sing a victory song."

  A suffocating silence takes hold. Wang Kai does not answer; only the sound of wind whistling through the phone's microphone remains, cold and ominous, like a harbinger of what lies ahead.

  *****

  That same night, deep within a room in the Zhongnanhai guest complex, a discreet emergency meeting is underway. No media, no recordings—only the men who hold the nation's destiny in their hands.

  General Zhang Yuqiang sits at the head of the table. His military uniform is crisply pressed, but his eyes are bloodshot from many sleepless nights. He slams the table, his booming voice drowning out the hum of the air conditioner:

  "What are you all hesitating for? The campaign has begun; to withdraw now is to cut off our own feet. The news reports have been blasted out, the United States has seen it, Britain and France have watched, and Russia has acted... we cannot let them run free for another single day!"

  An assistant nods briskly, his voice trembling:

  "General, the frontline units have been ordered to deploy. The 3rd Corps in Inner Mongolia is ready, and special operations groups have crossed the northern border. However, due to the Great Rift, signals are experiencing heavy interference, and their status remains unclear..."

  Another door swings open noisily, and Foreign Minister Zhao Lin enters the room. His footsteps are heavy, his deep voice ringing out through the atmosphere, which is as taut as a bowstring:

  "General Zhang, I have just received reports from our embassies. We are facing a severe diplomatic risk if we proceed this way. Russia has isolated its economy, but they still have many latent allies, not to mention the external powers watching our every move."

  Zhang Yuqiang narrows his eyes, staring directly at Zhao Lin:

  "Minister, this is no time for theoretical considerations. The Russians have withdrawn from the great stage to build their own fortress. If we don't act now, they will accumulate strength, and next time, it won't be an isolated Russia but a direct threat to our doorstep."

  Zhao Lin takes a few more steps, his sharp eyes seemingly ready to pierce through every head in the room:

  "Have you forgotten? Diplomacy is never just a single move. Russia withdrew, yes, but that was also their way of forcing us into an early confrontation to expose our weaknesses. They are not as weak as you imagine. This world no longer follows the old order, and any hasty action could turn China into the pariah, not them."

  A military aide retreats slightly, his voice wavering:

  "General, is the Minister suggesting... we should... pause?"

  Zhang Yuqiang lets out a laugh, devoid of humor: "Pause? We have already wasted too much time. Every plan is in motion; the soldiers are on their way. If we don't act, we are simply waiting for Russia to retaliate on their own terms."

  Zhao Lin emphasizes, biting off each word:

  "Do not forget, war is not just about bullets and gunpowder. One wrong step in diplomacy can topple an entire military plan. Right now, Li Huhai's Dove faction is taking the opportunity to mobilize, and the outside world... they are observing everything, just waiting for a mistake to intervene."

  Zhang Yuqiang hammers the table with his fist:

  "So you want me to sit here and watch Russia consolidate its fortress while we fumble on the border? No, never! This is the moment, and only action proves who is in charge. Minister Zhao, diplomacy is important, but national strategy is more important!"

  Zhao Lin inhales deeply, his eyes scanning the room, his voice low but challenging: "But if you make a mistake, all of China will pay the price. And this time, it won't be a few months, but years of chaos. Russia is no pushover, and the world... they are learning how to survive from previous disasters.

  Look at the map, look at the forces being deployed. Not just Russia, but external powers are tracking our every step. If we act recklessly, we will strangle ourselves. Who can guarantee the campaign won't turn into a diplomatic catastrophe?"

  Zhang Yuqiang's voice rasps as he slams the table once more:

  "Catastrophe? We have been slow for too long! The bureaucracy, the hesitating assembly... and now, opportunity waits for no one. All diplomatic calculations are merely giving Russia time to consolidate. What are you saying? Just stand still while they accumulate power?"

  Another senior official, the Director of Foreign Intelligence, interjects, his voice shaky but resolute:

  "General, Minister Lin is right. Not everything is as you imagine. Within the Ministry, many fear that an immediate assault will expose both military and diplomatic vulnerabilities. We will become targets for outside nations, and the Doves... they are trying to mobilize the international community to support their stance."

  Zhang Yuqiang grinds his teeth, his eyes glowing red:

  "So what do you want me to do now? Our actions from the start have been enough to leave us no way back; we've deployed a massive number of Type-098 submarines, repeatedly used surface vessels to provoke in the Middle East, even sent numerous special forces to attack Russia's restricted zones... Do you think, having come this far, we can just withdraw?! And what do you think the other generals in Inner Mongolia and Heilongjiang will have to say about that?"

  This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  Zhao Lin takes a deep breath, struggling to keep his voice calm, yet each word still feels like a sharp blade thrust into the meeting room:

  "General, I am not discussing military history or the steps already taken. I am talking about the entire larger picture, where we are standing on a double-edged sword. One wrong step will not only cost us military strength but will cause the entire Chinese political machinery to tremble. The embassies have sent reports—Russia is not alone. They still have allies, countries that haven't gone public but are always watching and waiting for an opening."

  A heavy silence permeates the room. Zhang Yuqiang clenches his fists, his voice dropping to a low growl.

  "Minister Zhao, I understand your concern, but the situation is too urgent. The internal Hawks cannot wait any longer. They see Russia isolated and want to seize the opportunity. If we don't act now, the entire plan will fail before it even begins. We are at the border, the soldiers are on their way, the special units have crossed... if we withdraw now, who will take responsibility?"

  Zhao Lin presses on, his eyes seemingly trying to see through everyone in the room.

  "You are talking about individual responsibility, but I am talking about national responsibility. If we let the internal Hawks dominate, they will turn us into tools for a hasty campaign. Not to mention the outside world—they will look at this, and any hurried move will result in China's diplomatic isolation. We are not just facing Russia; we are facing an entire international system that is watching."

  The Director of Foreign Intelligence interjects, his voice trembling but firm: "The Minister is right. The internal divide is currently severe. Half want to strike immediately, half want to hold the position. If we continue with the current plan, the factions will clash directly, leading to chaos from the central government down to the front lines. We won't just be facing Russia; China's own machinery will turn against itself."

  Zhang Yuqiang rasps, his gaze bloodshot:

  "So now you want me to sit and watch Russia consolidate its fortress while we hesitate on the border? No way! I have given the order, and the order has gone out. Minister, Zhao Lin, diplomacy is important, but national security is more important than anything!"

  Zhao Lin takes a deep breath and steps closer to the conference table, his voice deep, pressing against the very air.

  "General, you are forgetting that the division within the machinery is the true danger. The Hawks push for assault, the Doves mobilize for delay, but the strategic decision must focus on one thing: avoiding a total mistake. Russia is no easy prey; they have learned to survive through centuries, and they are playing a grand game. If we act hastily, China will pay—not just in military terms, but in politics, diplomacy, and global prestige."

  A young assistant tremulously whispers:

  "Minister... General... so... what... should we do? If we don't act, the Hawks will gain the advantage. If we do act, the Doves will protest, and we will... lose consensus?"

  Zhang Yuqiang grinds his teeth, his voice heavy as steel: "We are standing on the brink, and every passing second is dangerous. I cannot wait, nor can I withdraw. Minister Lin, Minister Zhao, we need a rapid solution that keeps the machinery from collapsing entirely. But I will not accept a delay, not this time!"

  The entire room falls into silence, leaving only the rustle of papers, the ticking of the clock, and the frantic breathing of the men holding the nation's destiny. The division within the Chinese machinery is no longer a theory; it is clearly manifest, poised to explode right in the heart of Beijing.

  *****

  June 15, 2020

  Moscow, Kremlin, Senate Building, Office of the President

  11:04 PM UTC +3 (Moscow) | 5:04 AM, UTC +9 (Zabaykalsky)

  "This is becoming increasingly unacceptable!"

  "Calm down, Mr. Melnikov. Mr. Roboknov, help me..."

  A heavy slam echoed as Melnikov's hand reddened against the table, his teeth grinding together as tension flooded the room. Kazimir maintained a calm expression, though a few beads of sweat traced paths down his forehead.

  Melnikov's gaze looked ready to kill; his scowl was so deep one could liken him to a demon in a fit of rage. Every breath he took made Ikar shudder before the aging Chechen. It seemed entirely possible that one more word would prompt the man—who had followed Vostrikov for exactly twenty years—to turn someone into a literal punching bag.

  Kazimir lowered his coffee cup, still looking as weary as ever, though he had grown more haggard under the weight of his workload. He appeared as a man all too accustomed to the pressure surrounding him. Years of service in the United States had forged an almost absolute level of composure within him.

  "Calm yourself. We need to wait for orders before we can act..."

  Kazimir patted Melnikov's shoulder, placing the coffee cup in front of the Foreign Minister, hoping to settle the hot-tempered man. Melnikov struggled to keep the words in his mouth, preventing any more from spilling out.

  Kazimir looked back at the news reports on VK; any effort to conceal China's actions now showed signs of crumbling. Videos surfaced showing forces from the Eastern Military District moving south toward the border with China's Heilongjiang. With the situation already as tangled as a ball of yarn, the appearance of such clips was disastrous, especially given the silence from the Chinese side.

  "If we go on television again now, we'll be exposed immediately..."

  "What do you mean, Kazimir?" Melnikov asked, setting the coffee down and glancing at his phone.

  "Numerous military bloggers are posting news like hornets stinging. Your late press conference alone drew nearly two hundred people... and that was a denial. If we publicly reveal China's actions, there will be riots... In recent years, Andrei has steered the country toward the internal bloc."

  Kazimir swallowed hard, feeling as if he were about to endure a lecture from the old codger.

  "...We have abundant reserves, we have steadfast allies ready to help when needed. What are those people in Beijing thinking, that they can confidently defeat us? We've had over ten years of preparation. The lessons of 2008 haven't faded!"

  Melnikov bellowed, standing up to the astonishment of both Ikar and Kazimir. His outburst had been predictable since his return to the palace; any staffer who saw him kept their head down, unable to imagine what would happen if Melnikov truly lost control.

  "It's a good thing you aren't our spokesperson. I wouldn't be sure about letting a Chechen like you speak on behalf of the country. However, we have to go to Beijing soon. We were supposed to leave today, but who could have guessed Beijing's actions would be so drastic."

  "Mr. Roboknov, if I may..."

  Ikar spoke softly, but Kazimir immediately cut him off with a sarcastic jab: "Don't use that tone with me, you know how I treat you... Just speak freely."

  "Alright. First, we can contact Li Huhai or Zhao Lin to stall the Chinese government. Then we can pull India and Brazil in to ramp up the pressure on them."

  "That's difficult. Since 2019, we've tried to reduce trade to the lowest possible ratio; I received a report that trade has hit a record low. Part of that is thanks to the Great Rift. Though... cough... I'm certain the people along the border won't like this."

  "The 'Great Rift' is both a disaster and an accelerator. But I'd still call it more of a disaster. 1.16 trillion rubles to support and build reconstruction settlements; abandonment within a 5km radius from the edge of the collapse. Bloc countries: Belarus, Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan, Turkmenistan, Kyrgyzstan, Tajikistan; and external countries: Afghanistan, China, Iran, Azerbaijan, Georgia, Ukraine, Poland, the three Baltic states, Finland, and part of Norway..."

  Melnikov cut into Kazimir's words, listing the countries affected by the Great Rift while clarifying the issue for him.

  "...We had to publicly explain clearly that the phenomenon has nothing to do with us and that its formation remains a great mystery. Furthermore, we've had to spend tens of billions of rubles to support each country out of responsibility... Consider it a final act of goodwill before full withdrawal. It doesn't significantly drain resources, but it slows the progress of other plans."

  Kazimir nodded, leaning back slightly in his chair, his fingers drumming a rhythm on the polished wooden tabletop.

  "True, the issue isn't whether we pour money out or not, but how public opinion perceives it. We Russians are used to enduring, but outsiders think we are doing charity to hide some conspiracy. In truth, the only conspiracy we have is... survival."

  Melnikov narrowed his eyes, his voice like rolling thunder:

  "Exactly, survival. But I don't want to survive by bowing my head. If Beijing dares to try, we must strike back immediately. Andrei might be soft on the Europeans, but I don't believe he'll be lenient with China. A neighbor that, historically, has never been willing to sit still..."

  The air was heavy as lead. Ikar momentarily felt as though he were sitting in a bunker rather than the President's office. He took a breath and decided to intervene:

  "Pardon me, but if we react too quickly, we make ourselves the warmongers. Currently, the Great Rift is still having consequences among the people. With just a small pretext, the populace will believe Russia started all the disasters. We shouldn't cast ourselves as the villain."

  Kazimir's lips curled slightly into a weary but meaningful smile.

  "You have a point. But the problem is, sitting still won't earn anyone's pity. History is never generous to the suspected. We are placed in the middle of a chessboard; white and black have already made their first moves, and we can only choose to sacrifice a pawn to maintain the position."

  Melnikov crossed his arms with a sneer: "Then let me choose. I'll sacrifice a few pawns, as long as China understands that Russia's hand has never trembled. If we keep hesitating, people will think Russia has grown old and weak. That is more dangerous than war itself."

  Outside the Kremlin windows, the Moscow night was as thick as a shroud covering an empire straining before the upheaval. An old clock on the wall struck 11:30 PM. Each metallic chime echoed as a reminder that time was running out.

  Kazimir lifted his coffee cup, looking at the dregs, his voice dropping:

  "Perhaps the question isn't whether we will face China... but when. I don't even know where your foster son is anymore; hopefully, he isn't in a combat zone."

  "He'll be fine. Voron isn't one to surrender easily. Though lately, his mental state hasn't been good... I'm getting old too, nearly seventy-three; I can't keep going back and forth telling him to try and take care of himself."

  Ikar lowered his head, not daring to interrupt again. The silence in the room was like a suspended blade—one wrong word could bring it down on anyone.

  Melnikov walked to the window, looking down at Red Square. The yellow lights reflected on his face, turning his aged wrinkles into hard veins, as if his entire face were carved from stone.

  "In the old days, when I was young, I thought the Soviet Union or Russia would eventually have a long period of peace... But the older I get, the more I realize: peace doesn't exist. You are either the hunter or the prey. If we don't strike first, we'll become the meat in Beijing's mouth."

  Melnikov stood still, his aged hand resting on the cold window frame, fingers trembling slightly as if wanting to grasp the night outside. Kazimir watched him, silently noting each word of his old friend; that bitterness came not just from temperament, but was the distillation of decades of torment between ideals and reality.

  "You're old but you still want to fight..." Kazimir murmured softly, his voice half-sarcastic, half-melancholy. "I see a war with China as a game where both sides lose. The catch is, it's not clear which side loses more."

  Melnikov spun around, his eyes like two smoldering coals:

  "You're right. But remember well: a so-called 'draw' has never existed in the history of our two countries. Even if we don't want it, they will find a way to push us into a loss."

  In the corner of the room, Ikar gathered his courage and pulled out a few neatly clipped files. He spoke, his voice still wavering:

  "Perhaps, instead of an immediate reaction, we should open a back channel. Just a direct call between (Yelena) Malinina and T?p (Dehai) would show we aren't afraid, but also not foolish enough to light the fire ourselves. Besides, I've prepared a draft for bringing India onto the board. If Beijing sees New Delhi leaning toward us, they'll have to think twice."

  Kazimir raised an eyebrow, as if discovering a small stone on the chessboard that could shift the entire state of play.

  "India... a valuable pawn indeed. But the question is, will they move for us? Or will they just stand by, waiting for an opportunity to profit from two people slaughtering each other?"

  Melnikov gave a harsh laugh, cutting in:

  "You can't trust India. Indians are best at trading between both sides of the front line. We can only rely on ourselves. If you want true allies, think of those sitting on a fire like Iran, or even Pakistan. They need us much more."

  Kazimir rested his chin on his hand, his eyes slowly closing as if weighing the chessboard in his mind:

  "Pakistan... Iran... those are countries that will make China uncomfortable. But pulling them in means turning this conflict into a multi-layered game that no one can control."

  The atmosphere in the room felt like it had added another layer of invisible tobacco smoke. Each word uttered carried a crushing weight.

  Right then, a knock came at the door. A security officer entered, his voice grave:

  "Sir, we have just received reports from the Far East. A major engagement is occurring at a series of our border areas with China. Although the signal was lost immediately, we have one confirmation: Beijing attacked first, in total contradiction to their previous public reports. Our reconnaissance aircraft were also target-locked by radar several times."

  Melnikov immediately whirled around, his eyes blazing. His whole body went taut, hands clenched so tightly his knuckles were white.

  "Damn it...! They actually want to take it this far!?"

  His voice boomed like thunder, shaking the entire room. Without another word, Kazimir understood that the situation had moved past the point of compromise. His face darkened, but he struggled to maintain his composure, his gaze fixed on the officer.

  "Are there casualties?"

  "We haven't confirmed yet, sir. The transmission was cut abruptly after the first report. But from the data gathered, at least one border observation post has been destroyed, and... the Great Rift phenomenon also activated at this exact time."

  The room fell into silence. The old clock continued to tick, but this time it sounded like a hammer striking a coffin.

  Ikar took a sharp breath, his throat dry:

  "So... we have no choice left. Beijing has opened fire just as Mr. Vostrikov asserted; international public opinion will not be able to ignore it. But... how do we react? A full-scale response? Or maintain restraint to avoid turning this into total war?"

  Melnikov growled, stepping quickly toward the table, his eyes looking ready to incinerate Ikar:

  "What if it is total war? If we leave it be, they will keep pushing. The deaths of a few dozen soldiers today will become thousands, tens of thousands tomorrow. What do you plan to do then, boy?"

  Kazimir slammed his coffee cup down, his heavy voice cutting through the rage:

  "Enough. Don't let emotions lead. If we react hastily, every plan prepared over the last ten years will vanish into thin air. What Beijing wants may be exactly to force our hand. If we draw the sword first, the world will see us as the aggressor."

  Melnikov narrowed his eyes, his voice a low rasp: "And what about when Russian soldiers die? When Russian land is burned? When has history ever been generous to the one who waits?"

  Kazimir frowned, fingers interlaced, and then he spoke slowly, each word heavy as lead: "That is why... we must strike, but strike with calculation. Not for honor, but for existence. We cannot let this war turn Russia into prey for the whole world to tear apart."

  Outside the window, Red Square remained brightly lit, but in the Senate room, a thick darkness shrouded every face. They all understood: this moment was the threshold, where Russia was forced to choose between blood and fire, or bowing its head in shame.

  Melnikov's voice hissed through his teeth, cold as ice: "Then choose. Russia has never been one to take an insult."

  An emergency telephone rang from the President's desk. Everyone immediately fell silent. Kazimir picked up, his voice returning to a chilling calm:

  "This is Roboknov."

  A frantic voice came from the other end:

  "Mr. First Deputy Minister, the Chairman of the Security Council has called an emergency meeting. President Malinina is also present."

  "I understand..."

  Kazimir hung up, his voice cold as he addressed the other two: "Let's go."