Angle Heading to Hell (Chapter 12)

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

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Content

Chapter 1: Chance Encounter at the Veterinary Station

Chapter 2: All Roads Lead to Rome

Chapter 3: Playing with Fire While Lords Feast

Chapter 4: Viruses and Grouper

Chapter 5: The Hunter and the Hunted

Chapter 6: The Monk Upgraded to a Flower Monk

Chapter 7: The American President’s Secret Visit to China

Chapter 8: Futile Cyber-Assault

Chapter 9: One Thing Leads to Another

Chapter 10: The Devil in Angel’s Clothing

Chapter 11: Angel Heading to Hell

Chapter 12: Japan Didn’t Sink

Chapter 13: Three Ns in South Asia

Chapter 12: Japan Didn’t Sink

Qiu Tian returned to China without telling anyone, nor did she report back to Li Changchun, though Department Two was aware of her arrival. Back on Wutong Street, she told Xia Xiaoyu she wanted to visit her mother, asking if he could drive her. Xia Xiaoyu was, naturally, thrilled. After a short separation, he wanted to be with Qiu Tian every second he could. Qiu Tian gave her father’s Jinghu a thorough cleaning, carefully placing it back in its case. She called her mother, Qiu Qingli, to let her know she was coming, and Qiu Qingli finally realized Qiu Tian was back, telling her to come over whenever she was ready.

At the destination, Qiu Tian asked Xia Xiaoyu to wait in the car. He didn’t press for details, and as before, Wang Fang arrived to escort Qiu Tian inside.

Qiu Tian took the Jinghu from its case and said to her mother, “Mom, let me play and sing a piece for you.” Seeing the instrument, Qiu Qingli understood everything. Her emotions overwhelmed her, and tears welled up in her eyes.

Qiu Tian also cried, but silently. She tuned the strings and began to play and sing:

“Pitiful soul burdened, leading the charge, Enduring wind, frost, hardship, and pain. No one asks if he’s hungry or cold, He sleeps and eats, wanders alone!”

“Has his body suffered wounds? Has he often been startled by the smoke of war? Reflecting on the past, my heart still aches, To tear apart mandarin ducks, lovers divided.”

“All day he wanders, like drunk or ill, Bitterly clinging to incense until dawn. When he left, the roadside flowers were vibrant, Today, the willows on the tower are green once more!”

“Pitiful me, waiting in this deep chamber, The crabapple blossoms bloom, as they always do. A ring at the gate, I suspect a letter, A murmur in the market, I fear a change; Why did you leave without a word? Ignoring the broken heart you left behind!”

[Translator Note: These lines are from Peking Opera “春闺梦” (Dream of a Bride Missing Her Husband). The lyrics describe a newlywed woman was separated from her husband due to war. While waiting for him, she experienced intense anxiety and dreamed of their reunion, as well as nightmares of his death in battle, serving as an anti-war commentary. Original lyrics in Chinese: 可怜负弩充前阵，历尽风霜万苦辛；饥寒饱暖无人问，独自眠餐独自行！可曾身体蒙伤损？是否烽烟屡受惊？细思往事心犹恨，生把鸳鸯两下分。终朝如醉还如病，苦依熏笼坐到明。去时陌上花如锦，今日楼头柳又青！可怜侬在深闺等，海棠开日到如今。门环偶响疑投信，市语微哗虑变生；因何一去无音信？不管我家中肠断的人!]

Qiu Tian’s voice choked with emotion, and she could barely continue.

“Do you know?” Qiu Qingli said, her voice thick with tears. “Your father didn’t know a thing about Peking Opera, or how to play the Jinghu. He bought this in a Berlin flea market. It’s the only thing he ever left me. We never married. He never even proposed. Besides this fiddle, I had nothing. Then you came along, everything changed. My life had meaning again. Because of you, I was able to endure.” She smiled at Qiu Tian, tears streaming down her face. Then, she briefly recounted the events of years past.

Seeing her mother’s spirits lift slightly, Qiu Tian said Mom should be left alone for a while and that she should head back. After a moment’s hesitation, Qiu Tian took the Jinghu with her. Wang Fang drove her to the parking lot, where Xia Xiaoyu was waiting. They drove back to Wutong Street in silence, Qiu Tian resting her head on Xia Xiaoyu’s shoulder. He sensed something significant had happened, but refrained from asking.

After Zhang Fengnian retired, he returned to his rural hometown. The village allocated his family a large plot of land, and even had a house built for them in advance. Zhang Fengnian lived a quiet, unassuming life with his third wife, twenty years his junior. Both of them were remarkably healthy for their age, and the villagers often praised them as potential long-livers. His son, Zhang Guohua, had been relocated to Greece years ago at the behest of the U.S. Department of Defense. He had long since married, started a family, become a citizen, and settled down. Zhang Guohua had purchased a villa in the outskirts of Thessaloniki, leveraging his father’s connections to build a thriving tourism business, one of the leading Chinese-owned travel companies in Europe. His wife ran an immigration agency, and the pair also engaged in money laundering on the side. They further exploited their network to gather intelligence on China for the Americans, and to cultivate agents across Europe and within China itself, all working for U.S. interests. Their son was sent to study in Britain, the tuition and living expenses considerable, but not a burden to them.

After careful vetting and confirmation, it was definitively established that Zhang Fengnian was, in fact, “High Heels.” The Central Military Commission authorized his arrest and issued orders to persuade Zhang Guohua’s family to return home. These parasites had been fattened on the blood of the Chinese people, relentlessly draining the nation’s resources. If they refused to face legal justice, they would pay the price in blood.

“Do you want to personally oversee Zhang Fengnian’s capture?” Lao Guan asked Qiu Qingli.

“He doesn’t deserve it.”

“Alright. I’ll go then. I need to bring him back alive.”

Lao Guan personally led the team to Zhang Fengnian’s hometown. To be prepared for any eventuality, he requested assistance from the local garrison, who provided vehicles and personnel.

Lao Guan ordered the military vehicles to wait two kilometers outside the village. He hadn’t brought his entire team, selecting only two skilled field operatives. The three of them drove a car with civilian plates into the village and stopped in front of Zhang Fengnian’s compound. As a former high-ranking Ministry of National Defense official, his land allocation was significantly larger than anyone else’s in the village, and the two-story house was impressively built.

Lao Guan and his team arrived around nine in the morning. Zhang Fengnian hadn’t received any guests yet. He and his wife had booked rooms at a hotel in the county seat and were planning a birthday celebration there that evening.

Lao Guan introduced himself as a political officer from Regiment 64273. Zhang Fengnian and his wife, assuming they were representatives from the local garrison come to pay their respects, ushered the three of them inside.

“Respected Zhang, I’ve brought a small gift. It’s nothing valuable, please don’t think I’m overstepping! Just a bit of local produce.”

Lao Guan accepted a small box passed to him by one of his team. It contained dried chili peppers.

“Oh my, your commander is thoughtful. How did he find out I like these? I haven’t eaten dried chili peppers in over thirty years, my stomach won’t tolerate it. Not many people know about this preference of mine!”

“You say our commander is thoughtful? We weren’t thorough enough in our work. You haven’t eaten dried chili peppers in over thirty years, and we didn’t notice. We were too careless! I apologize!”

“It’s alright, it’s alright! You can’t be blamed for that!”

Lao Guan then accepted a rectangular box and said to Zhang Fengnian, “Respected Zhang, if you’re not eating the chili peppers, thankfully I brought another small gift. Let’s see if you can use this.” He handed the box to Zhang Fengnian.

Zhang Fengnian opened the box and his face instantly drained of color. He slumped back into his chair.

“Respected Zhang, do you not like high heels?” Lao Guan asked. Zhang Fengnian remained silent, staring blankly ahead, while his wife sat beside him, daring not to speak.

“Respected Zhang, if you have nothing to say to me, I’ll have someone come and collect you. We can talk somewhere else, shall we?”

Zhang Fengnian nodded. Lao Guan made a phone call, and soon the capture team waiting outside the village drove in, taking Zhang Fengnian and his wife into custody.

Early in February, prior to the district leadership election in Taiwan Province, Japan dispatched five warships, thirty-five fighter jets, and 2,500 Self-Defense Forces personnel to Taiwan under the guise of maintaining election order and safeguarding democratic rights. The Ministry of Foreign Affairs and the Chinese Ambassador to Japan immediately lodged strong protests. The UN Security Council convened a special session, but failed to resolve the issue due to intervention from the United States and the Western nations.

The Chinese Foreign Minister and Director of the Central Foreign Affairs Office embarked on a whirlwind tour of Russia, North Korea, and Southeast Asian nations. Vice Premiers, along with the Chairmen of the National People’s Congress and the Chinese People’s Political Consultative Conference, visited other key countries in Asia, Africa, and Latin America.

Following the publication of an editorial in the People’s Daily titled “There is a Limit to Endurance,” China announced the recall of its Ambassador to Japan, severing diplomatic relations, and simultaneously announced the evacuation of Chinese nationals from Japan.

The following day, China declared the Second War of Resistance Against Japanese Invasion, stating its intention to defend Taiwan Province, reclaim occupied territories, and expel Japanese aggressors. Simultaneously, China notified the UN and all nations, demanding the evacuation of all foreign nationals from Japan within 72 hours, offering all necessary assistance. It also demanded that all third-party armed personnel and military equipment leave Japan within the same timeframe, warning that any that remained would be considered an extension of Japanese aggression and subjected to equivalent countermeasures. The Ministry of Foreign Affairs further announced that it would temporarily accept Japanese civilians who left Japan within 72 hours, allowing their return home once Japanese militarism had been eradicated.

The Taiwan Affairs Office issued an Open Letter to Compatriots in Taiwan, condemning Japanese militarism’s act of aggression, reaffirming its commitment to defending Taiwan and reclaiming lost territory, and urging Taiwanese residents to leave the island within 72 hours to ensure their safety. The mainland promised unconditional assistance to any Taiwanese residents willing to seek temporary refuge on the continent.

The United States refused to evacuate its citizens and simultaneously announced that, under the US-Japan Security Treaty, any attack on Japan would be met with devastating retaliation. The Pacific Fleet had already begun to concentrate in East Asia and the Taiwan Strait, with four additional fleets being diverted from Europe and the Mediterranean towards the region. Britain, Denmark, and Canada announced the dispatch of naval forces to East Asia to uphold democracy and maintain peace. Australia stated it was assessing the situation but would provide support to its allies. South Korea declared it would demonstrate its decisive power as a global pivotal state in any action to maintain peace in East Asia and the Taiwan Strait.

Japan accused China of overreacting, claiming that any use of force would result in its complete destruction.

China had long analyzed and anticipated the situation in East Asia and the Taiwan Strait, and had developed several contingency plans before announcing its measures. Now, military action was seen as the only viable option: to militarily retake Taiwan, drive out the Japanese, and contain the conflict locally, minimizing the risk of escalation. There was a consensus that the United States would not fully engage in a war, but would instead use Japan to bleed China dry and disrupt its rising trajectory. Therefore, China should avoid being drawn into a full-scale war with Japan, seizing the opportunity to retake Taiwan first, and then reassess the evolving situation.

Qiu Qingli voiced a dissenting opinion. She argued that any military action would inevitably lead to a complete encirclement and suppression by the West, and that China should instead strive for maximum gains. She advocated for a direct strike against Japan, the complete disarmament of its military, and the expulsion of the United States from East Asia, resolving the issue once and for all. After dealing with Japan, if Taiwan did not voluntarily return, China should seize the opportunity to retake it, fighting a war that would secure fifty years of peace in East Asia and provide the time and space for China’s continued development.

Following extensive debate, the Central Committee decided to initiate the Second War of Resistance Against Japanese Invasion, declaring war on Japan. The plan was to completely eliminate Japan’s military capabilities, and then establish a Joint Committee of Asian Nations Victimized by Japanese Aggression to collectively administer the formerly Japanese four islands, now demilitarized. The recent flurry of high-level visits by Chinese officials was to secretly negotiate this with relevant countries, securing their tacit approval. Russia also requested a seat on the committee. The Central Committee also authorized a decapitation strike against the Japanese Emperor, with plans to decapitate or capture high-ranking government officials and put them on trial as war criminals. Once the Japanese issue was resolved, China would capitalize on the momentum to reunite Taiwan.

The Central Committee agreed to Russia’s request, seeking its support or neutrality should a direct military conflict erupt between China and the United States. Finally, China, North Korea, and Russia reached an agreement: the Korean People’s Army would seize the opportunity to advance south, achieving unification of the Korean Peninsula, with China and Russia providing limited equipment and intelligence support, and China offering unconditional logistical and material aid.

The task of decapitating the Emperor once again fell to Qiu Tian, but this operation differed significantly from the capture of Meegan. This time it wasn’t a clandestine mission, but a public execution carried out alongside a special forces team – though the overall plan remained top secret.

Today was Xia Xiaoyu’s mother’s birthday, not a milestone celebration, just a gathering at home. The party was scheduled for the evening, and Qiu Tian was selecting what to wear when Li Changchun arrived, instructing her to gather standard PLA individual equipment and depart immediately. Qiu Tian said she needed to make a phone call first.

“No, you can’t contact anyone!” Li Changchun immediately rejected her request.

They boarded a helicopter and landed in a military base. Li Changchun assured Qiu Tian that he would remain at the base until her departure, and she could reach him at any time if needed.

Qiu Tian hadn’t anticipated a mission so radically different from her previous operations. She wasn’t accustomed to working as part of a team. She was prepared for her own danger, even sacrifice, but the potential injury or death of her teammates filled her with dread. She could calmly face the annihilation of the enemy, but couldn’t bear the thought of losing her comrades. Qiu Tian tried to plead with her superiors, requesting to join the team but execute the decapitation strike independently. The leadership insisted on a collective action, with the assault team representing the Chinese people and the People’s Liberation Army in bringing the top Japanese war criminal to justice, completely eradicating the symbol of Japanese militarism. They urged her to fully utilize her skills and experience, to rely on her teammates, and to complete the mission victoriously together.

The plan called for the Rocket Force and Navy to lead with a first wave of strikes against Japanese military targets as the main offensive began, followed by a second wave from the Air Force. Simultaneously, airborne troops would conduct a heavy drop, while the Marine Corps and Army landed, aiming for the complete disarmament of Japan.

Qiu Tian’s mission was to parachute in with a 30-man special forces strike team, securing Narita Airport first. They would then execute the decapitation strike against the Japanese Emperor once the landing forces arrived. Their team would be the first combat personnel to parachute into Japanese islands.

Qiu Tian departed at 1:00 AM. At 11:00 PM, Lao Li came to check on her, quietly leaving when he saw she was still asleep. She rose at 12:15 AM, completing her ablutions and beginning to inspect her equipment. Lao Li returned, standing silently for a long moment, simply observing her.

“Is something wrong? Stop sneaking around. You’re like a mouse, making a racket for ages, you’re keeping me from getting a good night’s sleep.”

Qiu Tian and Lao Li shared a deep bond. Sometimes, the way she spoke to him—her tone and mannerisms—was like a daughter scolding her father. Lao Li not only had grown accustomed to it, he enjoyed it.

“The strike mission is dangerous, different from your previous operations. Be careful.”

“We’ve already got several rounds of bombing, and we have air and naval support. What danger could there be?” In reality, Qiu Tian knew they were the first troops to land on Japanese soil, and a parachute drop meant that of the thirty-one who jumped, she had no idea how many would make it to the ground. The soldiers had already written their last letters to their families and handed them over to their commanders, but communication was forbidden. If they were to be killed in action, their families might only receive those letters, and might not even see their bodies. Qiu Tian never wrote a last letter before a mission. The double layer of secrecy surrounding her identity and tasks prevented it, and if she wrote one for every operation, she’d have enough material for a novel.

“Do you want me to deliver a message to anyone? Though, honestly, it’s best if you don’t.” Lao Li asked.

Qiu Tian entrusted Lao Li with a few instructions. He solemnly saluted her, then turned and walked away.

Boarding commenced. Qiu Tian entered the aircraft, turned back, and pointed to her neck in the direction of Lao Li, who was still watching. Lao Li raised his right thumb in acknowledgment, understanding. The deputy commander and commander boarded last. The hatch closed, and the transport plane roared into the sky, disappearing from view.

The plan was to celebrate Xia Xiaoyu’s mother’s birthday with dinner together tonight. Because Qiu Tian was coming, Teacher An [Translator Note: Xia Xiaoyu’s mother] had deliberately not invited anyone else, wanting a small, intimate gathering. It wouldn’t be convenient with others present.

Teacher Xia [Translator Note: Xia Xiaoyu’s father] enthusiastically volunteered, “For the birthday celebration, I’ll perform a ‘Tanghui’ [Translator Note: 堂会, a performance or concert, especially for a specific association or group] for Teacher An, something like ‘Dragon and Phoenix Bring Fortune,’ [Translator Note: referring to a joyous, auspicious event, often symbolizing a happy marriage or good fortune, central to this classic Peking Opera about the courtship and wedding of Liu Bei and Lady Sun Shangxiang.]for good luck.”

Teacher An scoffed, “You sing like a donkey at my birthday? Too boisterous!”

Xia Xiaoyu chimed in, playfully egging him on, “I’m friends with a donkey master from Lüjiacun. I know donkeys better than anyone!”

“Don’t underestimate me,” Teacher Xia retorted. “I’ve been practicing for two weeks for this ‘Tanghui.’ When Qiu Tian plays the Jinghu and help me fill in the gaps, you just need to cheer us on.”

Xia Xiaoyu had classes this afternoon, and Qiu Tian had said she would come on her own. But by six o’clock, she hadn’t arrived. He called her, but no one answered. A knot tightened in his stomach. Could it be that she’s been deployed on a mission again?

The ‘Tanghui’ was cancelled, and the three of them shared a subdued birthday dinner. Xia Xiaoyu tried his best to keep the atmosphere lively. He knew he couldn’t call Qiu Tian again, he could only wait for her to reach out – they’d agreed to that long ago.

Xia Xiaoyu habitually paid attention to the news, especially anything that negatively impacted China. If Qiu Tian suddenly went off the grid, he’d often speculate whether she’d been dispatched on a mission to the area. He knew it was often just wishful thinking, but he indulged in it anyway – caring about someone was a kind of happiness in itself.

He had seen the news reports about Japan’s invasion of Taiwan and China’s declaration of war against Japan. The school was abuzz with discussion, students and many teachers emotionally charged, some joining the anti-Japanese protests in the streets. Xia Xiaoyu didn’t participate. Some colleagues accused him of being politically apathetic, lacking patriotism. He just smiled. Influenced by Qiu Tian, he wasn’t one for drawing attention to himself. She had once told him that sometimes, to achieve a mission objective, you had to sacrifice immediate gratification. Sometimes you couldn’t rush into a situation, and even if you suffered a loss, you had to endure it.

Xia Xiaoyu was worried about Qiu Tian, turning the situation over in his mind. She’d said she wasn’t part of a combat unit, so why would she be sent on a mission related to the declaration of war or the reclaim of Taiwan? Where could she be? What mission could she possibly be on? He chuckled at himself. He wasn’t a spy, he couldn’t possibly figure it out. He also remembered the day they first met, when he’d proudly shown off his counter-surveillance skills to Qiu Tian. Now, thinking about it, it was the very definition of a novice showing off to a master.

Qiu Tian stood him up on his mother’s birthday. Teacher An kept asking Xia Xiaoyu for news of her, worried something might have happened.

“What would happen? Why can’t you look on the bright side?” Xia Xiaoyu responded.

“You don’t understand! You’ll understand when you become a parent. When a child is involved, parents always think of the worst-case scenario, just out of fear that something will happen to them.”

Xia Xiaoyu still didn’t understand.

He was roused from sleep by his mother. “Wake up, wake up! Something big has happened!”

“What’s wrong?” Xia Xiaoyu glanced blearily at the clock. It was after 9:00 AM, and he’d overslept again.

“It’s really happening! Watch the television!”

Xia Xiaoyu followed his mother to the living room, where his father was already standing in front of the TV, intently watching the news.

“Get out of the way! You’re blocking the view!” Teacher An pushed Xia Xiaoyu’s father aside and she and Xia Xiaoyu huddled in front of the screen.

The news was broadcasting footage of the People’s Liberation Army advancing into Japan, interspersed with symbolic shots of battles – but they barely saw any enemy soldiers.

“You think that Qiu Tian girl has gone to fight the little devils?” Teacher An murmured to herself.

They didn’t know, but Qiu Tian was fighting the “little devils.” The strike team members had been temporarily selected and drafted from across the entire military. Though the 30 individuals didn’t know each other, they were all top-tier professionals with impeccable political records – all party members, including serving cadres, with lineages tracing back three or five generations of military service, all decorated veterans, and all with unblemished backgrounds. After reviewing the strike team roster and political vetting files, Qiu Qingli noticed that, aside from one member whose father was a regimental commander, none of them were children of high-ranking officials.

Qiu Qingli sought out the Chairman of the Central Military Commission, requesting that Qiu Tian be included in the strike team. The Chairman stated that Qiu Tian wasn’t even a party member, hadn’t been decorated for heroism, and shouldn’t have been considered in the first place. He suggested she could participate in future combat operations in areas where she was more proficient.

Qiu Qingli insisted, “In the most dangerous moments, we can’t only send the children of ordinary citizens. We can’t only have the children of soldiers charging forward. The children of leaders must be at the forefront!”

The Chairman knew that Qiu Tian had been operating alone on dangerous missions for over a decade and didn’t want to risk her life. He also didn’t want to see Qiu Qingli lose another loved one, and believed it wasn’t necessary for Qiu Tian to participate in this particular operation. While he agreed with her sentiment, there were genuinely no other candidates among the children of current leaders suitable for such a strike mission.

Qiu Qingli pressed on. “Chairman, I understand your concerns, and I know there are considerations you haven’t voiced. The most critical part of this strike mission – the decapitation operation – is precisely what Qiu Tian excels at. Furthermore, she has extensive experience in overseas operations. There’s also a crucial point: having the children of leaders charge forward will only boost morale. I urge you to reconsider.”

Seeing the Chairman remain silent for a long time, she knew he was making a decision. He picked up the phone and called the overall commander of the front lines, instructing him to make a special exception and authorize Qiu Tian’s inclusion in the strike team.

By the time Qiu Tian arrived at the training base, the strike team had already begun intensive drills. Initially thirty strong, the team had been joined by one paratrooper who had fast-roped in, making Qiu Tian the only female soldier in the group. And despite her relatively young age, she held the rank of Senior Colonel, significantly higher than any of the other team members. Because special forces members were prohibited from discussing their former units or personal histories, the soldiers scrutinized Qiu Tian’s every move. A sharp-eyed soldier noticed her backup pistol wasn’t a standard issue assigned upon joining the team, but a privately owned FN57, sparking speculation about her background.

During training, the captain and deputy captain paid particular attention to Qiu Tian, observing that she won hand-to-hand combat engagements through skill and technique. She demonstrated exceptional observational skills and judgment, and her shooting with both long and short firearms was both rapid and accurate. Her movements were precise, practical, and effective, clearly honed through long-term, rigorous training combined with the demands of real-world combat scenarios. Her reaction and movement speed were also a hair faster than the other team members. Based on her performance, the captain concluded that the female soldier was a highly experienced special operator, someone who regularly participated in covert operations, but not in large-scale, collective warfare. Consequently, the captain assigned Qiu Tian as the point man for the assault.

The transport plane flew directly over North Korean airspace towards Japan. Despite their strong protests, U.S. warships, aircraft, and personnel had withdrawn towards the Philippines before the 72-hour deadline. American troops stationed in South Korea had already been evacuated.

At midnight, even before the transport carrying the strike team took off, the Rocket Force had already begun striking military targets on mainland Japan. Following several waves of missile strikes, naval vessels began launching their own projectiles, while drones and Air Force aircraft repeatedly bombed targets. The submarine fleet remained silent. Facing over two and a half hours of saturation bombardment, Japan, with its limited strategic depth, was overwhelmed. Japanese radar, air defenses, munitions depots, airports, ports, and main Self-Defense Force bases were sequentially crippled, rendering them inoperable. Japan’s satellites in orbit were also disabled, cutting off their intelligence support and battlefield awareness, which had relied heavily on the United States.

At 3:24 AM, a formation of PLA aircraft approached Narita Airport, the designated drop zone for the strike team. After being subjected to both PLA bombardment and Japanese sabotage, the airport was unusable. However, the terrain surrounding the airport was relatively flat and could serve as a drop zone, and its location was also conducive to naval support. Escorted by early warning aircraft, fighter jets, and bombers, the strike team, along with three airborne assault vehicles and other equipment, boarded a transport plane as the first wave, approaching Tokyo. PLA firepower had already cleared the drop zone and Narita Airport, with a feint attack also directed at Haneda Airport. Everything was proceeding according to plan, when the transport plane began its descent, suddenly coming a barrage of ground artillery fire. One of PLA attack aircraft and one bomber were hit and crashed, engulfed in flames. Ground-based anti-aircraft fire also struck the transport plane carrying the strike team, igniting one of its engines. Fighter jets immediately launched air-to-ground missiles to suppress the fire, while bombers and drones adjusted their trajectories to conduct bombing runs.

The pilot, Jin Changwu, summoned the strike team captain, ordering all personnel to parachute early. He would try to make a controlled crash landing at a suitable location. This was one of the pre-planned contingency scenarios, and they had practiced it. Qiu Tian knew the pilot was preparing to crash land, a situation fraught with danger. He would face deadly threats, and potentially encounter enemy ground forces after landing. At that moment, an extra gun and more ammunition would increase his chances of survival. Qiu Tian decisively walked to the cockpit, handing over her backup pistol and magazine to the pilot, urging him to take care, and they promised to reunite back home.

Qiu Tian returned to the cabin, where the plane was already tilting and shaking violently. The captain ordered the deployment of equipment through the rear door and instructed the team to parachute out through the side doors, with a rendezvous point set for twelve minutes, and those separated from the team to make their own way to Narita Airport. The captain didn’t order those separated to stay put and await rescue, as he knew no one on this team would obey such a command.

The transport plane, trailing a ball of fire, continued flying forward, until it disappeared from view.

Because they hadn’t been able to parachute into the designated zone, the captain ordered the 22 team members who had regrouped to carry only their weapons, ammunition, and water, concealing all other equipment. They then split into three assault vehicles and sped towards Narita Airport.

The drop zone was only about seven kilometers from Narita Airport, and the strike team encountered little resistance along the way. When they did encounter enemy forces, they didn’t engage in prolonged battles, instead calling in friendly fire for remote strikes, pushing through to the airport. After a brief but intense firefight, the strike team secured the airport and notified the main force that it was clear for airdrops.

At that moment, Army landing troops and Marine Corps forces were also landing from multiple locations. The nearest landing zone was only 40 kilometers from Narita Airport, including three engineering battalions tasked with repairing the runway. Narita Airport was to be used as a base for airborne delivery of combat forces and supplies, and as a temporary forward command post.

The strike team had no time to rest, as they had a critical mission to complete. However, after capturing and securing the airport, their numbers had dwindled to 19.

The strike team captain sought out the on-site commander of the Army Aviation unit, requesting three armed helicopters. The regimental commander finally agreed to loan them two, one piloted by Gao Fei, a nationally renowned female Army Aviation pilot. Seeing Qiu Tian was also a woman, Gao Fei smiled warmly at her and extended her hand for a brief clap.

Qiu Tian, along with nine strike team members, boarded the armed helicopters. The remaining team members piled into their original assault vehicles, providing mutual cover as they headed towards the Imperial Palace.

The strike team had received confirmed intelligence that high-ranking Japanese government officials had already left Tokyo, but the Emperor refused to leave the Imperial Palace. After receiving assurances that the Emperor would remain in the palace to the death, the Japanese military abandoned plans to forcibly evacuate him, leaving a small contingent of troops to guard the palace, assisted by police. But everyone knew that against the strength of the PLA, the forces guarding the Emperor would be utterly ineffective.

The three assault vehicles sped along the highway, two armed helicopters providing aerial cover. The roads were almost deserted, and the 70-kilometer journey was quickly covered.

The first resistance the strike team encountered at the Imperial Palace was from man-portable air defense systems (MANPADS). Five missiles were launched at the two PLA helicopters. The helicopter pilots activated their infrared countermeasures and aggressively maneuvered to evade the attacks, then used their autocannons to suppress ground fire and machine guns to eliminate visible targets.

Gao Fei’s helicopter hovered above an open space in front of the Palace Hall. The helicopter-borne strike team members quickly descended using a fast rope. The other helicopter circled, providing cover.

The captain ordered the rappelling strike team to advance towards the Palace Gate, while the deputy captain directed the assault vehicles to provide cover for the ground troops. The Japanese defenders utilized the terrain for resistance, but the PLA strike team used the assault vehicles as cover, engaging in fierce firefights. The two PLA armed helicopters once again used their autocannons to suppress the enemy, and the Palace Gate soon fell silent, with the remaining Japanese defenders retreating into the Imperial Residence buildings.

The main gate of the Imperial Palace’s Grand Hall was tightly closed. The captain ordered the team to breach it. Qiu Tian quickly said, “Captain, let’s blow it. There might be booby traps.”

The captain looked at Qiu Tian, then exchanged glances with the deputy captain, and gave the order: “Breaching team!”

While four team members provided cover, the breaching team quickly installed explosives on the Grand Hall’s gate. The other team members quickly took cover in safe positions. With a massive explosion, the gate was blown open. The explosive force was significantly greater than what the strike team had planted, causing a section of the Hall’s wall to collapse, and the gate to be reduced to fragments.

The captain signaled the attack, and the strike team threw multiple concussion grenades before advancing in groups of three, flanking the Grand Hall from both sides. Qiu Tian was quick-eyed, quick-footed, and quick on the trigger, eliminating multiple Japanese soldiers and the Emperor’s guards.

The Emperor, dressed in traditional white garments, sat upright, his expression calm. He had anticipated this scene the moment he decided to remain at the Imperial Palace, but he hadn’t foreseen his ultimate fate.

“Name? Identity?” the captain asked in broken Japanese.

Qiu Tian understood that verifying identity was the correct procedure, but also a subconscious display of inner hesitation. She knew that for someone not thoroughly accustomed to executing decapitation missions – especially when facing high-ranking individuals – a momentary pause was a common occurrence. Fortunately, the strike team had complete control of the Grand Hall, and it wasn’t a critical moment. This hesitation, if fleeting, was still manageable.

The Emperor did not respond.

“Name? Identity?” the captain repeated.

Qiu Tian’s principle when executing decapitation missions was to act without hesitation once she had confirmed the target’s identity. She never verified with the target, as even a second’s delay could lead to mission failure or cost her life.

Qiu Tian decisively drew her weapon and fired, killing the Emperor. The Emperor’s attendants, who had been standing respectfully nearby, were stunned, then burst into tears. Qiu Tian ignored them, approached the Emperor’s body to confirm the kill, and then began checking her weapon and ammunition, preparing for potential follow-up combat.

The mission was complete. The captain ordered the team to board the vehicles, with armed helicopters providing overwatch as they returned to Narita Airport.

Qiu Tian was concerned about the fate of pilot Jin Changwu. She tried to inquire about his transport plane, but no one on-site had any information. That evening, the strike team boarded a transport plane and returned to China, as ordered by their superiors.

The Emperor was killed on the spot, and the Yasukuni Shrine was leveled, eliminating the spiritual symbols of Japanese militarism.

The United States quickly received intelligence confirming that Qiu Tian had personally executed the Japanese Emperor. It issued an arrest warrant for her, citing violations of international law, and announced a global bounty for her capture. The photo used was still the one from her student ID. This was a public action by the United States, and the reward for the secret order to assassinate Qiu Tian was significantly increased. Western nations followed suit, publicly offering bounties for the Chinese citizen Qiu Tian, bringing the total reward to a staggering $150 million. Chinese netizens jokingly criticized the West’s actions, with some asking if the reward was pre-tax or post-tax.

American intelligence capabilities remained formidable. Consequently, they had fled beforehand. The Korean People’s Army launched a sudden and decisive strike against South Korea, showcasing a shockingly powerful long-range firepower, far exceeding the capabilities described in South Korean intelligence reports. The Korean People’s Army quickly broke through Seoul and pushed south towards Busan.

Qiu Qingli met with her daughter, asking Qiu Tian if she resented her. Qiu Tian said she didn’t, that as a soldier, fighting for her country was her duty, and dying in battle would simply be fate. However, having witnessed the deaths of eleven comrades during combat, Qiu Tian underwent another round of psychological debriefing.

PLA troops moved into Taiwan, and the former local forces were reorganized and integrated into the PLA system.

Asian nations previously invaded during World War II, along with Russia, rapidly dispatched large numbers of police personnel to Japan to maintain order and civilian staff to organize reconstruction. As per prior agreement, Japan was divided into several sectors, each managed and developed by a different country. However, no nation was allowed to station troops, and China would provide security guarantees. Following this, Ryukyu announced its independence, receiving recognition and support from China, and sent its police and military personnel to China for training to defend their homeland.

Japan hadn’t sunk, but it was no more. The world clearly divided into two opposing camps, and nations began to rapidly increase their military spending. World War loomed, with the only uncertainty being where the spark would ignite.

The South China Sea temporarily calmed, as no one was willing to risk testing the PLA’s strength again. Furthermore, the execution of the Emperor served as a warning and deterrent. However, the name “Miss Qiu” sent a chill down the spines of her adversaries internationally.

Seeing the compilation of bounty posters for Chinese citizen Qiu Tian issued by Western nations online—though they didn’t specify the exact incident, only stating violations of international law and threats to national security—Xia Xiaoyu finally guessed that Qiu Tian’s mission was extremely sensitive, and better understood the meaning of her mother’s words about national security and high-value personnel. Qiu Tian had once again become a social media sensation, with the vast majority of comments praising her, though a few still attacked her. But whether positive or negative, those voices quickly disappeared from the internet.

Jin Changwu arrived in Beijing to attend a commendation ceremony. Before coming, he had explained the situation to his superiors, hoping they would help him find Qiu Tian, or at least return her weapon. They managed to contact Qiu Tian, who rushed to Beijing to visit Jin Changwu. The reunited comrades were overjoyed to see each other. Qiu Tian learned that Jin Changwu, relying on his exceptional skills and experience, had successfully crash-landed the damaged plane on the sea, and been rescued by the Navy. Qiu Tian hosted Jin Changwu at a reception hosted by the General Staff, and Jin Changwu insisted on returning her weapon. Qiu Tian told him to keep it as a memento.

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Truth drips slowly in the places light cannot reach.

§ The Alphabet Series §

§ Miss Qiu Series §

§ Stand Alone §