It brought his mind back. Twenty-two years ago. It felt like a different lifetime, and in a lot of ways it had been one. He had been a student. Almost finished with university and drowning in the dreams of youth, of the future. He remembered the protests. Hu Yaobang had died and it seemed like a turning point for the nation, a chance for a new future. And they were going to make it happen. A bunch of kids were going to change the world with sit-ins and hunger strikes.
Then the capes got involved. Progovernment, antigovernment, opportunists, independents, criminals, and heroes, and villains. Suddenly nobody knew what was happening, what anyone was fighting for.
Not until the aftermath. The C.U.I. rose with most of the officers and corruption of the old government folded into it. Then the Yàngbǎn. Then the crackdowns. It was almost nostalgic. This hadn't been the first time he'd been beaten while tied to a chair.
But he had gotten out, left his old identity behind and found a new life in America, like so many others. It wasn't the easiest life, but it was his, and his to share.
Or had been his to share. Mei and Jun were away from this mess. They were safe, even if that did mean leaving them with Mei's sister. Another week in that house and his wife would probably be ready to charge back to Brockton Bay, despite the bombs and attacks.
He lost focus on his breathing and found himself in a coughing fit as he struggled to regain control. Each cough sent spikes of pain radiating from his broken ribs, bad enough to bring tears to his eyes. The guard on duty barely looked at him. Whatever the man's orders he obviously hadn't been told to put a priority on Chen's wellbeing.
His mind drifted back through the years, to the chaos of the protests. Years later he had seen a report from the other Earth, or what had happened in a world with fewer capes. It had somehow been worse. Once again, the problem wasn't capes, it was people. People who made their choices, and other people who had to live with their consequences.