Note: the "-" at the beginning of the sentence indicates direct speech.

China puked for the first time during the day. He usually could hold back, however it occurred to be just after lunch when his stomach was aching. And he puked all out, unlike the other two when only gags and spit came out. Glad that England spotted it before the carpet was ruined, and thanks for China being able to hold back for a moment before raining them down in the bathroom. Acidic decomposed mess quickly went down the toilet, and there he was, exhaling loudly and slobbered over the napkin England placed under his lips. China melted down the sane man's sturdy arms and leaned on his chest like a comfy seat. England couldn't see his face, yet decided to remain silent as he found the breath of the sick man had been gradually regulated.

England noticed China's change in attitude at the treaty at Nanking, unlike the few years before when he could hear such high-pitched yelling coming from the representative. Accompanied by the Qings, he wore a large cone hat, that covered half of his head and his facial expressions, that no common folk may see. It could be a result of the imposing frame of the Crown in the heckling against the damage of narcotic goods, or he is simply with other Manchu officials. However, when they were to exchange greetings, his counterpart's voice came out dim, almost silent. The fellow gentlemen would laugh behind his back, and he would say nothing. England accepted the signals of defeat from him, and the atmosphere could remain like that until they vanished as fast as he arrived.

Until he coughed, just when his silhouette disappeared from the mothership. Amidst the deafening sound of the waves and the shore, a coughing fit was heard. The sound of mucus crawling into England's ears made his chest cringe. China seemingly tried to suppress it, but to no avail, his throat keeps making that revolting noise. The Qing rushed him away until England could not see that figure from the docks anymore. Until he coughed, did his gentlemen were exposed to the heart of China. And it revealed to them to the point they knew, that Dai Qing, was so exploitable. They look at each other, knowing what they all have in mind. However, not a grin to be seen, not even a slight expression of amusement. The knowledge came to them in the most uncanny way, that no one dared to remember the "sick man" for telling them so.

National representatives, despite how tense the current relationships between the two rulers were, remained at least at dissatisfaction.

- The wind direction has changed, you're gonna hurt your eyes sitting here.

The voice was definitely of a smoker, slowly approaching him.

His hat was cast aside, revealing his unshaven skull that no Han people at the time possessed. His face bore otherworldly fatigue, which England did not witness at the dock. Yao the incarnation of China was there, bringing to him nothing more than a word of concern, for his health.

- I'm supervising this area.

- Find somewhere else, didn't your boss have a better place for you? Or did you regret not looting anything beforehand?

He wheezed the words out halfway, then turned them into a dry laugh. China stopped by the left of England, facing the inferno. England turned to him and asked.

- Then why ARE you here?

Pulled off a tiny pipe and swiftly lit it up, the sick man sucked off a breath of narcotics, then released it. The smoke from his mouth and his nostrils escaped and crawled all over his face, leaping up his dark hair before fading away.

- The place they're burning stood and housed people for a few centuries, you should know. Doesn't hurt to mourn.

England retorted.

- Does hurt to smoke...

- No, it actually doesn't.

The Western insulted, and it hit China. He kept silent for a moment with his pipe put aside. He was pondering about something.

- You should know as someone who's in the drug cartel. Opium is a painkiller.

And what pain ties you to the pipe?

- ... I wonder if different incarnations have different physical conditions if you even asked that.

Wang Yao pressed, glancing afar.

- If this land went through rebellion, my body would ache. This is not the first time that it hurts, but it often gets worse as this nation expands.

England looked in the same direction, realising there was a silhouette coming closer, assuming it was his time to leave. However, fascination with the words of the elder pinned him where he rested.

- I'm tired of being nan zi han, strong, great and all of that. Officials are corrupted, and the royalty itself has turned egoistic. This dynasty is falling, like every other dynasty that's under the Heaven Mandate. - He sighed soberly. - And it will collapse on the royal family and the people of Manchu itself, for its nature is not much different from the Yuan dynasty.

Then China glared at him, having yet to dust off his raged frown.

- You're nothing more than a cog in this fate of mine. I accepted the fall as a part of prolonging this incarnation, however, I can never endure this useless pain, not even mentioning the catastrophe of the Qing aftermath would be spectacular....

The listener stood up. The departure was near.

- Where will you leave my possessions?

They came to take his response and left without saying goodbye to him. The Summer Palace was already in ruins, all that remained was debris and ashes.

England did regret not remembering to take more of them back home.

- ...I've put it where blood doesn't spill.

So he returned. It took a while for Dai Qing to provoke all the other forces and yet, their incarnation remained. A few decades passed, yet everything seemed the same to him, in China's reaction. On account of England, he only saw China getting more numb and starving himself off for the last 55 days and it was getting on his nerve.

- Where?

His awful neighbour stuck his nose in and stopped untangling China's queue.

- At my home, Chine.

- Will you shut your mouth? He asked for some exchange and shares since my storage is piling up.

Some of the Eight Alliance visited the sick man, however, Japan stood by the door and made a face, so they could only peer their curious eyes in. China noticed them and asked Japan to let them in, but the rising Eastern barely budged. There were some tensions regarding Japan's relationship with China, and with what he told England about China during the Alliance, Arthur let him be.

- Get up now, China. - England combed his hair out for the last time before forcefully lifting him over. - You're gonna be dusting your jade.

China resisted, proving it futile as France already kept the booty on his shoulders.

- I doubt that!

- You're hurting yourself uselessly, China.

England signed Japan and the rest of the Alliance to move out. Upon exiting the room, China eventually halted his "fight" having his head collide with the floor. And in the brief moment of consciousness, he contemplated his enslaved fate. They were kidnapping him, for what reason?

All centuries old of incarnations decided to loot him off and his corpse. He could not count the time his foes got their hands on his body, yet he could never recall exactly what they want from it.

All of his facial muscles twisted in pain, and heavy tears were dripping down.

Breaths escaped through his burning throat and he inhaled, inflating his chest that pierced inwards like his ribcages had been fractured. Then he exhaled again, a moan impulsively slipped through making him freeze up at how awkward that was. England would ask him to breathe again and wipe his face with the cloth, and he would listen. The wound in pride would close up no matter how long it would take, and he wanted to get over it as soon as possible.

- Better now?

- Yeah...

The ship horn hummed.

England left China to sit in the armchair and they both rest. The old incarnation would hear his breath again and stare at something in the room, forgetting moments of wasted food ago. The table clock ticks, while the waves slam into the wall and made him slide back and forth.

- Where are we now? - China asked.

- I don't know either.

- How many days have we left China?

- A week, probably.

Then it's a week into my withdrawal, isn't it?

Correct, over the next week you might feel a little bit better.

China rested one arm on the armchair and looked at the window with only a blank sky outside. The alien then watched the colonial incarnation unfolding his paperwork and struggled to maintain balance during the turbulence.

Qing has yet to die.

And he sighed, unable to read out the atmosphere of the current world affairs he was alienated off. Wondered if that time comes, how would he stop using morphine.

___

*C.F. Bundy: Completely Fucked But unfortunately not dead yet.

*Nan zi han: Responsible man and stuff.

*Alien: old English meaning of foreign national.