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"A revolution is not a dinner party, or writing an essay, or painting a picture, or doing embroidery; it cannot be so refined, so leisurely and gentle, so temperate, kind, courteous, restrained and magnanimous. A revolution is an insurrection, an act of violence by which one class overthrows another." **- Mao Zedong.**​

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Eyes once closed, long to open once more to see the light of day.

Wake up, hear the dragon slumber. The deep breathes of a creature, proud and beautiful, drowned by the gurgle of pus and blood, the gored reminders of a past you do not wish to remember.

Open your eyes, see the scars on its back, the lines carved deep by craven hands. See the decades of hurt, the numbness borne deep into the skin of this great beast. See the chains tying each wing, each limb, gorging deeper and deeper wounds until the ancient creature has given up on hope.

Could you imagine? The type of cruelty one must have in their heart to harm, yet not kill, such a great beast of nature?

You hardly need to imagine, as you turn away from the thoughts of fantasy, beasts turned to nations, scars turned to the dead, the starving, the huddled poor masses. The rage of youth, not yet tempered by age, not yet blinded by the grinding of years. It yearns for more, for something greater, beyond these invisible shackles.

Those before you, they have tried before, and failed. Those before them tried, and failed too. You think it likely that you shall fail too.

Yet they did not live in these chaotic times, and what are chaotic times but a chance for something different?

An idiom that would come years later, from another mouth, echoes through your head. It slips from your mind as you prepare to attend this first meeting.

July, 1921. The first assemblage of the Chinese Communist Party begins.

It is the first step in a slow march towards a new order that you could not possibly know yet.

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Or: The Trials and Tribulations of the Chinese Communist Party​

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*A world that does not know it is dying.*​

But let us step back, far back to those days when the world seemed bright still, and where youthful joy would blind the darkness of the world. Let us begin with you.

You were not, as you would later mourn, from those of the lowest of society, the working poor, the subsistence farmer. No, you were part of a new form of being, the acclaimed rising ‘middle-class’, though in comparison to those in the west, you were little more different than the dregs living in the slums of Paris, or the ‘free’ labour of the American Middle West.

Yet still, that divide between the rural countryside and the newfound industrial cities that spawned into existing with Western capital. The question is, where did you come from?

**[] [Status] **One of the ‘lucky’ ones, your forebearers dug themselves out from the poverty of tenant farming life, managing to pay off most of their debts and living a quaint, if still constrained, life in the Chinese countryside.

**[] [Status] **Your parents struck out from their hometowns, moving to the big cities in search of work. Eventually, they would manage to settle into life as small shopkeepers, allowing you a life of considerable fascination with the West.

In your later youth, your parents would naturally seek for you to go even further than they could, pushing a consideration for higher education. Already then, you had begun to notice the chains wrapped around your neck, and so you accepted their suggestions, seeking to understand this invisible rope of bondage holding you tight. But where did fate find you here?

[] [Study] Perhaps in convenience, perhaps out of a sense of national pride, you sought out a study in the vaunted ranks of Beijing University. The most prestigious hub of intellectuals in China, it was there that you would meet many of the figures within the Chinese Marxist movement in those early years.

[] [Study] That capital of Asian Westernism, you chose not to stay in the motherland, instead seeking out a study in Tokyo University to learn from their own ways. There, you would meet many fellow compatriots, all eager to see a rejuvenated Chinese nation. You could not shake off a sense of unease at their rhetoric, yet still you found a bond with these people.

[] [Study] In defiance of all reason, you chose to extend your studies not in Asia, but even further beyond and into the center of western thought, Paris. There, you would meet all manner of European ideologues, forming a rapport and understanding of the western way of life. (Can only be chosen with an urban start)

Your studies would be quick and thorough, as you sunk further and further into the great political works of the day, Marx, Engels, Kautsky, and beyond. As you left the academic field, it would be luck that you would find yourself swept into that great wave of patriotism on May 4th, the youth of an entire nation spewing threats and action against the consolidated ranks of the ruling classes. A great change was coming, and you saw the winds turning, ever so slightly.

In those days, as you saw warlords continue to break bread with the west, as foreign capital bought up Chinese land, you would write a lengthy polemic, supported by your friends, addressing:

[] [Pol] The backwardness of the Chinese nation. How it continued to fail in the global competition for economic growth, for the rise of industry to allow for the rise of a greater proletariat that would sweep out the foreigners and restore pride to a nation that had long forgotten it.

[] [Pol] The pressing need for a united effort, of all sections of Chinese society, to expel the footholds of foreign capital from the nation. An immediate push for ardent actionism against capital, against imperialism, against colonialism, no matter the cost.

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Please Vote by Plan. There is a Moratorium.

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