She opened her mouth wider, tried to speak, coughed up more blood.

Her mind touched his, with pain, with fear, with love. So much love.

I’ve never loved you so much, she sent him. And she was weeping in her thoughts. She was crying. She was terrified, but so full of love, so full of passion, so determined. Finish this, lover. Please.

“You’re not going to die!” he yelled at her, tears falling from his face, horror coming out from his mind. “You’re not!”

He rose with her in his arm. He turned, back towards the people inside the building. They could help!

“HELP ME!” he yelled. “HELP ME!”

HELP ME!

Her blood soaked into his shirt, spilled onto the floor. People stumbled towards him, in shock. He saw phones held up, and hated them.

love you… Zhi sent.

He looked down at her. I love you! You’re not going to die! You’re not!

Lu Song looked up again, at the people all around. “HELP ME!” he yelled.

And then her mind was fading, jumbling, melting into confusion, confusion of pain, of love, of fear, of hope.

Lu Song…

Zhi! He cried, looking down at her.

Of nothing.

Her eyes were wide open, staring at nothing.

Lu Song sobbed, shaking, holding her in his arms.

And then he fell to his knees, his lover’s body clenched to his chest, and wept as the sobs wracked him.

General Ouyang Fan, Minister of National Defense, walked back into the Standing Committee meeting room, his face grim.

They looked up at him.

“Our assault on Jiao Tong is stalling,” Ouyang said. “It may fail entirely. We’re being fought off by airpower from Dachang, in addition to the clones.” He watched as their faces paled, and kept on. “We’ve also confirmed that a facility storing one of the data cubes was attacked yesterday. Plundered. Su-Yong Shu may well be back, and she has control of one of our air bases.”

“Try harder.” Bo Jintao said. “Use every resource!”

“More units are mobilizing,” Ouyang said. “Time is the issue. She has taken control of an air base. Do you not see the seriousness of that? What if she can take control of more?”

“What do you propose?” President Bao Zhuang asked, his face ashen.

Ouyang took a deep breath.

I will go down in history as a monster or a savior, he realized.

“The ultimate recourse,” Ouyang said. “Nuclear attack.”

In Beijing, in Tiananmen square, Pan Luli falls to her knees, screaming. Her mind is in Shanghai, in horror.

Lu Song stands before her, covered in blood, shaking, his body wracked in sobs, tears flowing down his face.

Zhi Li in his arms.

Zhi Li is dead.

Zhi Li is dead!