Within forty-eight hours of Hitler's decision to commit suicide—on April 28th—he received word that Benito Mussolini, the leader of the Italian Fascists, had been executed by firing squad.

Upon confirming the news of He Rui’s death, Mussolini had decided to lead a force to northern Italy to link up with local fascists and launch a counter-attack on Rome. At least, that was what he had told Hitler.

However, as soon as he entered northern Italy, he was betrayed by his own. A large Italian government force launched a fierce assault on Mussolini and his entourage once they were encircled. In a position of absolute superiority, the Italians proved themselves capable fighters. The German remnants with Mussolini suffered heavy losses and were forced to surrender. Mussolini himself was captured.

Hitler had assumed that Mussolini, having served as Prime Minister for so long and contributed significantly to the nation, would at least be spared the death penalty. He had not expected him to be summarily executed.

This result forced Hitler to the agonizing realization that he, too, would likely face execution after a show trial.

He had always maintained that he would rather die than surrender. It was for this reason that he had placed the second atomic bomb in the cellar of the Reichstag, not far from his bunker, and had excavated a secret tunnel connecting the two.

Aside from Hitler’s direct manual trigger, there were two other ways to detonate the bomb, though the remote detonator held the highest priority.

In his final forty-eight hours, Hitler allowed those of his staff who wished to leave to do so. He wrote his will and married Eva Braun.

Many regarded Eva as a vain woman, a master of romantic maneuvering. But from the moment her relationship with Hitler was finalized, she had remained steadfastly by his side. Even now, facing certain death, she showed no hysteria and made no attempt to flee. She completed the wedding ceremony and remained with him until the end.

On April 29th, Hitler ordered the guards to let no one else leave. At 11:00 PM on the 30th, he met with the remaining staff in the bunker. By this time, most of the senior military officers were gone; even Göring had departed days prior.

Hitler was not surprised. He had seen how the German officer corps had treated Kaiser Wilhelm II at the end of the First World War. The only thing that truly moved him was Field Marshal Model’s suicide. Upon hearing the news, he had remarked to Göring and Manstein: "If Model could do it, I have no reason to do less."

To his surprise, the civilian staff chose to stay. It gave Hitler a sense of the worth of the common German people. At the end of the first war, it was he—a mere corporal—who had sworn to liberate Germany and avenge the defeat. Of all the "great men" on high, not one had truly taken the people's suffering to heart. Even when they spoke of revenge, it was merely an excuse for personal gain.

After bidding the staff farewell, Hitler requested they remain within the bunker. He did not know that this act would save them; at the time, he simply felt they might lack the courage to face death, and that the bunker would collapse quickly under the nuclear blast, granting them a swifter end.

To reduce their suffering, he had thoughtfully gifted each of his secretaries a small vial of lethal poison, apologizing that he had nothing better to give them.

Finally, at 11:40 PM on April 30th, Hitler emerged from the bunker, accompanied by the entire Goebbels family. Goebbels had already decided on a family suicide, but upon learning of the nuclear device, he and his wife joyfully agreed to join the Hitlers in their final journey.

At the thought of taking tens—perhaps even hundreds—of thousands with them, Goebbels felt only delight at the prospect of such a brilliant death. He was briefly concerned that the device might fail and anxiously questioned Hitler in private.

Hitler, who loathed this instability in Goebbels' character, told him coldly: "You have only to follow me!"

At 11:40 PM, the Hitlers, the Goebbels, and their seven children stood outside the bunker, enveloped in the smoke and haze of battle. Visibility was so low, and the final madness of the war so intense, that no one noticed them.

Hitler pressed the button, and the nuclear weapon exploded. Exactly how he died, no one would ever truly know. That his final moments were recorded so accurately was only because the device had a yield of 11,000 tons of TNT. While it caused immense destruction, it was not enough to totally level the Führerbunker; it only rendered the structure impossible to open for several days.

It was four days later that the survivors within managed to force their way out. By then, the area within five hundred meters of the epicenter was virtually devoid of life.

Before midnight on April 30th, the earth had heaved like a bucking stallion. The Red Army never expected to witness such a spectacle: the Reichstag was shattered from below. Then, a column of heat and light erupted from the ground, illuminating the surroundings with a brilliance that blinded anyone who looked directly at it.

The intense radiation killed everyone within a kilometer of the surface. Infrared rays inflicted severe burns on anyone within 1.5 kilometers who was not in a deep shelter. Many exhausted officers and men, sleeping in their dreams of home, saw their grandmothers reaching out to them before convulsing and dying in their sleep.

Those who died in such dreams were the fortunate ones. The unlucky were jolted awake by the agonizing pain, dying within a week.

Further out, radiation claimed hundreds of thousands of Soviet soldiers and German civilians. As the energy of the fission reaction finally dissipated, a black rain began to fall from the sky.

The atomic explosion produced a massive mushroom cloud filled with radioactive dust. Mixed with the moisture in the clouds, this became a black rain that fell over the Berlin area. The water was highly radioactive, contaminating the rivers. Most refugees who drank it in their desperation died within days.

There is an old Chinese saying: "It is easy to die early, hard to die late." Within the radius of a nuclear strike, this phrase found its literal truth.

When the survivors from the bunker emerged four days later, in addition to the 100,000 who had vanished or died instantly, another 100,000 had perished in agony. Even the Red Army believed the city was cursed, withdrawing their forces forty kilometers from the epicenter of the blast.

The intensity of the ground radiation had significantly diminished. The bunker staff carried water and food. Though they knew nothing of the world outside, they had decided to speak to no one and get as far from Berlin as possible.

Stunned as they were by the unrecognizable ruins of the city, they fled. It was not until May 15th, when Red Army units equipped with Chinese radiation detectors began a thorough search of the bunker, that it was confirmed someone had survived. By then, the staff had vanished. The details of these events would only emerge in the memoirs of one of Hitler’s secretaries, who settled elsewhere and only revealed her identity in 1990, shocking the world.

Based on her memoirs, the final fates of the large number of core Nazi officials who vanished after the blast were finally established.

The full scale of the losses from the 1945 Berlin explosion was not disclosed by the Soviets until the following year. According to their data, 280,000 Red Army soldiers died instantly, with another 170,000 passing within three months.

While some historians argue that the actual number of Red Army soldiers directly killed by the blast was around 120,000—attributing the rest to the failures of Soviet command during the siege—these claims have never been officially accepted. As the primary force that eliminated Nazi Germany, the Soviet Union’s narrative is treated with universal respect.

On May 4, 1945, Grand Admiral Karl Dönitz, representing the remnants of the German government and its organized military, signed the document of unconditional surrender.

Though isolated pockets of German troops continued to resist, serious historians agree that the Second World War ended there.

The war had divided the globe into the Chinese-led liberation camp and the Euro-American Allies. Ultimately, the global liberation movement achieved complete victory. From that moment on, not a single colony remained on Earth; every oppressed people had been liberated from the yolk of colonialism.

On May 5th, Marshal Cheng Ruofan, having handed over his duties to his deputy, landed in the Chinese capital. Stepping off the plane, he found his old comrade Zhong Yifu waiting for him.

Before a word could be spoken, Zhong opened the car door. "Let’s go see the Chairman."

Cheng sat inside and replied, "Let me wash first. The Chairman wouldn't like it otherwise."

He Rui had never demanded special treatment; his lifestyle was no different from anyone else’s. There was only one exception: his habit of bathing. Whenever conditions permitted, even in the dead of winter with cold water, he would wash.

By 1930, this was no longer a luxury in Chinese cities; every worker in a state-owned factory had access to a bathhouse. It was simply that most lacked the habit.

But Cheng, having fought alongside He Rui for thirty years, knew the Chairman’s preferences well. So did Zhong. He gave a quiet instruction to the driver, and the car headed straight for the airport staff quarters, where Cheng utilized the bathhouse for a thorough scrub.

Smelling of soap and shampoo, Cheng changed into a fresh uniform and returned to the car. The two Marshals sat in silence until they neared their destination. Zhong finally spoke: "Ruofan, shouldn't you go to the Military Commission first?"

"No," Cheng answered calmly. "I’ve submitted my report. I am here to see the Chairman."

Zhong sighed inwardly. Cheng was a man of pure sentiment. To others, "a new ruler means new ministers" was a law of nature. To visit the late Chairman before reporting to Chairman Li or the Commission could easily be seen as a political maneuver. But Zhong knew better; Cheng had no such intent. Thus, he said no more, remaining by his side.

By doing so, Zhong was showing his loyalty to his friend, ready to speak up for him if anyone tried to exploit the situation. If he kept his distance, he would be unable to help.

The car stopped before the newly completed memorial hall. Zhong noted that the security was being handled not by regular army units, but by the Central Guard Regiment.

As they stepped out, Li Runshi emerged from the hall. Zhong felt a surge of tension.

Li walked up to Cheng. To Zhong’s relief, Cheng showed no sign of resentment and saluted first. Half the weight on Zhong’s heart was lifted.

When the salute was finished, Li stepped forward and shook Cheng’s hand. "Comrade Ruofan, you have worked hard."

"It is the victory of the world's people against colonialism, imperialism, and racism," Cheng replied, his emotions still far from the conversation. "I was but one of them."

The rest of the weight left Zhong's heart, though a new worry emerged. He knew Cheng’s character; these were his genuine feelings, but all he wanted now was to mourn He Rui, not discuss work. If Li pressed him, the response might not be so diplomatic.

To his relief, Li said, "I will take you to see the Chairman. You should tell him the good news yourself."

With that, Li turned and led the way into the hall. Zhong let out a silent breath. By his assessment, Li was a man of great magnanimity; if he chose to let a slight pass, he would never bring it up again. Seeing a potentially explosive situation resolved so smoothly, Zhong was finally at ease.

Within the memorial hall lay a crystal coffin. Within it, He Rui lay in eternal rest, his expression serene as if in sleep. Two meters from the coffin, Li Runshi stopped and stepped aside.

This small gesture raised Li even higher in Zhong’s estimation. So long as Li did not hold this against him later, Cheng was safe. Still, Zhong himself would have stayed behind Li. To visit He Rui was a privilege a Marshal could exercise at any time.

He watched Cheng walk to the coffin and reach out to touch its polished surface. Zhong felt a twinge of envy; to maintain such pure emotion while reaching the rank of Marshal was something he himself found impossible.

Cheng had eyes only for He Rui. He saw the crisp uniform without rank insignia and the bare head—the way He Rui had dressed for most of their thirty years together.

Thirty years ago, when they had first met, He Rui was a young man. The man in the coffin, with his pale, fine skin and absence of wrinkles, looked as he had then. He Rui, at fifty-five, looked only twenty-five—exactly the age he had been when they first met. The man in the coffin and the man in his memory merged into one.

The memories of those thirty years erupted. Overcome with grief, Cheng Ruofan leaned against the coffin and wept. He had "cried" several times since hearing the news, but his heart had been so burdened that the emotions were stifled; he had only shed tears.

Now, having brought the news of victory, he finally accepted that He Rui had gone after fulfilling his most magnificent task. The blockage in his heart was gone, and the tears flowed freely. At last, he truly wept.

He didn't speak of his pain or choke out reports. He simply cried—for the loss of a comrade who was like a teacher, for the years they had spent together, and for the future they would not share. It was the pure sorrow of loss.

Emotions are contagious. Everyone in the room found themselves weeping once more.

Cheng did not cry for long. After wiping his eyes, he prepared to leave. He noticed that his touch had left a slight mark on the glass. Recalling He Rui’s obsession with cleanliness, he pulled out a fresh handkerchief and carefully polished the surface until the mark vanished. Only then did he turn to Li Runshi. "Chairman Li..."

"Comrade Ruofan, go and rest first," Li interrupted him gently. "The Military Commission meets tomorrow. You must be there."

Cheng said no more. He saluted and left with Zhong Yifu.

Less than ten minutes after their departure, Molotov was led in. Beholding the crystal coffin, he stepped forward and bowed low.

This time, he showed genuine reverence. The power of nuclear weapons and the staggering casualties they inflicted had deeply shocked the Soviet leadership. But the greatest shock had come from the intelligence that China had already conducted a nuclear strike on the German test site, proving they not only possessed the weapons but the will and capability to use them.

The Central Committee now acknowledged that the combat effectiveness of the Chinese National Defense Forces exceeded that of the Red Army. With a population and industrial base several times that of the USSR, and possessing nuclear weapons, they decided that the Soviet Union must not challenge China in the short term.

The reason was simple. America had signed an armistice, and Germany was finished. China was now free to turn its full attention to the USSR. If the Soviet Union held such an advantage, they would certainly find a pretext to suppress China. As in Aesop’s fables, the wolf would find a reason to blame the lamb even if it were drinking downstream.

Having paid his respects to the man who had led China to total victory, Molotov returned to Li Runshi. His tone was as calm as he could make it. "I have been instructed by the Soviet government to discuss post-war cooperation. Regarding this just war, my government and the Party believe it marks the beginning of world peace."

Hearing this submissive tone from a man who knew the world had to have peace, Li Runshi replied heartily, "Indeed. Chairman He was a great pacifist. He built this peace."

Thinking of the wars He Rui had fought and the tens of millions he had slain, Molotov nodded respectfully. "In my life, I have never seen a greater builder of peace. I believe the peace Chairman He created will surely endure."