Only after Molotov began discussions with China regarding the establishment of military administration zones in Germany did he realize that the Chinese were already fully prepared. He was pleased to find China willing to negotiate, yet he soon felt an immense pressure when it became clear that Beijing had no intention of allowing the USSR full dominance over the disposal of eastern Germany.

As Molotov had anticipated, the Soviet Union sought to alter Germany's borders. Compared to Germany, Poland was the primary object the USSR wished to control completely. Having already secured the territories east of the Curzon Line from Poland, the Soviets intended to compensate the Poles by granting them a portion of eastern Germany.

China initially opposed the move, arguing that such a redistribution of German land would trigger a violent backlash. At the very least, China would not give its consent.

In the world as it stood, there were few things that could be carried out if China opposed them. Forced into a corner, Molotov utilized every channel to negotiate. Ultimately, he proposed a solution to the Soviet Central Committee.

They would first divide the military administration zones and then establish a "new state" within the Soviet-occupied German territory. Afterward, they would sign a land-transfer agreement with this new government. This maneuver would avoid a direct confrontation with China.

By this time, the Soviet leadership was well aware of China's nuclear capability and had witnessed the power of the bomb firsthand. Since a direct conflict was out of the question, they approved Molotov's suggestion.

Bolstered by the response, Molotov entered the next round of negotiations with renewed confidence. Just as he thought the process might proceed smoothly, the Chinese side raised a new requirement: "Given the suffering of the Jews in Europe, China deems it necessary for Germany and Poland—the nations that most severely persecuted them— to provide land for the establishment of a Jewish state. This will resolve the Jewish question once and for all."

The idea of providing land for a Jewish homeland had been discussed by the Great Powers for years. The Soviet Union also harbored its share of anti-Semitism; to prevent internal unrest, they had already established a Jewish Autonomous Oblast in the Far East, effectively exiling their Jewish population to the border with China.

But the Chinese requirement struck Molotov as problematic. Although he knew a refusal was likely impossible, he asked cautiously, "Which specific land are we talking about?"

Li Shiguang produced a map. Molotov looked at it: the proposed region was centered on East Prussia and included a portion of Polish territory, totaling approximately 50,000 square kilometers. In Molotov’s memory, the area was described as marshland—not quite water, but certainly a wetland.

He knew the Central Committee indeed wanted East Prussia as a strategic enclave. He attempted to negotiate, but Li Shiguang was in no mood for compromise.

Although Li personally loathed the posturing of imperialism, he recognized that European civilization understood only that language. He spoke with a cold gravity: "I am issuing a notification, not initiating a discussion. If you insist on a discussion, I would prefer to discuss the question of the Baltic states."

The remark was not one Li enjoyed making, but seeing Molotov’s forced compliance brought a certain satisfaction.

Molotov was not angered by the imperialist tone. As Li had suspected, this directness allowed Molotov to grasp China’s attitude with absolute clarity. He stopped struggling and immediately telegrammed the Central Committee.

At the subsequent session in Moscow, Stalin finally displayed his fury, delivering a blistering denunciation of China's "imperialist actions."

The members of the Committee were all seasoned political animals. Sensing the wind, they followed suit, criticizing China for having abandoned its revolutionary path. Amidst the chorus of condemnation, all eyes turned to Commissioner Kirov.

In the current Party, Kirov was the only one with the stature to provide everyone—Stalin included—with a "step down" that wouldn't damage his own standing. Stalin’s show of strength was a necessity of his position, yet the members knew perfectly well that a military conflict with China was unthinkable. A single East Prussia was not worth a war.

Kirov waited for the others to finish their support for Stalin’s stance. Noticing the General Secretary growing impatient, he finally spoke: "The priority at this moment is Poland. China's imperialist behavior is a valuable lesson; it will allow the Polish people to fully recognize the imperialist nature of Beijing."

The remark earned Kirov considerable respect among his peers. To call for a retreat directly would be "capitulationism." By framing the concession as a way to expose Chinese "evil" to the Poles, he turned it into a form of ideological offensive.

Kirov was not finished. "Only the establishment of a new Germany can ensure European stability," he continued. "Currently, China is not obstructing this. I believe it is necessary to ensure this process moves forward smoothly."

Stalin, who had no intention of a direct clash, seized the opening. "And what of the new division of occupation zones, comrades? Any thoughts?"

In this round, China had indeed made significant concessions. According to the new standards, China was to yield nearly 100,000 square kilometers of its occupied territory. These were prime lands—highly industrialized and densely populated. In Soviet eyes, compared to the sliver of land required for the Jewish state, China was the one taking the loss.

When it came time for rhetoric, the Central Committee members were masters. But on matters of this gravity, they were also exceedingly cautious. After a period of discussion, they finalized their acceptance of the Chinese requirements.

On May 16, 1945, China and the USSR issued a joint declaration on the establishment of the Jewish Republic. The announcement met with little opposition within the United Nations; even the anti-Semites found it acceptable.

For the anti-Semites of Europe, their greatest desire was the expulsion of the Jews to "purify" their own social environments. As for whether the Jews were slaughtered, there were fewer true madmen in Europe than one might think.

Thus, from May 19th, WPLA units began their advance into East Prussia alongside Soviet forces. Simultaneously, the WPLA commenced its withdrawal from other sectors according to the new zonal boundaries.

By June 1st, the final partition was complete. The local German populations in East Prussia and the surrounding areas were subjected to total expulsion by the Soviet military. Hearing that the Chinese were leaving and the Russians were taking over, vast numbers of residents in eastern Germany also fled to the West.

On June 2nd, the International Military Tribunal for the trial of crimes committed during the Second World War opened in Nuremberg. The war had entered its final phase of reckoning.

So many high-ranking Nazis had vanished in the Berlin nuclear blast that they accounted for less than forty percent of the defendants. Another ten percent were members of various European fascist and Nazi groups. Fully half of those on trial were colonialists, including Winston Churchill.

The grounds for their trial were simple: during their administrations, they had oversaw numerous massacres and other atrocities in their colonies. They were charged with crimes against humanity.

Drawing on China's experience with the Asian International Tribunal established during the Sino-British War of 1927, the organization of the Great Trial proceeded smoothly. Representatives from every former colony flocked to Nuremberg to file complaints, providing a mountain of evidence and demanding severe punishment for the colonialists.

According to the rules established by the Chinese, the defendants were permitted legal counsel. Jurists from across Europe and the United States converged on Nuremberg.

Professor Zhao Tianlin, who had served as the executive chairman of the previous international commission, received a delegation of Western jurists who had come to China to "pay him a visit" during his convalescence.

Zhao was weak, yet he granted them an audience. The leader of the delegation was the son of his former law professor at Harvard.

The conversation was direct. Zhao sighed, "Had a standard been reached and signed by all at the Singapore Conference in 1943, things would not have come to this. At that time, Chairman He believed we should cast aside the burdens of the past and enter an era of peaceful development."

The jurists were filled with regret. Their primary hope then had been to "wait and see." As beneficiaries of colonialism, they had hoped to gloss over its crimes with a few innocuous statements rather than face genuine legislation, trials, and accountability.

Now that China had crushed all opposition through military force, matters that could have been handled gently now required a serious accounting. As the Chinese saying went: "Some things, if not placed on the scale, weigh less than four ounces. Once on the scale, even a thousand pounds won't hold them."

The jurists were pragmatic. They asked Zhao, "Professor, is there any path left for a more moderate approach?"

Zhao shook his head. "Once a case is established, it must follow its course. I believe many will hang this time. All are equal before the law; kings, prime ministers, and ministers alike must pay the price for their crimes."

Seeing the grim expressions of the experts, Zhao offered a small, forced smile. "Heh. I can assure you of one thing: China will not demand the death penalty for the sake of it. For the officers and men of the opposing side who fought in normal combat, China will guarantee their legal rights, provided they committed no war crimes."

The experts exchanged a look, but found no comfort in the words. They had studied He Rui; they knew he wasn't a man for random executions, but neither was he a man for retribution. Death depended solely on whether the captive had committed a crime.

But the legacy of five hundred years of colonialism was a mountain of sin. To truly pursue it meant a river of blood. At the very least, Churchill and the officials of the Colonial Office were destined for the gallows. The Belgian King and half of his cabinet would swing as well.

The death of these men carried a significance far greater than any execution of POWs. To trial colonialism was to trial almost all of Europe. Only a few, like Hungary, could stand tall and declare themselves clean.

"Dr. Zhao, can you help us defend those on trial?"

Faced with the plea, Zhao Tianlin found himself unable to answer immediately. He could defend them, but the fundamental logic of any defense would be anti-colonial. He worried that the Western experts might assume he could somehow subvert New China's standards of judgment.

While he doubted they truly believed that, he knew that desperate men—like a dog leaping over a wall—might convince themselves of anything.