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He threw him over his back in an elegant quick way and glared. His golden brown eyes strict and creepy, as he looked down. "Don't you dare to act like that in front of your master". Then he turned around to the old monk, who taught his students martial arts. "Please continue", he said calmly, but his eyes were observant and cold. His black brown hair was bound to a tail, that went over one shoulder, while his clothes were pure white: a traditional vest with golden sleeves that were rolled up and the whole outfit was hold together by a sash made of silver silk. The monk bowed respectively. "As you wish". The students around him had a frightening gaze in their eyes. "Who was that master?", asked one student hesitantly. The old man just nodded. "That's Zhong Wen, also known as China, my child".

China looked up at the sky and sighed. It was nice today, but he simply can't calm down. He lived for a long time and as he knew there was always war, trouble and death. Nothing seems to be alright and he was sick of it. Everything changed, but he was still the same. No, China didn't change at all. He grew older and older, maybe he disappeared just like Ancient Egypt, Greece and-he sighed-Rome. That guy drove him nearly crazy with his attitude, but he was also the first friend China had, whom he trusted enough to trade with. But he was proven wrong, missionaries started to came, western people who want to change his country and at the end he was brutally separated by different countries. He lost the Opium Wars against Great Britain, so many people died because of that bloody drug, his government nearly went bankrupt and China couldn't do anything. He felt useless, Christianity changed his people, who started to worship God, but not their ancestors anymore. Their own ancestors, what a disgrace. "Honor", he mumbled. That word was his everything, every action and thought was for honor. Now he was shattered, his honor was broken and if he had a family, they would kicked him out of the family register. He had none.

He took care of many countries. More than he actually remembered: Taiwan, Vietnam, Korea and Japan. They were like children each of them with their different characteristics, it was difficult but he enjoyed taking care of them. He shared his culture. He shared himself. But what was the price he paid for his stubbornness? War and pain. Great Britain took his precious Hong Kong away. The over 4000 years old man would never admit it, but that boy was like his own child to him. Taiwan declared her independence and also Macao started to act on his own. He was forced to westernize, as a result, only to fight again. But China was proud. If he lost Honor, could he have at least Pride? Respect? No he lost them, too. No one respected him anymore and China was too old to argue. He let things slip away, act on their own, he had nothing to say anymore.

Years ago, people respected those older than them. It was a certain manner or respect, that was required since birth. When China was young he taught his first people that. He stressed the Confucian thought, the fact that boys were more important than girls, okay he admitted, girls were much cuter. But even that didn't matter anymore. He had no control of his government anymore.

When he walked in his house, which consisted of temple, he looked at the old mirror in the front. His look never changed. He sighed again, but stopped as he felt a quick pain in his back. He didn't have to look, the scar, little Japan gave him as a memory, opened again. It happened often, it seemed the injury would never heal, just like his soul.

"Hey old man!".

China glares instinctively at Hong Kong who stops abruptly. He had never seen China that scary. His golden eyes pierce him and a strange aura is around the old country. He seems way too different.

He doesn't wear those baggy awful clothes this time, Hong Kong had to admit, it is his same style but the clothes suit him more and were more tight on him

He doesn't smile at all, when looking at Hong Kong

He didn't hug Hong Kong

He didn't even complain, being called old

"China? You okay?", he finally asks. The brown haired man just looks down, his hair covers his eyes and his elbows are calmly on his knees, as he sits down. "So sick of that all…", he mumbles and then stands up. He walks by and without turning to the younger one he said. "Lower your head, boy". Hong Kong, who froze by the appearance of his former master, trembled a little bit, by the coldness in the voice and gaze.

China doesn't know how to act like himself anymore. More specific, the friendly childish China he always acts for the others with the nice ~aru~, so they wouldn't see his dark side. He laughs out and looked at the sky again, just like in his dreams. "The only ancient country living, huh? Rome, your life is nice. Even if I wanted to die, I simply can't".

Living Forever is such a Burden