"“I am going to piss,” he said. The bluntness was liberating. In this last year, after Comrade Mao clarified that etiquette was merely the classist remnants of a feudal past. He spat freely, and walked away from the table. Into the silence, as he made for the liberated landowner’s house they used for a toilet, he could almost hear Big Ching. He pulled down his pants and washed over the sound with his piss. The sound seemed to change. It wasn’t regular. It was melodic. Comrade Lin stopped, and tried to listen. Snatches, deeper into the farmlands of Pudong. He pulled up his pants, patted his copy of the Quotations of Chairman Mao, and walked down the dirt path. He wasn’t sure what kind of music it was, but it seemed almost familiar..." Comrade Lin Hong has helped to liberate Shanghai from the capitalist-roaders and reactionaries. But across the river, in wild, overgrown Pudong, the old ways live on, calling to him, singing to him from the trees. What will become of poor Lin Hong, if he succumbs? The old must go, after all, that the new may come. This is the short, strange life of Comrade Lin. Winner, second place, of the 2013 National Fantasy Fan Federation Short Story Contest.