The tea house overlooked the Bund near the diplomatic quarter, the neon glow of Shanghai’s skyline reflecting off the Huangpu River. Michael Dunn, a senior trade negotiator with the U.S. State Department, stirred his tea absently. Across from him, his son, Ethan, sat stiffly, flipping through the catalogue the government contact had provided. Ethan was twenty, dressed in a too-tight, starched white collared shirt that only emphasized the currently deep-red blush of his cheeks. His father had insisted on respectable clothing for the evening. It was, after all, a special occasion - his rebirthday.

"Are you actually picking something or just looking at the pictures, boy?" Michael asked. "It would be nice to be Renewed before I die of old age."

Ethan nodded, his eyes flitting down the leather-bound catalogue of cell donors - dozens of pretty Chinese women intricately displayed with their academic and physical accomplishments, fertility, genetic fitness, and more. A Doctorate here, an Olympic gold medal in rhythmic gymnastics there.

"This is your life we're talking about. I can't mess it up," Ethan said. "Why do I have to be the one to choose?"

"Because I want this to be a family decision. I want you all to be included. Do you know the French ambassador?" Michael asked. Ethan did, and had even a crush on him when they first arrived, not knowing the petite 20-something had alreadu been remade. "Look at him. Excluded his family from the entire process. Now they treat him like he's some Manchurian candidate. Like he's some Temu knock-off they dropped on the embassy doorstep. His wife won't even sleep in the same bed as him anymore." He shook his head. "I want you to be along every step of the way. And when they decant me out of that tank, I'd at least like to be wearing a face you recognise."

It's not the face that bothers me, Ethan thought, trying not to stare at the naked bodies arayed on the paper. That was the problem. He couldn't stop thinking about his old man wearing those things. "Couldn't they jsut let you stay a man?" he groaned.

"The CCP sets the rules - I just argue about them," Michael shrugged.

When Renewal technology had been revealed to the world, it had caught America completely off-balance. Meanwhile, China's bio-industrial capacity had been well positioned, as they swiftly changed their production facilities to begin churning out the genetically-modified stem cells at scale. By most estimates, they were a decade ahead of the rest of the world, with a widening gulf as they cornered the market. They could take a sample of cells from anyone on the street, cultivate them in their vast bio-farms in just a few days, and then pump them into a recipient. The new cells swiftly permeated the body, replacing and forcing out the old tissues, remaking them as a perfect physical clone of the original donor.

A near monopoly on immortality. The CCP been eager to leverage it. For the billionaires of the world, Chinese Renewal could be had for a few hundred million. But for foreign politicians... now there was true soft power. They were willing to negotiate down from millions of dollars to a few favors here and there. Michael had quickly put in a transfer; transferring him and his family to a position at the Shanghai embassy.

His father rolled his eyes, glancing inpatiently at his rolex. "Goodness me, you're over thinking it. Would you just pick the hottest one?"

Ethan spluttered, spitting out a mouthful of tea. "WHAT?! No! Are you crazy?!"

"They say that young men are excellent judges of a woman's genetic health. That's all I'm looking for - a healthy genetic vessel. One that'll last the decades its going to take us to bring domestic production up to speed. If you knew the trade concessions I've had to make just to secure Renewal for myself and your mother, you'd know that I'm not keen to have to beg for another any time soon." He gestured at the menu. "These were your mother's picks. Sure, they're all excellent specimens. But I want the cream of the crop. Now, studies have shown that a man your age is excellent at picking out subtle signs of fitness - facial symetry and the like. So just find the one that you find the most sexually attractive. That's the one I want."

Ethan's face was so red he felt it might burst into flames. He shook his head. "I... I can't... I don't like any of these," he stuttered unconvincingly.

Michael sighed. "If we're going to get anywhere, you need to start thinking less. And we're going to need something harder than tea." He signalled to the waiter. "Four whiskeys. Xièxiè."