"If they wanted to kill us, they’d just poison our tap water," says local taxi driver Wu Shan-hua, articulating the kind of advanced geopolitical strategy usually reserved for people who think 4D numbers are a legit retirement plan.

Wu, like many in Kinmen, has looked at the towering skyscrapers of Xiamen and decided that being part of a totalitarian regime is a small price to pay for a faster commute to a fucking Sephora.

While Taipei is 300km away screaming about "democracy" and "human rights" like a broke, annoying ex-boyfriend, Beijing is right across the water offering a massive new airport and 1,000-ton warships that provide "spontaneous maritime hugs."

"Taipei gives us lectures, but China gives us a water pipe," Wu added, confirming that the price of a human soul is approximately three liters of Fujian reservoir runoff per day.

The Chinese government’s "soft on one hand, hard on the other" strategy—also known as the "Rihanna S&M approach"—has been wildly successful in convincing locals that "One Country, Two Systems" is basically just a very aggressive loyalty program.

Local businessman Wu Tseng-dong, who makes knives out of old Chinese artillery shells, is particularly excited about the prospect of reunification, noting that more shells means more inventory.

"It’s the ultimate circular economy," Wu remarked while sharpening a blade made from a projectile that once tried to liquefy his grandfather.

"I hope they fire more shells soon; my Q3 sales targets are looking a bit fucking thin."

Meanwhile, Kinmen’s younger residents are already practicing their mainland accents and downloading WeChat, realizing that a lifetime of social credit monitoring is still better than having to take a one-hour flight to Taipei just to see a doctor who doesn't use leeches.

Mainland officials have promised that the integration will be "seamless," which is CCP-speak for "you will eventually stop noticing the cameras installed inside your toilet bowl."

As the Chinese Coast Guard continues to "patrol" Kinmen’s waters by almost ramming everything in sight, locals remain unfazed, confident that as long as they keep buying property in Xiamen, the missiles will probably be aimed at someone else.

"At the end of the day, we are all the same family," said one resident while applying for a Chinese residence permit.

"And like any family, I’m perfectly happy to let my rich, abusive uncle take over the house as long as he pays for the fucking renovations."