By MARK MACKINNON, Toronto Globe and Mail

China has never been a patient, wait-in-line kind of place.

The history of the vast and populous nation is a tale of chaos repeatedly triumphing over calm, order over disorder. On many occasions -- the Boxer Rebellion, the Cultural Revolution, the subway each day at rush hour -- things have degenerated into mob rule.

But that, Shu Xiaofeng swears, was the old China.

In 14 terse lines, saved on his hard drive in a file named "Many have suffered too much because of me," former South Korean president Roh Moo-hyun tried to explain why he would kill himself a few hours later.

North Korea is preparing to launch a missile designed to reach as far as the west coast of Canada or the United States, while leader Kim Jong-il praises his country as an invulnerable "socialist fortress."

It is 6 o'clock on a Thursday night when the casualties of Japan's latest economic collapse start to arrive at the Manga Internet cafe.

Striking an unusually stark tone for a gathering of the country's rubber-stamp parliament, Chinese Premier Wen Jiabao warned last week that China is facing a year of "unprecedented difficulties and challenges" that could spark social unrest if ambitious growth targets aren't met.

When the earth shook last May, Jiang Lucheng's wife of 25 years and their infant grandson were buried in the rubble of their home. At 55 years old, and no longer able to work because of a leg injury he suffered during the quake, Jiang felt his life was over.

When the earth shook last May, Jiang Lucheng's wife of 25 years and their infant grandson were buried in the rubble of their home. At 55 years old, and no longer able to work because of a leg injury he suffered during the quake, Jiang felt his life was over.

When the earth shook last May, Jiang Lucheng's wife of 25 years and their infant grandson were buried in the rubble of their home. At 55 years old, and no longer able to work because of a leg injury he suffered during the quake, Jiang felt his life was over.

Today would normally be a day of high celebration for Tibetans everywhere, the welcoming of the lunar New Year with fireworks, music and festive dinners. Instead, many parts of Chinese-controlled Tibet are expected to solemnly boycott the next week of state-sponsored events marking the festival known as Losar.

When Li Huawen left her childhood home in China's northern Hebei province five years ago, she believed she was starting down a clearly charted course. She would go to Beijing, attend the prestigious China University of Political Science and Law, and emerge into the world's fastest growing economy with a plethora of job offers.