Cheng Li-wun once called for the destruction of the party she now leads. Back in 1988, when she was still a teenager, Cheng took the dais at a farmers’ rally to condemn Taiwan’s Nationalist Party, or KMT, as “the most detestable ruling force,” urging her compatriots to “overthrow KMT tyranny and establish our own country.”
Today, Cheng runs the KMT from its Taipei headquarters, where her chairperson’s office boasts the eclectic talismans of her unconventional journey: a cuddly kangaroo, a model Xiaomi electric car, and a jade Buddha statue guarding her desk. “I’m a very devout Buddhist,” Cheng tells TIME.
Cheng’s stunning transformation from Taiwanese independence zealot to leader of the self-ruling island’s China-friendly opposition is illustrated by another office adornment: a framed copy of the China Daily newspaper documenting her April meeting with Chinese President Xi Jinping in Beijing, under the headline “Xi calls for closer bonds across Strait.”
It was the first trip by a KMT leader to China in a decade and came against a backdrop of spiraling tensions, with near-daily Chinese combat aircraft, warships, and coast guard vessels rehearsing port blockades, precision strikes, and foreign-intervention denial. “Before the meeting [with Xi], nobody really had expectations of how it would go, and I think that they were very surprised by the goodwill that we received,” Cheng says.
For Xi, Taiwan is not merely unfinished business from the 1945–49 Chinese Civil War, after which the routed KMT fled to the now democratic island of 23 million. It is the keystone of a far grander project: the national rejuvenation of China as the world’s dominant technological, economic, and political power. The island’s very existence—a prosperous, democratic Chinese society integrated with the West—offers a stinging rebuke to the claim that authoritarian rule is uniquely suited to the Chinese people.
Chinese President Xi Jinping shakes hands with Kuomintang (KMT) party leader Cheng Li-wun in Beijing on Friday, April 10, 2026. Xie Huanchi—Xinhua/AP
Cheng’s conversion encapsulates Taiwan’s own agonizing debate: whether security lies in distancing itself from the power threatening to take the island by force, or drawing closer to it. The ruling Beijing-skeptic Democratic Progressive Party, or DPP, sees Taiwan’s future as distinct from China’s and has prioritized building trade and other unofficial ties with Asian neighbors. In 2010, China accounted for 83.8% of Taiwan’s total outward investment; during the first five months of 2026, that figure had plunged to just 0.9%.
That decoupling has also seen Beijing squeeze Taiwan economically and diplomatically. Over the past decade of DPP rule, Beijing has restricted imports of Taiwanese goods and limited free-spending tourist arrivals, while poaching 10 of Taiwan’s diplomatic allies, so that only 12 remain.
Swelling anxiety increasingly shapes Taiwan’s domestic politics. Within the KMT, there is a strong belief that Washington cannot be relied upon indefinitely and that Taipei must engage Beijing from a position of weakness. The party’s implicit message is that Taiwan will not choose unification now—but nor will it formally choose another future.
Cheng’s emergence embodies that bargain. Despite her pro-independence past, Cheng has embraced Chinese identity, the so-called 1992 Consensus that both sides of the Strait belong to “One China,” and direct engagement with Beijing. Her meeting with Xi allowed Beijing to display its neglected carrots: economic incentives, restored exchanges, and the promise of stability. But Cheng’s limited electoral experience, thin Washington ties, and lackluster appeal to the KMT’s traditional base leave open the question of whether she can persuade Taiwan’s broader electorate.
“It’s not a good move for Taiwan,” Puma Shen, a DPP lawmaker and the party’s candidate for the upcoming Taipei mayoral election, says of Cheng’s meeting with Xi. “China is the country that wants to invade Taiwan … and they’re also pushing more and more gray-zone tactics.”
Taiwanese soldiers set up anti-tank obstacles on a bridge to simulate stopping Chinese forces from approaching, as part of the Han-Kuang military exercise, in New Taipei City, Taiwan on Aug. 6, 2026. Daniel Ceng—Anadolu/Getty Images
Yet that doesn’t necessarily mean Xi is racing toward war. He appears to regard history as moving inexorably in China’s favor and may believe he can afford to wait. The surest form of deterrence, then, may not be convincing Beijing that unification is impossible, but that patience remains the least costly path.
“I want to do away with the Cold War thinking,” says Cheng. “I do not want the first island chain to be thought of as the front line of military conflict. Rather, I would like it to be the front line of peace.”
The need to dial down the temperature is indisputable. A Taiwan contingency would decimate global supply chains in unprecedented ways, costing some $10 trillion, according to estimates by Bloomberg Economics. Opinion is split, however, on how best to prevent conflict.
