There was a time when major countries measured their influence by the number of wars they could end. Now, some seem to measure it by how many fronts they can juggle at once.

Which is why the scene in Phnom Penh, capital of Cambodia, this week felt almost anachronistic. At the inaugural "2+2" dialogue between China and Cambodia, the foreign and defense ministers of the two sides sat alongside each other to talk about peace and stability.

A border conflict broke out late last year between Cambodia and Thailand, a country the Chinese delegation is visiting later this week.

China's mediating effort focuses on the long term in an era addicted to short-term wins. China-style mediation is less shock-and-awe, but more slow cooking.

Earlier this month, in Urumqi, capital of Xinjiang Uygur autonomous region, China convened Afghan and Pakistani officials for a week-long informal dialogue to stop a conflict between the two neighbors from sliding toward war.

A mutual pledge was made to cool tensions and "refrain from actions that escalate". In diplomatic terms, that is the equivalent of pulling a car back from the cliff's edge — hardly glamorous, but undeniably practical.

Such efforts are incremental. That is precisely the point.

Contrast this with the more theatrical style of intervention favored elsewhere, where negotiations often resemble high-stakes poker games — heavy on leverage, light on trust. In that model, relationships are transactional, alliances conditional and outcomes frequently reversible. Peace becomes less a destination than a pause between rounds. In the process, power is used to extract compliance rather than cultivate consensus.

China's approach tries to flip that script. It leans heavily on the emphases on equality and sovereignty. Take the simmering tensions between Cambodia and Thailand for example. In Phnom Penh, the emphasis was not on who owed what to whom, but on what both sides could stabilize together: political trust, defense coordination and, crucially, the avoidance of conflict spillovers.

Rather than picking a side or imposing a solution, Beijing has played what diplomats like to call "good offices" — shuttle visits, trilateral meetings and the patient encouragement of pragmatic ceasefire mechanisms with lasting peace and shared security as their objectives. The immediately result is not a grand peace accord, but something arguably more durable: a gradual rebuilding of trust.

This is not altruism. Stability in Southeast Asia is very much in China's interest. But there is a difference between pursuing interest through coercion and pursuing it through calibrated engagement. One extracts; the other facilitates.

The same logic underpins Beijing's approach to the Middle East, where it has been actively advocating de-escalation even as the region convulses. Again, no sweeping doctrines, no "mission accomplished" banners — just a persistent insistence on dialogue. It is not flashy. It does not trend on social media. But it serves its purpose. Which is to help end the conflict.

Critics will argue that this model is too slow, too cautious, too unwilling to confront so-called "bad actors". To them, mediation that refuses to take sides can sometimes look like mediation that refuses to act.

Yet the alternative on offer — a world of coercive bargains and zero-sum calculations — has its own track record. It tends to produce brittle outcomes, alliances that fray under pressure, and conflicts that return with a vengeance. If diplomacy is judged by durability rather than drama, the scorecard looks different.

There is also a subtler shift underway. In a world roiled by perpetual might-is-right games, by turning mediation to a "public good", China is saying, in effect, that power can be exercised through restraint as well as force.