Chapter 1763 - 1363: The Feast of Baghdad

Two days later, Baghdad, Mansour Hotel.

This five-star hotel located at the edge of the Green Zone is one of the symbols of Iraq's post-war reconstruction.

Or rather, a symbol of attempted reconstruction.

In the marble lobby, the crystal chandelier emits a soft glow, and the uniformed waitstaff silently shuttle back and forth.

But upon closer inspection, you'll find several repaired bullet marks on the walls, all windows are bullet-proof glass, and the security at the entrance rivals that of an airport.

Song Heping has rented out the entire top-floor suite of the hotel. It's not for showing off; it's a necessity—considering security. At this moment, he stands in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, overlooking the nighttime scenery of Baghdad.

In the distance, the searchlight beams from the Green Zone sweep across the night sky, while armored convoys patrol the streets. Nearby, the affluent areas along both sides of the Tigris River are brightly lit, whereas large sections of the impoverished areas are shrouded in darkness.

This sense of division is a microcosm of the country.

A knock on the door.

The bodyguard opens the door, allowing Jiang Feng to enter.

"Old squad leader, General Samir has arrived and is waiting for you in the conference room downstairs. Additionally, here's today's updated invitation list."

Jiang Feng hands over a tablet computer.

Song Heping glances at the screen. The list is long, with clear categories:

Government:

Prime Minister's Office dinner

Ministry of Defense luncheon

Parliament reception (joint invitation from Shiye Sect, Sunni Sect, Kurdish parliamentary blocs)

Diplomatic invitations:

American Embassy Independence Day celebration (note: Ambassador Stevenson hopes for a one-on-one meeting)

British Embassy tea party

French Embassy cultural exchange dinner

Turkish Embassy national day reception

Persian Embassy "Night of Friendship"

Camel Embassy business forum

Russian Business Representative Office energy cooperation symposium

Business organizations:*

ExxonMobil Iligo Company CEO dinner

British Petroleum (BP) Middle East President meeting

Iraq National Oil Company cooperation talks

Invitations from three large local construction companies

Cooperation intentions with five security companies...

"And seven media outlets have requested exclusive interviews, including CNN, BBC, Al Jazeera, and Iraq National Television."

Jiang Feng adds: "I've politely declined them for now, as per your instructions, but have kept the lines of communication open."

Song Heping hands the tablet back to Jiang Feng: "I'll meet with Samir first. We'll discuss other matters later."

Not accepting any interviews is a decision Song Heping made long ago.

A merchant, a dignitary—these interactions are manageable.

Accepting media interviews?

As if courting death quickly!

He's a PMC Company owner; if he were only that, it'd be fine.

But his business often delves into gray areas.

For instance, he still controls the entire flour transportation network over at Lao Mo's side.

He has arms smuggling networks in both Africa and the Middle East.

A man fears fame like a pig fears getting fat.

Once under the spotlight, it's likely that soon someone will dig into these matters.

At that time, it'll be like mud on the pants—whether it's dirt or not, it is!

Downstairs, Samir is already waiting in the conference room.

Upon seeing Song Heping, he stands up respectfully.

Although he's just a step away from the rank of Lieutenant General now.

Over the years, he's habitually regarded Song Heping as his "boss."

Everything the boss says is right.

If the boss is wrong, refer to the previous point.

"Please sit." Song Heping gestures with a smile for him to sit down and directly asks: "When will the proposal be voted on?"

"The day after tomorrow at ten in the morning, the parliament's plenary session."

Samir sits down, placing his hands on his knees, with a posture as correct as a schoolboy.

"The Defense Committee has passed it, and the Budget Committee has also passed it. Now it only remains for the parliamentary plenary vote. Based on the current count... it should pass."

"Should?" Song Heping looks at him.

Samir hesitates: "Hashimi's side clearly supports it, the Kurdish parliamentary blocs fully support it, and the mainstream factions of the Shiye Sect also support it. Theoretically, it's enough. But... I've heard some differing opinions from the American Embassy."

"What opinions?"

"Ambassador Stevenson privately approached several parliament members, asking if, once the proposal is passed, the command of the new forces, equipment sources, training cooperation..." Samir pauses, "He specifically asked if this force would accept US Army advisors and training."

Song Heping nods.

It's not unexpected.

The Americans have been operating in Iligo for twenty years, and the last thing they can tolerate is the emergence of armed forces beyond their control.

Once the Border Defense Tenth Division is established, it will be the first division-level unit in Iligo to not be completely influenced by the US Army, aside from the Kurd Armed forces.

"How did you respond?" Song Heping asked.

"I said...this needs to be decided by the Ministry of Defense," Samir replied cautiously. "But personally, I think we would welcome any cooperation that helps improve the troops' combat capabilities."

It was a smart answer.

It didn't offend the Americans and shifted the decision to the higher-ups.

"Very well," Song Heping replied. "Remember, you will be a regular army officer in the future, not a local armed leader. Your superiors are the Ministry of Defense and the President's Mansion. Any cooperation with external forces must go through regular channels and procedures. Understand?"

"Understood," Samir nodded, though a hint of worry flashed in his eyes, "Boss, if the Americans insist on sending advisors, and if the Ministry of Defense agrees under pressure..."

"Then let them send them," Song Heping said calmly. "When the US Army advisors arrive, treat them well, arrange for them to train the soldiers, and learn their techniques. But the command, personnel, and deployment rights must be firmly in the hands of our own people. That's the red line."

He paused, then added, "Moreover, do you really think the Americans want to fully control your troops? No, they just don't want you to fully lean towards Persia, or...completely lean towards me. They want balance, they want influence. Give them some superficial cooperation, some insignificant permissions, and they will be satisfied."

At this point, he laughed.

"Actually, you can use this as a bargaining chip, ask them for funding and equipment, why not?"

Samir nodded thoughtfully.

Then, his phone rang.

He glanced at it, and his expression became subtle.

"It's Hashimi's assistant. He asks if we are available tomorrow night. The congressman wants to invite us to dinner and introduce a few tribal elders from Anbar Province."

Song Heping smiled.

See, this is politics.

Hashimi not only needs to support the bill but also make personable connections, to establish his influence in the new troops in advance.

"Promise him. But we decide the place."

Samir went to make the phone call.

Jiang Feng re-entered the conference room, holding another document.

"Old squad leader, just received."

He handed the document over.

"A formal invitation from the American Embassy, a separate 'working dinner,' tomorrow night at seven, at the ambassador's residence. Specifically noted: only you are invited, Ambassador Stevenson wishes to have a 'candid, private conversation' with you."

Song Heping took the invitation.

The fine copperplate paper, embossed seal, wording formal yet urgent.

"And this," Jiang Feng handed over another: "an invitation from the Persian Embassy, also for tomorrow night, at eight-thirty. I said you already have plans, but they said they can adjust the time, as long as you can spare half an hour..."

"What about Turkey?"

"The day after tomorrow at noon, a lunch at the embassy. Camel's is the day after that. The Russian representative office didn't specify a time, just said they are ready to welcome you anytime."

Song Heping placed the invitation on the table, looking out at the night view of Baghdad.

No transaction in this city is visible, countless alliances are forming or breaking, countless eyes are watching him.

This is the victor's position.

The center of the vortex.

"See the Americans first," Song Heping eventually said, "Tell Vincent I'll be there on time tomorrow. The invitation from Persia...let them know a representative will be sent, but not myself. Arrange according to importance and timing for the others."

"Not going to the Persians, won't it..."

Jiang Feng worriedly asked.

Song Heping understood his concern.

After all, he has been cooperating with the Persians lately, and his relationship with Avanti is not just ordinary.

But that's politics.

Being genuinely close to someone doesn't necessarily show outwardly.

He can communicate with Avanti privately, this channel is enough.

Sending a representative to the Persian Embassy has benefits; it sends a signal to the Americans, putting them more at ease.

Though deep down, Song Heping doesn't like the Americans.

But he must acknowledge that to root himself in Iligo and expand his influence, dealing with the Americans, and dealing well, is an unavoidable step.

Now he is seated at Iligo's table of interests, different from before.

When not seated at the table, any means could be used.

Now it's different, dressed formally and seated at the table, he must follow the table's rules, he can't just flip the table for his own whims.

This is also wisdom.

"Rest assured, I'm giving the Americans a reassurance pill, as for the Persians, I'll communicate with Avanti privately, tell him my motives."

"Understood," Jiang Feng asked again: "And Hashimi's side..."

"Let Samir go. It's time for him to build his own network."

Song Heping stood up, walked to the window, and said looking into the distance, "Jiang Feng, when you go to Elbil, the first thing isn't to start working, but to host a banquet. Invite all members of the Military Committee, the heads of the Ministry of Defense offices in Elbil, the main aides of the President's Mansion...all of them. The event should be high-profile but not luxurious. The focus is to make them understand we have arrived, but we respect their rules."

"What if...if they ask about specific reform plans?" Jiang Feng asked.

"Just say you are researching and need time for investigation," Song Heping turned to him, "Remember, you don't really need to propose any reform plans. You just need to sit there, smile and listen to them talk, occasionally nod, say 'Mr. Song values this issue.' The rest, they will fill in themselves."

Jiang Feng smiled, "I see. Like you said, I'm a symbol."

"Yes. A very expensive symbol, priced at twenty million." Song Heping also smiled, "Okay, prepare yourself. Tomorrow we officially enter Baghdad's power game field.

After Jiang Feng left, Song Heping sat alone in the conference room for a long time.

The invitations on the table formed a small pile, each representing a faction, each faction wanting something from him or trying to prevent him from getting something.

The Americans want influence, the Persians want to restrain the Americans, the Turks worry about the Kurds growing too powerful, the Camel people want to balance the Persians, the Russians want a piece of the energy business...

The game of interests is more exhausting than a battlefield with real guns and swords.