Chapter 1765 - 1364: Near Home, Anxiety Intensifies (Part 2)

He paused for a moment and then said, "As for the specific affairs of the Border Defense Tenth Division, that falls under General Samir and the Ministry of Defense's responsibilities. I cannot interfere too much."

These words were spoken beautifully—

Neither refusing the involvement of the United States nor denying the official authorities of Illiguo the decision-making power; it indicated the openness of his business participation while setting clear boundaries against political intervention.

Stevenson nodded, no longer probing into the topic.

The two then switched to discussing the energy market and infrastructure investments, as if the previous conversation were just routine.

But Song Heping knew that the most important topic had already reached a consensus at the very beginning, and everything discussed afterward was just idle chatter.

Dealing with these politicians is always like this—ninety percent nonsense and ten percent valid topics.

Next was the "Night of Friendship" at the Persian Embassy.

He didn't attend it personally, sending a senior executive from the company as a representative instead.

The reason being "a sudden urgent business meeting."

He did attend the banquet hosted by Congressman Hashimi in person.

At the table, he met several tribal elders from Anbar Province, all influential figures in the Sunni Region.

Song Heping listened more and spoke less, only promising that the "new troops would treat all ethnic and sectarian groups fairly" and hinting that "cross-border trade would benefit once border security improves."

These words struck the elders at their core.

It was, after all, the benefit issue that this local power group was most concerned with.

Anbar Province borders Siria and Jordan, currently warring Siria and Jordan being an important passage to Liben and Balistan.

Over there, smuggling and trade are the main income sources for many tribes.

The lunch at the Turkish Embassy was the most interesting.

The ambassador almost unabashedly expressed concern over the rise of the Kurd Armed group, repeatedly emphasizing "the importance of Illiguo's territorial integrity."

Song Heping's reply was artful: "The constitution of Illiguo grants autonomy to the Kurd Region. I respect and abide by all the laws of the host country."

The business forum at the Camel Embassy focused on energy cooperation.

Song Heping's company already had several oilfield service contracts in southern Illiguo, and the Camel People evidently hoped to expand cooperation while counterbalancing Persia's influence.

The seminar at the Russian representative office was the most pragmatic.

They talked business without discussing politics.

These Da Maozi also had oilfield cooperation projects in Illiguo.

Now that Song Heping was the Northwest King, even the formidable Da Mao understood social nuances, greeting the influential with interest, and leveraging relations never hurts.

The following days continued in this manner.

Breakfast meetings, lunch meetings, afternoon teas, dinner banquets.

Endless people to meet, endless conversations to hold, endless tea and coffee to drink.

Jiang Feng had already gone to Elbil, sending back daily briefings.

The Military Committee's reaction to his arrival was complex, outwardly welcoming but secretly cautious.

But Jiang Feng strictly followed Song Heping's instructions: listening without speaking, nodding with a smile, playing the role of the "expensive emblem."

After all, this was an internal issue among the Kurd people.

How they deal with it is naturally under Old Masood's control.

While "Musician" Defense only plays a role of enforcing order with its force.

Half a month later, one late night, Song Heping stood alone in front of the floor-to-ceiling window in his hotel suite.

Baghdad's night view remained unchanged, the Tigris River quietly flowing, separating light from darkness. He suddenly felt an overwhelming exhaustion.

It's not physical fatigue, but one of heart.

These days, every word he spoke had to be measured, every expression controlled, every decision weighed.

He met too many people and discussed too many matters, yet there was no one he could speak his heart to.

Samir was respectful but fearful of him, Jiang Feng was a comrade but more a subordinate, Hashimi was an ally but more a politician.

Those ambassadors, merchants, and parliamentarians...

All were relationships based on interests.

He thought of his hometown.

That small county in the Northwest Region, with its bluestone roads, old locust trees, the cicadas of summer, and the fog of winter.

He thought of the local cuisine, the sounds of his younger siblings quarreling.

It had been nearly ten years since he returned.

Just two years ago, he was still a "dangerous person" on the United States list, and returning would only bring trouble to his family.

He could only secretly send money home, fabricating stories of doing construction material and gold mining businesses in Africa, using "too busy" as an excuse for not visiting home.

In his army days, his father passed away due to illness.

It's said the eldest son inherits his father's duties.

Yet in these years, apart from providing material support, he indeed hasn't fulfilled the responsibilities of an elder brother.

It was this incident that ultimately made him give up the selection for the Special Forces 203, choose to retire and return home, taking up the family burden.

Later wealth came, but some of it was not clean, and he didn't dare to return.

Fearing being stopped at customs, fearing being approached by security departments, fearing that after media exposure, his family would find out about him from the news.

Now with his identity legalized, he unexpectedly transformed into a famous Defense Company boss and obtained legal status.

The proposal for the Border Defense Tenth Division has passed, and his standing in Illiguo is basically solid.

All factions have by now accepted him as a "legitimate businessman."

Perhaps...

It's time to visit.

Once this thought dawned, it grew wildly like weeds.

He checked his watch; it was two in the morning.

But he couldn't wait any longer.

He left his bedroom, and the bodyguard outside immediately stood up: "Boss?"

"Go call Miroslav."

Milo was his personal bodyguard captain, a former Special Forces officer from Serbia.

A few minutes later, Milo hurried over, not fully dressed: "Boss, is there something?"