Chapter 1881 - 1403: Oval Office Anxiety (Part 2)

"Mr. President, about Hillary—"

"I'll call her personally." Obama headed to his desk: "Now, I need you to get in touch with Lemont immediately, tell him we accept all conditions. I want this damn shelling to stop right away. The rest... we'll deal with later."

"We can't reach Lemont now..." Walter said, "After the shelling, we lost contact with him."

"Then find someone who can contact Song Heping! He's not a ghost in hell, someone must be able to reach him!" Obama was somewhat impatient: "I don't need you to present problems; I need you to solve them!"

"Yes, I'll go to Simon, let him try to reach out, after all, the CIA must have a way." Walter immediately thought of Simon and then added, "About the press conference..."

"In an hour, I'll deliver a national address from Roosevelt Hall."

The President pressed the internal call button: "Masi, I want the speechwriting team, Defense Minister, Secretary of State, and the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff in the Situation Room within thirty minutes. Also, contact Angel from Horizon News, I want to speak with her for ten minutes before the address."

"You want to speak with her?" Lucas was surprised.

"She currently has the most information. Moreover," a glint of profound meaning flashed in Obama's eyes, "if Song Heping chooses to release information through her, maybe she's the channel he's chosen for communication. I need to know what the next act of this drama is."

Walter nodded, ready to leave, but the President called him back.

"Walter."

"Yes."

"This Song Heping... I remember seeing his briefing before, if I'm not mistaken, three years ago he was still on our wanted list. Where did we go wrong, letting a mercenary leader we once hunted become someone who could shell a US military base and extort the White House?"

Walter was silent for a long time and finally answered, "We initially thought he was just a pawn. Unexpectedly, he was learning how to play chess all along..."

At 5:16 p.m., just as Obama was about to head to the Situation Room, the second wave hit.

This time, it wasn't a shelling video, but documents.

Horizon News updated their special report, changing the headline to: [Exclusive: The Deal Behind the Shelling? Declassified Documents Reveal US Intelligence Operations in Iraq-Syria]

The page displayed scans of seven documents.

Although key parts were redacted, it was enough to recognize the State Department memo format, encrypted communication records, and evidence of fund transfers.

In the signature section of one document, the erstwhile Secretary of State Hillary's signature was quite blurred, but seemed intentionally to reveal a few letters, sparking infinite speculation.

Then, the social media exploded completely.

On Twitter, there were 120,000 new related tweets per minute.

A certain international politics subreddit on Reddit temporarily crashed.

Global stock markets responded with declines: the Dow Jones index fell more than 300 points within five minutes, Brent crude oil prices rose 8%, and gold futures surged by 5%.

The foreign ministries in London, Berlin, and Paris all issued emergency summonses for the US ambassador.

Tehran released a statement "closely monitoring the development of the situation."

East University and Moscow remained unusually silent, but intelligence analysis showed that the two countries' diplomatic systems were urgently assessing the situation.

At 5:17 p.m., on the eastern slopes of the Blue Ridge Mountains, Virginia.

Hillary stood in front of the full-length mirror in the dressing room, lifting her chin slightly.

The makeup artist Leia was lightly brushing blush on her cheekbones with a squirrel-haired brush, her movements as precise as surgery.

The setting sun obliquely cast through the Gothic arched window, slicing the oak floor into alternating stripes of light and shadow.

In the distance, the hum of a lawn mower droned intermittently, mixing with the crisp sound of silverware clinking from the kitchen downstairs.

The servants were making the final preparations for tonight's campaign fundraising dinner.

"A bit brighter here," said Hillary, her gaze still fixed on her reflection in the mirror: "I want to be seen even under candlelight."

Leia nodded and switched to a smaller brush.

The blush was a custom "battle red," a color her campaign team spent three months perfecting, not too flashy to appear forceful, but not so pale as to seem weak on camera, and able to cover up the overly thin pallor of an older woman's face.

The perfect warm tone, signifying a subtle balance of vitality, amiability, and decisiveness.

She was not just representing herself, but the interests of the Donkey Party and the American liberal left.

From the speech draft to clothing to even the smallest accessory, a massive team was tailoring everything for her, enabling her to perform and influence adequately in front of people and cameras.

The dressing room was a full forty square meters with three walls of floor-to-ceiling walnut wardrobes.

One wall was dedicated to evening gowns, currently open, revealing dresses arranged by color: navy blue, pomegranate red, champagne gold, emerald green.

Assistant Carolyn stood to the side with two gowns.

One was a deep blue velvet by Oscar de la Renta, the other a red crêpe by Carolina Herrera.

"Blue is safer," Carolyn said, "but red pops more in photos. NBC and CNN will both be there, and the Washington Post photography team as well."

Hillary did not immediately answer.

Her gaze moved past her reflection, looking out the window.

The estate covered two hundred acres, now in full autumn bloom. Maples, oaks, and beeches interwove like a burning palette, with gold, crimson, and ochre gradually sinking into indigo in the twilight.

This property was acquired five years ago under the guise of her and her husband's foundation, ostensibly for charity, but it had long since become a strategic hub for her return to the political stage.