On the way back to Persia from the Elbil border.
Under the moonlight, the jeep bumped along the desolate lands of Northwest Illinois, its tires grinding over the wreckage of the bombed highway, making a sharp screeching sound.
Samir's knuckles tightened around the steering wheel, slightly whitening from the effort.
The suffocating silence inside the vehicle was nearly unbearable, and he finally couldn't suppress the turmoil within him, finally asking Song Heping in the passenger seat:
"Boss, why?"
His voice carried imnse regret and strong confusion, "The conditions they offered... are what we have dread of! Funding, heavy equipnt, precise intelligence support... aren't these the resources we urgently need right now? If we could establish cooperation with the Kurd people, even just a preliminary understanding, the resistance to our operations in Northern Illigo would be greatly reduced, possibly opening up an entirely new strategic landscape!"
Song Heping did not respond imdiately.
His gaze remained fixed on the seemingly endless darkness outside the window, his eyes as calm as a knife sharpened by ice.
His facial contour appeared particularly hardened in the faint light from the dashboard.
A few minutes later, he slowly turned his head, his voice steady yet carrying an undeniable coldness:
"Samir, we are currently walking a tightrope over an abyss."
His tone was grave, "The bait offered by the Kurd people is indeed tempting, but you must see clearly, beneath that bait hangs a hook capable of shattering us completely."
He paused briefly, noticing the confusion still lingering in Samir's eyes, and continued to explain in depth: "They're rely a dog of the Aricans. Think carefully, nearly every bullet, every logistic supply, every penny of military pay for the Kurd Ard are sourced from and coordinated by Washington. Their so-called 'independence' has always been very limited, with a leash forever around their neck, and when pulled by the Aricans, they suffocate."
"Have you considered the chain reaction it would trigger if we were to cooperate with Abu You's faction, even on top-secret levels, if discovered by the Aricans?"
Song Heping's voice dropped lower, becoming colder.
Samir remained silent.
Song Heping continued, "Can you guarantee there are no spies on the Kurd side? Once we collaborate with them, it ans our intentions would be exposed, and the CIA and JSOC (Joint Special Operations Command) would unhesitatingly conduct targeted eliminations, not caring even if they wipe out Abu You as well. Are you sure there's a necessity to establish such an alliance?"
He leaned forward, his gaze as sharp as a torch aid at Samir: "The Aricans would never allow their carefully nurtured proxies to have any form of collusion with those they consider regional enemies."
"Therefore, I believe Abu You's risky approach tonight is most likely a desperate attempt by him personally or his faction. Did you notice the urgency in his tone? That is not the stance of soone with solid backing."
Song Heping continued explaining, "This might even be a trap—to test our stance and truth, or to divert attention from the US side or 1515. But no matter the motivation, this definitely does not represent Washington's strategic will."
"Without at least a tacit approval from the US side, rashly engaging in military collaboration with them is akin to drinking poisonous wine to quench thirst."
Song Heping spoke with a determined tone, "What we truly need is not an apparently solid, yet actually held at the other end by soone else, lifeline. We need our own, stable foothold, tangible chips we can use to negotiate."
Samir listened quietly, saying nothing.
He excels at on-the-spot command and small-scale raids, but whenever Song Heping elevates the topic to the strategic level, he still feels a certain dizziness that's hard to grasp.
He is learning, and this learning process often accompanies cognitive upheaval.
Moreover, he knows that his eagerness to restore national autonomy sotis leads to misaligned judgnts.
Seeing him remain silent, Song Heping leaned back against his chair, closing his eyes.
The jeep continued to bump forward, its engine's monotone echoing in the silent night.
But his heart was far from calm as it appeared on the surface.
The faintly discernible smuggling network across the White Elephant Country, the increasingly bloody tug-of-war in Northern Illigo, the Kurd people's barely concealed anxiety, the Aricans' persistent global strategy overshadowing the region...
Countless information, clues, and possibilities clashed violently in his mind, gradually weaving into a vast, complex, dynamic map.
He needs to calmly sort through it all, precisely determine each party's core interests and bottom lines, and find the key node that can best leverage his limited chips while maximizing the avoidance of catastrophic risks.
He knows that surviving in this dark forest built of oil, blood, and geopolitical ambitions is already difficult.
And to win, one needs to be cooler-headed, more patient, and more cunning than anyone.
Four o'clock in the morning.
When the jeep finally drove into the camp hidden behind rugged rocky mountains, the horizon had already begun to lighten.
The roar of the engine startled a few sand rats awake, but then everything fell silent again, with only the sentry's wary gaze and slight nod signaling the alert here had never relented.
Song Heping did not rest, nor did he remove the combat uniform stained with dust and sweat.
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