At six in the evening, Song Heping and Samir arrived at a relatively secluded villa in the Green Zone in an unmarked SUV.
The security here was more stringent than in other parts of the Green Zone, with private ard guards outside each villa.
The car stopped in front of the third villa.
The villa's main door was made of heavy solid wood, with an ard guard on each side.
After Song Heping stated his na, the guard imdiately consulted through an earpiece, and within less than a minute, the door was opened from the inside.
The man opening the door was in his forties, slightly overweight, wearing an exquisite Arabic robe. Upon seeing Song Heping, he broke into an enthusiastic grin, exaggeratedly wide, and opened his arms in welco.
"Song! My brother! Allah bless, it's so good to see you again!"
Yusuf gave Song Heping a firm hug, patting his back vigorously.
"It's been a long ti, five years, right? No, six years! You look exactly the sa!"
Song Heping responded with a smile, "You've changed quite a bit, Yusuf. I should now call you 'Mr. Speaker.'"
"Oh, all that Speaker nonsense, in front of you, I'm always the sa little director who traded old warehouse stuff with you!"
Yusuf laughed heartily, his gaze turning to Samir behind Song Heping, and his smile growing even brighter, "Samir! My dear cousin! You're here too! Wonderful! Co, co in!"
Yusuf's enthusiasm was almost overflowing.
He grabbed Song Heping with one hand, attempting to take Samir with the other, but Samir evaded nonchalantly and simply nodded, saying stiffly, "I'll walk myself."
Yusuf's hand paused in midair, his smile undiminished: "Just like old tis, huh? No problem, no problem, let's talk inside."
The luxury inside the villa sharply contrasted with its understated exterior.
Marble floors, crystal chandeliers, hand-woven Persian carpets, antique weapons and oil paintings on the walls...
This mansion showed off the owner's wealth and status at every corner.
The sll of expensive oud incense filled the air, a world apart from the dusty scent of Baghdad's streets.
Yusuf led them to the dining room.
A long table that could seat twenty was set with only three sets of cutlery. The table was already laden with lavish dishes: roasted whole lamb, spiced stewed chicken, saffron rice, stuffed eggplants, grape leaf rolls, various salads and dips, along with flatbread and freshly baked naan.
"I wasn't sure what you like, so I prepared a little of everything."
Yusuf personally pulled out chairs for them.
"Sit, sit! Make yourselves at ho!"
The three sat down.
Yusuf clapped his hands, and a servant in traditional attire quietly entered, pouring red tea for each person.
"Eat first, eat first! We'll talk while we eat!"
Yusuf warmly urged, tearing off a piece of lamb for himself, "This lamb was delivered fresh from Anbar Province just yesterday!"
Song Heping politely tasted it, finding it indeed delicious.
Samir seed a bit reserved, eating simply so rice and vegetables.
After a few bites, the atmosphere relaxed slightly. Yusuf wiped his mouth, finally getting to the point, "Song, you ntioned on the phone that there was an important issue to discuss. Is it about Samir?"
As he spoke, his gaze shifted toward Samir.
Song Heping put down his utensils and said bluntly, "Yes. I want you to push a bill in the parliant to integrate Samir's 'Liberation Forces' into the governnt army, giving them formal status and military pay."
Yusuf's smile faded slightly, replaced by a politician's cautious expression: "This... Song, you know how complex the situation in parliant is. The Kurd people definitely won't agree to formalize another local militia, and so Sunni Sect legislators would oppose it too. There's a lot of work to be done..."
"Yusuf." Song Heping interrupted him, his tone calm but with undeniable force, "How many years have we known each other?"
Yusuf was taken aback: "Ten... twelve years, I suppose."
"Twelve years ago, you were a small director in the materials departnt, and it was I who helped you sell old warehouse supplies, you helped connect with the governnt; we helped each other, leading to what we have today." Song Heping spoke slowly, his gaze fixed on Yusuf.
"I've always been straightforward—this matter is not just about helping , it's about helping yourself."
Yusuf's expression beca more serious: "How so?"
Song Heping leaned forward, his voice lowered yet clear: "Now you are a deputy speaker, appearing successful. But you know better than anyone, in parliant, how many truly regard you? Those seasoned politicians, how many don't have tribal ard support behind them? The Kurds have the 'Brave Warriors,' governors in the south have their militias, even so Sunni Sect legislators have the backing of tribal elders."
Yusuf frowned, not arguing back.
"What do you rely on?"
Song Heping continued: "On your money and connections? Yusuf, I might not be part of Baghdad's political scene, but I see it clearly. Without a military backing, your position as deputy speaker is just an empty shell. Others treat you politely on the surface because you still have so resources."
He paused, "But if one day, the situation changes, or a greater interest erges, you as a rootless deputy speaker could be ousted anyti."
These words clearly hit Yusuf's weak spot.
Even though Song Heping was not in Baghdad, he seed to have a deep understanding of the situation there.
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