Two hundred ters outside the Parliant Building, at an outdoor seat of the "Tigris Shore" restaurant, Song Heping sat alone.
The sunlight was scorching, as if pouring molten lead.
The restaurant's canvas awning barely blocked the direct rays but couldn't stop the omnipresent heat.
Song Heping chose a seat on the outermost side of the terrace, right next to a low stone railing, with the muddy waters of the Tigris River ten ters below.
This position offered an excellent view.
To the left, one could see the newly restored do of the Parliant Building, to the right, overlooking the entire Karrada District, and directly ahead was the Republic Bridge spanning the riverbanks, where Illigo soldiers and Arican soldiers stood side by side at the checkpoint, each guarding their own side.
Four people in plain clothes with bulging waists were scattered around.
Two were pretending to smoke at the restaurant entrance, one was at the next table endlessly flipping through a newspaper, and another was chatting intermittently with the bartender.
They were all people from the "Musician" defense force, also Song Heping's bodyguards.
A cup of Turkish coffee, almost untouched, sat in front of him—the waiter insisted on calling it that, even though Song Heping knew that in Baghdad, it was more commonly referred to as "qahwa."
The rich aroma of cardamom and cloves mixed with the unique fishy sll of the river, forming a unique scent of this city.
Decay and rebirth, tradition and modernity, death and resilience, all mixed together.
The restaurant was built on a high platform by the river, reportedly a property of a minister's son during Sadam's era, which had changed hands several tis since 2003, now owned by a Libenese businessman.
Resilient weeds grew through the cracks of the marble floor tiles on the terrace, the iron decorations on the railing were rusted, but the tablecloths were white, the cutlery shiny, with prices high enough to put off the average Illigos.
This is Baghdad today—everything is in disrepair, everything barely maintained.
Song Heping's gaze shifted from the river to the other side.
The buildings in Karrada District seed like blocks haphazardly piled by a giant, densely packed together.
The gaps between buildings were narrow enough for only one person to pass through, with clothes hanging on balconies like flags of various nations, and satellite dishes sprouting like tallic weeds from every rooftop.
Further afield, the slums of Sadir City stretched to the horizon, ho base to Mukhtar al-Sadr, and a source pool for Shiite militia like the "Peace Brigade."
At least a third of Samir's fighters ca from there, their families still living in those dilapidated houses without running water and electricity for less than four hours a day.
In the afternoon sunlight, the Tigris River shimred like oil slicks.
Several small wooden fishing boats drifted slowly downriver, with old n aboard chanically casting and retrieving nets, which usually captured only a few finger-sized small fish.
Sowhere upstream, a destroyed chemical plant continued to leak unknown chemicals into the river, but no one managed it or cared.
After all, the war was still ongoing, and those alive were not in a position to be choosy.
The TV on the restaurant wall was on, with the volu turned very low.
The screen was broadcasting scenes from inside the Parliant Building, with Arabic news reports interspersed with simultaneous English translation.
"...The speech by Liberation Forces commander Samir Hussein Fadil sparked intense debate in parliant. The Kurd Group clearly opposed Ministry of Defense Proposal No. 44, stating that the proposal could undermine the constitutional rights of the autonomous region..."
The scene switched to the parliant hall.
Samir stood behind the podium, wearing a new desert camouflage uniform, the "Liberation Forces" badge on his right arm particularly conspicuous under the spotlight.
Song Heping watched him, like a chess player watching a piece he had carefully nurtured move onto the chessboard—there was a strange sense of detachnt.
Samir's voice ca through the TV speakers, sowhat distorted, but the tension was evident:
"We lost 2,782 brothers... but we held the land... we need support..."
Song Heping lifted the coffee cup to his lips but put it down again.
It was already cold.
The scene switched to the questioning session.
Kurd MP Sherko Bakir stood up, posing a question as sharp as a knife: "Commander, how do you guarantee your troops won't beco a tool for Baghdad to interfere in Kurdistan?"
Then it was the Sunni Sect MPs' turn to question: "What is the Shiite proportion in your troops? Will the reorganization affect the sect balance in the military?"
The parliant hall descended into chaos.
The speaker pounded the gavel, but couldn't quell the mutual accusations among the faction MPs. The Shiites accused the Kurds of dividing the country, the Kurds accused the Shiites of sectarian dictatorship, while the Sunnis mocked from the sidelines.
Modeled after the Arican system, the Illigo Council's 328 seats were divided into at least a dozen party groups, with every vote turning into a small war.
Song Heping's left index finger bent back, gently rapping against the marble tabletop with his knuckles.
Thud, thud, thud, as steady as a heartbeat.
The situation was trickier than he anticipated.
No, more accurately, the Kurds' opposition was firr and more unified than he had expected.
It wasn't just about the opposing votes, but about the near-instinctual strategic vigilance displayed by the Kurd Group.
They had seen through the geopolitical implications behind Samir's reorganization.
The Illigo of 2015 was a fragnted puzzle.
In the north, the Kurdistan Autonomous Region had been de facto independent for over twenty years, with its own governnt, military (Peshrga), border control, and even oil export channels.
When the Islamic State rose in 2014, the Kurd Ard seized control of disputed oil-rich areas like Kirkuk, reaching a historic peak of power.
But now 1515 was in retreat, the authority of the Baghdad Central Governnt was starting to rise, and the Kurds felt the pressure.
What would it an for the Kurds if Samir beca a regular army officer of the Defense Army, controlling parts of Anbar Province and Nineveh Province in the northwest?
Song Heping slowly unfolded a map in his mind.
Kurdistan borders Turkey to the north, a neighbor deeply hostile to the Kurd independence movent.
To the east is Iran, dominated by Shiites, closely linked to the Illigo Shiite militia.
To the west is Siria, where the Hafez regi is currently embroiled in a civil war, and the Kurds there are fighting against both Assad's regi and Turkey-supported rebels.
If a strong, Shiite-dominated Defense Army force erges in the south, Kurdistan will be completely surrounded.
This is not just a military threat but also political suffocation.
The Kurds have been able to bargain with Baghdad over the years largely due to their strategic position and de facto independence.
Once surrounded on all sides, their bargaining power will be significantly reduced.
Retreating from a "de facto independent region" to a "region dependent on others" is an outco the Erbil Autonomous Committee cannot accept.
The TV images cut to outside the parliant building.
The press conference just ended, and Samir and Yusuf were surrounded by reporters, flashlights forming a continuous glow.
Even from this distance, through the TV screen, Song Heping could see Samir's stiffness.
The guy's shoulders were as tense as a steel plate, his hand gestures were awkward when answering questions, as if operating an unfamiliar weapon.
Beside him, Yusuf expertly deflected sensitive questions, wearing that finely polished politician's smile, appearing sincerely insincere, warmly distant.
Song Heping picked up his phone.
The screen lit up, displaying Abu You's contact—not a na, but a code na.
His finger hovered over the dial button, hesitating.
Reevaluation was needed.
Option One: Compromise.
And the proposal, add assurance clauses. For instance, explicitly state the "Liberation Forces" would never deploy in the Kurd Region, or limit their scale to no more than a brigade-level unit, or commit to including a certain proportion of Sunni and Kurd officers in the command structure.
This might win over so opponents, but at the cost of greatly weakening Samir's independence.
Once within the system, these restrictive clauses would beco the ropes binding him. What can be said today as "limited to anti-terrorism" could be interpreted tomorrow as "not to participate in dostic security affairs."
Samir might forever remain just a border guard commander, unable to enter the military power core.
Option Two: Deal.
Find out what the Kurds and Sunnis truly want, and exchange it with other benefits.
Yusuf had already tried bribing with money—offering so parliant mbers "consultation fees," promising engineering projects, even directly handing over USD cash.
But the Kurds are not short of money, they control the oil fields in Kirkuk and Erbil, with annual oil revenues exceeding 8 billion US Dollars.
The amount Yusuf offered was considered trivial by the old Erbil oligarchs, who would not even glance his way.
Option Three: Pressure.
Identify the opponent's weaknesses, apply sufficient pressure, and force them to change their stance.
Pressure.
Hmm…
Seems like a good option.
Song Heping picked up his coffee cup and put it down.
The surface of the cold coffee solidified with a layer of dark oil, like the oil slick on the Tigris River.
He recalled the call with Major General Duke from the previous day.
The highest US Army commander stationed in Iligo Country had told him with that typical Arican pragmatism:
"Song, all I can do is sign my na on the docunt. But the Iligo Council… that's another world. We have influence but can't give direct orders. You have to find your own way there."
Gentle shifting of responsibility.
Typical Arican diplomacy.
Publicly showing support, privately letting things go their own way.
If Samir fails, the Aricans could say, "We tried our best, it was the Illigos themselves who were not united"; if he succeeds, they could claim credit, declaring it a victory "with Arica's assistance."
Either way, they maintained their influence over the situation without directly bearing responsibility.
This delicate balance is sothing Washington has mastered for over a decade.
Moreover, not much ti was left for him.
The control of Hulmatu needed to be consolidated, Samir's troops required reorganization and supplies.
Currently, the funding for the "Liberation Forces" cos from three main sources: one portion from the spoils and funds seized during the fight against the 1515 Ard, but this was unsustainable; another portion from "donations" from local rchants and tribes, essentially protection money; and another portion from the support Song Heping managed to provide via "Musician" Defense and other channels.
This money was enough to sustain, but not enough to expand, and it was not stable.
If Samir's forces were to grow, a stable source of funding was needed.
An official position within the Illigo Ministry of Defense would an regular allocations, weapon distribution, personnel salaries, and logistical support.
This not only would save a large amount of money but, more importantly, allow Samir to transition from "militia commander" to "regular army officer," gaining entry into the Iligo military power network.
With Yusuf in politics and Samir in the military, if the two could join forces, they could potentially influence Iligo's political scene in the future, establishing a solid political-military family.
In this country, power is always built on the combination of the gun and the purse.
Furthermore, the 1515 Ard would not resign to defeat.
Intelligence showed that they had established at least three training camps at the Syrian border, regrouping forces, seemingly intending to forcibly reopen the border passage, aiming to retake the strategic choke point of Mosul in the west.
There were still major battles to be fought in the future.
All necessary preparations had to be made before everything happened.
Song Heping finally pressed the dial button.
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