His youngest daughter was getting on the school bus in front of the Erbil International School this afternoon.
The photo was taken from a very close distance, clear enough to see the cartoon stickers on the girl's backpack.
The email had no text, only photos.
But the ssage was crystal clear: We know your family, we know your whereabouts, we know everything about you.
These three "gifts" would trigger a chain reaction in three different decision-making circles within the next twelve hours.
And what Song Heping needed to do was wait for these reactions to fernt along the path he had designed.
At the sa ti, twenty kiloters north of Kirkuk, in Barzani's temporary command post.
Barzani himself was standing in front of a field map, making a final rehearsal for the upcoming offensive.
The command post was set up in an abandoned pumping station, with concrete walls half a ter thick, able to withstand shelling.
The generators humd, providing power for communication equipnt and lighting systems.
Outside, six thousand soldiers were preparing for battle at three main assembly points.
Weapons were being checked, ammunition distributed, and the field kitchens were preparing the last al before dawn.
Most of these soldiers were young people, many of whose fathers or older brothers had fought alongside Barzani.
They were told this was a "righteous action to quell the rebellion" to protect the resources and future of the Kurd people.
Most believed it, or wanted to believe it, because that was the belief they were taught.
"General, Chairman Masoud is on the phone."
Chief of staff Faruk ca over with a satellite phone, looking troubled.
"He demands you imdiately stop military action and return the troops to their original stations. He said... the committee is resolving the crisis through diplomatic channels, and military action will undermine negotiations."
Barzani did not take the call, his eyes still fixed on the attack arrows on the map.
"Tell him our n are already in combat readiness."
His voice was eerily calm.
"Once we've recaptured Kirkuk and handed the oil field back to the committee, I will explain to him personally. History will prove who is right."
"But General..."
Faruk hesitated.
As a veteran subordinate following Barzani for years, he seldom questioned the General's decisions, but this ti was different.
He had seen the intelligence report on Abu You Brigade's defensive works, casualty predictions, supply shortcomings, and Song Heping's rcenary movents.
"No buts." Barzani turned, his gaze as hard as a stone in the desert: "Attack at dawn as planned. I want Abu You out of Kirkuk within three days. This is an order."
Faruk saluted and left.
Barzani stood alone before the map, his fingers tracing the topographical lines of Kirkuk.
He rembered twenty years ago, as a young company commander, his first battle to seize an oil field.
Back then, they were poorly equipped, with only rifles and rocket launchers, facing Sadam's Republican Guard tanks.
That battle cost him half his company of brothers, but in the end, they won. Since then, he believed one truth: Victory belongs to those who dare to fight, those unafraid of sacrifice, those who pull the trigger at critical monts instead of raising the white flag.
As Barzani prepared to launch a counterattack, in a hotel in the Green Zone, Song Heping was remotely commanding all operations in the Northwest.
"Tell Abu You to be ready, but don't fire first."
Song Heping gave directions via satellite phone to the troops stationed in the direction of Kirkuk.
"Let Barzani's forces co to the edge of the oil area before counterattacking. Hit back hard, hit fast, make them pay a heavy price on the first wave."
"No problem, Boss Song!"
The voice of Abu You confird on the other end of the line.
"And," Song Heping added, "deliver our prepared 'special gift' to the designated location. I want to see the effects within an hour of the attack starting."
The "special gift" he referred to were so camouflaged Arican-made anti-tank mines.
These mines would be "accidentally" left on Barzani's forces' attack route, with clearly traceable serial numbers from US military aid batches.
When the mines exploded, causing casualties, "news" would naturally flow out—Aricans are secretly supporting Abu You.
The truth did not matter, nor did the authenticity, as long as seeds of doubt were sown.
On the chessboard of political gas, Song Heping made another critical move.
This wasn't chess, nor Go, but a more complex multidinsional ga—military, politics, intelligence, psychology, and public opinion, each dinsion operating simultaneously, affecting one another.
Hanging up the phone, Song Heping walked to the balcony.
The night sky of Baghdad was starless, only thick clouds.
Tonight's darkness was particularly dense, like viscous ink that couldn't be dissolved.
On this ancient land, peace has always been fragile, requiring constant maneuvering, weighing, trading, even violence, to maintain a temporary balance.
Suddenly, his phone vibrated in his pocket.
He glanced at it; it was a ssage from Major General Duke: "Mr. Song, I just received so 'interesting' intelligence. We need to talk about the specific content of the guarantee agreent. Tomorrow at ten in my office."
Song Heping smiled slightly, replying: "Looking forward to eting you again. By the way, I'll first have a third round of negotiations with Advisor Saeed at nine tomorrow morning. Perhaps by then we'll have more to discuss."
After sending, he gazed at the eastern horizon slowly turning white.
A new day was about to begin, and this day would decide the fate of many.
Including Samir's rank, Abu You's status, the future of the Kold Autonomous Region, and even the power dynamics of the entire Northwest Illinois.
But he knew this was just a victory in a battle, far from the end of the war.
The real test was only just beginning.
After all, in this land, today's ally could be tomorrow's enemy, today's victory could be the prelude to tomorrow's disaster.
The only constant is the black gold of Kirkuk Oil Field, still flowing quietly deep underground, waiting for the next person to seize it.
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