The curtains in the hotel room weren't fully drawn, letting a thin line of light seep through the gap, emanating from the distant lights across the Potomac River. In the direction of Georgetown, the century-old row houses glowed with warm orange lights, forming a subtle contrast with the cold white lights of the Pentagon on the west bank of the river.
Song Heping sat on the sofa, holding a cup of tea that had long gone cold, his eyes fixed on a tapestry on the opposite wall.
He was processing the conversation that had just ended tonight.
The details about the "Poison Pill" plan replayed in his mind like a movie, over and over again.
Withdrawal.
Transfer of equipment.
The issue of the two Bears clashing.
These keywords spun around in his mind, like the gears of a precision instrument, interlocking and turning.
Song Heping was all too familiar with the rhythm of these gears turning.
