The next morning.
Washington D.C., hotel.
Song Heping sat on the sofa, holding a freshly brewed cup of tea.
The curtains were fully drawn back, allowing the chilly sunlight to pour in, spreading warm patches of light on the carpet.
At this moment, the doorbell rang.
9:30, precisely on time.
He put down the teacup and walked through the living room to open the door.
Han stood outside the door, wearing a three-piece suit, his Oxford shoes polished to a shine, holding his usual black briefcase.
He stood very straight, a standard professional smile on his face.
The door opened.
"Mr. Song." Han extended his hand: "Good morning."
"Mr. Han." Song Heping shook his hand and stepped aside: "Please come in."
"Your bodyguards are really dedicated. From the moment I got on the elevator, they've been following me..."
Han walked into the room, speaking as he quickly scanned his surroundings with his eyes.
