Chapter 2009 - 1452: An Expert?

4:15 PM the next afternoon, Washington Dulles International Airport.

A United Airlines flight from New York lands.

Angel Morales pulls a small black suitcase and walks out from the arrival gate.

She's wearing a light gray Chanel suit, a white silk blouse underneath, her long hair cascading over her shoulders, wearing sunglasses on her face.

Walking through the crowd, her innate composure and aura make the people around her automatically give way.

The phone suddenly vibrates.

She looks down; it's a message from Song Heping: "Exit to the right, black Mercedes, license plate DC-7823. The driver will take you here."

Angel smiles, puts away her phone, and walks toward the right exit.

A black Mercedes is parked in the temporary parking area, next to it stands a tall man in his thirties, with dark hair, wearing a leather jacket.

Seeing Angel approaching, he nods slightly and opens the car door.

"Miss Angel, please get in."

Angel gets in the car, sitting in the back seat.

The car leaves the airport and joins the traffic flow.

The driver glances at her through the rearview mirror, doesn't speak.

Angel notices his sitting posture is very straight, his gaze constantly sweeping the surroundings, the rearview mirrors and windows.

This is a professional habit she's seen many times.

He should be a professional mercenary.

She doesn't ask, just takes out a small mirror from her handbag and touches up her makeup.

After about ten minutes, she notices a silver SUV behind them, always following.

Not tightly following, but staying three or four cars behind, vaguely visible.

"That silver car behind us." She closes the mirror, speaking without raising her head, "Is it your people?"

The driver glances at her through the rearview mirror, a flash of surprise in his eyes.

"Miss Angel, good eyesight." He says, "It's our car, responsible for rear-end protection and alert."

Angel nods, puts the mirror back in her bag.

Forty minutes later, the car stops at the entrance of a boutique hotel in Georgetown.

Angel gets out, walks into the hotel.

In the lobby, a familiar figure is sitting on a couch in the corner, looking down at his phone.

She stands there, looks at him for a few seconds.

Song Heping is wearing casual attire, head lowered, sunlight streaming through a nearby window casting a soft shadow on his face.

He's a bit thinner than the last time they met, the lines on his face more distinct.

But his posture remains the same, seemingly relaxed, actually every muscle ready to burst at any moment.

Angel walks over gently, sits across from him.

Song Heping looks up, seeing her, the cold hardness in his eyes instantly melts, a hint of warmth in his smile.

"So soon?"

"Afraid you'd be too anxious waiting." Angel removes her sunglasses, sizing him up, "You've lost weight. Nothing good to eat in Iraq?"

Song Heping smiles, doesn't answer, just takes out that can of mint gum from his pocket, pours two pieces, handing her one.

Angel takes it, pops it into her mouth, chews.

Mint coolness bursts on the tip of her tongue, the familiar taste unearthing a warmth in her heart.

"Still the same flavor." She says, "Your favorite brand."

"Let's go upstairs." Song Heping stands up, takes her small suitcase, "There's the wine you love in the room."

"What wine?"

"Dom Pérignon."

Angel laughs, stands up and hooks her arm around his.

The elevator doors close, the numbers jumping one by one.

Angel leans on his shoulder, suddenly raises her head, kisses his face.

"Dear." She whispers, "You know, sometimes I wonder, what would I do if you stopped calling me one day."

Song Heping looks down at her, wraps his arm around her shoulder.

"That won't happen."

"How do you know?"

"Because I miss you too."

Angel pauses for a moment, then giggles.

The elevator stops on the seventh floor.

As soon as the room door closes, Angel turns around, holds Song Heping's face in her hands, kisses him deeply.

Song Heping's hands wrap around her waist, pulling her into his arms. The kiss lasts a long time, so long that both of them struggle to catch their breath.

Angel releases him, her forehead pressed against his, gently panting.

Her voice is a bit hoarse, "Do you know how much I missed you?"

Song Heping doesn't speak, just kisses her again.

This time, the kiss is deeper, more intense.

After five months apart, all the longing is transformed into the embrace and kiss of this moment.

(Three hundred rounds omitted here.)

It's unclear how long passes before they finally separate.

Angel leans into Song Heping's arms, her fingers gently rubbing the collar of his shirt.

"Song." She suddenly speaks, "How long have we been like this?"

"Twelve years." Song Heping says.

"Yes, twelve years..." Angel sighs softly, "In these twelve years, every time I see you, it's still like the first time, still that feeling."

Song Heping looks down at her.

"The first time you saw me? I remember you quite disliked me then?"

"Yes." Angel laughs, "But then I realized, you were the most responsible man."

Song Heping smiles, says nothing.

Angel suddenly reaches out, gently strokes his face.

"Song, let me ask you a question."

"Hmm?"

"All these years." Her eyes are bright, with a hint of mischief, "Why aren't you married yet? Are you waiting for me?"

Song Heping pauses for a moment, then laughs.

That's Angel's usual trick.

Using jokes to say the most sincere things.

"And you?" He asks in return, "Why aren't you married? Isn't your family always urging you?"