In the Arab World, "Avanti" is not a name, but an honorific used for a sage with great wisdom or someone of high status.
Through this title, Song Heping roughly guessed that the man with white hair in front of him was no ordinary Persian special forces officer.
The man finally opened his eyes, his gaze landed on Song Heping, and after a brief assessment, he revealed a kind smile.
That's right.
A very kind smile.
This was a demeanor not commonly felt from a special forces commander.
Typically, special forces operatives exude a killing aura.
One could feel it from just getting close.
Yet, the man in front was filled with indescribable authority, and at the same time, he had an indefinable sense of affinity.
It was as if you were meeting someone for the first time, but you felt a sense of immediacy, as though you'd known them for years.
"Salam."
The man called "Avanti" stood up and extended his hand.
"You're from China, so you must be an atheist, right? Then I won't greet you with traditional courtesies. Let's shake hands instead," he said.
Song Heping knew what "Salam" meant; it was a greeting, equivalent to "hello" in Chinese.
He quickly extended his hand to grasp the other's, responding, "Salam."
"Please sit down."
Avanti gestured for Song Heping to sit.
There were no chairs here.
Song Heping sat cross-legged on the carpet.
"Naxin, have them bring tea and prepare some pastries."
"Yes, Mr. Avanti."
Naxin, at that moment, no longer carried himself like a special forces officer but rather with the reverence of a servant.
He, accompanied by an attendant, turned and left the room to prepare the tea.
"I apologize for bringing you here so presumptuously; I hope you don't mind," Mr. Avanti continued. "Due to my identity, I can't just wander around..."
At this, he suddenly laughed, gesturing towards the door.
"I don't even have the freedom that Naxin and the others do."
Hearing this, Song Heping relaxed his tight nerves and couldn't help but laugh as well.
"You are a person of high status; I assume it's your security advisor telling you to be careful, right?"
Avanti nodded, "You're right. Sometimes others care about your life more than you do."
Song Heping said, "Avanti is probably not your real name."
The other man laughed upon hearing this.
"A name is just a symbol; it's not important."
"So what is most important?" Song Heping asked.
Avanti replied, "Faith and ideals—one gives meaning to your life, the other drives you to live. Everything else is unimportant."
Song Heping smiled, "It seems you are both an idealist and a devout believer."
Avanti spread his hands, "Everyone has their own identity in the world. What I am is judged differently by different people. Some call me a demon, some think I'm an angel, some consider me an enemy, others see me as a friend. Young man, none of that matters, right? Humans are always dual-natured."
One had to admit, the old man was quite sophisticated in his thinking.
Song Heping found the argument quite reasonable.
At that point, Naxin returned.
The attendant by his side was holding a tray with several plates of pastries and a large silver teapot.
Naxin, with his uninjured hand, respectfully poured tea for both of them, said "Please enjoy" and was about to leave when Avanti stopped him.
"Naxin."
"I'm here, Mr. Avanti."
"Child, come here."
Naxin quickly approached and crouched beside Avanti.
Avanti took out two bottles of medicine from his pocket and handed them to Naxin.
"I heard you were injured. This pain medication is very good; it's not easy for you to get it in Illiguo, so I brought some for you."
"Thank you, sir."
Naxin was immediately moved, his trembling hands taking the two bottles of medicine as he kept repeating his thanks, bowing his head low.
Seeing all of this, Song Heping thought to himself that this man was highly respected, and two bottles of pain medication could probably make Naxin willing to die for him without blinking an eye.
Once Naxin had left, Avanti looked at the pastries on the table and made a welcoming gesture, "Mr. Song, won't you try some? These are authentic Persian delicacies, especially this cut cake."
As he spoke, he picked up a piece of Persian cut cake and offered it to Song Heping.
Cut cake?
A glint appeared in Song Heping's eyes.
Although he wasn't particularly fond of sweets, he accepted the offer out of politeness.
"Then I will not refuse."
The two of them sat drinking tea and enjoying pastries, and the atmosphere instantly became much more relaxed.
"Mr. Avanti, you've gone to great lengths to find me, but surely you didn't just want to have tea and pastries with me, did you?"
"Ha ha," Avanti laughed, "I can see you're a straightforward person. I admire this quality in you and believe that we will become friends."
As he spoke, Avanti picked up his cup and took a sip of tea.
"Let's get to the point. I've read Naxin's operation report, and according to the intelligence I have, there are at most just over fifty people in your oil field, not quite sixty. There are fifty mercenaries from Illiguo. With such a small force, you were able to defeat the assault led by Naxin's two platoons. Having studied the tactical analysis, I find you to be a very excellent military talent.
Can you tell me, how could China's special forces afford to let someone like you leave?"
"Because we have too many talents there," Song Heping said self-deprecatingly, "Someone like me wouldn't stand out at all."