"The president... is inside."
As he walked to the office door, Du Kaolei felt a bit awkward, not quite willing to enter.
The guard captain pushed the door open.
Inside sat a black man, dressed in a gray suit, looking at the visitor with a grave expression.
"Mr. Mark Louis Bazan, the Mexican Naval Cavalry First Division, Gang Se Lute Yan Si, extends greetings to you."
"Have you come to kill me?"
"Of course not!"
"We're neither the Soviet Union nor the United States. We respect your legitimately elected president. We're here to help you."
"Help? Like launching missiles at other nations' capitals?" Mark Louis Bazan gritted his teeth, "How is Mexico any different from imperialism."
Gang Se Lute Yan Si squinted his eyes.
He walked directly up to him, took out the pistol from his waist, pulled back the slide, and placed it on the table with a slap.
