134: Chapter 134 Sunlight Diplomacy, Thunderous Foreshadowing

An hour turned into two hours.

Madeleine and Sawyer silently retreated to the car, no longer stepping forward to offer suggestions.

Graves also stopped glancing down at his watch.

A subtle shift was occurring in everyone's mind simultaneously:

The dissatisfaction with the Hopkins Family's slight was gradually being replaced by a different kind of confusion:

An elderly man in his eighties had stood under the scorching desert sun for over two hours, motionless, his face calm and unruffled.

Madeleine turned her head to glance at Sawyer, her eyes filled with an irrepressible bewilderment.

Was the old man in her memory—who was always sickly, diarrhea-prone, dozing off in meetings, and needing assistants to wipe his drool—really the same person as the President standing motionless in the desert for over two hours?

Just as this thought surged through the minds of the aides, the wrought-iron gate of the estate suddenly slid open silently.

Harlan Croft walked out with a few attendants. His pace was unhurried, and his expression lacked the warmth expected of a grand reception, nor did it show any sycophancy or distance; it was as if he were simply meeting an ordinary friend at an appointed time.

Sawyer immediately took two steps forward, his gaze sweeping past Harlan's shoulder to glance into the empty interior.

There was no welcoming procession, no red carpet, no pomp, not even a servant carrying a water tray.

The dissatisfaction on his face peaked at that moment, and he directly challenged Harlan:

"The Hopkins Family has quite the ego! Keeping the President waiting outside for over two hours!"

"Where are Charles and Diana? Why aren't they here to meet the President!"

Harlan remained neither humble nor pushy, his tone as calm and polite as ever as he replied:

"Mr. Charles no longer involves himself in the affairs of the Hopkins Family and is currently at a car repair shop in Los Angeles."

"As for Ms. Diana, she is inside the estate, awaiting your arrival."

Sawyer's face had not yet relaxed from the tension of feeling offended.

But the silent expressions on the faces of Harris, Graves, Mark Milley, and Madeleine were perfectly in sync with the words he hadn't yet spoken.

After standing for over two hours, feet numb and drenched in sweat, no one would have a pleasant expression.

Biden gently raised his right hand, stopping Sawyer from continuing.

He returned his slightly sun-reddened hand to his side. His voice was not loud, but it had immense penetrating power, each word firmly nailed into the hot, dry desert air.

"The greater the pomp, the emptier the substance."

"This plain and simple approach is quite good."

Sawyer immediately clamped his mouth shut. In that instant, the muscles in his face switched from anger to restraint, but the residual fire in his eyes had not yet fully extinguished.

Since the President had spoken, no matter how many ten thousand grievances he held, he dared not say another word.

The same went for Madeleine, Harris, Graves, and Mark Milley.

Since the President had spoken to this extent, for anyone to continue expressing dissatisfaction would be to openly challenge the President's decision.

But while they said nothing, the fire in their hearts had not dimmed in the slightest.

All of them were harboring the same thought:

By what right did Diana Hopkins dare to leave them, these powerful figures of the Lighthouse Country, out in the desert to be baked dry?

Harlan stepped aside and made a gesture of invitation, leading the President's party through the estate gate and along the gravel internal driveway, walking deep into the estate.

The motorcade was left outside, and all the accompanying high-ranking officials followed on foot behind Biden.

They walked for nearly ten minutes, passing through rows of neatly trimmed Mexican bamboo, and finally arrived at a stone-paved courtyard on the east wing of the estate that had been converted into an open reception area.

The courtyard was enclosed on three sides by low, antique-style stone walls, with no cover overhead. The desert sky was cloudless, and the sun beat down directly on everyone's heads.

There were no shade canopies, no misting fans, no long tables set with fresh flowers or tablecloths.

There were only a few rattan chairs and an old stone table, on which a few bottles of mineral water with the plastic seals still intact were casually placed.

Diana Hopkins and Augustus Knox were standing right next to this stone table, and the two of them were holding the same kind of mineral water bottles.

When Harris entered the courtyard, she glanced at the mineral water bottles on the stone table, paused for a moment, and then continued walking forward.

The stiffness on her face, born of being offended, deepened further.

Graves took off his military cap and tucked it under his arm, looking around with his brows furrowed so tightly they were almost knotted.

Mark Milley did not speak, simply tucking his thick hands behind his belt, his expression cold and silent.

Sawyer could no longer suppress it. He stepped forward, turning all the dissatisfaction that the President had blocked outside the gate into a sharply enunciated interrogation.

"Ms. Diana, Mr. Knox, is this the full extent of the welcome for the Head of State of the America?"

"A few bottles of mineral water, a stone table, and you couldn't even be bothered to set up a sun umbrella!"

"Do you think the President's life is worthless, or do you think everyone standing in this courtyard is unworthy of a drink?"

Augustus Knox screwed the cap back onto his mineral water bottle, placed it on the stone table, and pushed it forward half an inch. His tone was raspy but sincere, with no hint of argumentativeness.

"We have no intention of looking down on you all."

"Nor do we have any intention of slighting the President."

"You have traveled far from Washington; the Hopkins Family and the Knox Family should have received you with the highest honors, but today is somewhat special."

Sawyer pressed his hands in front of him, preparing to continue his assault, but Madeleine raised her hand to stop him.

Her movement was slight, but her gaze remained fixed on Diana's face, her tone calm and precise.

She asked Diana:

"What do you mean by 'special'?"

"The President stood outside for over two hours; is this the limit of the host's respect for the guest?"

Diana walked two steps forward from the stone table and stood still in the center of the courtyard on the gravel ground that had been thoroughly baked by the sun.

Her tone was as cold and steady as ever, as if she were reporting objective intelligence.

"Because a major event is about to happen."

"The Longevity Faction official, Lord Zhang Long, will arrive shortly."

"Lord Zhang Long's entrance is always thunderous, and by then, the sky above this courtyard will be completely covered by lightning."

"If you were all still inside the building, the roof would collapse, and it would be very easy for people to be crushed to death."

Sawyer replied almost without thinking, his tone carrying undisguised disapproval.

"Are you implying that the Secret Service around the President cannot protect him?"

"Letting a stranger without any security clearance or official identification drop from the sky to stand directly before the President—is this the meeting arrangement you've made for the President?"

Diana did not answer.

She simply looked at Sawyer quietly, as if looking at an outsider who had not yet fully realized which chessboard he was standing on.