17: Chapter 17 Breakfast Meeting

Chen Mu was woken up by the aroma of coffee. He propped himself up on the mattress and sat up.

Outside the window, the Washington sky was a very pale gray-blue. On the eastern horizon, a small patch of cloud was burned into a light orange by the rising sun.

The door opened, and a middle-aged man in a White House butler's uniform, around fifty years old, with meticulously combed silver-gray hair, entered holding a silver tray with both hands.

On the tray was a bone china teacup, a teapot, a plate of fruit cut into small pieces, a plate of toasted bread, a small pat of butter, and a small jar of jam.

"Good morning, Mr. Ambassador." His voice sounded as if it had been pressed by an iron, without a single wrinkle.

"Mr. President has instructed that you have a light breakfast first, so as not to affect your appetite for the formal banquet later on an empty stomach. If you require more formal meals, the kitchen is ready for you at any time."

He placed the tray on the low table at the foot of the bed, then retreated to the door, maintaining a slight bowing posture.

Chen Mu picked up the cup of coffee and took a sip. The bitterness spread from the tip of his tongue to the back, then transformed into a long-lasting sweet aftertaste.

As expected, he still couldn't get used to this taste.

Afterward, he looked at the worn-out clothes thrown on the floor last night, and Old Jim's peaceful face involuntarily surfaced in his mind.

He walked into the bathroom and instructed, "Help me throw away that set of clothes outside, and prepare a new formal suit for me!"

The butler bowed slightly, then picked up the clothes and left the room.

After washing up, the butler had already returned, holding a suit in his hands.

"Mr. Ambassador, this was prepared for you by Mr. President. The tailor is waiting outside; if you need any size adjustments, please call me at any time!"

"No need." Chen Mu glanced at the suit. It was charcoal gray, made of superfine wool fabric, with a very faint luster under the light. It looked expensive at a glance, but unfortunately, he didn't know anything about suit brands or types.

With the butler's assistance, he put on the suit and stood in front of the mirror.

The person in the mirror was wearing a high-end charcoal gray suit, the collar of the white shirt was crisp, and the knot of the dark blue twill tie was perfectly tied.

His hair wasn't completely dry yet; he had casually brushed it back, with a few strands hanging over his forehead, looking extremely handsome.

Chen Mu couldn't help but sigh inwardly: clothes truly make the man. Dressed like this, even a New York hobo could instantly look like a young nobleman.

The butler opened the door and made a "please" gesture: "Mr. Ambassador, Mr. President is already waiting for you in the banquet hall."

The banquet hall was at the end of the second-floor corridor, just like the reception room.

Two Secret Service agents stood on either side of the door. When they saw Chen Mu, they adjusted their stances simultaneously and pulled the door open from the outside.

The banquet hall was smaller than Chen Mu had imagined; it wasn't the kind of hall for a state banquet that could accommodate hundreds of people dining at once.

Instead, it was a more private, small banquet hall that could probably only hold about a dozen people.

This made Chen Mu momentarily unable to judge whether the United States was insulting him.

After all, he had heard a story in his previous life that when the Qing Dynasty gave money to foreigners, they intentionally made the foreigners enter through a small door used only by servants, intending to humiliate them and thus gain a victory in terms of "face."

However, Chen Mu quickly adjusted his mindset. Compared to the question of who was winning, he cared more about tangible, hard-cash benefits.

Five people were sitting around the round table: President Trump, Secretary of Defense Hegseth, Brigadier General Parrish, Advisor Cole, and Secretary of State Anthony.

They all looked quite tired; they must have spent the whole night studying for today's conversation.

President Trump stood up: "Good morning, Mr. Ambassador."

Chen Mu nodded slightly: "Good morning, Mr. President."

He sat down in the empty seat opposite President Trump, then glanced at the sky outside the window.

The morning light in Washington was brightening inch by inch, and the light orange clouds in the east had begun to fade into a pale gold.

"Honestly, last night's sleep was the most comfortable I've had since arriving on Earth a month ago."

His fingers touched the handle of the coffee cup.

"The treatment of hobos here really needs improvement."

President Trump looked at Chen Mu and smiled: "Mr. Ambassador, do you know the difference between hobos in our United States and hobos in other countries on Earth?"

Chen Mu tilted his head slightly. "I'm all ears."

"It's that our hobos can at least scroll through short videos under a bridge."

Chen Mu deeply agreed with this point. For him to survive this past month, mobile videos had indeed played a major role.

As for the source of the phone, it was distributed for free by the U.S. tax department, but don't think this was a good thing—it was actually to make the hobos pay taxes.

This damn country wouldn't even let go of the little money in a hobo's hands.

"Interesting." Chen Mu put down his cup. "On Guga Planet, we don't have short videos. But we have something similar. We call it..."

His finger tapped lightly on the tablecloth.

"The Universal Civilization Observation Log!"

After Chen Mu said those words, the silence in the banquet hall lasted for about five breaths.

Finally, President Trump was the first to ask with an awkward laugh: "Mr. Ambassador, we formally confirmed your identity yesterday. On behalf of the United States, I am willing to engage in deep communication with your Guga Planet."

Chen Mu put down his coffee cup: "I mentioned my requirements to Ms. Maya yesterday, and I will state them formally here: that is to require all of you on Earth to fully accept the rule of our Guga Planet!"

President Trump's glass of orange juice froze in mid-air: "Mr. Ambassador, by 'fully accepting rule,' you specifically mean..."

"Exactly what it sounds like." Chen Mu picked up his knife and fork. He used the fork to pin the edge of a fried egg, and as the knife cut down, the orange liquid of the yolk slowly flowed out from the cut, soaking into the bottom of the white porcelain plate.

His movements were slow because he wasn't used to using a knife and fork, being more accustomed to chopsticks. In the eyes of an observant person, this was yet another piece of evidence that Chen Mu was an alien.

"Your government systems, your military forces, your economic structures, your everything." He used the fork to put that small piece of fried egg into his mouth, chewed a few times, and swallowed.

He found it unexpectedly delicious. He wondered if it was because the original owner of this body was of Chinese descent, so the chefs had tailored the flavors.

Secretary of State Anthony put down his table knife. "Mr. Ambassador, on behalf of the United States government, I must point out to you that the requirement you've proposed is not feasible within the current human political framework."

Chen Mu picked up his knife and fork again to continue cutting a piece of dessert: "Go on."

Anthony's finger tapped lightly on the table: "The United States is a representative democracy. The President's executive power is constrained by Congress, Congress's legislative power is constrained by the Supreme Court, and the federal government's power is constrained by the sovereignty of each state."

"Even if everyone in this room agreed to your request, we have no legal mechanism to 'fully accept' the rule of an external power. The Constitution leaves no procedural interface for such an option."

Chen Mu put the dessert into his mouth: "So what you mean is, your laws don't allow you to surrender?"

Anthony's lips moved slightly: "I am using a more precise phrasing."

"I understand." Chen Mu took a sip of orange juice. "Your legal system wasn't designed with a 'surrender' function, like a car with only a forward gear."

"But what does that have to do with me? Just create another law."

Brigadier General Parrish leaned forward slightly: "Mr. Ambassador, from a military perspective, I must confirm one thing with you."

His hands were flat on the tablecloth, fingers spread: "Does the 'full acceptance of rule' you mentioned include the disarmament of our military forces?"

"If so, this process is irreversible. Once we disband our army, hand over our weapons, and shut down our defense systems, we permanently lose any leverage for resistance or negotiation."

"I'm sure you can understand that this is unacceptable for any sovereign nation!"

"Your leverage?" Chen Mu corrected him. "Brigadier General Parrish, you keep using the word 'leverage,' but leverage is used for exchange. I want to ask what you on Earth have in your hands that I would need to use leverage to exchange for?"

Chen Mu pointed the fork out the window: "I admit your military strength is indeed quite considerable for intra-planetary combat."

He put the fork down: "But our Guga Planet fleet can, in about an hour, render everything on this planet that can be called 'military force' completely useless."

"Your tanks will become unstartable blocks of iron, your planes will become metal unable to take flight, and your nuclear warheads will become un-detonatable scrap metal. You won't die, but you will lose everything you can use to resist."

He picked up the fork again and speared a piece of roasted potato.

"This isn't a threat, Brigadier General Parrish. It's a fact. You keep trying to understand us using your own methods of warfare, but our methods of warfare are completely beyond your imagination."

He put the roasted potato into his mouth: "So you ask me if it includes disarming your military. My answer is that your military forces will have been disarmed before we even decide to take them seriously. You just don't know it yet."

Parrish's fingers retracted from the tablecloth and clenched into a fist. In all his years in the military, this was the first time he had felt the humiliation of having his military strength completely crushed.

Advisor Cole took off his rimless glasses and wiped the lenses with the corner of his cream-colored cashmere cardigan: "Mr. Ambassador, I am not a soldier, nor a politician. My job is to understand the opponent, to understand their true purpose."

"Last night, our scientists discussed the intentions of your Guga Planet fleet. We unanimously believe that your purpose is not for colonization or resources, but for our civilization itself, correct?"

"So you aren't here to conquer us. After all, a civilization that can disable all our military forces in an hour wouldn't aimlessly send an envoy to negotiate with us. Are you afraid that war itself would destroy our civilization?"

Chen Mu was stunned. Actually, he hadn't thought this part through yet; after all, with so many smart people in the world, if he just made up a reason, it would be easy to reveal a flaw.

But he hadn't expected the American experts to have already found an excuse for him.