When our security team lets us know that Xi is on his way, we move outside our dressing room, into the cavernous event space, poised for our “spontaneous” encounter. Mark braces himself—ready for one of the more consequential moments of his career—as Xi’s security detail arrives. It’s a phalanx of men, in identical gray uniforms, marching in formation past us. Mark stares in disbelief, mouth open. They just keep coming, dozens and dozens of them. It’s almost comical. Just when you think there could not be any more, more step in.
