Trump arrives in Beijing for high-stakes talks with Xi on trade, Taiwan arms and nuclear pact

President Trump touched down in Beijing on Wednesday afternoon, stepping into what both capitals had billed as a consequential moment between the world's two largest economies. The formal business would wait until Thursday—bilateral meetings, a ceremonial visit to the Temple of Heaven, a state banquet—but the Chinese government made clear from the moment Air Force One landed that this was a visit of consequence. Vice President Han Zheng stood waiting on the tarmac alongside China's ambassador to Washington and the U.S. envoy to Beijing. A military honor guard snapped to attention. A band played. Three hundred Chinese youths in white and robin's egg blue—colors matching the presidential plane itself—lined the route waving flags and chanting welcomes as Trump moved toward his limousine.

Trump had framed the trip in maximalist terms before departure. "We're the two superpowers," he told reporters at the White House. "We're the strongest nation on Earth in terms of military. China's considered second." But the visit arrived at a moment of domestic vulnerability. The war with Iran, now in its active phase, had effectively closed the Strait of Hormuz and sent energy prices climbing—a drag on the economy that his political opponents were already weaponizing. Inflation remained elevated. Trump needed wins, and he had signaled clearly what he wanted from Xi: trade deals. American soybeans, beef, aircraft. He spoke of establishing a formal Board of Trade between the nations, a mechanism that might prevent a repeat of last year's tariff escalation, when his administration's duties on Chinese goods had prompted Beijing to restrict rare earth mineral exports. A one-year truce had followed in October. This visit, Trump hoped, would formalize something more durable.

Taiwan loomed as the most volatile item on the agenda. In December, Trump's administration had authorized an $11 billion weapons package for the self-governing island—the largest ever approved. Trump had confirmed he would discuss it with Xi, though his public statements suggested a certain flexibility on the matter that observers found unsettling. China's state media had been unambiguous in response. The People's Daily published an editorial days before his arrival declaring Taiwan the "first red line that cannot be crossed" in U.S.-China relations and "the biggest point of risk" between the two powers. The irony was not lost on analysts: Taiwan, as the world's dominant chipmaker, had become essential to American artificial intelligence development. The U.S. was importing more goods from Taiwan than from China so far this year. Trump wanted to shift that dependency, to bring chipmaking capacity home. But doing so required maintaining some version of the security relationship with Taipei that now sat at the center of his Beijing negotiations.

Trump had arrived with an entourage that signaled his priorities. Elon Musk and Jensen Huang of Nvidia traveled with him—titans of the industries most dependent on Chinese supply chains and market access. Before the plane landed, Trump posted on social media that his "first request" to Xi would be to "open up" China for American business. He wrote of Xi as "a Leader of extraordinary distinction" and spoke of wanting these "brilliant people" to "work their magic" in the People's Republic. The tone was transactional, almost deferential—a marked shift from his usual rhetorical posture.

But beneath Trump's confidence, analysts detected a structural imbalance. Scott Kennedy, a senior advisor on Chinese economics at the Center for Strategic and International Studies, observed that China appeared to be entering the talks from "a much stronger place." Beijing wanted relief from technology restrictions on computer chips and reductions in tariffs. "But even if they don't get much on any of those things," Kennedy noted, "as long as there's not a blow-up in the meeting and President Trump doesn't go away and look to re-escalate, China basically comes out stronger." The mere fact of the summit, conducted without crisis or public rupture, would constitute a win for Beijing's diplomatic standing.

One final item had been added to the agenda in the days before departure: nuclear arms control. A senior Trump administration official confirmed that the president intended to propose a three-way treaty limiting the arsenals of the United States, China, and Russia. The proposal faced a fundamental obstacle. Pentagon estimates put China's operational nuclear warheads at more than 600—far below the 5,000-plus each held by the U.S. and Russia. China had historically resisted such agreements, unwilling to cap its arsenal while remaining at such a disadvantage. The last bilateral nuclear pact between Washington and Moscow, the New START treaty, had expired in February with no replacement. Trump had rejected Russian calls for a simple extension, instead demanding a "new, improved, and modernized" deal that would bring Beijing to the table. Pentagon projections suggested China would have more than 1,000 operational warheads by 2030—a timeline that made the negotiation urgent from Washington's perspective, though not necessarily from Beijing's.

On Wednesday evening, as Trump settled into his Beijing accommodations, Treasury Secretary Scott Bessent was already in motion, meeting with Chinese Vice Premier He Lifeng at an airport in South Korea to begin preliminary discussions on trade and economic issues. The real negotiations would begin the following day. What Trump would leave Beijing with—whether trade agreements, movement on Taiwan, or progress toward a nuclear accord—remained uncertain. What was clear was that both sides had invested heavily in the optics of the moment, and both had much riding on how the next forty-eight hours unfolded.