272: Chapter 252 Seoul in June: The Gentle and Refined Young President

In early June, Seoul's air already carried the characteristic warmth of early summer. The afternoon sunlight spilled onto the streets of Apgujeong-dong in Gangnam District, reflecting brilliantly off the iconic glass curtain wall of the SM Entertainment building.

3:20 PM—exactly the busiest time for fans and passersby to check in outside the SM Building.

Fans dressed in various support gear, holding cameras and banners, gathered around the building. Some were waiting for a glimpse of their idols coming or going, while others were just there to soak in the atmosphere of this K-pop holy land. Tour guides waved small flags, introducing the legendary groups born within those walls in multiple languages.

Just then, a black sedan slowly approached and pulled up in front of the main entrance of the SM Building.

The car door opened, and a polished leather shoe stepped out, followed by well-tailored dark gray suit trousers. When the man stood fully in the sunlight, the surrounding clamor seemed to be hit by a subtle mute button.

Jiang Zhiyu.

He still possessed that appearance as gentle as jade, but his features now held a deeper aura than before. At nineteen years old (twenty by Korean age), he was already the president of an entertainment company with a rapidly rising momentum. He stood tall, reaching out to adjust the front of his suit with calm composure.

What drew the most attention was that familiar, faint scent of ripe fruit, which quietly drifted through the air as the early summer breeze blew by.

Several female fans standing nearby couldn't help but sniff the air.

"...It smells so good."

"It's that person from last time! President Jiang of TG Entertainment!"

"Wow! He looks even better in person than in videos!"

"The scent on him... is it perfume? It's so unique..."

Unlike last time, almost no one asked "Who is he?" anymore. The whispers had changed:

"It's Producer Jiang Zhi Yu! The head producer of 'Twelve Star Messengers'!"

"The genius producer who 'tortured' IZ*ONE so thoroughly!"

"Oh my god, is he here at SM today to discuss a collaboration? I'm so excited!"

"I heard his TikTok video with Im Nayeon blew up. I've watched the clip of them dancing to 'TT' at least ten times!"

"And his singing is so good! That a cappella snippet of 'Baby Face' was incredible!"

Jiang Zhiyu stood by the car, his gaze calmly sweeping over the surrounding crowd.

He noticed those looks—no longer curious glances, but gazes filled with recognition and even some excitement. Someone raised a phone to take a photo; he didn't shy away, but instead turned slightly, allowing the light to better define the profile of his face.

Good.

He told himself internally.

The fame has been established.

This was exactly the effect he wanted. Last time he came to SM, he had to rely on his looks and scent to attract attention; this time, people recognized him because of—his work.

The phenomenal success of 'Twelve Star Messengers' had transformed the name 'Jiang Zhiyu' from a 'good-looking young producer' into a 'genius PD capable of creating hit content.' The viral spread of his impromptu TikTok video with Im Nayeon had further broken down the barriers of his producer identity, establishing a more multi-dimensional image in the public eye.

—A young, talented, handsome entertainment company president with a touch of variety show flair.

This was his true goal: to deeply bind his personal brand with TG Entertainment, making 'Jiang Zhiyu' TG's most resonant calling card.

He raised his hand to check his watch—a simple mechanical piece, its dial glowing warmly in the sun. 3:25 PM, five minutes earlier than the scheduled 3:30.

Perfect timing.

It showed respect without appearing eager.

Jiang Zhiyu turned and took a black briefcase from the car. The leather was exquisite, the lines sharp. He held the bag steadily, as if it didn't contain a proposal that could change the industry landscape, but just an ordinary document.

There were indeed two documents in the bag:

The first was for the SM executives—the variety show proposal for 'Red Velvet: the collapsed daily life.' After being repeatedly refined by Kim Soo-yeon's strategy department, this proposal retained Jiang Zhiyu's signature 'reality + fun' core while achieving an extreme balance in commercial feasibility and artist image protection.

The second was his true trump card today—the script for 'the crab,' which had been polished and tuned by various parties.

But this script wasn't for the SM executives to see.

A very faint smile appeared at the corners of Jiang Zhiyu's mouth.

The script had other arrangements.

He stepped toward the main entrance of the SM Building, his leather shoes making a steady sound on the ground. The security guard at the door clearly recognized him—or rather, recognized the commercial value he represented—and bowed slightly, opening the glass door for him.

"President Jiang, please."

"Thank you."

Jiang Zhiyu nodded in acknowledgment and stepped into the cool interior of the SM Building.

In the lobby, several boys and girls who looked like trainees turned to look at him in unison. Their eyes held more than just curiosity; there was a layer of awe—awe for a rising industry star and awe for the ability to create hits.

The staff at the front desk had already stood up, a professional smile on her face: "President Jiang, President Kim Young-min and Teacher Lee Soo-man are already waiting in the conference room. This way, please."

"Thank you for your trouble."

Jiang Zhiyu followed the staff toward the elevators, his pace neither hurried nor slow.

He could feel the gazes cast from behind—from fans, from passersby, from SM staff and trainees. Those gazes intertwined to form an invisible web, and he was walking calmly through the center of it.

The elevator doors slowly closed, the mirror reflecting his figure.

The dark gray suit outlined his upright frame, his tie was a low-key dark blue, and his hair was meticulously styled. The young president in the mirror had clear eyes, yet they held a composure that surpassed his age.

He looked at himself in the mirror and gently adjusted his tie knot.

Showtime.

The elevator ascended, the numbers ticking up.

Jiang Zhiyu opened his briefcase and confirmed the position of the two documents one last time. 'Red Velvet: the collapsed daily life' was on the top layer, ready to be taken out at any time; 'the crab' script was in a hidden compartment, only to be revealed at a specific moment.

He recalled his conversation with Kim Soo-yeon yesterday.

"Are you really taking 'the crab' to SM?" Kim Soo-yeon raised an eyebrow. "That script... is too risky."

"It's not for SM," Jiang Zhiyu had said then, shaking his head with a smile. "It's for 'certain people' to see. And it can only achieve the best effect if it's brought out in that SM environment."

"What are you scheming again?"

"It's not scheming, it's..." He paused. "Creating opportunities."

The elevator chimed, reaching the designated floor.

The doors opened to a hallway covered in thick carpet that swallowed all footsteps. Photos of SM's past and present artists hung on the walls, from H.O.T, S.E.S to BoA, TVXQ, then to Girls Generation, EXO, Red Velvet, aespa... a living chronicle of K-pop.

Jiang Zhiyu walked through it, his expression calm.

He knew that today he was meeting not only SM's current president, Kim Young-min, but also the legendary founder, Lee Soo-man. Two veterans who had navigated the entertainment industry for decades wouldn't be easily moved by a young man's proposal.

But what he brought wasn't just a proposal.

There was also the proven success model of TG Entertainment and the commercial value of Jiang Zhiyu's personal brand.

The conference room door was just ahead.

The staff member stopped and turned: "President Jiang, please."

Jiang Zhiyu nodded and pushed open the heavy solid wood door.

Two people sat at one end of the long table in the conference room.

Kim Young-min—the current president of SM, with a serious expression and sharp eyes.

Lee Soo-man—the founder of SM. Though he had stepped back from the front lines, he still exuded a godfather-level aura. At this moment, he was holding a teacup, his gaze studying the young man who entered through his glasses.

"President Kim, Teacher Lee," Jiang Zhiyu bowed slightly, his voice clear. "Thank you both for taking the time."

He looked up, meeting the scrutinizing gazes of the two moguls, and showed that signature, gentle-as-jade smile.

The scent of ripe fruit quietly filled the conference room with his movements.

Lee Soo-man's nostrils flared slightly, and a hard-to-detect spark of interest flashed in his eyes.

Kim Young-min spoke directly: "President Jiang, please sit. I heard you brought a new collaboration proposal?"

"Yes," Jiang Zhiyu sat down calmly, placing his briefcase on the table. "Regarding a new variety show for Red Velvet, and..."

He paused, his smile deepening:

"...some more long-term possibilities."

The sunlight outside filtered through the blinds, casting alternating stripes of light and shadow on the conference table. The early summer breeze gently moved the curtains, bringing in the faint clamor from the Seoul streets.

And in this conference room that could decide the fate of countless idols, a new game had just begun.

Jiang Zhiyu opened his briefcase, took out the 'Red Velvet: the collapsed daily life' proposal from the top layer, and handed it over with both hands.

His movements were elegant and confident.

Because he knew—what they were going to discuss today was far more than just this one proposal.

—

The air conditioning in the conference room was set to a perfect temperature, yet it couldn't fully dissipate the subtle tension in the air.

Jiang Zhiyu pushed the 'Red Velvet: the collapsed daily life' proposal to the center of the long table, the paper making a slight rustling sound against the smooth surface. He was in no hurry to open it, instead looking up at the two SM giants opposite him.

"Before we formally discuss this proposal," his voice was steady and clear, "I'd like to first review the partnership that TG and SM have already established."

Kim Young-min frowned slightly, seemingly wanting to interrupt—this kind of opening usually meant a setup, and he didn't like being led by the nose. But Jiang Zhiyu's speed and rhythm were perfectly controlled, leaving no gap for an interruption.

"From my internship at SM in 2017, to creating 'Dream' for Red Velvet, crafting 'Prince Rupert's Drop' for Senior Taeyeon, to the later collaboration with the aespa pre-debut team, and the joint production of 'ae training camp'..."

Jiang Zhiyu listed them off like family treasures, each event precise down to the timing and key data.

"What these collaborations brought to SM was not just musical works and variety content, but more importantly—the multiplier effect of buzz and commercial value." His fingertip tapped lightly on the table. "'Prince Rupert's Drop' made Senior Taeyeon's musical persona more three-dimensional; 'IRACEBETH' allowed Red Velvet's conceptual depth to be recognized by the industry; and 'ae training camp'..."

He paused, turning his gaze toward Lee Soo-man.

"Teacher Lee should be aware that the show allowed aespa to establish a public perception of being 'professional, hardworking, and having a story' before their debut, which is more effective than any traditional teaser promotion."

Lee Soo-man held his teacup and didn't speak, but his eyes narrowed slightly behind his glasses.

Jiang Zhiyu continued, "Currently, IZ*ONE's 'Twelve Star Messengers' has become a phenomenal variety show. Data shows that after the program aired, the commercial value of all participating members increased by an average of 42%, and individual recognition increased by 80%. And the core production team of this show comes from TG."

His tone remained gentle throughout, not boasting, just stating facts.

"The new Red Velvet variety show proposal I brought today follows this same success model." Jiang Zhiyu finally flipped open the first page of the proposal. "It's not a traditional idol reality show, but an exploration of the members' true faces away from the camera—those cute, clumsy, 'collapsed' moments."

He quickly presented several core settings:

Bae Joo-hyun's 'Perfect Leader's Breakdown Diary': Recording how she handles small chaos in team management behind the scenes.

Kang Seulgi's 'Bear-like Idol Survival Guide': Showing the professional persistence beneath her cute and dorky exterior.

Wendy's 'Vocal Teacher's Moment of Collapse': Using humor to show her obsession with music.

Joy's 'Fashion Disaster Self-Rescue Manual': Combining her fashion sense with occasional mishaps.

Yeri's 'maknae's Rebellious Phase Full Record': Magnifying her quirky and authentic personality.

Every page had detailed data support and case studies, even including audience psychology surveys—this level of professionalism far exceeded the proposals typically submitted by general production companies.

Kim Young-min flipped through the document, his expression becoming increasingly serious.

He had to admit that the completeness and insight of this proposal were top-tier. But as the president of SM, what he saw was not just the content itself, but the strategic intent behind it.

"President Jiang," Kim Young-min finally spoke, his voice low, "this proposal is very complete. But what I want to know is—what does TG hope to gain from this collaboration?"

The question went straight to the core.

Jiang Zhiyu smiled and didn't answer directly, instead asking back: "What does President Kim believe is SM's greatest advantage in the current entertainment industry environment?"

Kim Young-min raised an eyebrow. "Our artist training system, music production capabilities, global influence..."

"Those are, but not entirely," Jiang Zhiyu shook his head gently. "SM's greatest advantage is its brand heritage and artist reserves. From the first generation of idols to aespa today, SM represents the 'orthodoxy' and 'quality' of K-pop."

He leaned forward slightly, his tone becoming earnest:

"But a brand needs constant refreshing, and artists need new dimensions of display. That's what TG can provide—content innovation and differentiated storytelling skills."

"The success of 'Twelve Star Messengers' proves that TG is skilled at transforming an idol's 'persona' into a 'personality,' expanding a 'perfect image' into 'multi-dimensional charm.' This isn't about overturning SM's original system, but injecting new vitality into it."

Lee Soo-man put down his teacup then, his gaze behind his glasses sharp as a blade. "So President Jiang means that SM needs TG to 'activate' our artists?"

The question was highly aggressive.

But Jiang Zhiyu's expression remained unchanged: "It's not a 'need,' it's a 'choice.' Just as top athletes need a top coaching team, SM's top artists also deserve the top content planning."

He cleverly transformed the "dependency relationship" into a "strong-strong alliance."

“Moreover,” Jiang Zhiyu shifted the topic, “this cooperation is not just about a single program. What I am proposing is—TG and SM establishing a strategic content cooperation framework.”

He took a second document from his briefcase. It was thinner than the proposal, but the title on the cover made Kim Young-min's pupils contract slightly:

《SM-TG Strategic Content Cooperation Framework Proposal》

“The core of this proposal is: SM provides artist resources and brand endorsement, while TG provides content innovation and production capabilities, to jointly create a series of high-quality content 'Produced by SM, Created by TG'.” Jiang Zhiyu's voice was steady, yet every word was clear and powerful. “From music collaborations and variety show production to film and television project development, we will form a deep bond.”

Kim Young-min quickly flipped through the proposal, becoming more alarmed the more he read.

The terms of the proposal were exquisitely designed—they guaranteed SM's absolute control over its artists while giving TG full creative freedom. The profit-sharing model wasn't a simple production fee, but a "base fee + profit sharing + IP derivative revenue sharing" based on project performance.

More crucially, the proposal clearly outlined a cooperation roadmap for the next three years:

Phase One (Second half of 2021 - First half of 2022): Testing the waters with a new Red Velvet variety show, and deepening content cooperation for aespa's follow-ups.

Phase Two (Second half of 2022 - Full year 2023): Expanding to other SM groups (including boy groups), developing multi-form content such as music, variety shows, and short dramas.

Phase Three (From 2024 onwards): Exploring cooperation in cutting-edge fields such as virtual idols and metaverse concerts.

Each phase had specific KPIs and evaluation mechanisms, showing both ambition and practical feasibility.

“President Jiang,” Lee Soo-man's voice finally sounded, carrying the prudence of a veteran of the industry, “this proposal is very ambitious. But I want to know, why does TG believe that SM needs such a deep binding with a company established for less than two years?”

The question was sharp, but Jiang Zhiyu seemed well-prepared.

He smiled, took a neatly folded piece of paper from his inner suit pocket, slowly unfolded it, and pushed it in front of the two men.

It was a data comparison chart.

The left side showed SM's input-output ratio for content projects over the last three years, while the right side showed TG's project performance since its inception. The chart showed that although SM held an overwhelming advantage in absolute scale and resources, TG's "content output value per unit of resource" and "project success rate" were both significantly higher than the industry average, even surpassing SM in certain niche areas.

“Because of this.” Jiang Zhiyu's voice remained gentle, but every word was like a carefully polished chess piece landing on a key position on the board. “TG's core competitiveness is not scale, but efficiency and quality. We use smaller teams and more flexible mechanisms to create content with more buzz and commercial value.”

He paused and added:

“Furthermore, TG and SM already have successful cases of cooperation. The input-output ratio for the ae training camp was 1:8.3. Although taeyeons search is still airing, the advertising sponsorship for the first two episodes has already covered 120% of the production costs. SM should have internal evaluations of these figures.”

Kim Young-min fell silent.

He naturally knew these figures. In fact, it was precisely because TG's project performance was so brilliant that he was willing to take the time to meet Jiang Zhiyu. But the cooperation framework proposed by this young man was much deeper than he had anticipated.

“President Jiang,” Kim Young-min tried to regain the initiative, “even if we cooperate, SM would prefer a project-based approach rather than this kind of... strategic binding.”

“I understand.” Jiang Zhiyu nodded, but then changed his tone, “But project-based cooperation has two problems: first, it cannot form a brand synergy effect; and second, it prevents long-term content planning.”

He opened a certain page of the proposal again: “The beauty of this framework proposal is that it maintains flexibility—each specific project requires separate approval—while establishing stability, as both parties commit to prioritizing each other for a certain period.”

“More importantly,” Jiang Zhiyu's gaze became profound, “it sends a signal to the market: SM and TG represent the combination of a traditional giant and an innovative force. This combination itself is the strongest brand story.”

Lee Soo-man's fingers tapped lightly on the table, a habitual movement when he was thinking.

“President Jiang speaks very well.” The old man spoke slowly, “But have you considered that such deep cooperation might make TG overly dependent on SM's resources? If one day the cooperation ends, how will TG maintain its content output capability?”

This question hit the mark—it was both testing TG's independence and evaluating the potential risks of the cooperation.

Jiang Zhiyu smiled, a smile that carried the confidence unique to youth yet was tempered with a maturity beyond his years.

“Teacher Lee, TG's core assets have never been a specific partner,” he said. “They are our content innovation capability, our production execution, and—my personal brand value.”

He mentioned himself without hesitation:

“The success of twelve star envoys has made the name 'Jiang Zhiyu' synonymous with high-quality content. My TikTok video with Im Nayeon gained over 50 million views within 24 hours. What does this show? It shows that the market recognizes not TG's scale as a company, but our ability to create 'hits.'”

“This ability will not disappear because of who we cooperate with or the termination of a partnership,” Jiang Zhiyu's voice was firm. “On the contrary, cooperation with SM will only allow this ability to be better validated and amplified.”

By this point in the negotiation, Kim Young-min already felt a hint of powerlessness.

Every word Jiang Zhiyu said was logically rigorous, every point was supported by data, and every rebuttal was perfectly timed. What was more terrifying was that this young man maintained a gentle and polite attitude throughout, without any aggression, yet inadvertently compressed all choices into a direction favorable to him.

Kim Young-min recalled what Jiang Zhiyu was like when he was still at SM—a talented but somewhat green producer intern. In just a few short years, he had not only founded his own company but also displayed such seasoned skill at the negotiation table.

“Truly... he's a different person now,” Kim Young-min thought to himself with a bitter smile.

Lee Soo-man looked at Jiang Zhiyu, complex emotions flashing in his eyes.

He had seen many talented young people, but someone like Jiang Zhiyu, who possessed both top-tier creative ability and excellent business sense and negotiation skills, was one in a million. If Jiang Zhiyu hadn't chosen to leave SM, he would likely be his most capable assistant now, perhaps even a future successor.

But unfortunately, how could a company's genius producer compare to the title of "President"?

Lee Soo-man knew this type of person all too well—they have ambition, they have ability, and most importantly, they need a stage. No matter how large a stage SM could provide, it would still be someone else's stage. And Jiang Zhiyu was clearly set on building his own.

“President Jiang,” Lee Soo-man finally spoke, his tone much softer than before, “SM needs time for internal discussion regarding this proposal.”

This was the expected response.

Jiang Zhiyu showed no disappointment; instead, he nodded with a smile: “Of course. Such an important strategic cooperation should naturally be considered carefully.”

He stood up and straightened his suit: “My goal today was simply to present TG's ideas fully to you both. Regardless of the final outcome, TG respects SM's decision.”

These words were flawless—expressing sincerity while maintaining dignity.

Kim Young-min also stood up and shook hands with Jiang Zhiyu: “Thank you for the detailed explanation, President Jiang. We will discuss this internally as soon as possible and provide an answer.”

“I look forward to hearing from you.” Jiang Zhiyu bowed slightly and turned toward the door.

As his hand gripped the doorknob, he suddenly turned back as if remembering something:

“By the way, President Kim, Teacher Lee, I'd like to add one more point.”

The two men looked at him.

Jiang Zhiyu's smile appeared exceptionally bright in the afternoon sunlight:

“The cooperation between SM and TG is not just a commercial win-win; it's a symbol—a symbol of the combination of tradition and innovation, scale and efficiency, heritage and vitality in the K-pop industry. This combination itself is a 'show of strength' for the entire industry.”

“And TG's role is to polish the artists under SM—these diamonds that are already inherently charismatic—to a more dazzling luster for the whole world to see.”

After speaking, he bowed again and pushed the door open to leave.

The door closed softly, and the meeting room fell into a brief silence.

Kim Young-min let out a long sigh, sat back in his chair, and rubbed his temples: “That kid... he's much more troublesome than last time.”

Lee Soo-man picked up his teacup again but didn't drink, simply staring at the swirling tea inside: “Every word he said was carefully designed. Starting by reviewing our cooperation history to build a foundation of trust; then showing successful cases to prove capability; and finally proposing a cooperation framework to deeply bind the interests of both parties... It was all interlinked and flawless.”

“What's even more terrifying,” Kim Young-min said with a bitter smile, “is that he clearly said everything, yet it's as if he said nothing at all. What did we agree to? We agreed to nothing. But did we refuse? We didn't refuse either. We were just muddled along into his rhythm.”

Lee Soo-man put down his teacup and looked out the window.

Sunlight streamed through the blinds, casting alternating stripes of light and shadow on the meeting room carpet. Outside was Seoul's bustling Gangnam District, with towering buildings and a constant flow of traffic. And in some corner of this city, that young man who had just left was driving his newly built stage, preparing to stir up an even greater storm.

“A newborn calf is not afraid of tigers,” Lee Soo-man murmured. “But as it happens... this calf not only has courage but also claws and wisdom.”

A complex smile formed at the corners of his mouth:

“He truly makes one feel both love and hate.”

Outside the door, in the hallway.

Jiang Zhiyu closed the door and stood on the thick carpet, not leaving immediately.

He raised his hand and checked his watch—3:58 PM.

The corners of his mouth curled up slightly.

The timing was perfect.

He didn't need SM to nod on the spot—that was too unrealistic. What he needed was to plant a seed, to make Lee Soo-man and Kim Young-min start seriously considering the possibility of deep cooperation with TG. And judging from their reactions just now, that seed had been buried.

Next was simply waiting for it to sprout.

Jiang Zhiyu turned and walked toward the elevator with a composed pace. Passing a floor-to-ceiling mirror, he caught a glimpse of himself—dark gray suit, a face as gentle as jade, eyes clear yet deep.

He was very clear about his advantages: young but not naive; ambitious but with a sense of propriety; talented but knowing how to cooperate.

More importantly—he had the works, the data, and a proven success model.

These were the hardest bargaining chips at the negotiation table.

As the elevator descended, Jiang Zhiyu took out his phone and sent a message:

[Is the gift for Minjeong ready?]

A reply came almost instantly:

[In the trunk, already wrapped.]

Jiang Zhiyu smiled and typed:

[Bring it to the aespa practice room. I'll wait for you there.]

The elevator reached the first floor, and the doors opened.

In the lobby, several trainees were still there. Seeing Jiang Zhiyu come out, their gazes were even more fervent than before. Clearly, the news of his appearance in the SM Building and his meeting with the higher-ups had already begun to spread internally on a small scale.

Jiang Zhiyu nodded slightly to them and walked straight toward the main entrance without stopping.

Pushing open the glass doors, the afternoon sunlight rushed at him, carrying the warmth of early summer. Fans and passersby were still there, and his appearance caused another small stir.

He didn't get into the car immediately but stood beside it, waiting for his assistant.

Two minutes later, the assistant came running over holding a carefully wrapped gift box. The box wasn't large, but it was wrapped with care, with a small Lemm charm tied to the pale green ribbon.

“President Jiang, the gift.”

“Thank you.” Jiang Zhiyu took the gift box and turned back toward the SM Building.

This time, he didn't go to the front desk but walked familiarly toward the internal passage leading to the practice rooms.

The security guard at the door recognized him and didn't stop him, only looking curiously at the gift box in his hand.

Faint music and the sounds of footsteps practicing echoed in the hallway. Jiang Zhiyu walked through it with a relaxed expression—completely different from the tense state in the meeting room just now.

He knew that today's main event was already over.

The negotiation with SM was just one link in his strategic layout. And now, what he had to do was another equally important matter—

To go see the girl he had raised himself, deliver a small gift, and confirm some... more long-term matters.

The door to the aespa practice room was just ahead.

The music became clearer—it was the accompaniment for Black Mamba.

Jiang Zhiyu stopped his pace and, through the glass window on the door, saw the four figures inside practicing and sweating.

He stood for a few seconds, then lightly knocked on the door.