28: Chapter 28 Time flies! My youth!

The atmosphere in the office changed after Kim Minjeong and Ningning joined. It wasn't a change of "better" or "worse," but of "coming alive." It was like a potted plant in a corner, suddenly moved into the sunlight; its leaves unfurled, the color shifting from dark green to light green, then to emerald, and finally to that specific shade of green that says, "I am alive." Dust danced in the sunlight—originally drifting slowly like aimless travelers, but now they were leaping. Not "drifting," but "leaping." When Kim Minjeong spoke, she gestured, her fingers slicing through the air and creating a tiny breeze. The breeze scattered the dust, then gathered it, then scattered it again. The dust particles seemed invited to a party, needing no ticket or invitation, just the sunlight to join in.

Ningning sat on the sofa, legs crossed, holding a bag of shrimp crackers from the convenience store. She talked while eating, and when she got excited, a cracker fell out of her hand onto the sofa. She picked it up, blew on it, and popped it into her mouth. Kim Minjeong told her it was "unsanitary," and she replied, "If it's not dirty, you don't get sick." Kim Minjeong countered, "You're Chinese, so you have an excuse." Ningning shot back, "I'm Chinese, so I can eat anything." The two started again, arguing from shrimp crackers to hygiene, from hygiene to nationality, and from nationality to "You stole my chocolate last time." Jiang Zhiyu sat behind a mountain of documents, pen in hand, the tip moving across the paper. He didn't look up, but he spoke. It wasn't "Stop arguing," but, "Minjeong, I saw you steal Ningning's chocolate last time too." Kim Minjeong's face flushed—not the red of "shyness," but the red of "being exposed." She opened her mouth to explain but realized there was nothing to explain. She had indeed stolen it, eaten half, and put the rest back. When Ningning found it, she thought she had eaten half and forgotten, even asking Kim Minjeong, "Do I have amnesia?" Kim Minjeong had said, "Maybe." Ningning had believed her. Now, she didn't. "Kim Minjeong! You lied to me!"

Kim Minjeong sprang up from the sofa and ran behind Jiang Zhiyu, hiding there with only half her head visible. Ningning chased after her, standing in front of Jiang Zhiyu, reaching out to grab her. Jiang Zhiyu sat in the middle, still holding his pen, the tip still moving across the paper. He didn't stop, but his left hand lifted from the mountain of documents, reached over to the top of Kim Minjeong's head, and ruffled her hair. The movement was light and natural, like petting a kitten. Kim Minjeong's hair was messed up by him, strands falling down to cover her eyes. She didn't reach up to brush them away because her hands were busy blocking Ningning's shrimp cracker attack. Ningning broke a shrimp cracker in half, stuffed one half into her own mouth, and threw the other at Kim Minjeong. The cracker landed on Kim Minjeong's head, then bounced to the floor. Kim Minjeong looked down at the cracker on the floor, silent for a moment. "Ningning, you're wasting food." "I'm not wasting it. I fed you." "You didn't feed it into my mouth." "That's because your mouth is too small." "Your mouth is the one that's small!" They started arguing again. Jiang Zhiyu's hand withdrew from Kim Minjeong's head, and he continued writing. There was a tiny arc at the corner of his mouth—not a smile, but an affirmation: "It's good that they're here."

Karina stood by the window, watching it all. Sunlight shone through the window, landing on her face, warm and cozy. She didn't speak, but she kept watching. She watched Kim Minjeong squint when her hair was ruffled, watched Ningning blush when teased about being short, and watched the slight upward curve of Jiang Zhiyu's mouth as he wrote. She was thinking about something—her mother said Jiang Zhiyu was like Mr. Yu. Not "looked like," but "had the same temperament." The same composure, the same calmness, the same unflappable nature in the face of a landslide. But Karina didn't think so. Because her mother had never seen Jiang Zhiyu work. She had only seen her husband work. When Mr. Yu worked, he was immersive. He sat behind his desk, documents spread out, pen in hand, eyes fixed on the paper, motionless. He didn't talk, didn't look up, didn't look at his phone, didn't eat. In his world, there were only those few pages; everything else ceased to exist. If you called him, he wouldn't hear. If you stood next to him, he wouldn't see. If you brought food to him, he wouldn't eat because he didn't even know the food was there. When he worked, he wasn't "working," he was "entering work." Once he went in, he couldn't come out. Only when the work was done would he "return." Only when he returned would he see you, hear you, and feel you. When Karina was young, she thought this was cool; as an adult, she thought it was exhausting. Now, she felt—Jiang Zhiyu wasn't like that.

When Jiang Zhiyu worked, he also "entered." But his "entering" wasn't "once you go in, you can't come out." He could switch freely between "inside" and "outside." Like diving—he could go under, stay underwater for a long time, but he could surface whenever he wanted. Once he surfaced, he took a breath, then dove back down. He wouldn't forget what was on the surface just because he was underwater, and he wouldn't forget what was underwater just because he was on the surface. He was working, others were messing around, and he could join in. Once the chaos ended, he continued working. As if nothing had happened, yet as if everything had happened. He wouldn't be distracted by the "chaos," nor would he ignore the "chaos" because of the "work." He could handle two, three, four things at once. Not "handle," but "care for." Care for the work, care for Kim Minjeong, care for Ningning, care for her. He took care of everyone. Ruffling Kim Minjeong's hair, bickering with Ningning, and with her—he hadn't spoken to her, but his eyes were speaking to her. He glanced at her, just one glance, very short, so short that neither Kim Minjeong nor Ningning noticed. But Karina noticed. That glance held too much—not "What are you looking at?" but "I know you're watching me." Not "Why are you standing?" but "Stand if you want to stand, sit if you don't want to stand." Not "Why aren't you saying anything?" but "You don't need to say anything, I know it all." His eyes could speak—not "speak," but "transmit." It transmitted over, and she received it. Once received, there was no need to say anything more. She felt luckier than her mother. Her mother hadn't seen her father work, but she had seen Jiang Zhiyu work. Her mother said Jiang Zhiyu was like her father, but she didn't think so. It wasn't a question of "like or not," but of "good or not." Her father was good, and Jiang Zhiyu was good. But the way they were good was different. Her father was a mountain; the mountain was there, unmoving, unchanging, and just looking at him made you feel steady. Jiang Zhiyu was water; the water flowed, moved, changed, but you wouldn't think he was "unsteady." You only felt he was "alive." Living, flowing, changing, but always water. It wouldn't turn into anything else.

Jiang Zhiyu seemed to sense something. Not "sense," but "noticed." He noticed that Karina had been standing, not speaking. She stood by the window, sunlight falling on her face, her expression calm, so calm that no emotion could be seen. But her eyes were not calm; her eyes were watching, watching Kim Minjeong, watching Ningning, watching him. When watching Kim Minjeong, her gaze was gentle. When watching Ningning, her gaze was indulgent. When watching him, her gaze was—he didn't know what it was. He only knew she was watching. Watching for a long time. So he stopped his verbal lecture. Not "stopped," but "paused." He had been chatting with Ningning about the current state of the Chinese entertainment industry, the barriers between K-pop and the Chinese entertainment industry, political factors, trends, and how celebrities who open restaurant chains should make them big and strong. Ningning listened, only half-understanding; her eyes were wide, her mouth slightly open, as if trying to digest something very difficult to digest. Karina understood. Not the "understanding" of "hearing," but the "understanding" of "knowing why he was saying these things." He was paving the way for Ningning. Not the "now" road, but the "future" road. In the future, Ningning would return to China to develop, hold concerts, appear on variety shows, act, endorse products, and open restaurant chains. Not "maybe," but "definitely." Because he would help her. Help her pave the road well, pave it flat, pave it until she could walk it herself. He was just that kind of person. He wouldn't say "I will help you," he would only do it silently. Only after he was done would you know he had done it. If you didn't ask, he wouldn't say.

Jiang Zhiyu stopped his verbal lecture, but his work didn't stop. The tip of his pen continued to move on the paper, swish, swish, swish, as if saying something. He pulled a folder from the mountain of documents in front of him. Not "pulled," but "took." His hand reached out, index and middle fingers pinching the edge of the hard cover, and with a light lift, the folder slid out from between the two small mountains. He placed the folder on the desk, tapping the surface of the hard cover twice with his fingers, making a "tap, tap" sound. That was a signal, meaning "Listen to me."

"SM is planning a girl group debut in early 2020."

His voice wasn't loud, but it was clear. Like a pebble thrown into a lake, ripples spreading out in circles. Karina's fingers curled on the windowsill. Kim Minjeong's mouth went from an O-shape to an O-shape, but larger than before. Ningning was peeling her second tangerine; her fingers stopped, the tangerine peel hanging from her fingertips, juice dripping down her fingers and onto the floor, which she didn't notice.

Early 2020. It was autumn 2018. Over a year left. More than a year—it's not long, but it's not short. Long enough for many things to happen, short enough that nothing can be prepared in time. A debut project is confidential—not a "secret that cannot be told," but a secret that "if told, will affect many people." The list isn't confirmed, the members aren't confirmed, the style isn't confirmed, the debut time isn't confirmed. Everything is changing, changing until the very last moment when it is finalized. Only when it's finalized will they notify you. Only when they notify you will you know "You are going to debut." Not "You can debut," but "You are going to debut." No room for discussion, no right to refuse. If the company lets you debut, you must. If the company doesn't let you debut, you must wait. Wait one year, two years, three years, until you don't want to wait anymore, until you give up, until you go do something else. Then the company debuts a new girl group, without you. This is the life of a trainee. Not "dreams," but "waiting." Waiting for an opportunity that you don't know will come. If you wait for it, it's luck. If you can't wait for it, it's fate.

Jiang Zhiyu shouldn't have let them know this. Shouldn't have let Kim Minjeong know, shouldn't have let Ningning know, shouldn't have let Karina know. Because they were trainees, and trainees don't need to know the debut project timeline. They only need to train, train, train. Train until the company thinks they can debut, train until the company thinks they can't. Not "train until you can debut," but "train until the company thinks you can." Only when the company thinks you can is it really possible. If the company thinks you can't, no matter how well you train, it's useless. This is the rule, not logic. Rules don't need to be understood, they only need to be followed.

Jiang Zhiyu was breaking the rules. Not "breaking," but "informing in advance." Telling them "There will be an opportunity in early 2020," telling them "You still have over a year to prepare," telling them "Time is running out, but there is still time." Time to practice one more song, one more dance, one more round of expression management. Time to make themselves better, good enough that the company thinks "They can debut." Not "can," but "must." Must debut, because they have waited too long. How many years has Kim Minjeong waited? She started waiting the moment she entered SM. Waited one year, two years, three years. She didn't know how much longer she had to wait, she only knew she was still waiting. Ningning came from China and waited even longer. She came to Korea just to debut; if she couldn't debut, why did she come? Karina waited—she was also waiting. She had waited longer than Kim Minjeong, longer than Ningning. She had waited until she almost forgot why she was waiting. She only knew she couldn't stop. If she stopped, she would be sorry to those days that waited for her. Days don't speak, but they keep accounts. If you owe the days, you must pay them back. The way to pay them back is—debuting. If you don't debut, you will owe them forever. She didn't want to owe, so she waited. If she waited and got it, she wouldn't owe anymore. If she couldn't wait, she would owe for a lifetime.

Jiang Zhiyu didn't want them to wait a lifetime. So he told them "There will be an opportunity in early 2020." Not "You will debut," but "There is an opportunity." If there is an opportunity, you must grab it. If you can't grab it, it's gone. If it's gone, you have to wait for the next one. You don't know when the next one will come; maybe soon, maybe never. So he told them "The original five-year plan needs to be shortened."

Kim Minjeong and Ningning blinked at the same time. Of course they knew about the five-year plan. Jiang Zhiyu had said he was going to open a company, his own company. Not "maybe," but "definitely." Definitely open, definitely succeed, definitely make money. They believed him because he was Jiang Zhiyu. They believed every word he said. Not because he was right, but because he was him. But what did "shorten the time" mean? Five years becomes four? Four years becomes three? Three years becomes—they didn't know. They only knew the time had become shorter. So short that they weren't ready, and the time had arrived. Once it arrived, they had to make a decision. Once they made a decision, they couldn't regret it. If they didn't regret it, they had to move forward. If they moved forward, they couldn't look back. They didn't know what was ahead, they only knew Jiang Zhiyu was ahead. He was ahead, so they weren't afraid. Not because he wasn't afraid, but because he was there.

Karina understood. Not the "understanding" of "understanding," but the "understanding" of "comprehension." Not "shortening the time," but "2020 girl group debut."

SM was going to debut a new girl group, not "maybe," but "definitely."

The confirmed time, the confirmed project, the confirmed list—the list wasn't confirmed yet, but the time was. Once the time was confirmed, it meant the selection process would start soon. Once the selection started, she had to prepare. Once she prepared, she had to go all out. Once she went all out, she wouldn't have time to think about anything else. No time to think about Jiang Zhiyu, no time to think about the five-year plan, no time to think about "If he leaves, what will I do?"

She didn't need to think, because she knew. If he left, she would stay. Not "not wanting to go with him," but "unable to go with him." She had trained at SM for so many years, from fifteen to seventeen, from trainee to public trainee, from unknown to two hundred thousand fans. Her path was at SM, not at his future company. The future company hadn't been built yet, she didn't know if it could be built, didn't know if it could survive if built, didn't know if it could let her debut if it survived. Too many unknowns, too many uncertainties. She couldn't gamble with her future. So she would stay.

When the girl group debuts in 2020, Jiang Zhiyu will leave SM. Not "leave," but "walk away." Walking his own path, walking the path he planned, walking the path he paved from day one.

Every step is within his plan, and every step has not deviated. He will not be trapped by SM's "killing with kindness," because he never intended to stay at SM.

SM is his springboard, not his destination. The purpose of a springboard is to help you jump higher, not to let you stand on it. If you stand on it for too long, you will forget why you wanted to jump.

He won't forget, because he is always jumping. Once he has jumped, he will never look back. Not "won't return," but "doesn't need to return." The road ahead is longer, wider, and more worth walking.

He won't stop just because the scenery along the way is good, because his destination is not on the road. The destination is in his heart, that building in his heart. The building isn't finished yet, so he won't stop.

Karina wondered, if Jiang Zhiyu invited her to his company when the time came, would she agree? The answer is not necessarily. She trusts Jiang Zhiyu, but debuting at SM is more in her best interest.

This is a clear-headed realization, unrelated to emotions. SM is the largest entertainment company in South Korea. Debuting at SM means the best resources, the best platform, and the best exposure. More fans, more schedules, more endorsements. You earn more, become popular faster, and go further.

This is reality, not a dream. Reality doesn't need to be liked, it only needs to be accepted. She accepts reality, so she feels "not necessarily." It's not "don't want to go," but "uncertain."

Uncertain which is better, uncertain which is more suitable for her, uncertain which will let her go further. She needs time to think; time will give her the answer. Before the answer appears, she won't make any decisions. If you don't make a decision, you won't regret it. Not regretting is the best choice.

Moreover, Jiang Zhiyu won't invite her. He cares about her, cares about Minjeong, cares about Ningning. He won't share unknown possibilities with them.

Unknown means risk, and risk means possible failure.

He can bear failure, but they might not be able to.

They are still young and have many paths to walk. It's not "must follow him," but "can choose for themselves." The path you choose yourself, you walk yourself. If you get it right, it's luck. If you get it wrong, it's experience. Experience is more valuable than luck, because experience is your own. Luck is not. So he won't invite them.

He will only work silently, build a safer and more stable platform, and then launch the company's idol group.

By that time, Karina might have already become a great senior, or perhaps she didn't debut, instead returning to work at a company under her family's arrangements, or doing something she wants to do, like being a flight attendant. The Yu family has the ability to let her do whatever she wants. She doesn't need to worry about "what if I can't debut," because she has a home. Home is a fallback; you don't need to worry about a fallback.

Jiang Zhiyu knows she has a fallback, so he won't worry about her. He only worries about those who have no fallback, like Minjeong, like Ningning. They have no home to retreat to; they can only move forward. Moving forward, you might not reach it. Not moving forward, you definitely won't reach it.

So he helps them pave the road, paving it wide and flat, paving it until they can walk it themselves. He won't say "I paved the road for you," he will only say "This road is not bad, you can try it." Whether to try or not is their business. Whether to pave it or not is his business. He does his job, they do theirs. When the work is done, the road is open. Once open, they can walk. Once they walk, they arrive. Once they arrive, he won't see them off. Not "won't see off," but "don't need to see off." They already know how to walk by themselves.

Jiang Zhiyu's efficiency did not decrease because of the arrival of the three. He dropped from triple speed to single speed—not "slowed down," just "slowed." His pen tip was still moving on the paper, swish, swish, swish, like autumn leaves, one by one, falling very slowly, but every piece landed where it should.

Minjeong and Ningning had quieted down. They were sitting on the sofa, one scrolling through her phone, the other eating an orange. Karina was still standing by the window; the sunlight had moved from her face to her shoulders. She watched Jiang Zhiyu, watched him bowing his head to write, watched him gently press his finger on the corner of the paper while turning the page, watched him pick up the milk tea, take a sip, and put it back down.

Work is never finished. Every day there is new work; this is SM's revenge. Not revenge by "hitting," but revenge by "praising." Giving you work, making you money, keeping you busy, keeping you from having time to do other things. You do it, they earn. You don't do it, you lose. You do it, you are tired. You don't do it, you are even more tired. So you can only do it, doing it until you are tired, tired to the point of not wanting to do it, and having to do it even if you don't want to. Because you are Jiang Zhiyu, you won't lose. Not "won't lose," but "cannot lose." If you lose, you have nothing left. If it's gone, you have to start over. Starting over, do you still have the strength? He does. He always will.

Because he is not alone. He has Minjeong, he has Ningning, he has Karina. He has Taeyeon, he has Im Yoona, he has Yeri. He has those who believe in him, those who wait for him, those who need him. He cannot lose, because if he loses, they won't be able to see him. If they can't see him, they will worry. If they worry, they will come looking for him. If they come looking for him, he will feel "I am not alone." Not alone, then he won't lose. Not losing is winning.

The office quieted down. Not the silence of "no one talking," but the silence of "no one wanting to talk." Minjeong was thinking, "Early 2020, how much longer do I have?" Ningning was thinking, "If the teacher leaves, what will I do?" Karina was thinking, "Will he invite me?" Jiang Zhiyu wasn't thinking about these; he was thinking about the concept for Red Velvet's new album. Not "thinking," but "going through it in his head."

Over the past few days, he had listened to all of Red Velvet's songs, watched all their MVs, read all their lyrics, and analyzed all their concepts. From "Happiness" to "Red Flavor," from "Peek-A-Boo" to "Bad Boy," from "Zimzalabim" to "Psycho." The concept of each stage was different, and the concept of each stage was changing. Changing is Red Velvet's characteristic, and also Red Velvet's difficulty.

If they change well, it's "strong concept digestion ability." If they change poorly, it's "no style of their own." When they change well, fans say "they can handle anything." When they change poorly, haters say "they have no positioning." Jiang Zhiyu cannot let them change poorly, so he must think.

Think of a new concept that can continue Red Velvet's tradition of "change" while being accepted by the public. Not "new," but "fresh." Fresh enough to make people's eyes light up, fresh enough to make people listen and say "Is this Red Velvet?" then listen a second time and say "This is indeed Red Velvet." The first time is "unlike," the second time is "like." From unlike to like is success.

He was thinking, the pen writing on the paper, not documents, but keywords. "Fairy tale," "dream," "twist," "dark," "sweet." Writing and crossing out, crossing out and writing, writing and crossing out again, crossing out and writing again. The paper was torn by him, the pen tip poked into the paper, the ink spread, forming a dark blue circle around the hole. He looked at the circle and was silent for a moment. Then he tore off that piece of paper, crumpled it into a ball, and threw it into the trash can.

Jiang Zhiyu put down his pen and leaned back in his chair. He looked at the light on the ceiling, that steady, stable light that wouldn't distract anyone. He looked at it for a while, then spoke. "Let's go eat Samgyetang tonight." Minjeong looked up, her eyes brightening. "Really?" "Yeah. I need to replenish my nutrition." "You really do need to replenish your nutrition. You've gotten thinner recently." "I haven't." "You have. Your face has gotten smaller." "That's the lighting." "It's not the lighting, you've lost weight. You need to eat more." Jiang Zhiyu looked at her without speaking. There was a tiny arc at the corner of his mouth—not a smile, but an acknowledgment of "alright."

"And think about Red Velvet's new album concept while we're at it." He stood up, organized the documents on the desk, stacked them into piles, neat and tidy. He picked up his jacket, put it on, and zipped it up. He picked up the half-finished milk tea from the desk, took a sip; it was cold, but the sweetness was still there. He put the cup back without throwing it away. Because he hadn't finished drinking it yet, he would throw it away after he finished. Not wasting is one of his life creeds. Not because of frugality, but because he had experienced having nothing. Having experienced not having, he knows the preciousness of having. Some people don't know. He knows.

The four of them walked out of the office, and the hallway was very quiet. The sunset shone in through the window, dyeing the hallway orange-red. Minjeong walked in the front, her steps light and quick, like a kitten that had just eaten its fill. Ningning walked beside her, still peeling an orange, the orange peels falling to the ground piece by piece, which she didn't notice. Karina walked at the very back, her pace neither fast nor slow, the distance of each step about the same. Jiang Zhiyu walked in front of Karina, his shadow cast on the ground, very long.

Karina walked by stepping on his shadow, one step, one step, one step. She didn't know why she wanted to step on his shadow; she only knew that when she stepped on it, she felt closer to him. A little closer, and she felt a little more at ease. Once at ease, she wasn't afraid anymore. Once not afraid, she could keep walking. Keep walking, walking to the place he wanted to go. She would follow. Not "following him," but "following his shadow." The shadow wouldn't talk, but the shadow wouldn't refuse. You step on it, it won't dodge. You can't step on it, it won't wait. It was just there on the ground, changing with the angle of the light. Changing long, changing short, changing faint, changing thick. But it wouldn't disappear. Because the light is there, the shadow is there. He is there, his shadow is there. She is there, she will step on it. Once stepped on, she smiled. Once smiled, she was happy. Once happy, everything was fine.

Jiang Zhiyu walked for a while, then suddenly stopped. Karina almost stepped on his heel; she stepped back one step and looked up at him. He didn't turn his head, but he spoke. "Ji-min." "Hmm." "What were you thinking about just now?" "Nothing." "You're lying." Karina was silent. She didn't refute, because she was indeed lying. She was thinking about him, thinking about his shadow, thinking about stepping on his shadow. She wouldn't tell him. If she told him, he would move away. If he moved away, she wouldn't be able to step on it. If she couldn't step on it, she wouldn't be happy. If she wasn't happy, she would miss him. If she missed him, she would be even less happy. So she didn't say it. Not saying it, she could continue stepping on it. Once stepped on, she would be happy. Once happy, everything would be fine.

Jiang Zhiyu didn't pursue the question. He continued walking, his pace still the same, neither fast nor slow. His shadow was still the same, very long. Karina continued stepping, one step, one step, one step. Once stepped on, the corners of her mouth lifted slightly. If she missed, she would try again. Try again, and she would hit it. Once hit, she smiled. Once smiled, Minjeong saw it. "Ji-min Unnie, what are you smiling at?" "Nothing." "You smiled." "I didn't." "The corners of your mouth are turned up." "That's the wind." "The wind can blow the corners of your mouth up?" "Yes." "You're lying." "You're the one lying." Minjeong laughed, and Ningning laughed too. Karina didn't smile, but the corners of her mouth turned up even higher. Not because of the wind, but because of him. He didn't know. He walked in front, his shadow on the ground. She stepped on his shadow, one step, one step, one step. Once stepped on, she smiled. Once smiled, he didn't know why she was smiling. If he didn't know, he wouldn't ask. If he didn't ask, she wouldn't have to answer. If she didn't answer, she wouldn't have to lie. Not lying is clean. Clean is good. Good is what she wants. What she wants is right in front. Not far, not near, just enough to step on the shadow.

She looked at his back, looked at that black windbreaker of his, looked at the hem of the clothes blowing up in the wind. She remembered him saying "early 2020," less than two years left. Two years, seven hundred and thirty days. She didn't know where she would be or where he would be after seven hundred and thirty days. She only knew that tonight, they were in the same restaurant, drinking the same pot of Samgyetang. The chicken was the same one, the soup was the same pot, and the taste was the same. The taste being the same meant being together. Being together is enough.

(23:08) Minjeong who doesn't reply to messages: [Oppa! I slipped in the bathroom just now, my butt hurts... but I discovered the Bubble from the body wash printed a puppy shape on the floor! Is it possible that even the Bubble is comforting me? (Sends a sad profile picture of herself squatting on the floor poking the Bubble puppy)]

(23:11) Minjeong who doesn't reply to messages: [Drinking winter limited honey citron tea before bed, the little snowman on the lid is smiling at me. I whispered, "Did your daddy smile today?" and Ningning suddenly popped out from behind and said, "Unnie, the snowman won't answer!" ... Almost choked! (Pats chest while coughing)]

(23:14) Minjeong who doesn't reply to messages: [The little ginkgo leaf sewn into the lining of my dance outfit fell out, I secretly stuck it on the inside of my phone case, and it became a "mother-child pair" with the original one. Ah, this way I can witness growth every day~ (Shows two ginkgo leaves of different sizes close together)]

(23:17) Minjeong who doesn't reply to messages: [When I curled into the blanket, my down jacket was still puffy and slumped on the chair, like a deflated bread fairy. I said to it, "Keep wrapping the owner well tomorrow," and it seemed to nod slightly! (Secretly hooked the hem of the down jacket with my toes)]

(23:20) Minjeong who doesn't reply to messages: [The moon was bitten by a cloud tonight, the missing corner is shining. I guess the cloud must have stolen the starlight candy Oppa left behind to shine, right? I really want to taste a bite too...]

(23:23) Minjeong who doesn't reply to messages: [Oppa, today was also a day of being immediately picked up by the Bubble puppy after falling down. If happiness has a shape, it's probably the round down jacket, the paired ginkgo leaves, and the soft arc in my chest when I think of you. Good night, my Mr. Anti-slip Mat. (Sends a goodnight photo rolled in a blanket like a honey roll with only eyes exposed)]