42: Chapter 42 gugugaga

The glass curtain wall reflected the sky; clouds walked inside the building, and people walked within the clouds.

Jiang Zhiyu got off the bus, holding a document in his hand—not to read, but to put on a show.

He wanted to take this document into the radio studio, letting the people from SM see that he was working, not even wasting the time spent waiting for the elevator.

He wasn't here to play; he was here to work, and to appear on the radio while he was at it.

He rolled the document into a tube and gripped it in his palm; his knuckles strained, and the paper tube deformed slightly.

In reality, it was blank inside; there wasn't a single word on it.

Kim Taeyeon's van arrived five minutes earlier than him.

She climbed out of the vehicle wearing an off-white knitted cardigan over a light pink slip dress that reached her knees, revealing a portion of her lower legs.

Her shoes were white canvas sneakers with the laces tied tightly, the bows on both sides symmetrical.

Her hair was curled into large waves, draped over her shoulders, with the ends slightly flipped up as if someone had gently pinched them.

Her makeup was a bit heavier than usual; her eyeliner was drawn long with the corners slightly upturned, and her lips were coated in a glossy glaze that shimmered with a transparent pink hue in the sunlight.

She was very beautiful today—not just beautiful "today," but beautiful "on purpose."

She stood in the lobby, her gaze fixed on the entrance.

The moment Jiang Zhiyu pushed the door open, her lips were just about to curl upward.

Then she saw the thing in his hand—it wasn't the document; the document was in his left hand, and he had something else in his right.

A few sheets of paper, folded into long strips, held in his palm; they were white with creases along the edges.

Her smile paused for a moment, and curiosity, like a little kitten, poked its head out from her heart and gave it a scratch.

"Zhiyu-ah, what is that in your hand?"

Hearing her voice, Jiang Zhiyu looked up.

Kim Taeyeon stood in the center of the lobby with the KBS logo behind her against a light gray wall with white lettering.

Sunlight streamed in from the glass curtain wall, plating her in a layer of golden light.

He walked over, his pace neither fast nor slow, the distance of each step consistent.

He stood in front of her and gave a dry cough—not a "cough," but an expression of "embarrassment."

He slowly unfolded his fingers, revealing the papers—not just one, but several, stacked together, varying in color and material.

Some were torn from notebooks, others were sticky notes or memo paper.

Every single one had words written on it; the handwriting differed, but the content was similar.

"Oppa, can I add you on Kakao?"

"Unnie's brother? So handsome!"

"This is my number, please make sure to contact me!"

"What is your name? Which company are you from?"

"Hello, I'm a student at XX High School, 18 years old. Do you have a girlfriend?"

Kim Taeyeon's eyebrows shot up.

They went up very high, almost reaching her hairline.

"I couldn't tell, Zhiyu, you're so charming?"

Her tone carried teasing, amusement, and a hint of something she couldn't quite name herself.

"Hey, so when do you plan on contacting them?"

She pointed to those slips of paper.

Jiang Zhiyu smiled.

That smile wasn't "smug" or "shy"; it was the smile of "you've asked a very interesting question."

"According to my habits, I usually add them five minutes after they leave, send a message saying 'Thanks for the follow,' and then delete them."

"Delete them?"

Kim Taeyeon's voice went up half an octave.

"Yes. Delete them."

"Why?"

"Because if I add them and don't chat, it just takes up memory. If it takes up memory, the phone gets laggy. If it lags, I get annoyed. If I get annoyed, I want to delete it. Rather than waiting to delete it when I'm annoyed later, I might as well delete it now."

"So you've already added them?"

Jiang Zhiyu shook his head.

"Not this time."

"Why?"

Jiang Zhiyu looked at Kim Taeyeon, looking into those eyes that were so bright in the sunlight.

"Because I came to see Noona, not for a hookup."

Kim Taeyeon froze for a moment.

In that instant, her brain underwent emergency processing—receiving information, decoding, understanding, digesting, reacting.

The reaction was—a smile.

Not a "loud laugh," not a "grin," not a "mocking laugh."

It was a quiet, gentle smile, one that carried the meaning of "I understand what you mean," as if something had melted in her heart.

She didn't speak because she didn't know what to say.

Say "Oh"? Too cold.

Say "Is that so"? Too dismissive.

Say "You…"—it was too much like the words she had in her heart.

The words she didn't say were—"You came to see me."

Jiang Zhiyu folded those slips of paper and put them into his pocket.

His movements were very careful, as if he were putting away something important.

It wasn't important; it was out of politeness.

Things given by others shouldn't be thrown away; they must be kept well.

Keeping them well was a form of respect.

And with respect, it was—he raised his head and looked over Kim Taeyeon again today.

His gaze moved from her hair to her eyes, from her eyes to her lips, from her lips to her dress, from her dress to her shoes.

His expression was very calm, so calm that no emotion could be seen.

But his gaze was not calm.

"Noona is very beautiful today."

Kim Taeyeon tilted her head.

"Was I not beautiful yesterday?"

"We didn't meet yesterday."

Jiang Zhiyu paused.

"But if it's Noona, you are beautiful at any time."

Kim Taeyeon's lips curled up.

"Where did you learn that? So cheesy."

Jiang Zhiyu looked at her, at the face that had softened because of the smile, at the eyes that had curved into crescents because of the amusement.

"It's not cheesy. It's—a person's life is very short, yet very long. So, every day of Noona's life is a limited edition. There are no repetitions, no copies, no 'yesterday is the same as today.' I didn't see Noona yesterday, so I can't make reckless judgments. But I can imagine it—Noona is very beautiful. Not because of appearance—though of course, your appearance is also beautiful. It's because of Noona's personality, the way you treat people and handle things, that earnestness of 'treating others' affairs as your own,' that gentleness of 'taking care of others even when you are clearly exhausted.' These things won't change because of yesterday, today, or tomorrow. That's why I said—at any time, you are very beautiful."

Kim Taeyeon's smile gradually faded.

It wasn't "not smiling"; it was "withdrawing."

She withdrew the smile, tucked it into her heart, into those places she didn't want others to see.

She picked up her iced Americano and took a sip.

It was bitter, very bitter, so bitter that the tip of her tongue went numb and her throat tightened.

But a voice in her heart was saying—why do I kind of want to drink his super-sweet milk tea?

She didn't know.

She only knew that his milk tea was very sweet, sweet enough to make her throat feel cloying.

She didn't like it because it was too cloying.

But today, she kind of wanted to drink it.

She held back.

"Let's go."

She turned and walked toward the KBS building.

Her pace was a bit faster than usual, fast enough that Jiang Zhiyu had to take large strides to keep up.

Her figure from behind was very slender in the sunlight; her shoulders were narrow, her waist was thin, and the hem of her pleated skirt fluttered gently in the wind.

She walked in front, he walked behind, and there was a two-step distance between them.

Not too far, not too close, just right.

Jiang Zhiyu followed Kim Taeyeon into the KBS building.

The lobby was large, with light gray marble floors polished until they shone, reflecting the massive crystal chandelier overhead.

Several staff members sat at the front desk, heads down and busy, occasionally looking up at them before looking back down.

The security guard stood at the entrance, his uniform crisp, his cap worn straight, and he nodded at Kim Taeyeon; Kim Taeyeon nodded back at him.

It wasn't his first time here.

The last time was a few months ago, when he participated in Kim Taeyeon's radio broadcast.

Back then, he was still living in a goshiwon, with only a few tens of thousands of won in his pocket, relying on sponging meals every day.

When he walked into this building then, what he thought was— "How much does the security guard here make a month? Is it enough for him to pay rent?"

The way he looked at KBS was, "This is a place that can keep me alive."

Now it was different.

Lee Tima had arrived, the five-year plan had been advanced, and he didn't need to worry about survival anymore.

When he walked into this building this time, what he thought was— "Which floor is KBS's variety production department on? Where is the drama production center? Which of their programs has the highest ratings? What is their production budget roughly? What is their cooperation model with SM? Is it possible for them to invest in TG Entertainment's production projects?"

His gaze had changed from "polite" to "professional," from "professional" to "scrutinizing," and from "scrutinizing" to "evaluating."

He was evaluating KBS, not "how KBS is," but "what KBS can do for me."

Kim Taeyeon walked in front without looking back.

But she could feel that the aura of the person behind her had changed.

Before, when he walked in the KBS hallway, he was reserved, cautious, like "I am an outsider."

Now, when he walked in the KBS hallway, he was composed, calm, like "I'm looking to see what can be utilized here."

She didn't know why he had changed; she only knew she liked this change.

It wasn't because he had become stronger, but because he had become more like himself.

It was that composed and calm Jiang Zhiyu in the recording studio, that Jiang Zhiyu who was adept while flipping meat at the barbecue restaurant, that Jiang Zhiyu who heated up the atmosphere in the live broadcast room.

It wasn't that Jiang Zhiyu who wore a burn ward patient outfit and hid around in the SM Building.

She liked this Jiang Zhiyu.

She quickened her pace.

He quickened his pace to match.

The two walked in the KBS hallway, one in front and one behind, their steps in unison, their shadows cast on the floor, one long and one short.

The long one was him, the short one was her.

— —

The radio director's surname was Park.

He was in his forties, with thinning hair and silver-rimmed glasses; the eyes behind the lenses were small but very spirited.

He stood at the entrance of the control room, holding a stack of printed paper, probably today's script.

He saw Kim Taeyeon first, the corners of his mouth curling up, about to greet her, and then he saw Jiang Zhiyu behind her.

His eyebrows shot up—not a "raise," but a "spring."

Like a spring that had been pressed for a long time and suddenly released, it popped up high, almost reaching his hairline.

The meaning of that expression was—"You really are something."

Kim Taeyeon bowed embarrassedly, the angle neither too large nor too small, just right.

Her hands hung at her sides, fingers together, her back straight, like a primary school student greeting a teacher.

Her cheeks were a little red, not because of shyness, but because she knew what Director Park's eyebrow raise meant.

She wouldn't tell anyone that it took five plates of Korean beef to invite Jiang Zhiyu.

Director Park smiled, tucked the script under his arm, and walked over.

"Producer Jiang, long time no see."

He extended his hand, and Jiang Zhiyu took it.

Director Park's hand was very dry, with thin calluses on the palm, likely left from years of holding a pen.

His handshake was firm; he shook it twice and then let go.

"Thank you for coming to participate in our program."

Director Park's tone was very polite, so polite it was as if he were speaking to a very important guest.

Jiang Zhiyu bowed slightly.

"You are too kind. It is I who should thank you for inviting me."

Director Park waved his hand, as if shooing away a passing mosquito.

"You two should stop being so polite to each other."

He looked at Kim Taeyeon, then at Jiang Zhiyu, with a meaningful curve at the corners of his mouth.

"For the upcoming broadcast, just handle it in your own way. We also have Taeyeon-xi who will help out."

The "help out" he said wasn't "helping out"; it was "covering the bottom."

It meant—chat as you please, sing as you please, improvise as you please; anyway, with Kim Taeyeon there, there's no fear of problems.

Jiang Zhiyu nodded.

He understood Director Park's meaning.

Director Park believed in him, not because he was Jiang Zhiyu, but because he was the person Kim Taeyeon brought.

Someone brought by Kim Taeyeon wouldn't be bad.

Kim Taeyeon stood to the side, the corners of her mouth slightly upturned, her eyes curved into crescents.

She nodded at Director Park, then turned and led Jiang Zhiyu into the studio.

The studio was not large, about twenty pyeong.

The walls were covered with soundproofing foam, dark gray, wrapping the whole room like a cocoon.

The lights on the ceiling were circular, and the warm white light fell down, illuminating everyone's face very softly.

In the center was a long table, light wood-colored, the surface polished very brightly, reflecting the light from overhead.

On the table were two pairs of headphones, two microphones, two water cups, and a small potted plant.

The plant was a succulent, chubby, with light green leaves and a touch of pink at the tips.

Kim Taeyeon walked to the seat on the left and sat down.

She picked up the headphones, put them on, and adjusted the angle of the microphone.

Her movements were very practiced, so practiced that it was like doing something that didn't require thought.

Jiang Zhiyu stood at the door, watching her back.

She sat there, her back straight, shoulders naturally spread, her whole posture like a drawn bow.

He walked over and sat down in the seat on the right.

The chair was leather, the cushion very soft, and the angle of the backrest just right.

He picked up the headphones, put them on, and adjusted the angle of the microphone.

His movements were not as practiced as Kim Taeyeon's, but they weren't slow either.

He learned things quickly; once he saw it, he knew it.

Kim Taeyeon turned her head to look at him.

His profile was very clear under the ring light—the curve of his jawline, the height of his nose bridge, the fan-shaped shadows cast by his eyelashes under his eyes.

His fingers rested on the faders of the mixing console, pushing them slightly before pulling them back.

He was familiarizing himself with the equipment, like a cat newly arrived at a home familiarizing itself with a new environment.

"Are you nervous?"

Kim Taeyeon asked.

"Not nervous."

"You weren't nervous last time either."

"Last time was last time. This time is this time."

"What's different?"

Jiang Zhiyu thought about it, very earnestly.

"Last time I was 'Kim Taeyeon's friend.' This time I am 'Jiang Zhiyu.'"

Kim Taeyeon looked at him, not speaking.

But there was a curve to her lips—not a laugh, but a confirmation of "You have grown up."

— —

The lights in the studio were dimmed slightly.

The light from the ring light fell on Kim Taeyeon's face, illuminating her features very softly.

Her lips were very close to the microphone, close enough that the breath she exhaled would be picked up.

She cleared her throat, a faint curve at the corners of her mouth.

"Welcome to Taeyeon's channel."

Her voice was not loud, but very clear, every word like it had been washed in water, clean and transparent.

"This week has passed so quickly; if anyone has anything fun to tell me, or wants to complain about something, you can send it on the public channel."

She paused, her gaze moving from the script to Jiang Zhiyu beside her.

He was looking down, holding a document in his hand; the kraft paper envelope had already been opened, revealing a stack of printed paper inside.

His expression was very serious, so serious that it was as if he were looking at a very important contract.

His other hand was gripping his own throat—not "pinching," but "clutching."

His thumb and index finger were pressed on both sides of his Adam's apple, as if measuring something.

"Next, I want to introduce today's special guest."

A hint of amusement entered Kim Taeyeon's voice.

"A big shot that cost me a meal of Korean beef to invite… let him introduce himself!"

She glanced at Jiang Zhiyu.

Jiang Zhiyu didn't look up; he was still looking at the document.

But he spoke.

"Hello everyone, I am today's Hanwoo guest, Kim Taeyeon Unit 2."

It wasn't his voice.

It was Kim Taeyeon's voice.

The pitch, timbre, and pronunciation were almost identical.

But it was slightly different—a bit raspier, a bit lazier, carrying a kind of casual allure, like someone whispering into a microphone in a recording studio late at night.

Kim Taeyeon froze.

Her mouth was slightly open, her eyes wide, and her pupils reflected Jiang Zhiyu's calm face as he continued to look at the document.

Her brain experienced an emergency reboot in that instant.

The director also froze.

He was standing in the control room, holding the script, his mouth open, forgetting to close it.

The sound engineer's fingers hovered over the mixer faders, forgetting to move.

Everyone was watching the monitor, watching the young man who was still looking down at the document, one hand pinching his own throat.

The director was the first to react.

The corners of his mouth began to lift, first the left, then the right, and then his whole face was smiling.

He smiled with restraint, so restrained that it looked like he was holding it back, but his eyes betrayed him.

His eyes were shining with the kind of light that said, "I know this episode is going to be a hit."

Not just "going to be a hit," but "it's definitely going to be a hit."

Kim Taeyeon took a deep breath.

"What are you doing?"

Jiang Zhiyu didn't look up.

"Introducing myself, Kim Taeyeon Unit 1."

Kim Taeyeon twitched the corner of her mouth.

"Kim Taeyeon Unit 1?"

Jiang Zhiyu pressed his fingers lightly against his throat.

"...Should I call you Master instead? Master-min~."

His trailing tone rose slightly, carrying a deliberate, exaggerated tone, as if he were performing in a stage play.

The way Kim Taeyeon looked at him was a bit off.

It wasn't "anger," it wasn't "helplessness," it was "Are you crazy?"

The comments started scrolling.

Not "started," but "already."

On the control room monitor, the message section was scrolling rapidly.

"I think I heard Taeyeon call Master-min???"

"It wasn't Taeyeon, it was that male guest!"

"He's imitating Taeyeon's voice!!!"

"It's so similar!!!"

"No, it sounds even better than Taeyeon herself (whispering)"

"Why are you whispering, I think so too"

"Master-min—help—"

Kim Taeyeon took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

She told herself—she was a senior, and a senior had to act like one.

Acting like one meant not losing her composure in front of a junior.

She couldn't lose her composure, so she smiled.

It was a very difficult smile.

"Stop calling me that, be serious."

Jiang Zhiyu put his hand down and laughed twice.

The voice changed from "Kim Taeyeon" back to "Jiang Zhiyu," deep and clear.

"Ne—Annyeonghaseyo."

He straightened his body, placed the document on the table, folded his hands on his knees, and looked at the camera, a faint arc on the corners of his mouth.

"I am the creator Jiang Zhiyu.

I've been to Senior Taeyeon's radio show before, but that was a few months ago."

Kim Taeyeon breathed a sigh of relief.

"Zhiyu-xi, your talent show just now was really good!"

Jiang Zhiyu's hand went back to his throat.

Kim Taeyeon shouted.

"Yah! Please, can you not do that?"

Jiang Zhiyu laughed and put his hand down.

His laugh wasn't loud, but it was genuine.

Kim Taeyeon continued the introduction.

"Everyone might not know Zhiyu-xi very well."

Jiang Zhiyu looked at her.

"Senior, your '뒤집힌 도시' is still at the top of the music charts."

Kim Taeyeon was stunned for a moment.

"Are you causing trouble?"

"No, no."

Jiang Zhiyu waved his hand, his expression changing from "casual" to "serious."

"I just wanted to say, being able to collaborate with you, Senior, I've already been brought along to become famous."

Kim Taeyeon looked at him, at his serious face that didn't look like it was lying.

There was an arc at the corners of her mouth, not a smile, but a confirmation of "Alright, I forgive you."

"Then introduce yourself again!"

"Ne~"

Jiang Zhiyu cleared his throat and sat up straight.

"Hello everyone, I am SM creator Jiang Zhiyu, eighteen years old this year, male, unmarried.

My hobbies are writing songs and Hanwoo, pork belly is fine too.

My annual income is around 30 million won, and it will rise in the future."

He paused, his gaze moving from the camera to Kim Taeyeon's face.

"My ideal type is a rich woman.

My biggest wish is to marry into a wealthy family.

If anyone is interested—please take down my contact information and current address.

It is—"

"Wait wait wait wait—!"

Kim Taeyeon's voice exploded from the microphone, so loud that the speakers in the control room shook.

She reached out as if to cover Jiang Zhiyu's mouth, but couldn't reach.

She could only slap the table, once, then again.

"I told you to introduce yourself! Not go on a blind date! We are a fan chat radio show, not a blind date program!"

Kim Taeyeon felt that this man was much crazier than she had imagined.

No, not "crazy," but "insane."

Completely insane.

From the moment he said "Kim Taeyeon Unit 2" using her voice, he was insane.

She couldn't help but glance at the director.

The director was standing in the control room, holding the script, his mouth stretched to his ears, his whole face reading "Continue, don't stop."

He gave a thumbs up to Kim Taeyeon, holding it very high, as high as if he were waving a flag.

Kim Taeyeon smiled speechlessly.

Her mouth was twitching, not from a "cramp," but from "not knowing whether to be angry or laugh."

A voice in her heart was saying—she was going crazy too.

The comments started scrolling again.

"Rich woman hahahaha"

"He said his ideal type is a rich woman"

"Biggest wish is to marry into a wealthy family"

"What's the contact info!!!"

"What's the address!!!"

"SM creator Jiang Zhiyu, 18, unmarried, hobby is writing songs and Hanwoo"

"I took it down"

"I took it down too"

"What are you taking it down for, he's looking for a rich woman"

"I am a rich woman (not)"

"Hahahaha"

Kim Taeyeon took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

She looked at Jiang Zhiyu, and Jiang Zhiyu looked at her.

The two looked at each other for a second.

Kim Taeyeon looked away first.

"...Let's move on to the next segment."

Kim Taeyeon chose a fan's message.

Her gaze moved away from the screen, and she read the passage, her tone carrying a hint of empathetic softness.

"I've been arguing with my boyfriend lately, even though it's just over small things.

Oh, this... maybe it's because of work?

But occasionally I also get irritable because of work."

She finished reading, put down the script, and glanced at Jiang Zhiyu.

He was still looking at the document, head down, eyes fixed on the page, expression calm.

But his hand hadn't turned the page; from just now until now, it had been the same page.

He was listening.

"Small things will turn into big things if there are too many of them."

His voice wasn't loud, but it was clear.

"This listener's meaning is probably asking—how to end this state."

Kim Taeyeon looked at him curiously.

"Then what should be done?"

Her tone carried the seriousness of "I'm asking on behalf of the fans," but her eyes hid the curiosity of "I want to hear it too."

Jiang Zhiyu looked up, his gaze moving from the document to the microphone.

He wasn't looking at Kim Taeyeon, because he was thinking.

When he thinks, he doesn't look at people.

"Ask family and friends what exactly happened.

But don't tell your boyfriend.

Because in a relationship, most men are not suitable objects to discuss work difficulties with.

So—go ask the people around you.

After understanding, you will figure out the reason for the other person's irritability.

Use companionship and silent support to emotionally bind the man.

Demonstrate a kind of—'I don't know much, but I can sense that your mood hasn't been right lately' performance."

The way Kim Taeyeon looked at him was a bit off.

Not "off," but "complex."

How should she put it?

He seemed to be exactly that kind of person.

He never complained about the difficulties he faced; always, only after he had finished, would others know and then exclaim in praise.

What he was describing wasn't a "method," it was "himself."

He was that boy who "wouldn't discuss work difficulties with his girlfriend," he was that boyfriend who "needed to be silently supported," he was that person who was "in a bad mood but wouldn't say it."

She looked at him, at his calm side profile that showed no emotion.

A voice in her heart said—Are you like this too?

Jiang Zhiyu continued.

"Of course, this is just my guess.

However, speaking of work-induced irritability, Senior Taeyeon just said that she occasionally has this state too—it wouldn't be when collaborating with me, would it?"

Kim Taeyeon's voice rose.

"Of course not!"

Jiang Zhiyu said "quietly."

"Then who was the person who said they wanted to have their fist get intimate with my handsome face? Kim Taeyeon?"

Kim Taeyeon's face turned red.

"Yah!"

Jiang Zhiyu laughed.

Not "the corners of his mouth lifting slightly," not a "chuckle," but "laughing out loud."

His laugh wasn't loud, but it was genuine, like someone who had been holding it in for a long time and finally found a chance to laugh.

After he finished laughing, he cleared his throat, and his voice changed from "teasing" to "gentle."

"Regardless, this song is for you.

And for everyone who is irritable because of work."

His fingers tapped lightly on the mixer.

The sound engineer in the control room understood and pushed up the fader.

The intro started, it was TWICE's "CHEER UP."

Light, bright, like a spring breeze blowing past the ears.

Jiang Zhiyu rubbed his eyes.

He rubbed for a long time, so long that Kim Taeyeon thought his eyes hurt.

Just as she was about to ask, he put his hand down, his eye rims were a bit red—not from crying, but from rubbing.

"Noona, I had a meal with Senior Im Nayeon and Senior Momo a while ago."

His tone was very casual, so casual that it was like saying "The weather is nice today."

"I specifically looked up TWICE's schedule, it really is a lot.

But while it's tiring, the money earned is even more."

He paused, a curve at the corners of his mouth.

"If I had known, I would have agreed to Teacher Lee Soo-man letting me debut as a soloist."

Kim Taeyeon was stunned for a moment.

Who did he have a meal with?

Who?

Im Nayeon?

Her brain experienced an emergency reboot in that instant.

Im Nayeon, TWICE's Im Nayeon, JYP's Im Nayeon.

He ate with someone from JYP?

When?

Why?

She didn't know.

She only knew that a voice in her heart was saying—"How could you eat with another woman?"

"Oh! Right, Noona, do you know this song? I wrote it a while ago."

Jiang Zhiyu's speaking speed was fast, fast as if he were in a hurry.

"Rich Man."

Kim Taeyeon didn't hear it.

She was thinking about the Im Nayeon matter, thinking about the "Jiang Zhiyu ate with Im Nayeon" thing.

Her mind was full of the words "Im Nayeon," there was no space for "Rich Man."

Jiang Zhiyu said, somewhat boastfully.

"Noona, let me sing it for you."

He didn't wait for her to answer.

He took a deep breath, lifted his hands from the table, and made a scratching gesture in the air.

His fingers rotated in the air, as if scratching an invisible vinyl record.

His mouth was close to the microphone, and a series of rhythmic sounds came from his throat.

It wasn't "singing," it was "beatbox."

High-energy drum beats exploded from his throat, mixed with the scratching sound effects, like one person simulating an entire band's performance with their mouth.

The people in the studio froze.

The sound engineer's hand hovered over the mixer, forgetting to put it down.

The director in the control room had his mouth open again, forgetting his words.

Kim Taeyeon looked at Jiang Zhiyu, at his face that was slightly flushed from the effort, at his eyes that were shining from immersion.

She thought—he really is crazy.

Jiang Zhiyu's mouth stopped.

A few tenths of a second of breathing, then he spoke.

English rap, the speed was extremely fast, as fast as a machine gun firing.

But every word was clear, clear as if it were printed on paper.

"Yeah, check the wrist, ice-cold river on my fist.

Bought the building, renamed it "Greediest" on the list.

My garage look like a dealership, Lambos sneeze.

Stack so tall, it got its own zip code, please.

Valet tip? That's your yearly rent, chump.

Rooftop pool filled with Fiji, watch me jump.

Call my tailor, "Stitch a jet into my suit."

Bitcoin in my veins, gold flakes in my loot."

His speed got faster and faster, as if racing against time.

But his expression was very relaxed, relaxed as if he were taking a walk.

There was an arc at the corners of his mouth, not a smile, but a confirmation of "I'm enjoying this."

No one spoke, because no one could interrupt.

He paused for a moment.

Then he changed to a different voice.

Not his voice, but Kim Taeyeon's voice.

The pitch, timbre, and pronunciation were almost identical.

But it was slightly different—softer, lighter, like whispering in the ear.

He sang in Korean, softly, like a breeze drifting from far away.

"돈으론 살 수 없는 게 있어..."

Kim Taeyeon's eyes widened.

Her mouth was slightly open, forgetting to close it.

She heard her own voice, not "like," but "is."

It was her voice.

Jiang Zhiyu's voice suddenly rose.

From whispering to an angry tone, from an angry tone to tearing.

His throat was vibrating, his vocal cords were trembling, every note was like it was squeezed from the deepest part of his body.

"내 사랑은 네 지폐 더미 위에 춤추지 않아! HEY—니가 가진 건 빛 좋은 개살구—날 갖고 싶다면?... 거울 봐, 가난한 영 soul아."

When the high note exploded, Kim Taeyeon got goosebumps.

Not "got," but "exploded."

Starting from her arms, spreading to her shoulders, from her shoulders spreading to her back, from her back spreading to her whole body.

She looked at Jiang Zhiyu, at his face slightly flushed from the effort, at his eyes shining from immersion.

She thought—is he really human?

Jiang Zhiyu's laugh spilled out from his throat, not a "laugh," but a "chuckle."

Very short, so short it was only half a second.

Then he switched back to the nouveau riche voice, his speed faster than before, as if sprinting.

"What she say? 'Love can't be bought'? That's cute."

"I'll buy the whole concept, fire the CEO, reboot. My dog's collar cost a private island's deed. My cologne? Crushed diamonds and pure greed. You talk heart, I talk art—of the deal. Call me Midas with a mouthful of steel. Still wanna hate? Get in line, take a knee. I'm too rich for your problems, too flew for your fees. Out."

When the last syllable fell, the studio went quiet. Not just "quiet," but "dead silent." Even the hum of the air conditioning vent stopped; even the electrical buzz in the ring light overhead vanished. Time, space, sound—everything was frozen in that instant.

Kim Taeyeon's mouth was still open, forgotten to close. The director in the control room also had his mouth open, forgotten to close. The audio engineer's fingers were still hovering over the mixing console, forgotten to lower. Everyone was looking at Jiang Zhiyu, looking at that young man sitting in the studio with a cup of milk tea in front of him and documents still in his hand.

Online comments began to skyrocket. Not just "skyrocket," but "explode." On the control room monitoring screen, the comment section was scrolling so fast it was impossible to see what each line said. Only keywords could be seen—"Crazy," "Monster," "Is he human?," "Rap is so fast," "High notes are so high," "Sounds just like Taeyeon," "This person is a true genius."

Jiang Zhiyu picked up his milk tea and took a sip. The straw stirred the pearls at the bottom of the cup, making a gurgling sound. He raised an eyebrow, a curve forming at the corner of his mouth—not a smile, but a confirmation of "How was that?"

"How was that? As a solo debut track for Kangjiwong, does it make the cut?"

Kim Taeyeon looked at him, at his calm face that showed no emotion, and at his eyes that shimmered with a faint gold in the light. A voice in her heart said—enough. Not "makes the cut," but "enough." Enough meant there was no need to prove anything anymore. He was a genius. He didn't need anyone else to say it; he just was.

She picked up her water cup and took a sip. The water was cold, and the chill spread from her throat to her chest. She set the cup down and took a deep breath.

"...When did you write this?" Her voice was a bit hoarse.

"Last night." Jiang Zhiyu's tone was very casual, so casual it was like he was saying, "I ate ramen last night."

"You wrote it all night?"

"No. An hour."

Kim Taeyeon fell silent. She looked at him, at his serious face that didn't look like it was joking. She knew he wasn't lying, because he didn't need to lie. He was the kind of person who could write a song in an hour; he was that kind of genius. She took a deep breath and slowly let it out.

"Then let's move on to the next segment."

— — The messages were flooding in fast. So fast that on the control room monitoring screen, the comment section was crashing down like a waterfall, line after line, impossible to see clearly, impossible to grasp, like a school of fish that couldn't be caught in a single net. Jiang Zhiyu's gaze landed on the screen; his eyes captured information faster than an average person's, a skill honed while working in intelligence on the Tianxuan Continent. One line, two lines, three lines—he scanned through them. Then he stopped. Because there was a very long message, so long that amidst the short sentences, it looked like a chopstick stuck in a pile of toothpicks.

"Does Jiang Zhiyu-xi think IU's songs sound better, or Taeyeon's songs?"

Jiang Zhiyu glanced at Kim Taeyeon. She was drinking water, her lips pressed against the rim of the cup, her eyes fixed on the script, her expression calm—so calm it was as if she were reading an unimportant document. She didn't look at him because she was pretending not to have heard that message. She had heard it. From the moment the words "IU" came out, her ears had perked up. Her fingers tapped lightly on the script, the rhythm faster than usual. She was waiting for his answer.

Jiang Zhiyu read it out, word by word. His speaking pace was neither fast nor slow, every word articulated clearly, clearly enough that it was like reading a textbook. Once finished, he stopped, his expression calm, so calm that no emotion could be detected.

The director raised an eyebrow, his small eyes behind silver-rimmed glasses squinting slightly. The audio engineer poked his head out from behind the mixing console, lowering his voice as if afraid of being heard by the people in the live broadcast room. "Won't this cause controversy?" The director didn't turn around, his gaze still fixed on the monitoring screen. A curve formed at the corner of his mouth—not a smile, but a confirmation of "Controversy is exactly what I want." Controversy meant buzz, buzz meant ratings, and ratings meant advertising revenue. He didn't care who won or lost; what he cared about was—that people cared.

Kim Taeyeon, sitting next to Jiang Zhiyu, kicked him under the table. The tip of her high heel, neither too light nor too heavy, landed right on his shinbone. It didn't hurt, but it was clear, meaning— "Watch what you say." She pulled her foot back, lifted her water cup, and took another sip, her gaze fixed on the script, not looking at him. But her ears were still perked up.

After being kicked, Jiang Zhiyu's expression didn't change at all. He didn't rub his leg, didn't look at her, didn't let out a "hiss." He just fell silent for a moment, as if genuinely thinking.

"I have a pretty good relationship with IU sunbae as well," he began, his tone very flat, so flat it was like saying "The weather is nice today." "As for Taeyeon sunbae—as Kim Taeyeon Unit 2, I am, of course, Master-nim's number one fan."

Kim Taeyeon let out a shy, annoyed "Yah!" The sound wasn't loud, but it was clear—clear enough for the audio engineer in the control room to hear, and clear enough for the fans in the comment section to hear. The words "Master-nim" were like a pebble thrown into a lake, the ripples spreading out in circles. The comment section went crazy again.

Jiang Zhiyu ignored her and continued speaking, his pace neither fast nor slow. "IU sunbae is a very good person, whether in terms of character, appearance, or work attitude. She just occasionally has little moods, but that's nothing major. From a professional perspective, IU sunbae and Taeyeon sunbae actually follow two different styles. But if comparing vocal ability—I think Taeyeon sunbae is a bit stronger."

Kim Taeyeon looked at him. In her eyes was a hint of surprise, and also a hint of worry. Surprise that he chose "her"—not a choice made "just to say something," but a choice made through "serious analysis." Worry that if this statement were spread around, it would have a negative impact on him. She opened her mouth, wanting to save the situation, wanting to say "Zhiyu-xi is joking," wanting to say "Actually, IU's vocal ability is also very good," wanting to say "Everyone, don't take it seriously."

Jiang Zhiyu's next sentence came out. "Because I still have to work at the SM Building, and Taeyeon sunbae is right next to me—I'm telling the truth."

Kim Taeyeon, who understood in a second, laughed. Not a "slight upturn of the corners of the mouth," not a "chuckle," but "laughing out loud." Her laughter spilled out from her throat, carrying a sense of helplessness of "I knew it would be like this." She knew he was doing it on purpose: first a serious analysis, then a serious supplement, and finally adding "I'm telling the truth," making everyone unable to tell if he was joking or evaluating seriously. That was him. After she finished laughing, she suddenly pretended to be curious, tilting her head, her tone carrying a hint of "I'm just asking casually" nonchalance.

"Then if it were IU next to you, how would you answer?"

Jiang Zhiyu looked up and met her gaze. His eyes looked into hers, her face reflected in his pupils. The corners of his mouth slowly turned up, revealing an awkward yet polite smile, the curve just right—not "I am smiling," but "You know what I would say." The meaning of that smile was—If IU were next to me, of course I'd say IU is better; I'm not stupid.

Kim Taeyeon gritted her teeth inwardly. This shibal puppy. Her smile was still hanging on her face, but her teeth ground twice behind her lips. She took a deep breath, and slowly let it out. Don't be angry, don't be angry, he is a junior, he is the album producer, he is—she didn't finish the thought.

The online comments were dying of laughter. The comment section was scrolling so fast that the control room monitoring screen turned into a blur of light. "Hahahahaha hahahahaha" "Zhiyu-xi is too real" "Whoever is next to him, he says they are the best" "Workplace survival rules" "IU: I'm not next to him, so I'm not as good as Taeyeon?" "Taeyeon: I'm next to him, so I won" "Zhiyu-xi: Stop fighting, you guys."

Kim Taeyeon fanned herself with her hand. The movement was very light, her fingers waving gently beside her cheek, as if shooing away a passing mosquito. But actually, there was no mosquito; she was hot. Not "hot" from the temperature, but "hot from anger." Angered by Jiang Zhiyu.

Jiang Zhiyu watched her movement, his expression concerned. "Is Taeyeon sunbae very hot?"

Kim Taeyeon glanced at him, her voice coming from her nasal cavity. "Yeah." A one-word answer, the tone flat, with no discernible emotion, but that "Yeah" hid the content of "I'm hot because you made me angry."

Jiang Zhiyu nodded, like a teacher seriously listening to a student's question. "For the next radio show, please go to Antarctica! KBS! Please!"

Kim Taeyeon's voice rose. "Yah! Why go to Antarctica?!"

Jiang Zhiyu blinked innocently. "Isn't sunbae very hot? Helping you find a cool place."

Kim Taeyeon looked at him, at his innocent eyes that seemed to be truly looking out for her. She took a deep breath. "Antarctica is too cold!"

"Speaking of which, does sunbae know about Ice-Boiled Lamb?" Kim Taeyeon's gaze became dangerous. Ever since she had known him, every time he mentioned a term she hadn't heard of, it was definitely digging a pit. She didn't know what was in the pit, but she knew that if she fell in, it would hurt a lot. She hesitated for a moment, but still spoke.

"I don't know, is it delicious?"

Jiang Zhiyu's expression changed from "casual" to "focused," and from "focused" to "passionate." He sat up straight, hands folded on the table, as if preparing for a very important speech. His voice changed from "low" to "bright," and from "bright" to "expressive."

"Ice-Boiled Lamb is a traditional delicacy from Northern China. The method is very special—it's not boiled with water, but boiled with ice. First, you put ice cubes in the pot, spread a layer of lamb, then put another layer of ice cubes, then another layer of lamb. Then you cover it and bring it to a boil over high heat. The ice cubes melt into water, the water boils and becomes soup, the soup boils the lamb, and the lamb rolls in the soup. Before the ice cubes melt, they are solid; after melting, they are liquid. In the process of turning from solid to liquid, they absorb a large amount of heat, so the temperature of the soup is lower than that of ordinary water-boiled soup. By slow-cooking at a low temperature, the fibers of the lamb don't shrink too tightly, making the meat more tender, the texture smoother, and the gamey smell less. Eating it—it melts in your mouth, is tender and juicy, and paired with special sesame paste and chive flower sauce, it's just fragrant."

Kim Taeyeon's throat moved, and she swallowed. She wasn't greedy; it was just—she was greedy.

Jiang Zhiyu continued. "And lamb has very high medicinal value. The 'Compendium of Materia Medica' records that lamb can warm the middle and replenish deficiency, replenish qi and strengthen the body, stimulate appetite and strengthen power, and treat fatigue and coldness. Eating lamb in winter, you won't be afraid of the cold for the whole winter." He paused, a curve forming at the corner of his mouth. "Taeyeon sunbae's new project—'Antarctica's Ice-Boiled Ken-Taeyang Limited Radio Broadcast' will be officially approved after the KBS broadcast budget is finalized. Our goal is to break human physiological limits, hiking from South Korea to Antarctica! Full journey broadcast! No script! No staff!"

Kim Taeyeon was stunned for a moment. "Let's not talk about hiking to Antarctica for now—what does 'Ken-Taeyang' mean?"

"Ah, it's the Chinese fans' phonetic translation of Taeyeon sunbae's name." Jiang Zhiyu's tone was very casual, so casual it was like saying "The weather is nice today." "Taeyeon sunbae also has the nickname of 'Sheep' in China, right."

Kim Taeyeon ground her teeth. Her teeth ground twice behind her lips, making a subtle sound that only she could hear. "So the meaning of Ice-Boiled Lamb —"

Jiang Zhiyu blinked innocently. "I don't know. Just talking nonsense."

The comments went crazy. "Ice-Boiled Lamb killed me laughing" "Looking forward to hiking Antarctica" "Hiking? If hiking, wouldn't it have to pass through the North?" "Probably won't even make it past Panmunjom." "The trigger for the Second Peninsula War is a sheep." "As long as they scam KBS for the budget, it's fine."

Kim Taeyeon took a deep breath. Her chest expanded and then deflated. She told herself—he is a junior, he is the album producer, he is—she didn't want to think about it anymore.

"Let's continue to look at fan comments." Her tone changed from "angered" to "professional," and from "professional" to "smiling." She looked at the screen and read the next message. "This fan asks—Red Velvet's new album is also produced by Producer Jiang, right? What was the inspiration for the concept and creation?" She paused and glanced at Jiang Zhiyu. "Oh? This question is very deep."

Jiang Zhiyu had a moved expression of "finally getting on the right track," reaching out to wipe the corner of his eye. There were no tears, but the action was like wiping away tears.

"This fan, congratulations. Taeyeon sunbae was moved by your comment."

Kim Taeyeon couldn't help but glance at him. Her eyes were full of— "Who caused everything that just happened!"

Jiang Zhiyu didn't look at her. He looked at the camera, a curve at the corner of his mouth—not a smile, but a confirmation of "Finally, we can talk about serious business."