439: Chapter 492 Revision Outline

The first snow of December fell silently three days after the fireworks of the IVE debut night faded away.

The streets of Seoul were covered in a thin layer of white, like a cake dusted with powdered sugar.

The last few leaves of the ginkgo trees were pressed down by the snow, and the bare branches reached out into the gray sky, looking like a sketch.

The heating in the TG Entertainment studio was turned up high; outside the window was falling snow, and inside was Jiang Zhiyu, wearing a thin sweater with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

He sat at the creative desk with several sheets of musical notation filled with notes and scribbles spread out before him. He held a pen in his hand, the tip hovering in mid-air for a long while.

Then it fell, he wrote a line, then crossed it out. He wrote again, then crossed it out. He frowned, put down the pen, and stood up to walk to the window.

Snow fell on the glass and melted, leaving streaks of water. He watched those water streaks, and something surfaced in his mind—not notes, not a melody, but an image.

In the snowy landscape, a girl wearing a white down jacket and a red scarf stood under a street lamp, looking up at the snow. Snowflakes fell on her eyelashes, she blinked, and her mouth curved into a gentle arc.

The girl's face became clear—Kim Minjeong, the girl called Winter. Her name is Winter, and her winter should have a song that belongs to her.

Jiang Zhiyu walked back to the creative desk and picked up the pen. This time, he did not hesitate.

The lyrics flowed from the tip of the pen line by line, first in Korean, then in Chinese—he translated silently in his heart, finding the most accurate expression for every word. It wasn't a literal translation, but a liberal one, meant to convey that "warmth within the cold."

I have never felt this way before, wanting to hold you in my arms and spoil you. The stars in the sky are now in the eyes that look at me. You are the incomparable one in this world. You are the only one who is cold yet warm throughout the four seasons. You are my favorite season, my dear Winter. The seasons turn endlessly, and I will eventually meet you again.

He finished the last word, put down the pen, and read through it from the beginning. He read it aloud in a voice that was neither high nor low, as if speaking to someone.

The melody had been written long ago, the piano accompaniment as soft as falling snowflakes. The chorus melody rose, like a ray of sunlight in winter; the ending slowed down, like the snow stopping and the world falling quiet. He closed the score and leaned back in his chair.

It only took him three days from conception to completion. It wasn't rushed; it was natural—Kim Minjeong's image was too clear in his mind. That girl who always smiled brightly, was clingy like a puppy, yet shone brilliantly on stage; her winter should have a warm song.

Not a sad, lonely, or poignant winter, but a warm, soft winter held in the palm of one's hand. She stood there, snow falling on her shoulders, and someone walked over, unwrapped their scarf, wrapped it around her neck, and said, "Let's go, let's go home."

Jiang Zhiyu picked up his phone, opened KakaoTalk, and found Lee Tima—the girl he had sent to IU's side as an "undercover agent," the generation's diva he had trained himself.

He typed a line: "Come back for a moment, for a trial recording."

Lee Tima replied with three exclamation marks instantly. An hour later, she appeared at the studio door, breathless, her cheeks flushed, her hair messed up by the wind. She was wearing a light pink down jacket, and her scarf dragged down to her waist.

"Zhiyu Oppa! I'm here!" Her voice was crisp and bright.

Jiang Zhiyu glanced at her and handed over the score. "Sing first, we'll talk about other things later."

Lee Tima took the score, her eyes scanning the lyrics and melody. Her brows furrowed slightly and then smoothed out, the expression on her face shifting from "confusion" to "understanding," and then from "understanding" to "I get it."

She walked to the microphone, put on her headphones, and adjusted the height. "I'm ready."

The piano intro flowed from the speakers, and Lee Tima closed her eyes. Her eyelashes trembled slightly, her lips parted gently, and the voice spilled from her throat, clear as a winter stream, without impurities, without technique, only the purest emotion.

Jiang Zhiyu leaned back in his chair with his eyes closed, listening, his fingers tapping gently on the armrest. The first time, a few notes were slightly off-pitch, and he frowned. The second time, every note landed exactly where it should, every word carried warmth. He opened his eyes. "That's enough."

Lee Tima took off her headphones, the stray hair on her forehead dampened by sweat and sticking to her forehead. She looked at Jiang Zhiyu's eyes, which were rarely satisfied. "Did I pass?"

"You passed."

She walked out from the microphone, took the water cup he handed her, drank a few gulps, put the cup down, and wiped the corners of her mouth with the back of her hand. She couldn't hold back her desire to vent. She began to chatter, her speed increasing, like a flood that had been blocked for a long time finally finding an outlet.

Lee Tima's brows knotted when she spoke about IU's recent series of actions. IU's contact with Samsung was becoming more frequent. It wasn't the kind of "meeting occasionally" frequency, but "at least once a week."

Sometimes at a high-end restaurant in Gangnam District, sometimes at a hotel under Samsung, sometimes at a secluded club. She didn't know what they were discussing, but she knew that every time IU returned, she had that chilling smile on her face.

That smile wasn't "happy" or "satisfied"; it was the greed of "I'm one step closer to my goal." Samsung didn't seem to have obtained useful information from IU, but they hadn't rejected IU's meeting requests either. Both sides went back and forth, like a boxing match without a referee.

And in the study at home, IU often held materials related to company management to study. Those books were spread out on the desk—《Basic Corporate Finance》, 《Strategic Management》, 《Organizational Behavior》, 《How to Read Financial Statements》.

Some were textbooks, some were materials given to her by Samsung about TG. Lee Tima said she had sneaked a look when IU wasn't there; the corners of the covers were curled, and the inside was filled with highlights made with a highlighter.

She had asked IU why she was studying these. IU's answer was— "I'm going to star in the drama white horse soon, and I'm experiencing and getting into the role of a CEO. Of course I have to study if I've never managed a company! I'm even planning to discuss it with President Kim Soo-yeon and learn from her."

Lee Tima said that when IU said this, she smiled very beautifully, gentle and generous, like a truly studious junior. But she always felt that there was something hidden beneath that smile, things wriggling in the dark.

Lee Tima hesitated, wanting to speak but stopping. Her lips moved several times, and each time she closed them just as she was about to make a sound. Jiang Zhiyu looked at her "I have something to say but I don't know if I should say it" look and smiled.

"When a strong wind blows down a phoenix tree, others will naturally discuss the rights and wrongs." When those fourteen words came out of his mouth, they were unhurried, as if each word had been weighed on his tongue before being released.

Lee Tima was stunned for a moment. She didn't fully understand; it wasn't that she didn't know the literal meaning, but she didn't understand why he would quote this at such a time. But she understood his tone—indifferent, uncaring, not worth his time to think about.

IU's ideas were too immature and naive; contacting Samsung would only make her a pawn. She thought she was using Samsung, but in reality, Samsung was using her. She thought she was playing a big game, but she was actually just a piece on the board, and the kind of piece that could be replaced at any time.

Lee Tima looked at his slightly narrowed eyes; he was looking into the void, and there was no window in the direction he was looking, only a wall. There were a few pieces of soundproofing cotton stuck to the wall, gray-black. He was looking in that direction, but not exactly at that direction. His gaze passed through the wall, through the building, through the city's night sky, and landed on some place she couldn't see.

"In a little while—" His voice was very light, "In a little while."

He let out a "heh" laugh. The laugh wasn't loud, spilling from deep in his throat like the surging of an underground river beneath ice, carrying disdain—disdain for IU's little tricks— "What do you think you are doing? Do you think you can hurt me?"

It carried certainty, a confirmation of his own control— "No matter how much you struggle, you won't escape my grasp." It carried a possessiveness of being about to control something; he looked into the void, imagining that scene. He had waited for that day for a long time.

Lee Tima watched that laugh, and the hair on the back of her neck stood up one by one, spreading from the base of her spine upwards, passing through her back, her neck, and all the way to her scalp.

It wasn't that she hadn't seen Jiang Zhiyu smile; she had seen many kinds of smiles from him—his smile at work was polite and distant, his smile when teasing her was gentle and doting, and his smile when he was with Kim Minjeong and the others was relaxed and happy. But she had never seen him smile like that, like a knife wrapped in velvet—you couldn't see the blade, but you knew it was very sharp.

How could this laugh be exactly the same as IU's? No, not exactly the same. IU's smile floated on the surface, like a layer of oil. Jiang Zhiyu's smile seeped out from his bones, like blood. But that feeling of "controlling everything"—exactly the same.

"Zhiyu Oppa save—" She just wanted to say "help," but then thought it wasn't right. Save from what? Had he harmed her? No. Would he harm her? No. But she just felt a chill down her spine. No, wait, Soo-yeon Unnie save me! Zhiyu Oppa and IU Unnie are definitely not right! They are the same kind of people! Her heart was roaring.

Jiang Zhiyu looked at her "I'm scared and I want to run" look and waved his hand at her. "It's nothing, go play."

Lee Tima stood up and ran away without even saying a word. The door closed behind her. With a "bang."

The recording studio quieted down. There was only the "hissing" of the radiator and the rustling of the falling snow outside the window. Jiang Zhiyu sat in the chair, his gaze falling into the void.

There was nothing there, but he saw many things there—IU's face, Samsung's contract, SM's equity structure, Bae Joo-hyun's lips.

His fingers unconsciously touched his own lips. His fingertips brushed lightly over his lower lip, from left to right, from right to left. The sensation was soft and warm.

That night, in the private room of the barbecue restaurant, his lips had touched her lips. That kiss was very short, only touching the petals of her lips. He didn't stick out his tongue, didn't go any further, and didn't even have time to feel her temperature before he ran away.

At this moment, sitting in the empty recording studio, the snow outside was still falling, and the radiator was still "hissing." He closed his eyes. He remembered that scene again. Bae Joo-hyun sat in front of him, and the light from the wall lamp outlined a soft contour on her profile. Her eyes were bright, and her lips were soft.

Just wait, Bae Joo-hyun. You woman who stole my first kiss.

The corners of his mouth curved into an arc. Not one, I was the one who initiated kissing you. It was me who initiated. I kissed you. And then I ran away.

He opened his eyes and looked at the ceiling; the fluorescent tube above his head made a "buzzing" sound, and the light was very white, illuminating the whole recording studio like an operating room.

He thought of what Lee Tima just said about "IU's smile being extremely eerie." What was IU thinking when she smiled? Imagining the day she controlled TG, imagining the day she acquired SM, imagining the day she stood at the highest position and looked down on everyone.

He was also smiling, thinking of the same thing. It's just that what he wanted wasn't to control IU, wasn't to control Samsung, wasn't to control TG or SM. What he wanted was a face. A face exactly the same as that person.

He wanted that person by his side. Whether smiling, crying, angry, or expressionless. As long as she was there. This was his possessiveness.

He stood up from the chair and walked to the window. Snowflakes were still falling. The Seoul outside the window became quiet and gentle in the snow. The distant Namsan Tower was shrouded in snow mist, appearing and disappearing.

He reached out and wrote a character on the glass— "Bae". After writing it, he looked at it, then reached out and wiped it away. He pulled down his sleeves, turned, and left the recording studio. The door closed behind him. With a "bang."

The snow outside the window was still falling, and a little water mark remained on that glass, left when he wiped away that character. Soon, that water mark was also dried by the heating. No trace was left.

Author PS: Wait, it seems it was Jiang Zhiyu who initiated it, right? He kissed Bae Joo-hyun, he was the one who stole the first kiss, he was the one who stole Bae Joo-hyun's first kiss. He mentally put this account on Bae Joo-hyun's head—who told you to be so beautiful, who told you to sit in front of me, who told you to look at me with those eyes. You stole my reason, I stole your first kiss. We're even.

He walked in the building corridor, his footsteps echoing on the floor. The corridor was long, and the lights were bright. His shadow was stretched very long, cast on the floor like a silent guardian.

In his coat pocket, that silver phone lit up—the "guardian of princess wonyoung" account received a new private message. He didn't look. Because he knew it was probably someone scolding him again. It didn't matter; he had plenty of alt accounts anyway.

He pushed open the main door and walked into the snow. Snowflakes fell on his shoulders, fell on his hair.

The first snow of 2021 came a little earlier than in previous years.

—

The news of Kim Minjeong's solo single was released by SM at the end of November. At ten o'clock that morning, the official SM account released a concept photo—Kim Minjeong wearing a white sweater, standing in the snow, looking up, snowflakes falling on her eyelashes, with a faint smile on her mouth.

The caption read: "Winter's solo, coming soon." A few short lines, like a bomb exploding in the fan circle.

[part:gemini-2.5-flash]

As aespa is undoubtedly one of the top five groups at this stage, their fandom is diverse: toxic solo stans, CP stans, group stans, anti-fans, career stans, and casual fans, bubbling like a pot of boiling porridge. Among them, the power of toxic solo stans is mainly a three-way standoff between Karina, Kim Minjeong, and Ningning. Karina's fans are the most numerous and have the strongest fighting power; Kim Minjeong's fans have the highest loyalty and strongest cohesion; Ningning's fans have an overwhelming advantage overseas (especially in China). Uchinaga Eri remains relatively unknown, but she doesn't mind, as the difference in strength is a fact. Her fans also don't mind, content to follow someone they can trust.

After the solo news broke, the comment section instantly exploded. Some fans cheered, while others questioned, expressed anger, or mocked. "Why? A solo debut just one year after debuting? Are they royalty?" "Is Winter the main vocalist? I thought aespa's main vocalist was Ningning?" Some even wrote sarcastically, "SM's royalty is truly unprecedented; they've been promoted since their Trainee days, continued to be promoted after debut, and now they're getting a solo." Others pointed fingers at Jiang Zhiyu—"Isn't Jiang Zhiyu President Jiang of TG Entertainment? Why does he write songs for SM Entertainment every day? Is there some unspeakable relationship?" This single sentence ignited a powder keg, and the comment section accumulated thousands of replies within ten minutes.

The topics were not limited to "Why can Kim Minjeong have a solo?" "Why not Karina/Ningning?" or "Royalty," but also included personal attacks and slander. Some comments were utterly ridiculous—"Are Jiang Zhiyu and Kim Minjeong dating? Otherwise, why is he so good to her?" Others fabricated so-called "secret meeting" details, claiming they "spent time alone in the TG Entertainment building late at night" or "were photographed eating together." Some accounts even spread sexual rumors, using veiled language to imply an inappropriate relationship between the two. "guardian of princess wonyoung" liked that sexual rumor comment, followed by a "slip of the hand," but he didn't unlike it. That account was given to Kim Minjeong by Jiang Zhiyu, and Kim Minjeong usually had a lot of fun using it to curse at people. She was using her alternate account to browse comments related to her solo news when she saw that sexual rumor comment and couldn't resist liking it for a moment. She immediately unliked it afterward, but the screenshot had already been saved by someone with ulterior motives. She couldn't explain, saying "I didn't like that"—who would believe it? Saying "I liked it by mistake"—who would believe it? Saying she was Kim Minjeong herself—that would be even worse. So she didn't explain.

The tone of the comments quickly shifted from scolding royalty to mocking Kim Minjeong—"From now on, we'll call you Sister Slip-of-the-Hand." When Kim Minjeong saw these comments, she flipped her phone over onto the table and lay on the Practice Room floor. She didn't tell anyone, processing it alone. The news reached Jiang Zhiyu and Kim Young-min. Kim Young-min's call came, his voice carrying that chilling gentleness characteristic of an old fox.

"President Jiang, it's fine for young people to date, but don't be so high-profile." Jiang Zhiyu's fingers tightened on his phone, his knuckles turning white. "We're not dating."

Kim Young-min laughed. "I know, I know. Young people always say that. But you two are public figures, so you need to be more mindful of your influence. It doesn't matter much for you, as you're not an artist; Minjeong is an idol, in her rising period, don't let something like this affect her image." His tone was like an elder advising a junior. But Jiang Zhiyu knew he was teasing him.

Shibal. Jiang Zhiyu cursed inwardly. He had clashed with Kim Young-min many times, going head-to-head at the negotiating table, and arguing forcefully in the conference room. He had never lost, but this time he had lost completely, suffering in silence. He leaned back weakly in his chair, "Yes, I understand." Kim Young-min gave a few more instructions, like "work hard" and "take care of yourself," as if he were concerned about a junior. Jiang Zhiyu listened, replying "Yes," "Okay," "I understand" to every sentence, like a primary school student being lectured by a teacher.

The call ended, and Jiang Zhiyu placed his phone on the desk, staring at the ceiling. The leather of the executive chair made a slight friction sound as he turned it, then turned it again, and stopped. There were a few thin cracks on the ceiling, and the light from the fluorescent tubes leaked through them, drawing fine lines of light on the white ceiling. He stared at those lines for a while, various thoughts swirling in his mind—those comments, those rumors, Kim Young-min's teasing, Kim Minjeong's expression when she saw those comments. She said "Mianhae Oppa," she had already sent this message, she was probably lying on the Practice Room floor right now, face buried in her arms, phone beside her, screen down.

Kim Minjeong's message came quickly, as if she had been holding her phone, waiting for this moment. "Mianhae Oppa." She only apologized, no explanation, no defense. He typed a long paragraph forcefully on his phone screen—"Why did you like that comment? Don't you know I'm managing that account now? Don't you know everyone now thinks I'm liking your sexual rumors? Don't you know Kim Young-min called to tease me? Don't you know how embarrassed I am right now?" He read it after typing, then read it again. His finger hovered over the send button, every word like a knife, which if sent, would cut her all over. He deleted one word, then another, until there was nothing left in the input box. He locked his screen and placed his phone face down on the table.

After about ten seconds, the phone vibrated again. He flipped it over to look—"Oppa, you're not angry, are you? I'm Oppa's favorite Minjeong!" His heart felt like it had been gently bumped by something. He didn't reply, but before locking the screen, he sent a long string of ellipses, then placed the phone face down on the table. He didn't want her to see "read," didn't want her to feel anxious while waiting for a reply. But he also didn't know what to reply. "Not angry"—that would be false. "Angry"—that would make her even sadder. So he sent ellipses, as if to say, "I know, I understand, but I also need time to process."

He closed his eyes. Her image flashed in his mind, the first time she walked into the SM Entertainment Practice Room, with a ponytail, wearing a school uniform, 14 years old, timidly looking at him. He thought at the time, "This child is so young." She is still young now, four years younger than him, like his sister. He was used to ruffling her hair, used to her saying "Oppa, I'm hungry" and taking her to eat, used to her saying "Oppa, I'm tired" and letting her rest on his shoulder, used to her saying "Oppa, I like you the most" and ruffling her hair. But she is not his sister, she is Kim Minjeong, aespa's Winter, an idol who released a solo single and was called royalty by the entire internet, a victim of sexual rumors, and the Sister Slip-of-the-Hand who liked a negative comment. He should protect her, but he failed. He didn't protect her well, and instead harmed her.

He got up and picked up his phone. He opened KakaoTalk and clicked into Kim Minjeong's chat. He typed a few words—"By the way, Minjeong, your birthday is coming up soon, isn't it?" That was his decision after thinking for a while. He couldn't reply "not angry"—too fake; couldn't reply "angry"—too harsh; couldn't reply with ellipses—too perfunctory. So he had to change the subject, to a warm, anticipated topic—her birthday.

Kim Minjeong's reply was almost instantaneous, so fast it was as if she had been staring at the screen, just waiting for him to say the next thing. "Oppa, our birthdays are only five days apart!" She sent an emoji with wide eyes and an O-shaped mouth. He remembered when she first debuted, at a fan signing, she told fans, "My birthday is January 1st, and Oppa's birthday is December 26th, so Oppa and I are a New Year's Eve Couple!" The fans screamed, she let it slip, and her face was red for a long time.

Jiang Zhiyu's lips curved into a very faint smile. Kim Minjeong's messages poured in one after another, each one like a work report. "Ji-min Unnie said she wants to give you a surprise, secretly, I saw her searching for gloves on Naver~" Karina sending gloves, what color would she choose? Black? Brown? Dark gray? Or her favorite purple? "Ningning is treating everyone to Korean BBQ." Ningning always says "order whatever you want" when she treats, and then looks at the bill in silence for a long time after every meal. "Aeri Unnie already bought an Apple Watch, silver."

Uchinaga Eri sent an Apple Watch, silver. She's the kind of person who chooses gifts carefully, frowning slightly as she asks, "Does this color look good?" "Is this function practical?" And after choosing, she'll ask, "Do you think she'll like it?" And after receiving a gift, she'll say, "Thank you, Unnie." Kim Minjeong's message arrived—"What I'm giving... is a secret!" Jiang Zhiyu could almost see her expression when she sent that message—she would lower her head, poking the screen with her finger, a hint of "I won't tell you" triumph on her lips.

"Minjeong..." He typed these three words, the rest of the content still undecided. Kim Minjeong's next message came again. "Ah! Oppa, no tattling! If Ji-min Unnie and the others find out, I'm doomed (ó﹏ò｡)" She sent a crying emoji.

"You were the one who said it." He could almost hear her wailing. She was probably lying on her bed, face buried in a pillow, kicking her legs wildly.

"Minjeong, since our birthdays are close, how about we celebrate together?" His finger paused on the send button. He thought about it, then sent it. This wasn't the first time he'd suggested celebrating together, but before, it was always casual, "we'll see," "depending on the situation." This time he was serious. "I'll get you a gift then."

Kim Minjeong's message was quite long, using many exclamation marks. "Really?!!!! (≧∀≦) Oppa, you're not lying to me, are you? You're definitely not lying to me, are you? You're not just trying to coax me, are you?" Although he couldn't see her expression, he could imagine her excited and expectant look.

Then, her message became regretful. "But then it wouldn't be a special day... Let's forget it. I hope Oppa can enjoy his birthday alone, just like me." He smiled inwardly. This child, clearly wanting to celebrate together, but also thinking of the other person, afraid she would affect his "special day." He didn't know what she meant by "special"—perhaps solitude, perhaps contemplating the future, perhaps doing things she usually didn't have time for.

His lips curved upwards as he typed a line. "Minjeong, what I mean is—I want to celebrate my birthday with you."

This time, Kim Minjeong's reply was very short, with three exclamation marks, followed by a text message. "Oppa, I'm blushing." It was accompanied by a sticker—a shy puppy covering its face, with blushing cheeks Photoshopped on both sides. He didn't know where she found this image, perhaps saved from a fan, perhaps made with software herself, or perhaps she had kept it specifically to send to him.

Jiang Zhiyu smiled at the sticker. He rested his chin on his hand, propping up his head. Outside the window, the sky was grey; in November in Seoul, days are short and nights are long, and it was dark before five o'clock. He sat there, thinking about things—Kim Minjeong's birthday, his birthday, the gifts they sent, Han-ah's gloves, Ningning's Korean BBQ treat, Aeri's Apple Watch, Kim Minjeong's secret gift, like an unsolved riddle.

He opened the cabinet. It was a dark wooden cabinet, placed in the corner of the office, rarely opened, holding some important documents and personal items. He took out a light blue jewelry gift box from it. It wasn't big, palm-sized, tied with a white silk ribbon, the ribbon shimmering slightly under the light. This was the first key to TG Entertainment's entry into the high-end jewelry industry, and also a test product. What kind of test it was couldn't be revealed yet. He wasn't sure if a newly debuted female idol could bear this weight.

His original plan was to make Karina the core around 2023, coupled with TG Entertainment's then-mature high-end jewelry industry, and have her take the route of a top luxury brand ambassador. By then, aespa would have debuted for almost three years, and Karina's personal influence would have reached its peak. Her face—that face called "AI visuals"—was most suitable for endorsing jewelry, cool, sophisticated, with a sense of distance, wearing diamonds like stars embedded in the night sky. But it was late 2021, more than a year away from 2023. He wasn't sure if a newly debuted female idol could bear this important task, not because she wasn't qualified—her popularity, buzz, and personal charm were all sufficient. What she lacked was "experience," the data, industry, and public recognition that would convince brand owners.

Jiang Zhiyu thought for a moment, put the necklace back in the box, and closed the lid. He set it aside. He picked up the documents on his desk and continued to handle official business—those plans for next year, cooperation contracts, investment proposals, each page requiring his signature. The sky outside the window changed from grey to dark, streetlights came on, and their orange-yellow light shone on the windowsill. He signed the last document, put down his pen, glanced at the light blue gift box, and reached out to move it to the corner of the table.

On the screen was a plan for aespa's winter Comeback, with over ten pages left to read. His fingers tapped on the keyboard, his brows slightly furrowed. The light outside the window changed from grey to dark, streetlights came on, and their orange-yellow light shone on the glass, casting a blurry halo on the desktop. He rubbed his eyes, then continued to read.

Kim Minjeong's message never came again. He also didn't check his phone.