447: Chapter 500 Ou Ou

The banquet at the The Shilla Hotel was scheduled for February 10th.

The invitations had arrived at the TG Entertainment building two days ago—not one, but two.

One came from Lee Jae-yong, Vice Chairman of Samsung Electronics and the de facto controller of Samsung.

The other came from Lee Boo-jin, President of the The Shilla Hotel and Lee Jae-yong's younger sister.

Two invitations, two dates, with times nearly identical; the meaning was clear—make a choice.

Jiang Zhiyu placed the two invitations side by side on the coffee table in the herb garden. Sunlight streamed in from outside the glass wall, falling upon the two dark blue cards, the gold-stamped lettering gleaming with a subtle luster in the light.

Kim Soo-yeon leaned back on the lounge chair, holding a cup of jujube tea that had already gone cold, her gaze shifting from one invitation to the other.

She didn't speak, and neither did Jiang Zhiyu.

In the herb garden, there was only the sound of the wind and the occasional blare of car horns from afar.

"I will go see Lee Jae-yong." Kim Soo-yeon spoke up, her voice not loud.

Jiang Zhiyu opened his eyes on the wooden bed and looked at her. "No." Those two words were spoken very softly.

Kim Soo-yeon's eyebrows twitched slightly.

"You go talk to Lee Boo-jin. The management rights of the The Shilla Hotel are in her hands. Her relationship with Lee Jae-yong isn't exactly good; Lee Boo-jin can't compete with Lee Jae-yong, so she needs another source of support." Jiang Zhiyu's voice was calm, every word sounding as if it had been weighed before being released.

Kim Soo-yeon set down her teacup. "You're going to handle Lee Jae-yong alone?" Her voice rose by half a note.

Jiang Zhiyu got off the wooden bed, his bare feet touching the floor, and walked over to the coffee table to pick up and open Lee Jae-yong's invitation.

"Samsung is an insurmountable hurdle in South Korea; we will have to face it sooner or later." His fingers lightly traced the gold-stamped lettering.

"Lee Jae-yong is not like those conglomerate heads you've met before. Those people—SK, Hyundai, LG—the reason for their attitude toward you is because you are of their juniors' generation, you are the Student Council President of Shengyuan High School, and you have the background of a Middle Continent state-owned enterprise under Tianzhou Group."

His voice lowered. "Here, no one has heard of Tianzhou Group, and no one knows about Middle Continent state-owned enterprises. Your halo doesn't shine here. This inequality in perspective will cause you to lose the initiative. You will be led by the nose by them, manipulated by them."

Kim Soo-yeon fell silent. She knew he was right.

At Shengyuan High School, she was the President, and everyone had to give way to her.

In the Middle Continent, she was the daughter of Tianzhou Group, and those conglomerate heads looked at her with the expression of "the younger generation is to be regarded with respect."

But here, in Seoul, in front of Samsung, she was nothing.

Those people wouldn't think higher of her because of her former status as Student Council President, nor would they be wary of her because of her family's background.

In this country, Samsung is a different kind of existence. It is not a corporation; it is a kingdom. Lee Jae-yong is not just a president; he is the crown prince.

Jiang Zhiyu put the invitation back on the coffee table and looked at Kim Soo-yeon. A curve formed at the corners of his mouth—not a smile, but a curve tinged with the flavor of reminiscence.

"I have attended countless instances of insincere pleasantries and treacherous feasts." His voice was very soft. "I am someone who was almost chosen as the junior secretary to the Middle Alliance leader. You are just a generational songstress, while I am the first genius in the support class in a hundred years. Do you know what that means?" He lifted his chin slightly.

Kim Soo-yeon looked at him, the corners of her mouth twitching. "Compared to politicians, the moral character of businessmen is still a bit higher." She picked up the teacup and took a sip; the tea had gone completely cold.

Jiang Zhiyu smiled. "It's not like we haven't experienced political infighting." His tone carried a hint of self-mockery, yet also a certainty of "I have experience." "However, the fact that I have always succeeded in picking the right side is also my ability."

Kim Soo-yeon didn't speak again. She knew he had made up his mind, and his decisions never changed.

February 10th. In the evening in Seoul, the sky was gray, and the cloud layer hung very low.

The The Shilla Hotel is located in the Jung-gu district of Seoul, with Namsan Tower at its back and its main entrance facing a bustling street.

The gray-white building appeared solemn and cold in the winter twilight. The lights in the portico had already been lit, and the orange glow reflected a soft luster on the glass curtain wall.

The doorman, wearing a dark blue uniform and white gloves, stood straight.

A black sedan drove into the hotel's driveway; its license plate was inconspicuous, and its car emblem was understated.

The doorman stepped forward to open the door. Jiang Zhiyu emerged from the driver's seat, wearing a dark gray custom-made suit, a white shirt, a silver-gray tie, and simple, round silver cufflinks.

His hair had been styled, with a few stray strands hanging over his forehead. His expression was calm.

Kim Soo-yeon stepped out from the passenger seat, wearing a black suit skirt and a white shirt. Her hair was put up, and she wore a pair of small diamond earrings on her earlobes.

With light makeup and bean-paste colored lips, she exuded an air of cold arrogance and rationality, looking like a completely different person from the soft, cute girl who was lying on the lounge chair eating sweet potato cheese a few days ago.

Jiang Zhiyu handed the car keys to the doorman and walked to Kim Soo-yeon's side.

The two walked side by side toward the hotel entrance, their steps synchronized, neither fast nor slow. The revolving door turned slowly in front of them, reflecting their figures on the glass.

"Have you reviewed all the information?" Jiang Zhiyu's voice was low.

"I've reviewed it all." Kim Soo-yeon's gaze was fixed ahead.

"We haven't been fully figured out by Samsung yet, so Lee Boo-jin won't try to pressure us with her status." Jiang Zhiyu's voice lowered.

"But you need to be more patient and cherish this opportunity more. When interacting with people like this, you must observe. Think carefully about every sentence, let it pass through your mind once before deciding whether to say it."

Kim Soo-yeon frowned. "What will she ask of us?"

Jiang Zhiyu looked at the revolving door that was getting closer. "Whatever it is—as long as it doesn't involve AI virtual technology and that ethnic Chinese family, we can talk. But don't make any promises." His voice was calm. "We only have one goal today—to make the Lee family guess. Guess our background, guess our capabilities, guess how much profit we will bring to Samsung. We won't take sides, but we can lean." He paused. "I will do the same when dealing with Lee Jae-yong."

The revolving door opened slowly before them. The lights of the hotel lobby poured out, orange and warm, carrying a sense of "welcome" that felt distant.

The marble floor was so polished it was like a mirror, reflecting the fragmented light of the crystal chandeliers. The receptionists were wearing dark uniforms, smiling. Guests sat in twos and threes in the lobby bar, chatting in low voices, the coffee cups making faint clinking sounds against the saucers.

Kim Soo-yeon took a deep breath. The air entered through her nasal cavity, passed through her throat and trachea, and reached her chest.

Her back straightened even more, her chin lifted slightly, and her gaze switched from "daily mode" to "combat mode."

She was no longer the girl eating sweet potato cheese in the herb garden; she was the President of TG Entertainment, the youngest invitee at today's banquet, an existence that even the Samsung Lee family had to take seriously.

Jiang Zhiyu glanced at her from the corner of his eye, a faint curve forming at the corners of his mouth. The two walked through the lobby toward the banquet hall. Their leather shoes made crisp sounds on the marble floor—tap, tap, tap—carrying a sense of a countdown.

The banquet hall was on the second floor. As the elevator doors opened, there were already some people in the hallway—men and women in formal attire gathered in small groups, holding champagne glasses, wearing polite smiles on their faces.

Someone recognized Jiang Zhiyu and nodded in greeting. He nodded back but didn't stop walking.

He recognized some of them—from the political world, the business world, the entertainment industry. Every face had appeared on the news before; at this moment, they were all wrapped in alcohol and smiles, turning into the same appearance.

Kim Soo-yeon followed half a step behind him, her gaze sweeping over their faces without lingering.

The two walked to the entrance of the banquet hall. Kim Soo-yeon stopped. She looked at Jiang Zhiyu, and he looked at her.

"I will go see Lee Boo-jin." Her voice was calm.

"Go ahead." Jiang Zhiyu's voice was also calm.

Kim Soo-yeon turned and walked in the other direction. Her back was straight, her pace composed.

The hem of her black suit skirt swayed gently with her steps, and her hair was put up meticulously at the back of her head. She did not look back.

Jiang Zhiyu didn't look at her either; his gaze had already fallen on the half-open door in front. Behind the door was Lee Jae-yong's banquet hall.

He adjusted his cufflinks and took a deep breath. The air entered through his nasal cavity, passed through his throat and trachea, and reached his chest.

His heartbeat was steady, over sixty beats per minute, about the same as when he was meditating in the herb garden. He pushed open the door and walked in.

The river-view office was on the top floor of the The Shilla Hotel. The floor-to-ceiling windows extended from the ceiling to the floor, the entire expanse of glass cutting Seoul's winter night into a huge oil painting.

The Namsan Tower was lit up in the distance, and the Han River wound through the heart of the city like a black ribbon; the neon lights on both banks reflected on the water, shattering into pieces of fine light spots.

The heating in the office was strong, but that warmth wasn't cozy; it was a kind of warmth compressed by the enclosed space, carrying a hint of stuffiness.

Lee Boo-jin sat on the sofa, wearing a dark high-end custom suit. Her hair was put up meticulously, she wore a pair of simple diamond earrings on her earlobes, her makeup was exquisite, and her lips were a low-key bean-paste color.

Her fingers were slender and fair, and she wore a thin ring on her ring finger—not a wedding ring, but a family ring. The Samsung emblem gleamed slightly under the light.

A woman nearing fifty, well-maintained, she looked only in her early forties.

Her face wore a polite smile, but that smile was professional; the curve of her mouth and the depth of the fine lines at the corners of her eyes were standard expressions polished through years of social occasions.

She had been waiting for a while. There were two cups of tea on the coffee table; one had already gone a bit cold—it was her own. The other was still steaming—it was for the guest.

She was waiting for a young person, an eighteen-year-old girl. Eighteen—she chewed over this number in her mind several times.

What was she doing when she was eighteen? Studying in Switzerland, walking on the streets of Geneva in a school uniform, having vague and grand visions for the future.

At that time, she didn't know that decades later, she would be sitting on the top floor of a hotel under Samsung, waiting for a girl of the same age to come and talk to her about cooperation.

The door opened.

[part:gemini-3.0-flash]

Kim Soo-yeon walked in. She wore a black suit skirt and a white shirt, her hair pinned up to reveal a smooth forehead and ears. Small pearl earrings adorned her lobes—not diamonds, but pearls, their gentle luster appearing low-key and restrained under the incandescent lights. Her pace was steady, her leather shoes making no sound on the carpet. Her back was ramrod straight, and her chin was slightly tilted up, radiating a cold and rational aura. Lee Boo-jin watched her enter, her gaze sweeping over her face, her gait, and her overall posture. The title flashed through her mind—Han River Genius Idol Girl. From her debut to being courted by SM and JYP, to turning around and becoming the President of TG Entertainment, every step she took was at the center of public attention. An eighteen-year-old President, leading an equally young genius President, had built an obscure little company into a conglomerate spanning real estate, high-tech, catering, clothing, and agriculture in just a few short years. Every investment project was highly profitable, and every decision was as precise as if someone were guiding her from behind. It was truly hard to understand whether she was human or—

“First time meeting you, President Lee. I am Kim Soo-yeon of TG Entertainment.” Her voice was neither high nor low, sounding exceptionally clear in the quiet office. Kim Soo-yeon bowed slightly at just the right angle—not a forced ninety-degree bow, nor a casual nod, but a perfect curve that expressed respect without appearing subservient.

Lee Boo-jin snapped back from her thoughts, her lips curving into a proper smile. “Hello, Chairwoman Kim. Please, have a seat.” She gestured with her hand toward the opposite sofa.

Kim Soo-yeon sat down across from her, her back still perfectly straight and her hands folded over her knees, not leaning against the back of the chair. Her posture was the result of training since childhood—at Shengyuan High School and in those settings where she had to interact with political and business elites. Kim Soo-yeon had known from a young age that etiquette was another language, one that could make the other person feel your weight without saying a single word.

Lee Boo-jin observed the girl opposite her, her gaze lingering on her face for a moment. That face was still very young, the skin fair and delicate without any traces of time. Her eyes were clear, her eyelashes slightly lowered, and her gaze was as calm as a deep pool of water. There was no youthful awkwardness or nervousness appropriate for an eighteen-year-old in that look, only a composed, certain, and indifferent calm, as if she had seen through everything. “Chairwoman Kim is much younger than I imagined,” she said with a hint of a smile.

The corners of Kim Soo-yeon’s mouth curved upward. “President Lee is also more elegant than I expected.” She used the word “elegant,” not “beautiful,” “young,” or “classy.” The word “elegant” carried more weight; it was something that only came with the passage of time, something that youth could not compare to and money could not buy.

Lee Boo-jin laughed, a smile more genuine than before. The curve of her mouth widened slightly, and the fine lines at the corners of her eyes deepened a bit. She found it interesting, very interesting. This child was smarter than she had imagined. She wasn’t using her age to show weakness; she was using it to show strength—Look at me, I’m so young and yet so capable; could you have done this at my age? She was telling her in another way: I’m not here to beg you; I’m here to speak with you as an equal.

Kim Soo-yeon picked up her teacup and took a sip. “President Jiang happens to have an appointment, so I am the only one here. I hope President Lee doesn’t mind.” Her voice was calm.

Lee Boo-jin, of course, knew where Jiang Zhiyu was. The Shilla Hotel was her territory; from the lobby to the banquet halls, from the elevators to the corridors, she had eyes and ears everywhere. Jiang Zhiyu going to see Lee Jae-yong was not a secret. She didn’t point it out, merely smiling. “Of course I don’t mind,” she said, her tone as breezy as if she were saying, “The weather is nice today.”

“Chairwoman Kim, may I call you Soo-yeon?” Her voice softened slightly.

Kim Soo-yeon set down her teacup and looked up at her. There was no surprise or flattery in those clear eyes, only a calm, certain realization, as if she had long expected such a question. “Of course, no problem—” The corners of her mouth tilted up slightly. “Sister Boo-jin.”

Those three words—“Sister Boo-jin”—came out of her mouth at a moderate pace and tone, neither too intimate nor too distant. It was like a younger sister calling an older sister she had known for many years, as natural as breathing. Lee Boo-jin was stunned for a moment. The stun was brief, like a shooting star across the night sky, but she was indeed stunned. Her fingers tightened slightly on her knees.

Sister Boo-jin. That title reminded her of many things. It had been a long time since anyone had called her that. Not “President Lee,” not “Representative Lee,” not “Noona.” It was “Sister Boo-jin.” It carried an intimate, natural closeness, as if saying, “We don’t need those formalities between us.” This kind of closeness had become increasingly rare after her father passed away and she was pushed out of Samsung’s core management. People were respectful, polite, and distant toward her. Not because they hated her, but because they feared the power behind her—or more accurately, the power she had already lost.

Was Kim Soo-yeon calling her “Sister Boo-jin” out of closeness, as a test, or as a statement of attitude? This girl was certainly bold to dare call her that at their first meeting. Such an abrupt and offensive move could make one feel repulsed, but also curious. Why did she dare to do this? Was it because she didn’t know the rules, or because she simply didn’t care about them? Was it because she had nothing to fear, or because she felt that calling her that was the right thing to do?

Lee Boo-jin didn’t have much time to dwell on it. For TG to grow and develop so rapidly, besides the excellence of the company’s leaders, it was more importantly about the people who were cultivated. This eighteen-year-old girl’s composure, her calm, and her “Sister Boo-jin” didn’t come out of thin air. They came from somewhere, from some kind of support, from some kind of background. A background that she couldn’t find. Even with Samsung’s intelligence network, she couldn’t find it. What did that mean? Either that background didn’t exist at all, or it was so large that even Samsung couldn’t find it. She leaned toward the latter.

Kim Soo-yeon looked at her, her clear eyes as calm as a lake. She knew what Lee Boo-jin was thinking, what she was struggling with, and what she was weighing. She picked up her teacup and took another sip.

“Sister Boo-jin, do you know why I invited you and President Jiang to meet?” Lee Boo-jin threw out the topic.

Kim Soo-yeon set down her teacup and folded her hands over her knees. “Sister Boo-jin naturally has her own thoughts.” Her gaze moved from the teacup to Lee Boo-jin’s face. “But if I were to guess—it should be matters related to TG. The Shilla Hotel’s development is restricted; although the profits are considerable, Sister Boo-jin wants to pursue a broader value.” Her voice was very calm, as if she were reading from a textbook. But every word was like a precise chess piece landing exactly where it should.

“Value”—when that word came out of Kim Soo-yeon’s mouth, it was given a certain weight. Not economic value, not commercial value, but life value, the meaning of existence, the stubbornness of a woman nearly fifty years old who refused to admit defeat after experiencing family struggles, power struggles, and the ups and downs of life. She was the eldest daughter of Lee Kun-hee, the Princess of Samsung. She could have had more; she could have inherited her father’s kingdom. But she didn’t; she lost, lost to her brother. She didn’t hate him, for this was family politics and the rules set by her father. But she was unwilling—unwilling to spend the rest of her life guarding a single hotel, even if that hotel was the top one in South Korea.

She also had a child, a boy, a child with Samsung inheritance rights. That child was still young; in ten or twenty years, he would grow up and face a choice. Would he join Samsung’s power game or stay out of it? No matter what he chose, he would need his mother’s support. And his mother’s support couldn’t come from just a single hotel.

Kim Soo-yeon’s sentence almost instantly made Lee Boo-jin understand the reason for her aggressive approach. The offense of calling her sister at their first meeting wasn’t to curry favor, but to tell her—I can stand with you, not as superior and subordinate, not as senior and junior, but as sisters. That kind of relationship was deeper than cooperation, closer than an alliance, and more unreliable than any commercial contract because it was built on trust. And trust was the most expensive thing in the world.

Lee Boo-jin looked up and met those clear eyes. In those eyes, there was cunning, experience, and a transparency that transcended her age. She was looking at Lee Boo-jin, waiting for her to speak.

“You’re right.” Lee Boo-jin smiled. “A broader value. For example—reputation, public praise, influence.” Her voice slowed down, every word weighed before being released. “Soo-yeon, what do you think The Shilla Hotel needs?”

Kim Soo-yeon knew that she would lead the rest of the conversation. She had figured out Lee Boo-jin’s weakness: her child. It wasn’t a threat, but understanding. Not exploitation, but empathy. she also had a mother, and she knew that after a woman had a child, the world became different. All decisions, all trade-offs, all advances and retreats would gain an extra dimension, becoming “What happens to my child if I am gone?” This innate maternal instinct was armor and an Achilles' heel. It could make a person so strong they were indestructible, or so fragile they would collapse at a single touch.

Kim Soo-yeon smiled inwardly. That smile didn’t appear on her face, only flashing through her eyes for a moment. Lee Boo-jin had reached her current position through her own abilities, not her family or her husband. She had talent, ability, tactics, and vision. But no matter how talented or capable a woman was, once she had offspring, her innate maternal instinct would force her to consider them. This wasn’t necessarily a good thing, but for the person on the other side of the negotiating table, it was a godsend.

She wasn’t without weaknesses; her weaknesses were just hidden very deeply. And Kim Soo-yeon had found them.

“The Shilla Hotel doesn’t need more guest rooms, more luxurious renovations, or more high-end restaurants,” Kim Soo-yeon said calmly. “It needs a story. A story that makes people willing to walk in, sit down, and stay. Not the story of a ‘hotel,’ but the story of a ‘home.’ Not a ‘business venue,’ but a ‘place where people are willing to entrust their important moments.’”

Lee Boo-jin fell silent for a moment. Then she smiled. This time, the smile was different from before—it wasn’t a “proper smile” or a “professional smile,” but a smile from the heart, one of relief as if saying, “I’ve found it.” She picked up her teacup and raised it toward Kim Soo-yeon. “Soo-yeon, you really are a very interesting child.”

Kim Soo-yeon also picked up her teacup and lightly clinked it against hers. The sound of the cups clinking was crisp and short, echoing in the quiet office.

Outside the window, Seoul’s night continued. The lights of Namsan Tower were still flashing, the Han River was still flowing, and neon lights were still shimmering on both banks. This city’s power games would never stop because of one person’s smile.