450: Chapter 503 Invitation

The reception room was on one of the floors of the Samsung headquarters building; Jiang Zhiyu didn't pay attention to which floor exactly it was. When the door was pushed open, he noticed the carpet was twice as thick as the one in the corridor, feeling like walking on clouds. The leather of the sofa was very soft, the kind where one would sink completely into it, but he didn't sink in. He only sat on one-third of it, his back straight, his posture relaxed yet proper. A pot of freshly brewed tea sat on the coffee table, the cups made of white porcelain with a warm, smooth glaze, and a plate of exquisite pastries was placed next to them. Outside the floor-to-ceiling window was the Seoul skyline, with Namsan Tower standing on the left side of his view, the lights at its peak already beginning to flicker.

Four female assistants stood at different positions in the reception room. It wasn't an intentional guard post, but rather a well-trained, not-too-close, not-too-far distance, always ready to serve. They wore matching dark skirt suits, their hair meticulously tied up, their makeup exquisite, and their expressions gentle. Every single one of them had a smile on her face—not a professional, fake smile, but the kind that looked very sincere yet was actually scarier than a fake smile, because you couldn't tell what they were thinking.

Jiang Zhiyu took his phone out of his pocket and opened his notes app. His fingers danced rapidly across the screen, typing out a string of incomprehensible Chinese characters. It wasn't real Chinese, but a recording method he had created himself—a habit brought over from the Tianxuan Continent where important information could not be written down directly, but had to be recorded in a way only he could understand. Those characters looked like Chinese radicals and components that had been dismantled and randomly cobbled together; they looked like Chinese characters, but upon closer inspection, they looked like nothing at all. He was writing down a brief summary of the Samsung proposal he had just integrated in his mind. A bad pen is better than a good memory; no matter how reliable the brain's memory is, it might still fail at a critical moment. These notes were an insurance policy, and also a way out he left for himself.

The gaze of the four female assistants fell upon the phone. They were professionally trained to judge what a person was doing by observing their typing habits, eye movements, and body language. But at this moment, they were completely baffled. Those characters looked like someone had randomly tapped on the keyboard, with no logic and no sequence. It looked entirely like random gibberish. Yet, this man was typing very seriously, his fingers flying, his gaze focused, and a faint, barely noticeable curve at the corner of his lips. They memorized them diligently, drawing every "character" that appeared in their minds. This was one of their job responsibilities—to record every movement, every word, and every detail of a visitor that might reveal information. That information would be compiled into a report, gathered in the secretary's office, and then presented to the person who needed to see it. But no one would be able to understand the "characters" they recorded. This was probably his intention as well.

Jiang Zhiyu's expression was relaxed, but as his eyes drifted across the phone screen, he would occasionally use the screen's reflection to observe his surroundings. There were surveillance cameras in all four corners of the reception room—the black dome next to the chandelier, the pinhole on the bookshelf, the wide-angle lens below the TV, and the one hidden in the oil painting opposite the sofa, disguised as an ornament on the frame. He captured every single location precisely, never letting his gaze linger on any monitor for more than a fraction of a second, but his phone screen scanned every corner for him.

After making sure he hadn't missed anything, he opened KakaoTalk. His message list was densely packed with various group chats and private chats, and the number of unread messages was dizzying. He didn't open them one by one, but scrolled down. He paused when he saw a certain chat window, and then tapped into it.

Sunny's daily spam messages begging for a Lemm had been going on for a long time. Her routine was pretty much the same every day—"Jiang Zhiyu, where is my Lemm?" "Jiang Zhiyu, did you forget something?" "Jiang Zhiyu, if you don't give me a Lemm, I'm going to stage a sit-in protest downstairs at TG." Occasionally, she would change her tactics. Sometimes she would act cute: "Zhiyu-ah, Unnie is so good to you, just give Unnie one." Sometimes she would threaten: "Do you believe I'll post your childhood photos online?" And sometimes she would play the pity card: "I saw Taeyeon holding Anne again today. You know, my heart felt like it was being cut by a knife." Looking at those messages, Jiang Zhiyu's mouth twitched. He didn't reply but scrolled up to yesterday's message—"Jiang Zhiyu, I know you made a set of Red Velvet's Red Velvet Lemms. Five of them, red and translucent. Don't think I don't know. Are you giving them to me or not? If you don't, I'll go to SM to complain and say you harassed Irene, making things difficult for you." He took a screenshot of that message and saved it in his album.

Yeri's probing messages were very regular. Every time, she started with "President Jiang~", followed by a long, roundabout build-up before finally getting to the point. The build-up covered a wide range of topics, from the weather to schedules, from schedules to delicious food, from food to variety shows, and from variety shows to Bae Joo-hyun. The final topic was always Bae Joo-hyun, and every build-up about Bae Joo-hyun would eventually lead to the same photo—the one of Bae Joo-hyun pointing her finger at her own lips. It was taken by someone during their last dinner gathering, and Yeri had somehow gotten the original image, using it as her ultimate move for every probe. Whenever she sent this photo, she always attached a line. Sometimes it was, "Unnie is watching your variety show again today," sometimes, "Unnie said your song is really good," and other times, "Unnie asked why you haven't visited in so long." In the past few days, her tactic had upgraded again. After sending the photo, she would add, "President Jiang, do I count as your sister-in-law? It's not too much for a sister-in-law to ask for some pocket money, right?" Every time Jiang Zhiyu saw the words "sister-in-law," he felt an urge to throw his phone away. He screenshotted all these messages and forwarded them to Son Seung-wan. Every time, Son Seung-wan would reply with a string of exclamation marks and question marks, and then ask, "What is Yeri up to again?" Jiang Zhiyu would reply, "Ask her yourself," and Son Seung-wan would reply, "I don't dare to." The two of them tacitly maintained this "you send, I save" relationship. Of course, he had Bae Joo-hyun's contact info. With his connections and resources, adding someone on Kakao was easier than drinking water. But he didn't. He planned to ask Bae Joo-hyun himself. When they met, he would naturally take out his phone and say, "Irene-xi, let's add each other's contact info." She would probably look at him, then silently take out her phone to scan his QR code. That single look would be something he could savor for the rest of his life. He looked at the photo Yeri sent again and long-pressed to save it. This wasn't the first time he had saved it; the encrypted folder in his photo album already had dozens of photos of Bae Joo-hyun, all sent by Yeri, with Jang Wonyoung occasionally sending a few as well. Kim Taeyeon didn't send any, Karina didn't send any, and he couldn't find a reason to take a photo with Bae Joo-hyun himself. But it didn't matter; he had plenty of time.

Jang Wonyoung would also occasionally send some messages. They weren't casual chats, but questions about variety shows—"Jiang Zhiyu, how was that game segment in the variety show designed?" "Jiang Zhiyu, what kind of tone should I use when saying this line?" "Jiang Zhiyu, do you think this styling of mine looks good?" After asking, she would also show off the praise she had recently received—"During today's recording, the PD said my variety sense has improved a lot," "Manager Oppa said I look better on camera than in person," "Fans say I'm a natural-born idol." Every time, Jiang Zhiyu would tease her by calling her "universe female 1." And every time, she would leave a harsh word before disappearing—"Just you wait," "You're dead," "I'm going to block you." He had never actually been blocked.

Choi Yena's messages were mostly consultations. Her company wanted her to target Chinese fans, but she didn't know how to start. She asked what kind of idols Chinese fans liked, how to handle Chinese album sales, how to operate Weibo, and what common Chinese phrases she should learn. Jiang Zhiyu answered seriously every time, and Choi Yena took notes diligently every time. She was a good kid, just not very lucky.

Kim Minjeong's chat window was the liveliest. She often sent invitations for treats, and her routine was always the same—"Oppa, I want to eat barbecue today." "Oppa, I want to eat seafood today." "Oppa, I want to eat hotpot today." He guessed she was planning to trick him into going out so he would pay. But he would agree every time because she would send a meme—a photo of a puppy staring longingly at food, with the words "Please" photoshopped on it. He had no resistance against "Please."

Karina's messages were fewer, mostly probing about their upcoming collaborative variety show. "Oppa, is the segment design for that variety show ready?" "Oppa, has the guest list been finalized?" "Oppa, is the shooting schedule set?" Occasionally, she would slip in a death threat—"If you dare to make another variety show that causes my social death, I will kill you." The threat had zero effect because every time she sent it, she would withdraw it within a minute and add, "Sent by mistake."

Kim Taeyeon's chat window made him laugh and cry the most. She would occasionally send a message and then immediately disappear. The content of her messages was always trivial—"The weather is nice today," "Saw a cat on the road," "The coffee is delicious." Before he could even reply, she would already be offline. Not actually offline, but placing her phone face down on the table to pretend she hadn't seen it. He knew what she was waiting for; she was waiting for him to take the initiative to talk to her—not just replying, but initiating. His finger hovered over the input box for a long time, but in the end, he still didn't type anything.

There were three main group chats. "Meeting Happiness" was aespa's group chat. The name was given by Karina, and although the other members had protested many times saying the name was too cheesy, she didn't change it. The four of them chatted and bickered in the group, occasionally @ing him, and he would reply once in a while. "The President and His China Kids" was a group chat created by Song Yuqi, consisting of Chinese idols active in South Korea. Ningning was also in it, along with Chinese members from other companies. The style of this group chat was completely different from the others—memes flew everywhere, and Chinese characters packed the screen. The chat topics were wild and free, ranging from "What to eat today" to "When to return to China," and from "Missing Mom" to "Don't want to practice dancing."

"A Loving Family" was a group chat intentionally created by Lee Tima, with only four members—Jiang Zhiyu, Kim Soo-yeon, Lee Tima, and Bae Joo-hyun. The group name was chosen by Lee Tima; Bae Joo-hyun didn't object, Jiang Zhiyu didn't leave, and Kim Soo-yeon didn't say anything. That group was very quiet. On the rare occasions someone sent a message, it was always Lee Tima. The content she sent was bizarre and varied—food, scenery, selfies, funny videos, and occasionally a few photos of Bae Joo-hyun, which were very beautifully taken. Every time she sent a photo of Bae Joo-hyun, Jiang Zhiyu would save it, and then Lee Tima would send a private message—"Oppa, you received the photo, right? 50,000 won per picture, billed monthly." He replied "Okay" every time, and then transferred the money on time every month.

The wait was longer than expected. Jiang Zhiyu looked at the crystal chandelier on the ceiling, then at the sky outside the window that was gradually darkening. He silently raised his phone, opened the camera, and switched to selfie mode. He made an aggrieved expression at the camera—corners of his mouth turned down, eyebrows slightly furrowed, eyes wide open, his entire being radiating an aura of "I'm so pitiful." He didn't crop out the female assistants, intentionally capturing the four female assistants standing behind him in the frame as well. They stood in different positions, wearing matching skirt suits, with exquisite makeup and gentle expressions. The scene looked like a pitiful hostage surrounded by a group of beautiful women.

After taking the photo, he tapped on the mass-send option and selected those group chats. Then he opened KakaoTalk's status bar and posted his location—Samsung Headquarters Building. The caption read: "I've been kidnapped. Is anyone coming to Samsung to save me?"

The moment the message was sent, the phones of the four female assistants vibrated simultaneously. They didn't look at their phones, their eyes still fixed on Jiang Zhiyu. One of the assistants, whose eyes were already large, widened them even further. She rapidly processed the information of that sentence in her mind—Kidnapped? He said he was kidnapped? He sent a message saying he was kidnapped right in front of the kidnappers? Is this man really the president of TG? Oh, right, he seems to also be a crazy variety show PD. Her professionalism kept the smile on her face, but in her heart, she had already reclassified this entire situation.

Jiang Zhiyu's phone began to vibrate frantically. Message notification sounds rose and fell one after another, like a chaotic symphony, sounding exceptionally abrupt in the quiet reception room.

Sunny's reply was the fastest, so fast that it seemed as if her finger had been hovering over the screen the entire time—"Tell me where the Lemms are first before you die! Don't think I don't know, you made Red Velvet's Red Velvet Lemms, right?!" Looking at those words, Jiang Zhiyu's mouth twitched. He did make them—five of them, red and translucent, each corresponding to a member's constellation. Seulgi's was Ursa Minor, Wendy's was Cygnus, Joy's was cancer, Yeri's was gemini, and Bae Joo-hyun's was virgo. That virgo Lemm had a tiny silver crown on its head, handcrafted by him, with the name "Irene" engraved on it. They still had no idea of their existence; they didn't even know he had prepared birthday gifts for them.

[part:gemini-3.1-flash-lite]

Kim Taeyeon's message arrived. Her phrasing was a bit strange—"？？？Samsung？...Don't joke like this..." Periods replaced the ellipses, creating deliberate breaks.

Then, after a while, another one came—"The woman in the photo is quite pretty."

Jiang Zhiyu raised an eyebrow. Noona, that remark of yours is quite passive-aggressive. I've been kidnapped, and you're worried about the woman in the photo?

He typed a line—"Noona, they are Samsung employees, not mine." He thought about it, then deleted it.

He typed another line—"Noona, are you jealous?" He deleted that too. In the end, he just replied with an emoji—"".

Kim Minjeong's message was the most direct—"Oppa! I'm coming to find you right now!"

Jiang Zhiyu replied, "Are you sure you can get into Samsung with the police?" Kim Minjeong: "No." Silence. "Then Oppa, I support you in spirit."

Jiang Zhiyu: "If you care about me, then treat me to a meal!" Kim Minjeong: "Oppa, my spiritual support is priceless. What is money? Too vulgar."

Jiang Zhiyu: "Then be vulgar for once." Kim Minjeong: "Definitely next time."

Jiang Zhiyu looked at that line. "Definitely next time" was the phrase she said most often, which meant "there is no next time."

Karina only sent one message—"..." Six dots, no more, no less.

Jiang Zhiyu stared at those six dots for a long time and typed a line—"Ji-min, what do you mean by this?" After a moment—"As long as you're not dead."

The corner of Jiang Zhiyu's mouth twitched. He wanted to reply, "Are you worried about me?" but thought better of it and deleted it. He replied with—"...". Giving her a taste of her own medicine.

Jang Wonyoung sent a candle emoji. Jiang Zhiyu: "Wonyoung-ah, I'm not dead yet."

She quickly replied, "It's only a matter of time. By the way, what's the password for the guardian of princess wonyoung account? I'm going to inherit this account."

The corner of Jiang Zhiyu's mouth twitched several times. "Today, guardian of princess wonyoung is changing its name to guardian of princess Ji-min." Angry emojis poured in like a rainstorm.

Choi Yena's message was the most concise—"Daebak~"

The group chat "President and His China Kids" had already exploded. Someone posted that selfie, and someone tagged everyone—"Samsung? Such pretty female receptionists; President Jiang is blessed, hahaha."

Below it followed a string of "hahaha" and "President Jiang is quite the lucky man." Someone else asked, "President Jiang, did you go to Samsung to discuss a partnership or to go on a blind date?"

Jiang Zhiyu looked at the teasing, the corner of his mouth twitching. He silently typed a line in the input box—"I'm watching video clips of presidents slapping people, practicing the angles and how to make it painful, cool, and loud. Later, I'll use this hand that shook Lee Jae-yong's to have a crisp, intimate encounter with each of your faces, so you can also feel the aura of the head of Samsung."

Song Yuqi replied with a "Wealth aura! Will I get rich?" Jiang Zhiyu: "Yes. I'll also casually stick you into the soil and cosplay you as a wealth-bringing ginseng."

The Chinese members in the group chat started popping up—some saying "President, spare me," some saying "I was wrong," and some saying "I'm going to write a self-reflection right now." Song Yuqi replied again, "Then President Jiang, can I grow into a ginseng fruit? The kind that makes you immortal if you eat it."

Jiang Zhiyu: "Your current weight is already enough for immortality; you don't need to evolve further." Song Yuqi sent a string of angry emojis.

Jiang Zhiyu exited the group chat, looking at the dense list of unread notifications. He leaned back against the sofa, placed his phone on his knees, and let his gaze drift through the floor-to-ceiling window onto the dark blue sky.

The reception room quieted down, with only the hum of the air conditioner. The female assistants were still standing in their original positions, smiling, without saying a word. He watched the sky outside the window gradually darken.

The door to the reception room opened, and Kim Jung-hwan stood at the entrance. "President Jiang, Chairman Lee invites you to move; it's time to depart."

Jiang Zhiyu stood up, put his phone in his pocket, and straightened his collar. He nodded slightly at the four female assistants, "Thank you for your hard work." The four of them bowed in unison.

He walked out of the reception room, his pace unhurried. Kim Jung-hwan walked in front, his leather shoes making rhythmic sounds on the carpet.

— The black Mercedes-Benz Maybach drove out of the underground parking garage of the Samsung headquarters building, merging into the evening traffic of Seoul.

The car body was long and a deep black, looking like a silent whale surfacing from the deep sea in the twilight before the streetlights had fully lit up.

The hood ornament flashed with a cold light under the gray-blue sky, three stars arranged in a row, symbolizing a certain unspoken order of this family, this enterprise, and this nation.

There were black sedans guarding it in front and behind, maintaining a perfect distance.

Lee Jae-yong and Jiang Zhiyu sat side by side in the back row. The seats were spacious, as if they were two independent spaces; the leather seats offered excellent support, and the armrest was lowered, embedded with a control panel and cup holders.

The driver wore a dark uniform and white gloves, eyes fixed forward, saying nothing. The ambient lighting inside the car was set to a soft, warm yellow, casting a thin halo of light on both of their faces.

When the car drove across the Han River Bridge, the river spread out beneath the bridge. The reflection on the river surface was crumbled by the twilight into pieces of fragmented light spots, making it impossible to distinguish where the water ended and the sky began.

The lights of Namsan Tower on the opposite bank had already turned on, looking like a glowing silver needle in the darkening sky. Lee Jae-yong's gaze landed outside the window, his lips slightly parted.

"President Jiang, how did you feel about visiting Samsung this afternoon?" His tone was as if he were asking about the weather.

Jiang Zhiyu turned his head slightly to look at him; the light from outside the car window swept across Lee Jae-yong's face, alternating between light and shadow. The head of this family and this enterprise maintained an innate sense of distance. It wasn't intentional; it was a habit etched into his bones.

"An eye-opener," Jiang Zhiyu said, the four words unhurried. "Samsung's scale and professionalism left a deep impression on me."

Lee Jae-yong nodded. "For TG to develop like this in such a short time, President Jiang is also not simple." His tone was stating a fact, but also testing him.

"TG is just developing step by step according to plan." Jiang Zhiyu's answer was like a smooth mirror; all information was blocked, reflecting nothing back.

Lee Jae-yong changed his angle. "How old is President Jiang this year?"

"Twenty."

Lee Jae-yong looked at the Han River outside the window, the corners of his mouth curling into a very faint, very slight arc. "Twenty... Heh." That "heh" was very short, like a fallen leaf drifting onto the water.

"At this age, I was still studying in university, working hard to complete the tasks my father arranged. Every day, I thought about my studies and how not to disappoint my father." His gaze withdrew from the window and landed on Jiang Zhiyu's face, with a hint of scrutiny in his eyes.

"Yet President Jiang is already the president of a company. Someone who is cleansing Samsung on Samsung's own turf."

"Chairman Lee, that was just the normal circulation of personnel back into the market." Jiang Zhiyu's smile was neither deep nor shallow, the curve of his mouth just right. The same wording, the same tone, as he had said before in the third-floor office.

Lee Jae-yong looked into his eyes. "Fine, circulation back into the market." He didn't continue to press, like a cat retracting its claws. "What expectations does President Jiang have for tonight's gathering?"

"Participating in an event hosted by Samsung for the first time, of course, I want to make some friends and listen to some advice and experience from seniors." Jiang Zhiyu's answer was like a well-written template; every word was in its proper place.

Lee Jae-yong examined him carefully. "Just that?"

"Just that."

Lee Jae-yong's gaze lingered on that young face for a few seconds. "President Jiang is not quite like others." His voice lowered, as if he were talking about something that needed to be taken seriously.

Jiang Zhiyu met his gaze, the corners of his mouth slightly lifted into an arc. "Is Chairman Lee complimenting my handsome appearance?"

Lee Jae-yong did not laugh and did not respond. He looked into Jiang Zhiyu's eyes.

"When ordinary people meet me, they are either respectful, fearful, fawning, or nervous." He slowed his speech, each word falling clearly into the car cabin. "But you are none of those. Neither respectful nor fearful, not fawning, and not nervous." His gaze was like a scalpel, precisely cutting through the air. "It's as if you are talking to someone of equal status."

The car cabin went quiet. There was only the rustling sound of tires rolling over the road and the low hum of the engine; the subtle hissing of the air conditioning vent sounded like some kind of countdown.

Jiang Zhiyu looked at those scrutinizing eyes, his gaze not flinching. "What attitude does Chairman Lee think I should have?" His voice was not loud, but every word was crystal clear.

Lee Jae-yong did not answer, just stared at him steadily. This young man opposite him had a gaze as calm as a deep pool, impossible to tell the depth or the temperature. That kind of calmness was not faked; it was in his bones.

On this road, in this car, at this moment, facing him, he could still maintain this calmness—interesting. Really interesting. His gaze was like a snake circling the shore, wanting to find a crack to crawl into, but the wall in front of him was too smooth.

Jiang Zhiyu sat there, his posture the same as when he got in the car. His back was straight, his hands rested on his knees, and his gaze was level, looking straight ahead. He did not become nervous because of Lee Jae-yong's stare, nor did he feel uneasy because of those words.

His heartbeat was steady, like a metronome, unhurried. The person in front of him was the actual controller of Samsung, one of the most powerful people in this country.

The so-called giants of the Tianxuan Continent were bigger than Samsung and harder to deal with than Lee Jae-yong. He had seen their humility when kneeling before power, and he had seen their despair when they were crushed; the person in front of him was just a person, not a god.

The light outside the window alternated between light and dark. The silhouette of The Shilla Hotel emerged in the twilight ahead; the grayish-white walls appeared somewhat hazy under the dark blue sky. The porch lights had already turned on, and the orange halo reflected a soft luster on the glass curtain wall.

Lee Jae-yong suddenly spoke. "What is President Jiang's view on the Chinese market?" The question seemed casual, as if chatting about the weather today or discussing the dinner menu. But Jiang Zhiyu knew it wasn't.

"The Chinese market is huge," he said. "But it's also very hard to enter. Especially for entertainment companies like ours." This was stating a fact that all Korean companies knew well.

Lee Jae-yong nodded. "Since the Hallyu ban, Korean companies have not had an easy time in China." He paused, then shifted the topic. "However, TG seems to have found a way."

"Just good luck." Jiang Zhiyu smiled.

Lee Jae-yong looked at the windshield, watching the building ahead getting closer. His gaze was very flat, his tone also very flat. "Luck is also a part of strength." His voice was neither high nor low, his gaze shifting from the windshield to land on Jiang Zhiyu's face. "The family behind President Jiang must have deep roots in China and a lot of influence, right?"

This was a probe, not a question, but a statement. Samsung's investigation into that Chinese-descendant family had never stopped, and the result was zero; nothing had been found. But "nothing found" itself was a piece of information. In this world, there is nothing that cannot be found; if there is, it only means that thing is not within your reach.

Jiang Zhiyu did not avoid his gaze. The smile on the corner of his mouth was still there, neither deep nor shallow. "Chairman Lee is joking. TG is just a small company, and I am just an ordinary person." His tone was as calm as stating a fact, but Lee Jae-yong knew that was not a fact.

Lee Jae-yong looked at him for a long time, then smiled, a meaningful smile. "Good. Small company, ordinary person." When those four words came out of his mouth, they carried an indescribable meaning, like a key inserted into a keyhole but not yet turned.

Small company, ordinary person—he had never seen the president of any small company who, after visiting Samsung, could sit in a car without changing his expression. He had also never seen any ordinary person who, after being picked up by a helicopter and surrounded by security, could still smile as if nothing had happened.

The car stopped in front of the porch of The Shilla Hotel. The doorman stepped forward to open the car door, and the night wind rushed in from outside, carrying the unique chill of winter and the warm fragrance drifting from the hotel lobby. Lee Jae-yong got out of the car first, and Jiang Zhiyu followed from the other side. The two of them looked at each other across the roof of the car.

Lee Jae-yong nodded slightly. "President Jiang, please."

Jiang Zhiyu bowed slightly. "Chairman Lee, please."

The two walked side by side toward the hotel entrance, their pace calm. Their leather shoes made crisp sounds on the marble floor—tap, tap, tap—echoing in the empty porch. The lights of the banquet hall poured out from inside, orange, warm, carrying a sense of "welcome" detachment. Kim Soo-yeon was already inside; he straightened his tie and walked in.