62: Chapter 62 Pear Blossoms Fall Before Your Window~ I Cried, Family

He clicked on another folder on the computer—it was his personal bank statement. The spending details for the past three months were like a cliff edge:

SM Salary: 1.8 million won/month after taxes

Basement Rent + Utilities: 700,000 won/month

Living expenses for two (mostly instant noodles): 400,000 won/month

Script printing, data organization, transportation: 1.2 million won total

Suit rental, presentation materials: 850,000 won

Balance: 370,000 KRW.

Only enough to last another half month.

Lee Tima leaned over to look at the screen and froze. "Oppa... didn't you say..."

"I said we still had money." Jiang Zhiyu took a large gulp of his drink, the icy sensation reaching all the way to his stomach. "I wasn't lying. 370,000 is still money."

"But..."

"But it's not enough, I know." He interrupted her. "So this tvN contract isn't the 'first step to success,' it's the 'only step to survival.'"

Lee Tima went silent. She looked down at the soda can in her hand, her fingers unconsciously tracing the embossed patterns on the metal. After a long while, she whispered, "So that's why you gambled on the ratings bet? Because if we didn't, we wouldn't even get that 800 million?"

"Smart." Jiang Zhiyu smiled, a smile filled with exhaustion but also a certain sharp determination. "The options Director Park gave: either accept the ratings bet and start the project immediately, or negotiate slowly for three months or half a year while they 'evaluate' every risk—but we can't afford to wait."

He paused. "Besides, I believe we can exceed 5%."

"Based on what?"

"Based on you." Jiang Zhiyu turned to look at her, his gaze serious. "Tima, you were the Best Actress back on the Tianxuan Continent. You've played roles more complex than this and achieved higher ratings. Even though your body has changed, your soul hasn't. Your acting skills, your comprehension, your control over a character—those are all still there."

Lee Tima stared at him. "But I'm nine years old right now. The audience will see a nine-year-old girl playing a fourteen-year-old girl; they won't know my soul is twenty-four."

"Then make them see it." Jiang Zhiyu stood up and walked to the schedule he had just posted on the wall—one he had drawn last night, filled with dense milestones marked in red marker. "The shooting cycle is six weeks. During these six weeks, you aren't Lee Tima; you are Kim Hyo-soon. You have to live as her, think what she thinks, and feel what she feels."

He turned back. "As for the audience... they're smarter than we think. They can distinguish between performance and soul. If a nine-year-old body can portray the depth of a fourteen-year-old, it will become a talking point instead—'Genius Child Star Lee Tima.'"

Lee Tima drank her soda in silence. The carbonated bubbles burst on her tongue, carrying the taste of cheap artificial flavoring. She thought of the Tianxuan Continent, of the night she won her first Best Actress award. After the ceremony, she and Jiang Zhiyu had also been squeezed into a tiny private room for a celebration, drinking the cheapest alcohol and saying the most arrogant things.

Back then, she said, "One day, I'm going to play a role that everyone will remember for twenty years."

Jiang Zhiyu said, "Then I'll be the producer that everyone remembers for twenty years."

Later, they did it. TG Entertainment became an empire, and she became a legend. And then... then everything collapsed, and they came here to start over.

"Oppa," she suddenly spoke up, "do you remember our last show on the Tianxuan Continent?"

Jiang Zhiyu's movements paused for a moment. "'One Hundred Years of Time.'"

"Right." Lee Tima's voice was soft. "In that show, I played a woman who lived to be a hundred. From age sixteen to a hundred. The makeup artist spent four hours every day drawing wrinkles on my face, but I remember something you said—"

She looked up, her eyes incredibly bright in the dim light:

"True aging isn't on the face, it's in the eyes. The difference between sixteen and a hundred isn't whether the skin has wrinkles, it's that the way you look at the world has changed."

Jiang Zhiyu remembered. It was the thirty-seventh day of filming, and she was stuck on a scene where she was sixty years old. He had stayed with her to practice until dawn, and finally said those words.

"So it's the same now." Lee Tima jumped off her chair and walked to the mold-stained wall, reaching out to touch the schedule where the ink was still wet. "The difference between nine and fourteen isn't a few centimeters in height, it's that—a nine-year-old looks at the world and thinks everything is huge; a fourteen-year-old looks at the world and begins to realize how small they are."

She turned back, that familiar, slightly mischievous smile appearing on her face again:

"Kim Hyo-soon is that girl who 'knows she is small but still stands on her tiptoes to reach.' I understand her. Because right now, I am too."

Jiang Zhiyu looked at her and suddenly realized something—at some point, the little sister who needed his constant care on the Tianxuan Continent had grown into a comrade who could fight by his side.

No, perhaps she always had been, and he was just used to being the protector.

"Okay," he said. "Then we start with the first step."

He sat back down at the computer and opened the script folder. "16 episodes for the main drama, 12 for the special. With a six-week shooting cycle, that means an average of four days to finish one main episode plus one special. It's an almost impossible task, unless—"

"Unless we do two things." Lee Tima picked up the thought. She had stood up behind him at some point, staring at the filming schedule on the screen. "First, the filming locations for the main drama and the specials must overlap heavily to reduce transition time. Second, since I have the most scenes, my preparation must be the most thorough."

She pointed at the screen. "Look, the first week we shoot main episodes 1-3 and specials 1-2. The main scenes are: the semi-basement home, the school, and the neighborhood streets. If we find an old neighborhood in Mapo-gu to film on location, the walking distance between these three places won't exceed ten minutes."

"I've already found it." Jiang Zhiyu opened another document. "An old neighborhood in Mangwon-dong has a row of vacant semi-basements. The landlord is willing to rent them to us for six weeks at 1.5 million won a month, on the condition that... we give his convenience store a shot in the drama."

"The convenience store can be where Hyo-soon works part-time." Lee Tima reacted immediately. "Isn't there a plot point in the second episode? Hyo-soon secretly works the night shift at a convenience store to save money for her grandmother's medicine."

Jiang Zhiyu nodded. "And the convenience store owner can be a supporting character—a sharp-tongued but soft-hearted middle-aged man who pretends to dislike her young age but secretly pays her extra."

The two of them went back and forth, and the 4 AM basement became a temporary war room. Instant noodle cups were piled in the corner, the computer fan hummed continuously, but something burning flowed through the air—the near-manic focus unique to creators when they enter 'the zone'.

At 5:30 AM, the sky began to turn pale.

Lee Tima had fallen asleep slumped over the table, still clutching the script filled with notes. Jiang Zhiyu gently pulled the script away and draped his jacket over her.

He walked alone to the high window and stood on his tiptoes to look out. The basement's only window was located near the ceiling, offering a view only of pedestrians' calves and car wheels. But at this moment, the morning light was leaking through the cracks, casting a thin golden line on the floor.

His phone vibrated. A new email.

From: Section Chief Zheng, CJ Food Marketing Department

Subject: Regarding the intent for Buldak Ramen product placement cooperation

Content: Producer Jiang, the proposal has been received. After internal discussion, we are very interested in the 'flavor even angels can't resist' concept. Can we discuss the specific cooperation details this Thursday afternoon?

Jiang Zhiyu gripped his phone and took a deep breath.

The first piece of the 30% advertising pre-purchase puzzle had begun to move.

He returned to the computer and began to reply to the email. But after typing a few words, he deleted them. Instead, he opened a new blank document titled: 'A Letter to Kim Hyo-soon'.

This wasn't a work file; it was something more private. He typed slowly, as if every word needed to be weighed:

"Kim Hyo-soon:

Hello. I am the person who is going to film your story.

At four this morning, I received permission to film your life.

800 million won, six weeks. It sounds like a lot, but it's actually very little. So little that it might not fully present all the hardships you've experienced, so little that it might not make your grandmother's medicine bottles look real enough, so little that even the thread used to mend your school uniform might not be the exact color of those years.

But I will do my best.

Because your story deserves to be seen—not because you are so special, but on the contrary, because you are ordinary enough. Ordinary enough that in the Seoul of 1998, there were thousands of girls just like you, living in the same semi-basements, working hard in the same way.

They might never be written into a script.

But at least you, Kim Hyo-soon, will be."

He stopped there and didn't write any further.

A rustling sound came from behind. Lee Tima had woken up and walked over rubbing her eyes. "Oppa, what are you writing?"

"Nothing." Jiang Zhiyu closed the document. "Awake? Then let's go over the lines for the first episode. You're going to rehearse the 'dividing the ramen into three' scene today."

"Now? It's only six o'clock."

"Actors have no concept of time." Jiang Zhiyu pulled the script from the printer. "There is only 'before filming' and 'after filming.' And right now, we are two weeks away from filming."

Lee Tima sighed, but her eyes had already lit up. She took the script, cleared her throat, and instantly entered the character.

She crouched before an imaginary gas stove—which was actually just a chair. Her hands made virtual movements: opening the ramen pack, dividing the noodles into three parts, pushing the larger portion forward (for Grandma), and keeping the smaller portion for herself.

Then she looked up, a forced cheerful smile appearing on her face, her voice deliberately raised:

"Grandma, we're having the deluxe version of ramen today! I added a super secret ingredient!"

But after saying this, her gaze drifted to the side—where the imaginary father sat. The smile at the corner of her mouth trembled slightly, but she quickly steadied it again.

Jiang Zhiyu watched quietly.

No lights, no cameras, no sets. Just a nine-year-old girl in a basement at 6 AM, acting toward a chair.

But he saw Kim Hyo-soon. He saw her clearly.

That girl who bloomed in poverty, that child who warmed her family with lies, that girl who secretly wiped away tears in the middle of the night but still smiled when dawn broke.

"CUT," he said.

Lee Tima stepped out of character and looked at him expectantly. "How was it?"

Jiang Zhiyu didn't answer directly. He opened his phone camera and aimed it at her. "Do it again. This time I'll record it and send it to the directing team."

"Now? I don't have makeup on, and my clothes..."

"It has to be like this," Jiang Zhiyu said. "When Kim Hyo-soon wakes up in the morning, she won't have makeup on either. She'll probably look just like you do now—messy hair, wearing oversized old clothes, and eyes a bit puffy."

Lee Tima froze for a few seconds, then smiled. "Makes sense."

She crouched down again and performed it once more. This time it was even more natural, those subtle changes in expression—the exhaustion under the forced smile, the worry when looking toward her father, the hesitation of her fingers when pushing the ramen to her grandmother—all of them were precisely on point.

After recording, Jiang Zhiyu sent the video to the tvN directing team group. Three minutes later, Group Leader Kim replied:

[This is the Kim Hyo-soon we're looking for. Let's sign the contract.]

Nine brief words.

Jiang Zhiyu handed the phone to Lee Tima. The two of them looked at each other, and neither said a word.

But something exploded in the basement air—not a celebratory cheer, not a sigh of relief, but something heavier and more solid.

It was like the feeling of a mountain climber finally receiving their climbing permit and looking up at the peak they must conquer.

Lee Tima suddenly said, "Oppa, my appearance fee... can I get a little bit in advance?"

Jiang Zhiyu looked at her warily. "What do you want to buy? If it's the full series of rabbit headgear, no. The money needs to be used for Grandma's medicine props, school uniform fabric, and—"

He pointed at the stubborn patch of mold in the corner.

"—Mold removal."

Lee Tima shook her head. "Not rabbit headgear. It's..." She hesitated for a moment. "I want to buy a curtain for this basement. A very thin, white one. The morning sun is too blinding; it affects my script reading."

Jiang Zhiyu was stunned.

He looked at the high window. Indeed, as the sun rose, the blinding light was shining in at an angle, forming a glaring spot on the concrete floor.

"Also," Lee Tima continued, "we can save a bit on the mold removal. I know a folk remedy—white vinegar and water. Spray it on the mold, let it sit in the sun for a day, and then wipe it off. It's cheaper than mold remover and works about the same."

As she spoke, she walked to the corner and wiped the black mold with her finger. "Look, this spot gets the morning sun perfectly. Shall we try it tomorrow?"

Jiang Zhiyu suddenly felt his throat tighten.

This girl—with a nine-year-old body and a twenty-four-year-old soul—was using her own unique way to transform this muddy place bit by bit into a 'home' they could live in.

Not a luxurious home, not a comfortable home. But a home that could block the glare, remove the mold, and keep a lamp lit late at night to write scripts.

"...Okay," he said. "We'll buy the curtain. And use white vinegar for the mold."

Lee Tima smiled, a smile as clean as the morning light outside the window.

Then she gave a huge yawn. "Then I'll sleep a bit longer... Wake me at seven, and we'll continue with the lines."

She crawled back onto the simple mattress, wrapped the jacket tightly around her, and was fast asleep in seconds.

Jiang Zhiyu sat back at the computer. The morning light grew brighter, and the golden line slowly expanded until it finally reached the keyboard.

He opened the draft contract and turned to the signature line on the last page.

It was still empty.

But he could almost see the marks left by ink—their names, written side by side.

Just like many years ago, on the first contract for TG Entertainment on the Tianxuan Continent.

History doesn't simply repeat itself, but some melodies return in a different key.

He saved the document and turned off the computer.

Then he took a tape measure from a drawer, walked to the high window, and stood on his tiptoes to measure the dimensions.

A white curtain. It should be thin, letting the light through but without being so blinding.

Just like what this drama wanted to express:

Life is bitter, but light will always be there.

And their task was to find that perfect thickness between darkness and glare—to let the light in, but let it in gently.

After finishing the measurements, he noted the dimensions in his phone's memo app.

The sound of the morning bus announcing its stop came from outside. The city had completely awakened.

In the basement, one person was asleep, and the other began calculating the price of a curtain.

But something massive had already quietly started.

Its name was 'destined kim hyo-soon'.

Its starting point was this thirty-square-meter basement smelling of mold and instant noodles.

Its future was still unknown.

But at least at this moment, the morning light was just right.

And they were preparing to walk into the light.

—

The basement was filled with the unique scent of instant noodle soup mixed with old newspapers. Jiang Zhiyu finished the last of the noodle soup and precisely tossed the empty cup into the half-full trash can three meters away—the only 'sport' he had practiced in this cramped space.

When he turned around, Lee Tima was sitting cross-legged on the only old sofa, holding a tablet playing '2048', the numbers on the screen already stacked to 1024. The screen's light reflected on her face, making the nine-year-old child's face look a bit distorted.

"Tima, put the game down," Jiang Zhiyu said, his voice sounding a bit abrupt in the empty basement. "We need to talk about product placement."

Lee Tima didn't look up, her fingers continuing to slide. "Product placement? Having me eat instant noodles in the drama? No problem, I'll just be myself. I can currently describe the subtle differences between Korea's top ten instant noodle brands—" Her speech was as fast as reciting an advertisement, "Nongshim's noodles are chewier, Ottogi's vegetable packs have more variety, Samyang's spiciness is divided into three levels... From the curvature of the noodles to the color depth of the dehydrated vegetables, I could write a thesis."

"It's not instant noodles." Jiang Zhiyu sat down on the plastic chair opposite her, the chair letting out an overburdened creak. "It's snacks. In the main drama, Hyo-soon's classmates will share snacks during break. In the special episode, the dazed angel will be obsessed with human snacks. These are natural placement points."

He pulled two printouts from a pile of documents on the table, the edges of the paper slightly curled. The light from the desk lamp wasn't bright enough, so he had to hold the documents closer.

"The first one is a market analysis for Orion." He paused. "Their main concept of 'sharing with friends' fits perfectly with our school scenes. The second one is a report on Lays Korea's new product line—they want to use 'Kimchi flavor' and 'Honey Butter flavor' to break into the teenage market this year and are looking for film and television collaborations."

Lee Tima finally put down the tablet. The moment the screen went dark, the basement seemed even darker. She crawled to the edge of the chair and reached for the document, which Jiang Zhiyu handed to her.

"So I have to..." Lee Tima flipped through the document, her finger pausing on the Lays logo, "eat snacks while acting? I can do this job."

"More than that." Jiang Zhiyu leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. This posture made him look more serious than usual. "We need a 'legendary scene' that makes sponsors feel like they 'absolutely must invest' the moment they see it. So—"

He paused, and the basement was so quiet that the sound of a distant water pipe dripping could be heard.

"Tima, now, immediately, activate your 'Clever Nerve'." Jiang Zhiyu's voice suddenly became very soft, like he was telling a secret. "Use the acting you used back when you filmed your first snack commercial in the Tianxuan Continent, the one that made even me want to rush out and buy a pack."

Lee Tima's expression froze for a moment.

Her gaze drifted away, as if piercing through the mottled walls of the basement to see a studio in another world. That studio was very large, the lights were very bright, and she was wearing a puffy skirt with twin ponytails, holding a bag of 'ChackChack Star Crackers'.

The director was shouting: "Cut! Tima, you need to show the feeling of 'discovering a treasure'!"

At nine years old, she tilted her head and asked seriously, "Director Oppa, what is a treasure? I've never seen a real treasure."

The director gestured frantically: "It's... it's like... Wow! This thing is amazing! That kind of feeling!"

She pondered for three seconds. Then her eyes lit up—really lit up, like someone had turned on a light in her pupils.

She picked up a cracker, but didn't open it immediately. Instead, she held it to her ear and shook it. The crackers rustled in the bag, like some small animal scurrying.

Then she carefully tore open a corner of the packaging and leaned in to smell it first. Her eyes narrowed into crescents, and the tip of her nose twitched slightly.

Next, using two fingers—her thumb and index finger—she extremely solemnly pinched out a cracker. Instead of stuffing it into her mouth, she held it up to her eyes, facing the large studio light that simulated sunlight.

The cracker was star-shaped, and the frosting on the edges shimmered under the light.

At that moment, her eyes really looked like they were seeing stars.

In a voice that mixed wonder, reverence, and infinite joy, she whispered:

"Wow... It really is ChackChack~"

A half-beat pause.

"Even the sunlight has become sweeter."

The set was silent for three seconds, then burst into applause. Later, when the commercial aired, sales of 'ChackChack' crackers quintupled in three months. That clip was edited into the advertising textbooks of the Tianxuan Continent under the title 'On How Child Stars Deify Products'.

The tide of memory receded.

Lee Tima's expression instantly turned cold, as if someone had flipped a switch.

"Just like that?" she asked, her voice devoid of emotion.

Jiang Zhiyu nodded: "Yes. Use that state. Orion wants that 'sense of surprise when sharing with friends,' and Lays wants the 'excitement of young people discovering new flavors.' You just need to recreate that in the audition clip—"

He thought for a moment and found a precise description:

"That kind of acting that makes a one-won snack taste like ten thousand won worth of happiness."

Lee Tima stood up. Even standing, her nine-year-old body wasn't much taller than when she was sitting, but her expression was serious.

"I understand," she said, her voice possessing a maturity that didn't match her appearance. "Then, as an actor, I need an immersive experience. First, I need to taste all the mainstream snacks currently on the market and analyze their texture, crispiness, sweet-salty balance, and the ease of tearing the packaging..."

She began to count on her fingers, one by one:

"At least five flavors of orion pie: original, strawberry, matcha, chocolate, and banana. About eight Korean limited editions of Lays: Kimchi, Honey Butter, Grilled Squid, Spicy Rice Cake... also Nongshim Shrimp Crackers, Honey Butter Chips, Pepero—"

"Alright," Jiang Zhiyu interrupted her with a smile. "Once the advertising fee arrives, you can buy as many as you want."

"I want them now." Lee Tima's hand stopped in mid-air. "Acting requires immediate feedback. Oppa, go buy them."

"No money." Jiang Zhiyu's smile didn't change. "The last 100,000 won in the account is for this month's utilities. The landlord knocked on the door yesterday."

Lee Tima's eyes darted around, a habitual movement when she was thinking.

"Then... go to the convenience store for 'tastings'?" She lowered her voice as if plotting a crime. "I can disguise myself as a market researcher. I'll say I'm doing a social practice project for school—'Survey on Snack Preferences of Korean Youth'."

"We'll get caught," Jiang Zhiyu said calmly. "The convenience store auntie has sharp eyes. Last week when I went to return empty bottles, she even remembered that I returned one less."

"Borrow some from Im Yoona Unnie?" Lee Tima thought again. "She must have received a lot of sponsored snacks from filming CFs recently. I saw on SNS last time that she has an entire wall of snack cabinets at home."

"The performance contract for the special episode hasn't been signed yet; we can't owe favors now." Jiang Zhiyu shook his head. "Favors are more expensive than money."

Lee Tima put her hands on her hips. This action made her look like a miniature adult.

"Then what should we do? Am I supposed to just imagine it?" Her voice rose. "'Wow, this cracker is so crispy'—but exactly how crispy is it? Is it a 'crunch' crispy or a 'snap' crispy? This is important! The sound of the cracker breaking, the tactile sensation between the teeth, and the lingering aroma in the mouth after swallowing... these details determine the realism of the performance!"

She suddenly thought of something and leaned closer to Jiang Zhiyu, her voice even lower:

"Oppa, how about... you go get a loan? With your status as SM's ace producer, your credit limit should..."

Jiang Zhiyu's face darkened.

"A formal loan requires collateral," he said word by word. "What do we have? This basement with a monthly rent of 300,000 won?" He looked around. "Or those rabbit headgears of yours?" There were indeed a few rabbit headgears piled in the corner, which Lee Tima had scavenged from a flea market.

Lee Tima's gaze drifted slightly, her fingers twisting together.

"Then... a nude loan?"

Dead silence.

The air in the basement seemed to freeze. The dripping sound of the distant water pipe became exceptionally clear, each drop sounding like a countdown.

Three seconds later.

"Lee. Ti. Ma."

Jiang Zhiyu's voice was calm, terrifyingly calm.

Lee Tima took a step back, her slippers making a harsh scraping sound on the floor.

"I was joking!" She raised her hands. "I saw it in a joke online! Someone on a forum was discussing the 'most ridiculous ways to raise money' recently, and someone mentioned this, so I remembered it! Oppa, don't—"

"Ah!!!"

The scream was muffled in her throat.

Jiang Zhiyu rose with lightning speed, his left hand pressing down on the top of Lee Tima's head while his right hand pressed against her chin. His hands gently squeezed together—forming a perfect 'head fixation device'.

Lee Tima's face was squeezed into a 'hamster hoarding food' shape, her mouth forced into a pout, and her eyes wide and round.

"First," Jiang Zhiyu's voice squeezed through his teeth, each word like an ice cube, "nude loans are illegal."

"Second, if I get caught, who's going to film the drama for you?"

"Third, and most importantly—"

He let go. The movement was gentle, but Lee Tima still stumbled a bit, rubbing her cheeks.

Jiang Zhiyu looked at her, something burning in his eyes—not anger, but something deeper and harder.

"You are now a signed artist of TG Entertainment, a future star actor." His voice returned to calm, but every word felt carved in stone. "Your face, your credibility, and our company's reputation—are worth more than any advertising fee. Understand?"

Lee Tima rubbed her face and muttered softly, "I understand... but Oppa, what was that move just now? It hurt."

Jiang Zhiyu had already turned back to his computer, his back to her.

"A secret technique passed down through generations of TG Entertainment in the Tianxuan Continent." he said, the sound of his fingers tapping the keyboard exceptionally crisp in the silence. "'Wake Up Spell'. Specifically for treating all kinds of wild fantasies."

Lee Tima stood there, looking at his back. The only light source in the basement was that desk lamp, casting a long shadow of Jiang Zhiyu that extended to the wall, overlapping with the shadows of the rabbit headgears.

She suddenly felt that although this basement was small and dilapidated, at least for this moment, it was safe.

Ten minutes later, Jiang Zhiyu opened the bookkeeping app on his phone. The screen's light reflected on his face, the blue numbers stinging his eyes:

Balance for this month: -2,300 KRW

Note: Estimated difference in utilities

He sighed softly, but Lee Tima heard it.

"Alright," Jiang Zhiyu said, his eyes still fixed on the phone screen. "Tomorrow afternoon, we'll go to a nearby 'snack tasting event'."

Lee Tima's eyes lit up again: "Where is it?"

Jiang Zhiyu turned the phone toward her, pulling up a webpage. The page was a promotion announcement from Lotte Mart, which read 'New Product Tasting Event! Saturday afternoon, 2-5 PM!'

"We can disguise ourselves as..." Jiang Zhiyu looked Lee Tima up and down, his gaze lingering on her for a few seconds, "a middle school sister taking her younger brother?"

Lee Tima pointed at herself: "I look like a middle schooler? My figure is clearly—"

She looked down at herself. A nine-year-old's build, flat chest, thin arms and legs.

Silence.

Jiang Zhiyu added naturally, "And you can still wear your elementary school uniform, right? I remember you brought a few pieces from over there; they should still fit."

It took only 0.5 seconds for Lee Tima's expression to change from shock to indignation.

"Oppa!!!!"

Her scream echoed in the basement.

Jiang Zhiyu had already taken a piece of scrap paper and started drawing a movement chart on it, completely unaffected.

"Listen to the plan: we'll act separately. You go to the potato chip section, I'll go to the cracker section. Each person is limited to three samples, and they must be spread across different stalls. Most importantly—"

He looked up at Lee Tima. The light from the desk lamp hit him from the side, leaving half of his face in shadow.

"While eating, perform a 'just-right sense of happiness.' Make the promotion auntie feel like 'this kid eats so heartily, I want to buy some too,' but don't be so over-the-top that you're suspected of being sent by a competitor."

Lee Tima quieted down. She walked over to Jiang Zhiyu and looked at the hand-drawn supermarket movement chart—though crudely drawn, the location of every tasting stall was marked, even the 'best approach routes'.

Her expression changed.

The child who was joking around just now disappeared, replaced by a professional actor. Her gaze became focused, her lips pursed into a line, and her fingers unconsciously gestured in the air.

"The difficulty level is quite high," she said softly, as if talking to herself. "It requires micro-expression management: eyes should be bright but not too bright, chewing speed should be moderate, and there should be a 0.5-second 'aftertaste pause' after eating... and the posture for taking the sample shouldn't be too eager, nor too casual—"

She suddenly looked up: "What about the acting clip after the tasting? Where will we film it?"

Jiang Zhiyu pointed to a corner of the basement. There was a table covered with a blue plastic sheet—the plastic sheet was a scrap piece picked up from a construction market. On the wall behind the table was a picture cut from a magazine, showing the floor-to-ceiling window view of a mansion, taped crookedly to the wall with transparent tape to serve as a 'window'.

"Right here," Jiang Zhiyu said. "We'll film it with my phone. For lighting, we'll use the desk lamp plus a white shirt for reflection." He pointed to the white shirt hanging on the line—it had already been washed to a gray color.

Lee Tima looked around the shabby environment. Mottled walls, a drafty ceiling, corners piled with clutter, and a lingering smell of mold in the air.

She took a deep breath.

That breath was deep, rising from her abdomen, her chest expanding, then slowly exhaling.

"Fine," she said, her voice very calm. "Then I'll show you the true worth of the youngest Best Actress from the Tianxuan Continent—"

Her eyes looked directly at Jiang Zhiyu, her pupils shining startlingly bright in the dim light.

"Even if the background is a basement, I can perform with the feel of a five-star commercial blockbuster."

Jiang Zhiyu looked at her for a long time.

Then he nodded and said nothing.

But Lee Tima knew that was already the highest level of recognition.

Outside, the night in Seoul deepened. The only small window in the basement let in a tiny bit of street light, casting a small, blurry patch of light on the floor.

Tomorrow afternoon, they would go to the supermarket for 'tastings'.

The day after tomorrow, they would film the audition clip.

The day after that, they would send the clip to the sponsors.

Every day was a battle, and every cent had to be calculated carefully.

But at least for now, in this small and broken basement, they still had instant noodles, a desk lamp, and 'window scenery' cut from a magazine.

And that absurd yet firm conviction—

To film this story for the world to see.