63: Chapter 63 The Throne of Money-Spraying, Damn it, tore it up!

The next afternoon, Lotte Mart was bustling with people.

Lee Tima wore that old school uniform that was indeed a bit small—a light blue shirt and a dark blue plaid skirt. The hem had shrunk to above her knees because she had grown taller. She carefully adjusted the position of her twin tails against the blurry reflection of the supermarket's glass entrance doors. She had tied her hair herself with practiced skill; the two ponytails were as symmetrical as if measured with a ruler.

"Where's the school badge?" Jiang Zhiyu asked from behind her. He was wearing an ordinary gray hoodie today, looking like a typical college student.

Lee Tima pulled an old school badge from her backpack and pinned it above her shirt pocket. The badge was made of brass, its edges worn and the inscription blurred. She had found it at a second-hand market a few days ago. "Anyway, the camera won't pick it up clearly," she said.

They agreed to split up and meet at the yogurt section.

Lee Tima headed toward the potato chip section. There were many people in front of the promotion stall, mostly parents with children. The promotion lady, wearing an apron with the Lays logo, was enthusiastically greeting customers: "New product tasting! Kimchi-flavored chips! Korea limited edition!"

Lee Tima stood on the periphery of the crowd, not squeezing in immediately. She observed first.

A six or seven-year-old boy took a tasting cup, grabbed a large handful, stuffed it into his mouth, and chewed loudly. His mother laughed beside him, "Eat slower!" The promotion lady also smiled, but her eyes held a hint of helplessness—the child ate so fast he couldn't have possibly tasted it.

When it was Lee Tima's turn, she didn't reach for the tasting cup. Instead, she gave the promotion lady a small bow. "Hello."

The lady was stunned for a moment. "Ah, hello..."

"May I try some?" Lee Tima asked, her voice quiet but clear.

"Of course, of course." The lady handed her a small paper cup containing three potato chips.

Lee Tima didn't eat them immediately. She picked one up and held it against the supermarket's ceiling lights—the chip was very thin, translucent, with slightly curled edges and a fine coating of seasoning powder.

"The curve is so perfect," she whispered, as if talking to herself, but just loud enough for the lady to hear.

The promotion lady's eyes lit up. "Right? The cutting angle of our new machine was specially designed!"

Lee Tima nodded and finally put the chip into her mouth. She didn't chew loudly; instead, she closed her eyes and savored it seriously. Her chewing speed was steady—about seven times—before she swallowed.

When she opened her eyes, they were sparkling.

"The kimchi flavor is very authentic, but not too salty. There's a hint of sweetness in the aftertaste... Is it pear juice?"

The promotion lady was shocked. "How did you know? We did add pear juice to the recipe to balance the spiciness!"

"Because my grandmother used to add pear juice when she made kimchi," Lee Tima smiled, her smile very sweet. "She said it makes the flavor smoother."

"Your grandmother really knows how to cook!" the lady said happily, stuffing two more tasting cups into her hands. "Have some more! We also have Honey Butter flavor here!"

Lee Tima bowed again. "Thank you, Auntie."

As she left carrying the three small paper cups, she heard the lady whisper to a colleague nearby, "That child is so well-behaved. Just watching her eat makes it look delicious..."

With her back to them, the corner of Lee Tima's mouth curled into an almost invisible arc.

Jiang Zhiyu ran into a bit of trouble in the biscuit section.

His plan was originally simple: take a sample, eat it, give a reaction, and leave. But the way he observed the biscuit's pores was too professional—he picked up an orion pie, held it against the light to check the evenness of the filling, listened carefully for a crisp "crunch" when breaking it, and even leaned in to smell the intensity of the chocolate coating's aroma.

A middle-aged man wearing glasses kept staring at him.

When Jiang Zhiyu picked up a sample biscuit for the third time, the man finally walked over. "Excuse me, are you a food blogger?"

"...No."

"Then are you a quality inspector for a food company?" The man pushed up his glasses. "I see you're inspecting them very carefully."

Jiang Zhiyu was silent for two seconds, his brain working rapidly. Then he gave a slightly embarrassed smile. "Actually... I'm preparing for a confession."

The man was stunned.

"The girl I like loves snacks very much," Jiang Zhiyu continued, his tone so natural he almost believed it himself. "I want to know which one is the tastiest so I can buy it for her. But I'm afraid of buying the wrong thing... so I wanted to try them all first."

The man's expression shifted from suspicion to realization, then to being touched. "Ah! I see! Young people are so thoughtful! Here, you must try this new Matcha flavor; all girls like Matcha..."

Five minutes later, as Jiang Zhiyu left carrying four cups of different flavored biscuit samples, the man was still shouting behind him, "Good luck! I hope the confession goes well!"

Jiang Zhiyu waved his hand without looking back.

They met by the refrigerated cabinets in the yogurt section. Lee Tima was studying the ingredients list of a Greek yogurt, her brow slightly furrowed. "The protein content is high, but there's too much sugar added..."

"This," Jiang Zhiyu suddenly said, handing over a potato chip.

Lee Tima took it and put it in her mouth. She chewed, paused, and her eyes widened slightly.

"Crunchiness level A+," she whispered. "The surface seasoning is even, and the thickness is about 0.8 millimeters—this thickness ensures enough crunch without being too fragile. The butter aftertaste is incredible; it's not the cloying kind from artificial flavors, but the aroma of real fermented butter..."

"This can be integrated into the scene where 'Hyo-soon improves in her exams and her deskmate shares it with her'," Jiang Zhiyu said. "In the third episode of the main drama, there's a minor climax."

Lee Tima nodded and pulled a small notebook from her pocket—it was a promotional notepad from the supermarket, already filled with several lines of writing: "Kimchi flavor is suitable for the school festival scene, Honey Butter flavor is for warm family moments, original flavor for daily breaks... Wait, Oppa, how did you get so many samples?"

Jiang Zhiyu said expressionlessly, "I said I was going to confess."

Lee Tima stared at him for three seconds, then covered her mouth, her shoulders starting to shake.

"Don't laugh," Jiang Zhiyu said. "It's effective, that's what matters."

Just then, a woman in a business suit skirt walked over, wearing an "Orion Marketing Department" ID badge. She had been observing them from a distance for a while.

"Little girl," the woman bent down and gave Lee Tima a professional smile. "Do you like our products very much?"

Lee Tima instantly switched gears. She looked up, her eyes clear and her smile shy. "Yes! It's sweet, but not cloying..." She paused as if thinking. "And I feel like... it would be even sweeter if shared."

The woman's expression changed. It wasn't the reaction to an ordinary child, but as if she had discovered a treasure.

"Well said! Our brand philosophy is 'the sweetness of sharing'..." She looked closely at Lee Tima's face and suddenly paused. "Wait, do you look a bit familiar?"

Jiang Zhiyu immediately stepped forward half a pace. "Excuse me, my sister is a bit..."

"Ah!" the woman remembered, her eyes lighting up. "Aren't you that... child in the 'SM Weekend Special' wearing the rabbit headgear? The one with Producer Jiang Zhi Yu?"

The air went still for a moment.

Jiang Zhiyu's brain worked rapidly. Admit it? Or not? If he admitted it, he might be asked why they were here eating samples, which would expose their plight. If he didn't, he might miss an opportunity...

Lee Tima spoke first.

She tilted her head slightly and gave a somewhat confused but polite smile. "You must have the wrong person? I'm just an ordinary student." Her voice was natural, and her expression was flawless.

The woman looked at her again, hesitating. "Is that so... maybe I remembered wrong. But you really have a great presence on camera; the way you eat is very photogenic. Have you ever thought about filming a commercial?"

Lee Tima shyly lowered her head. "No... I just like eating."

The woman pulled a business card from her bag and handed it to Jiang Zhiyu. "I'm Group Leader Kim from the Orion Marketing Department. We've been looking for a spokesperson for our youth products lately. If you're interested..."

Jiang Zhiyu took the card. "Thank you, I'll consider it."

After the woman left, the two looked at each other and breathed a sigh of relief simultaneously.

"Good acting," Jiang Zhiyu said.

"Instinctive reaction," Lee Tima said, putting the last chip into her mouth. "But she gave a business card, which is a good thing."

"It is a good thing." Jiang Zhiyu tucked the card away. "Let's go, it's time to go back and film the audition clip."

8 PM, the basement.

The desk lamp was moved to the left side of the table. Jiang Zhiyu's white shirt was clipped to the back of a chair to serve as a reflector. Light hit from the side, casting soft shadows on Lee Tima's face.

The table was covered with that blue plastic cloth, and on it sat a box of orion pie—Group Leader Kim had given it to them as an extra in the afternoon, calling it a "gift for the cute little girl."

Lee Tima sat at the table. She had changed out of her school uniform and was wearing a simple white T-shirt. Her hair was down, draped softly over her shoulders. She wore no makeup, but the lamp's light made her skin look fine and smooth.

Jiang Zhiyu held up his phone, Lee Tima's face appearing on the screen. He was using the rear camera, which had better quality than the front one.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

Lee Tima didn't answer. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and slowly exhaled.

Then she opened her eyes.

In that instant, Jiang Zhiyu could almost see the transformation—not in her appearance, but in her aura. The nine-year-old girl who had been eating instant noodles in the basement just moments ago had vanished, replaced by a... being that glowed in front of the camera.

"3, 2, 1—" Jiang Zhiyu whispered.

Lee Tima picked up an orion pie. Her movements were light, as if she were handling something fragile.

She didn't eat it immediately. Instead, she gently broke it open—her movements slow and steady. The chocolate coating made a crisp snapping sound. After breaking it, she tilted it slightly, letting the light reveal the filling.

Then, she looked up at the camera.

It wasn't a direct gaze, but a slight upward look from beneath her lashes. Her eyes were clear, carrying a hint of shy joy and a certain... intimacy, as if sharing a secret.

"Do you know?"

Her voice was very soft, but every word was clear. It wasn't a deliberate broadcasting tone, but a natural way of speaking, filled with the sound of her breath.

"Some sweetness is hidden."

She pointed to the marshmallow filling.

"You have to gently break it open to find it."

She took a small bite. A very small bite, just catching the edge. As she chewed, her eyes narrowed slightly—not a forced expression, but a natural physical reaction. This is how people look when something is delicious.

After swallowing, she paused for half a second. In that half-second, her tongue unconsciously licked the corner of her mouth—a tiny, almost invisible movement, but real.

Then she smiled.

It wasn't a broad laugh, but a simple, clean, and highly infectious smile. The upward curve of her mouth was just right, her eyes crinkling into crescents with faint smile lines at the corners.

"But—"

There was a bit more excitement in her voice, as if she had discovered something fun.

"If shared with a friend..."

She picked up the other half of the broken pie and held it toward the camera—as if a friend were truly standing there.

"From the very first glance, you can see that sweetness."

A pause.

A smile.

"Orion, sweetness from the inside out."

She spoke the last line naturally; it didn't sound like an advertising slogan, but more like a sincere recommendation.

Jiang Zhiyu pressed the stop button.

On the phone screen, the video froze at the moment of Lee Tima's smile. The light from the desk lamp left two tiny points of light in her pupils, like stars.

He didn't speak immediately.

The basement was very quiet. Occasionally, the sound of passing vehicles drifted in from the distance, but it was faint, like something from another world.

"How was it?" Lee Tima asked. She had already come out of character, her voice returning to normal.

Jiang Zhiyu handed the phone to her.

Lee Tima tapped the video and watched it herself. She watched intently, her brow slightly furrowed, as if analyzing her own performance.

"At the third second, my gaze could shift toward the camera 0.2 seconds slower," she said, pointing at the screen. "And the movement of breaking it open, the force could be a bit lighter; right now it feels a bit too 'performative'..."

"It's already very good," Jiang Zhiyu said.

Lee Tima looked up.

"I mean," Jiang Zhiyu repeated, "it's already very good. So good... that it makes me feel like this basement isn't worthy of you."

Lee Tima was stunned for a moment.

Then she laughed—not the perfect smile from in front of the lens, but a genuine, slightly embarrassed laugh. "Oppa, when did you learn to say things like that?"

"It's the truth." Jiang Zhiyu stood up and began packing the equipment. "Tomorrow I'll find an internet cafe to edit this video, add some subtitles and a logo. Then I'll send it to Orion along with the project proposal."

"And Lays."

"Right, and Lays." Jiang Zhiyu took his white shirt off the back of the chair and shook it out. "If all goes well, we'll get our first sponsorship payment next week. When that happens—"

He paused and looked at Lee Tima.

"—you can buy as many snacks as you want."

Lee Tima's eyes lit up. "Really?"

"Really," Jiang Zhiyu nodded. "But before that, there's one more thing we need to do."

"What?"

Jiang Zhiyu pointed to the pile of instant noodle boxes in the corner. "Dinner. Is it seafood flavor or beef flavor today?"

Lee Tima sighed, walked over to the boxes, and rummaged through them for a while. "There's only one pack of seafood flavor left, and three packs of beef... Let's have beef. Save the seafood for breakfast tomorrow."

"Okay."

They boiled water and prepared two bowls of noodles. During the three-minute wait, neither of them spoke. Lee Tima continued studying the snack market report on her tablet, while Jiang Zhiyu wrote next week's filming schedule in his notebook.

The noodles were ready, and they sat facing each other to eat. The steam rose up, blurring their faces.

"Oppa," Lee Tima said suddenly.

"Hmm?"

"What if... I mean, what if the sponsorship doesn't work out?"

Jiang Zhiyu picked up a mouthful of noodles and blew on them. "Then we'll find another way."

"What way?"

"I don't know," he said honestly. "But there will always be a way."

Lee Tima stared at him for a while, then lowered her head to continue eating.

Halfway through the meal, she spoke again. "When we have money, I want to buy that."

Jiang Zhiyu followed her gaze—there was a picture clipped from a magazine pinned to the wall. It showed a luxurious snack cabinet with various imported snacks displayed behind glass doors.

"We'll buy it," Jiang Zhiyu said.

"And we need to buy professional fill lights, not this desk-lamp-plus-shirt setup."

"We'll buy them."

"And we need to rent a real studio, not film in a basement."

"We'll rent one."

Lee Tima smiled. "Oppa, you're agreeing so readily now?"

"Because I believe you'll earn it back." Jiang Zhiyu finished his last bite of noodles and drank the soup. "Your performance today is worth that price."

Lee Tima didn't say anything. She slowly finished her noodles, drinking every last drop of soup—a habit formed from living in financial straits for a long time.

While cleaning up the dishes, Jiang Zhiyu's phone vibrated. It was an email notification.

He opened it and froze for two seconds.

"What is it?" Lee Tima asked.

Jiang Zhiyu turned the phone toward her. On the screen was a reply from Orion's marketing department, and the sender was the same Group Leader Kim from that afternoon.

[Hello, Producer Jiang Zhi Yu.

It was truly fate to run into you at the supermarket today. Your sister's (?) performance left a deep impression on me.

Attached is our preliminary product placement cooperation plan; please review it. Also, if convenient, could you provide a video clip of her consuming our company's products? No professional equipment is required, a mobile phone recording will suffice; we need to evaluate her on-camera presence.

Looking forward to your reply.]

A preliminary quote was attached at the end of the email.

Lee Tima leaned closer to the screen, looking carefully at the number. After counting the zeros, she looked up at Jiang Zhiyu. "Does this... mean what I think it means?"

Jiang Zhiyu nodded. "Yes."

"Is it enough to pay the basement rent for several months?"

"It's enough to pay for a year."

"Enough to buy that snack cabinet on the wall?"

"Enough to buy two."

Lee Tima took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. Her expression was calm, but her fingers were trembling slightly.

"So..." she whispered, "we've succeeded in the first step?"

"We've succeeded in the first step." Jiang Zhiyu put his phone away. "Now, go and write down those 'professional reviews' you gave at the supermarket today and organize them into a document. I'm going to use that to talk to Lays tomorrow."

Lee Tima immediately ran to the computer, opened a document, and her fingers flew across the keyboard. Her silhouette in the lamp light looked small, but determined.

Jiang Zhiyu walked to the window. The basement windows were high up, so he could only see the legs of pedestrians rushing by outside. But he stood there for a long time, watching those blurry shadows come and go.

The phone vibrated again.

This time it was an inquiry from Lays, asking if they could design a special segment for the new 'Kimchi Flavor Potato Chips'.

Jiang Zhiyu replied quickly, attaching the 'taste analysis' Lee Tima had written at the supermarket that afternoon.

Sent.

When he turned around, Lee Tima had finished the document and was sitting on the chair with her knees hugged to her chest, watching him.

"Did you send it?" she asked.

"Sent it."

"What's next?"

"Wait for a reply. Then prepare the formal contract. And then..." Jiang Zhiyu paused. "And then 'destined kim hyo-soon' can officially begin filming."

Lee Tima nodded. Her expression was calm, but her eyes were bright, just like the look in her eyes when she was looking at potato chips at the supermarket that day.

"Oppa."

"Hmm?"

"Thank you." She said it softly, but very seriously.

Jiang Zhiyu didn't ask what she was thanking him for. He just nodded, walked to the computer, and began checking his emails.

Outside, the night in Seoul grew deeper. A little bit of streetlight filtered through the basement's only window, casting a small, diamond-shaped patch of light on the floor.

Lee Tima hugged her knees and watched that patch of light. Suddenly, she began to hum a song softly. It wasn't a popular song, but a very simple melody without lyrics, just humming.

Jiang Zhiyu's fingers tapping on the keyboard paused for a moment, then continued.

The humming was very faint, but in the silent basement, it filled every gap.

The next morning, the balance in Jiang Zhiyu's account went from a negative number to six digits.

In the snack section of the supermarket, facing the dazzling array of shelves, Lee Tima solemnly announced:

"From today on, I am also an actress who 'brings her own investment' to the set."

Standing beside her, Jiang Zhiyu raised an eyebrow.

"Even if the 'investment' is potato chips and cookies," Lee Tima continued, her expression as serious as if she were giving an acceptance speech, "it's enough."

She picked up a bag of Honey Butter Chips, looked at it against the light, and then turned to Jiang Zhiyu:

"For the first scene of filming, I want to use this."

Jiang Zhiyu nodded. "As you wish."

The drama 'destined kim hyo-soon', amidst the aroma of instant noodles and potato chips—

Officially entered the countdown to filming.

The basement ceiling started leaking again.

It wasn't a rhythmic dripping sound, but a more annoying rustling, like some kind of damp breathing. Water stains slowly spread in the corner, soaking the edges of the 'luxury mansion window' landscape picture she had pasted there. The fake blue sky and white clouds in the picture were now wrinkled, like a face that had been crying.

Lee Tima stared at the water stain for three minutes and then sighed. She walked barefoot across the cold concrete floor and dragged a red plastic basin from the pile of junk in the corner—there was already a shallow layer of water at the bottom, which she had placed there before going to bed last night.

She moved the basin directly under the leak. Water droplets fell into the plastic basin, making a dull 'thud' sound. There was a three-second interval between each drop, precise as a cheap metronome.

Her phone screen was lit, staying on the banking app interface. The number in the balance column was what Jiang Zhiyu had shown her that morning: six digits, specifically 237,000 won. It wasn't the advertising sponsorship fee—that wouldn't arrive until next week—this was 'project contingency funds' Jiang Zhiyu had advanced from SM in his own name.

"What's the interest?" she had asked at the time.

"7.2% APR." Jiang Zhiyu signed the contract without looking up. "It's lower than a formal bank loan, but what's owed is a debt of gratitude."

Lee Tima knew whose 'gratitude' that was—Lee Soo-man's. Although Jiang Zhiyu's departure from SM seemed peaceful on the surface, advancing such a large sum of money required a guarantee, trust, and the nod of that godfather-like figure.

The water in the basin had accumulated another centimeter. Lee Tima crouched down and trailed her finger across the surface. The water was very cold, sending a faint stinging sensation through her fingertip. She suddenly remembered when she was a child in the training rooms of TG Entertainment on the Tianxuan Continent. The air conditioning was broken, and the summer was as hot as a steamer. She and Kim Soo-yeon would hide in the locker room, filling mineral water bottles with tap water and splashing each other's faces. They laughed loudly back then, because they knew the Manager would soon bring them chilled watermelon.

The sound of a key turning came from the door.

Jiang Zhiyu pushed the door open and walked in, carrying two large plastic bags. The bags were semi-transparent, and colorful packaging could be seen inside—not snacks, but various repair materials: waterproof paint, leak-sealing tape, a new plastic basin, and a large roll of plastic wrap.

"The landlord said repairing the roof will have to wait until next week." He placed the plastic bags on the table with a dull thud. "We'll have to make do with this for now."

Lee Tima didn't move, still crouching by the basin. "You bought those with that money?"

"Part of it." Jiang Zhiyu began unpacking. "I bought some other things too."

He pulled a cardboard box out of the bag. The box was plain, made of brown corrugated paper, without any logo. Inside was a set—or rather, half a set—of simple fill lights. Two light stands, two LED panels, and a reflective umbrella; there were no softboxes or light control accessories, just the most basic entry-level model.

"Second-hand." Jiang Zhiyu set up the light stands with practiced movements. "I got them from an independent photographer in Hongdae who was upgrading his equipment. I talked him down by a third of the price."

[part:deepseek-chat]

The light stand was silver, with a few scratches, but the structure was fairly sturdy. The LED light panels were plugged in, emitting a faint hum before lighting up. It was a standard 5600K white light, neither warm nor cool, neutrally impersonal.

The moment the light filled the basement, something changed.

When there was only that old desk lamp before, the light was localized, directional, like a stage spotlight. The shadows were thick, darkness occupying most of the space. But now, these two LED light panels illuminated the entire basement brightly—so the mottled walls, the moldy ceiling, the piled-up clutter, the dried water stains on the floor, all were exposed.

Too bright. Cruelly bright.

Tima squinted her eyes. She saw dust dancing in the beams of light, saw the outline of a spiderweb in the corner, saw the half-eaten packet of crackers she had left on the table—the wrapper was already crumpled, saved from yesterday.

"Too bright," she said.

"Needed for filming," Jiang Zhiyu adjusted the angle of the light stand. "Natural light isn't enough, the desk lamp has color distortion. This kind of light is the most accurate, easier for color grading in post-production."

He walked under the leak, looked up at the crack in the ceiling. The crack was shaped like a lightning bolt, slanting from the corner toward the center, with dark water stains along the edges.

Jiang Zhiyu brought over a chair, stepped onto it, and began applying waterproof tape over the crack. The tape was silver, with an aluminum foil texture. Stuck on the mottled ceiling, it looked like a clumsy scar.

"Oppa," Tima called him from below.

"Hmm?"

"Are you afraid of heights?"

Jiang Zhiyu paused for a second: "What?"

"The chair is wobbling."

Jiang Zhiyu looked down at her. Tima was looking up, her expression serious. The chair was indeed wobbling—an old wooden chair with uneven legs. Every time he moved, it made a slight creaking sound.

"Not afraid of heights," he said, continuing to apply the tape. "But back at TG Entertainment, once while shooting an MV, I had to walk along the edge of a thirty-story rooftop. I was really afraid of heights, but I didn't tell anyone. When the director yelled action, my legs were like jelly."

"What did you do then?"

"Walked anyway," Jiang Zhiyu tore off the last piece of tape and smoothed it down. "After walking over, I vomited where the camera couldn't see. Finished, wiped my mouth, and came back to shoot the next take."

He stepped down from the chair, his movements steady. The chair legs scraped against the floor with a harsh sound.

"What happened after that?" Tima asked.

"Later, that MV won an award," Jiang Zhiyu pushed the chair back into place. "No one knew I was afraid of heights, except the assistant who handed me water at the time. He quit later, went and opened a coffee shop."

He put away the remaining waterproofing materials, then took out two items from another plastic bag.

Not snacks.

Scripts.

Printed manuscripts, A4 paper, in two black folders. On the cover was a handwritten title: 'destined kim hyo-soon—Revised Edition (Final Draft).' The handwriting was Jiang Zhiyu's—neat but somewhat hurried, clearly written through the night.

He handed one of them to Tima.

"Made some changes," he said. "Last night."

Tima took it and opened it. The paper was fresh, the ink smell not yet faded. She saw changes on the very first page—several lines crossed out with a red ballpoint pen, new words written beside them. The characters were small, crammed into the margins.

She sat down and began to read. Jiang Zhiyu sat in front of the computer and started editing yesterday's audition footage. The sounds of keyboard tapping and pages turning intertwined in the bright light.

Time passed slowly.

The sound of leaking water continued, but after being caught by the plastic basin, it became docile. The hum of the LED lights was low-frequency, like some kind of background noise. When Tima reached the third scene, she stopped.

"Here," she pointed at the script. "Hyo-soon discovers her father secretly went to sell blood, chases him to the hospital, but doesn't go in, just cries at the entrance—why did you delete the scene where she runs over and hugs her father?"

Jiang Zhiyu didn't stop what he was doing: "Too sentimental."

"But the audience needs an emotional climax."

"A climax doesn't always have to be a hug," Jiang Zhiyu paused the editing and turned his head. "Sometimes, not hugging hurts more."

Tima stared at those lines. Jiang Zhiyu's revised version was: Hyo-soon runs to the hospital entrance, sees her father coming out of the blood donation room, pale-faced, pressing a cotton ball on his arm. She stops, hides behind a pillar. After her father walks away, she comes out, squats on the ground, and cries. But she makes no sound, only her shoulders shake. After crying, she wipes her tears, goes to a convenience store to buy a cup of hot soy milk, leaves it at the doorstep, and then goes to school.

"Would she say anything?" Tima asked.

"Nothing," Jiang Zhiyu said. "Sometimes, silence is more powerful than dialogue."

Tima continued reading. She read slowly, sometimes flipping back to the previous page to compare the changes. Jiang Zhiyu's revisions were meticulous, not only altering dialogue but adding many action cues and micro-expression descriptions—

[Hyo-soon takes the crackers from her classmate, doesn't eat them immediately, but turns the package halfway in her hand, looking at it.]

[When Grandma calls her by the wrong name, she doesn't correct it right away, but freezes for half a second first, then smiles and answers.]

[Chasing a lost cat on a rainy night, she falls, her knee bleeds, but she first checks if the cat is injured.]

These small details were scattered throughout the script, like pearls strung on a thread. They didn't advance the plot, but they built the character. They turned Kim Hyo-soon from a 'poor but kind' label into a living, breathing person.

"These..." Tima looked up. "How did you write them?"

Jiang Zhiyu was silent for a few seconds.

"Observation," he said. "Observing you, observing people around, observing how the trainees at the SM cafeteria eat, observing the expressions of people passing by in the subway station. Then imagining, if they were Kim Hyo-soon, what would they do."

He paused, then added: "And, memories."

"Memories of what?"

"Memories of TG Entertainment on the Tianxuan Continent, those trainees who hadn't debuted yet. Many of them came from poor families, crammed into dorms even smaller than this for their dreams. I saw a girl who only ate one meal a day, saving all her money for vocal lessons. When she smiled, her eyes were especially bright, as if she had never suffered."

"What happened later?"

"Debuted, got popular, and then..." Jiang Zhiyu's voice lowered. "Then contract disputes, got blacklisted, now I don't know where she is."

The LED light fell on his profile, casting deep shadows. For a moment, Tima thought he didn't look 17, but older, much older.

She continued reading the script.

When she reached the special episode part, she smiled. Jiang Zhiyu had added many absurd settings for the ditzy angel Lim Ying-er: She thinks smartphones are magic mirrors, chanting spells at Siri; she tries to charge her phone with her 'angel halo,' ends up frying the socket; the first time she eats ramen, it's so spicy her eyes water, but she insists 'This is a flavor heaven doesn't have!'

"Yoona Unnie will like these," Tima said.

"Already sent them to her," Jiang Zhiyu said. "She replied, 'Isn't this character basically acting herself?' followed by three crying-laughing emojis."

The video editing was finished. Jiang Zhiyu exported the final product, the filename was [TG_Lee Tima_Orion Audition Clip_Final Version]. The video length was 47 seconds, not long, but he had adjusted the color grading three times, added a very faint film grain effect, and added the TG Entertainment logo at the end—temporarily designed, a simple black [TG] monogram.

"Send it now?" he asked.

Tima closed the script: "Send."

The email sending progress bar moved slowly. The basement had poor network, the signal intermittent. 30%, 50%, 70%... Tima stared at the screen, her fingers unconsciously twisting the hem of her shirt.

90%, 95%, 99%—

Send successful.

Almost simultaneously, Jiang Zhiyu's phone vibrated. Not an email reply, but a bank SMS notification: a transfer deposited, the amount exactly the advance payment for the advertisement sponsorship, even 10% more than the contract figure—a 'sincerity fee' specially approved by Group Leader Kim.

There were many zeros after the number, so many that Tima counted twice to be sure.

"She's really generous," Tima said.

"Not generosity," Jiang Zhiyu turned off his phone screen. "It's an investment. She's betting this drama will be a hit, betting you'll become popular. If she wins the bet, this amount of money won't even be pocket change to her."

He put his phone back in his pocket and stood up: "Let's go."

"Where to?"

"Buy snacks," Jiang Zhiyu walked to the door and picked up his jacket. "You said it yourself, once we have money, you'd buy out the entire snack cabinet."

Tima blinked: "Now?"

"Now."

They didn't go to Lotte Mart, but to a larger Emart farther away. At 9 PM, the supermarket wasn't crowded, the lights were bright, the shelves neat like soldiers in formation.

Tima pushed the shopping cart, for the first time not looking at the price tags. She took a bag of Honey Butter Chips, put it in the cart. Then another bag. Then orion pies, one box of each of the five flavors. Lays' kimchi flavor, Nongshim's shrimp crackers, Pepero's chocolate and strawberry flavors...

The shopping cart gradually filled up.

When they reached the imported snacks section, she stopped in front of a row of Japanese chocolates. The packaging was exquisite, and the price was equally 'exquisite'—a small box cost fifteen thousand won.

She picked up a box, looked at it, then put it back.

"What's wrong?" Jiang Zhiyu asked.

"Too expensive," Tima said. "One box of chocolate can buy ten packs of instant noodles."

"I said, don't look at prices today."

"Can't break the habit," she pushed the cart forward, but after a few steps, she turned back and still took one box of chocolate. "Just one. To taste. Might need it for acting later."

Finally, at checkout, the shopping cart was completely full. The cashier scanned for a full five minutes, the machine printing a long receipt. The total amount made Tima gasp—much more than she had imagined.

Jiang Zhiyu swiped his card, entered the PIN, his expression unchanged.

Carrying two large bags of snacks out of the supermarket, the night wind was cool. Autumn had come to Seoul, the air carrying a faint osmanthus fragrance—who knew which yard it drifted from.

They didn't take the subway, but hailed a taxi. The driver saw the two large bags of snacks and smiled: "Buying so much for the kids?"

"Mm," Jiang Zhiyu responded.