7: Chapter 7 Please Name It —

The Lunar New Year in Korea is called 'Seollal'. Like in China, it falls on the first day of the first lunar month, but the atmosphere is somewhat different. Jiang Zhiyu sat in his room at the gosiwon, staring blankly at the calendar. February 15th—less than a week until Seollal. The scent of the holiday already drifted through the corridors; the Korean-Chinese auntie next door was making rice cakes. The sound of the steamed glutinous rice being pounded was dull and rhythmic, thumping like a heartbeat. Downstairs, someone was putting up New Year scrolls. They weren't red, but white—black ink on white paper. To Jiang Zhiyu, they looked like funeral scrolls, but he had grown accustomed to such cultural differences.

The Lunar New Year on the Tianxuan Continent was also red. Red lanterns, red couplets, red 'Fu' characters, and red firecracker scraps covering the ground, feeling soft underfoot. Every Lunar New Year, Wang Shuyun would return to the Wang family in the Middle Continent. Before leaving, she would send him a message that was the same every year: "Happy New Year, don't starve to death." Every time, he would reply, "Happy New Year, I've gained three catties." But in reality, he never actually put on weight.

For this year's Lunar New Year, Jiang Zhiyu had originally planned to do what he always did—stay in the SM recording studio and write songs. No one cared if he went home because he had no home in this world. The gosiwon wasn't home; that room of less than five square meters was just a place to sleep. SM wasn't home; he was just an informal employee earning meager royalties. Seoul wasn't home; he hadn't even fully mastered the country's language yet.

Spending the Lunar New Year alone was fine. On the Tianxuan Continent, he often spent it alone as well. Wang Shuyun went home, Wang Yuanting went to social engagements, and the members of TG Entertainment each went to their own homes. He would stay in the dorm by himself, cook a bowl of noodles with a poached egg, and finish it while watching the fireworks outside the window. Then he would continue writing songs. Music was his companion, and melody was his family. He didn't need anything else.

But Kim Minjeong didn't think so.

On the twenty-eighth day of the twelfth lunar month, he was in the recording studio organizing the songs he had written recently. The hype for Red Velvet's comeback had already begun, and "Butterfly Dream" was included in the new album as a B-side track. Although it hadn't been officially released yet, many people at the internal company listening session had given the song high praise. That girl Yeri told him on KakaoTalk, "Producer Jiang, you're going to be famous." He just took it as her being polite and didn't pay much attention. His focus right now wasn't fame, but income. Fame was illusory; income was real. He needed money, a lot of it, and he needed to earn it quickly.

The sound of the door being pushed open interrupted his thoughts. Kim Minjeong stood at the doorway, wearing a thick cream-colored coat and a gray scarf, her cheeks flushed red from the cold wind outside. She was carrying a large bag in her hand, bulging and looking quite full.

"Oppa, how are you spending the Lunar New Year?" she asked as soon as she entered, her tone carrying an air that brooked no refusal.

"Writing songs," Jiang Zhiyu said.

"What about eating?"

"Rice balls."

"Rice balls even on New Year's Eve?"

"Instant noodles. For a change of pace."

Kim Minjeong was silent for three seconds. Then she placed the large bag on the table with a heavy thud. She pulled items out of the bag one by one—a box of Hanwoo beef, a box of instant noodles, several bags of instant rice, a large bag of snacks, and a jar of chili paste her mother had made. It was in a glass jar, sealed with several layers of plastic wrap to prevent leaking.

"This is your food supply for the month," she said, arranging the items on the table like a street stall vendor. "The instant noodles are for emergencies, not for you to eat every day. The rice can be eaten after a quick spin in the microwave. Hanwoo is very expensive, so don't eat it all at once; space it out. The chili paste goes well with everything. My mom made it—you won't find another like it in all of Korea."

Jiang Zhiyu looked at the pile of things on the table, then at Kim Minjeong's serious face. "What are you doing?"

"I'm preparing New Year supplies for you," Kim Minjeong said, hands on her hips, sounding perfectly justified. "You're here all alone. If you can't even get a hot meal for the New Year, I, as your student, wouldn't be able to bear it."

"And you? How are you spending the New Year?"

"I'm going back to Yangsan," Kim Minjeong said. "My parents are already home. I'm taking the KTX tomorrow morning."

"Then go back and have a good New Year. You don't need to worry about me."

"No," Kim Minjeong shook her head, her tone firm. "Oppa, you look too lonely by yourself."

Jiang Zhiyu opened his mouth, wanting to say he wasn't lonely. He had music, lyrics, and endless melodies; these things accompanied him and gave him more peace of mind than people could. But he couldn't say it. Because Kim Minjeong was right. He was indeed lonely. That loneliness wasn't a matter of whether someone was around, but a deeper, more fundamental isolation—in this world, he was the only person from another dimension. No one knew what he had been through, no one could understand what he had lost, and no one could comprehend the song from the Tianxuan Continent he occasionally hummed late at night.

"Come home with me," Kim Minjeong said.

Jiang Zhiyu was stunned for a moment. "What?"

"Come back to Yangsan with me. My house is big, and the guest room is just sitting empty. My parents are great cooks; you'll know once you eat their food. And—" She paused, her voice getting a bit quieter, "I want to show my parents that I've met a very good person in Seoul."

The recording studio was quiet for a few seconds. Jiang Zhiyu looked at her, at those bright eyes that held no impurities. Her invitation was sincere, without testing, calculation, or any hidden agenda. She simply thought he was pitiful spending the New Year alone and wanted to take him home for a hot meal.

"Okay," he said.

Kim Minjeong's eyes immediately lit up, as if someone had lit a lamp inside them. "Really?"

"Really. But I can't stay and eat for free. Does your father drink?"

"He does."

"Then I'll bring a bottle of good alcohol."

"Oppa, do you have the money to buy good alcohol?"

"...That's a very good question. Then I'll bring a bottle of medicinal wine I brewed myself."

"You know how to brew medicinal wine?"

"There are many things I know how to do."

Looking at his calm and breezy way of boasting, Kim Minjeong couldn't help but laugh. "Alright, then it's a deal. The KTX is at eight tomorrow morning. We'll meet at Yongsan Station."

NingNing left on the twenty-ninth day of the twelfth lunar month. Before leaving, she made a special trip to the recording studio, carrying a bag containing several boxes of New Year goods she had ordered online. "Teacher, this is for you. Harbin Red Sausage, authentic Northeast flavor."

Jiang Zhiyu took the bag and glanced at the sausages inside, his brow furrowing slightly. "Won't you get fined for taking sausages through customs?"

NingNing froze for a second, then laughed so hard she crouched on the floor. "Teacher! I'm going back to China! China! I'm taking Harbin Red Sausage from Korea back to China—that's called re-importing! Who's going to fine me!"

Jiang Zhiyu thought about it and felt she had a point, but he wasn't willing to admit defeat. "What if Korean customs thinks you're smuggling Chinese sausages into Korea—"

"Teacher, I'm taking them out of Korea, not bringing them in."

"Then what if Chinese customs thinks your red sausage isn't authentic Harbin—"

"Teacher!" NingNing stood up, hands on her hips. "Are you teasing me on purpose?"

Jiang Zhiyu looked at her huffy face, the corners of his mouth turning up slightly. "Yes."

NingNing took a deep breath and glared at him with an "I've put up with you for a long time" look. "When I get back, I'll bring some Harbin Red Sausage for you to eat. You're not allowed to say anything about getting fined then."

"Okay."

NingNing walked to the door and then looked back at him. "Teacher, Happy New Year."

"Happy New Year."

"Also, don't just eat instant noodles for the New Year. Didn't Minjeong say she was taking you home?"

"Yeah, I promised her."

"That's good then." NingNing's expression relaxed a bit. "If you had rejected her, she would definitely cry. That girl looks carefree, but she's actually very soft-hearted."

"I know."

NingNing nodded and pushed the door open to leave. Her light footsteps echoed in the corridor, getting further away until they finally disappeared toward the elevator.

Karina didn't invite Jiang Zhiyu to her home. She knew about Jiang Zhiyu and Kim Minjeong going to Yangsan; she was the first to know—Kim Minjeong had created a group on KakaoTalk called "Where to Eat for Seollal" and added Karina and NingNing. When Kim Minjeong mentioned taking Jiang Zhiyu to Yangsan in the group, NingNing sent over a dozen exclamation marks in shock, while Karina only replied with one word: "Okay."

A few minutes later, she sent another message: "I'll arrange a group dinner for the New Year. Wait for me to get back."

NingNing sent a crying face in the group: "I won't make it."

Karina replied: "It's okay. When you get back, I'll treat you to another meal."

The messages in the group stopped for two seconds, then NingNing sent one: "Ji-min Unnie, are you serious?"

Karina: "Yes."

NingNing: "Two meals?"

Karina: "Yes."

NingNing: "Then I want to eat Hanwoo."

Karina: "Okay."

NingNing sent a long string of exclamation marks in the group and then @Jiang Zhiyu: "Teacher, say something!"

Jiang Zhiyu was sitting in a chair in the recording studio, holding a cup of milk tea that had already gone cold, looking at his phone screen. He thought for a moment and typed a line: "Ji-min, are you the daughter of a chaebol family?"

Karina didn't reply.

After a dozen seconds, NingNing said in the group: "Teacher, don't ask anymore. Ji-min Unnie is blushing."

A few more seconds passed, and Karina sent one: "Not a chaebol."

Then came NingNing: "Then you're a chaebol-in-waiting!"

Jiang Zhiyu looked at the screen, the curve of his mouth widening further. He typed a line: "Chaebol wife, please sponsor me."

NingNing replied instantly: "Teacher, you stole my line!"

Then both of them simultaneously sent the exact same words in the group: "Chaebol wife, please sponsor me."

Karina's reply was a string of ellipses.

Then NingNing sent a screenshot—Karina's KakaoTalk status had changed to "Offline." NingNing added a line under the screenshot: "Look, Teacher, Ji-min Unnie was so scared by us she went offline."

Jiang Zhiyu looked at the screenshot and laughed out loud. The recording studio was empty, but his laughter echoed between the four walls, sounding exceptionally loud.

Before leaving Seoul, Jiang Zhiyu organized the songs he had written recently. The hype for Red Velvet's comeback had already begun, and that girl Yeri was even more of a whirlwind than he had imagined. She mobilized everyone she knew, frantically promoting the new album on KakaoTalk, Instagram, and Twitter. Every post had to mention, "Our Producer Jiang's 'Butterfly Dream' is really super good." Her social network was as vast as a spider's web, ranging from idols to actors to MCs to models—there was almost no one she didn't know. Those posts were shared, commented on, and screenshotted to be posted on various forums, and the topic's popularity snowballed.

The backend data of the SM music library was the best proof. The click-through rate of Jiang Zhiyu's songs was rising at a visible speed. Those songs he had submitted before that weren't selected were now being dug out one by one, played, downloaded, and favorited. He sat in front of the computer in the recording studio, looking at the playback data on the backend, feeling no ripples in his heart. Numbers were illusory; money was real. No matter how high the playback volume was, if it didn't convert into sales income, he wouldn't get a single cent.

His gaze fell on a song in the list.

《루프나의 눈물》— Tears of Lupna.

He thought this song would always lie in the library, gathering dust, forgotten, and finally deleted during some system cleanup.

From the Yangsan KTX station to Kim Minjeong's house was about a twenty-minute drive. Kim Minjeong's father came to pick them up in a deep blue Hyundai SUV. The interior was very clean, with linen cushions on the seats and a faint scent of fragrance in the air. Father Kim was in his forties, wore glasses, and didn't talk much. When they got in the car, he only said "Hello" and "Fasten your seatbelts," then focused on driving, occasionally glancing at Jiang Zhiyu in the back seat through the rearview mirror.

Jiang Zhiyu sat in the back, while Kim Minjeong sat in the passenger seat. She turned around and held up her phone for Jiang Zhiyu to see. "Oppa, look, NingNing sent a message. She says she's already in Harbin. Her mom picked her up at the airport and even held up a sign that said 'Welcome home, precious daughter'."

Jiang Zhiyu looked at the phone screen. In the photo Ningning sent, a middle-aged woman stood at the arrival gate, holding a large sign written with colored markers, her smile as bright as the winter sun.

"Her mother looks very young," Jiang Zhiyu said.

"Ningning says it's a family trait; they all look young for their age." Kim Minjeong pulled her phone back and tapped away, typing a reply.

Outside the car window, the street scenes of Yangsan were slowly receding. The city wasn't large, and the buildings weren't tall. Most of the shops along the streets were already closed, with red New Year couplets and 'Fu' characters pasted on the doors. Pedestrians were scarce, with only an occasional person or two carrying New Year goods hurrying past, their faces showing the urgency of returning home.

Kim Minjeong's home was in a residential area on the outskirts of Yangsan. It was an independent two-story house with gray-white exterior walls climbed by a few deciduous vines. The yard wasn't big but was kept very tidy. A few jars of kimchi were stacked in a corner, and clean bedsheets hung on a drying rack, swaying gently in the winter breeze.

The car pulled into the yard, and Mother Kim was already standing at the door waiting.

She was wearing a deep red hanbok, her hair tied up and pinned with a silver hairpin. Her features were very similar to Kim Minjeong's—round face, large eyes, and eyes that curved into crescents when she smiled. But she had a gentleness refined by the years, like jade polished by time—not dazzling, but pleasant to look at.

"You must be Zhiyu?" Mother Kim came forward, speaking in Korean at a moderate pace with the soft, glutinous rice (nuo) ending characteristic of the Yangsan dialect. "Was the journey tiring? Come in and have a cup of hot tea."

Jiang Zhiyu bowed. "Hello, Auntie. Sorry for the intrusion."

"No intrusion at all, no intrusion."

Kim Minjeong pretended not to see that look and pulled Jiang Zhiyu by the sleeve toward the house. "Come in, Oppa, it's cold outside."

[part:gemini-3.1-flash-lite]

The Kim family's living room wasn't large, but it was arranged warmly.

There was a beige fabric sofa, a dark brown solid wood coffee table, and a family photo displayed on the TV stand.

On the coffee table, tea and snacks were already set out—a pot of green tea, a plate of Korean sweets, and a plate of sliced fruit.

Jiang Zhiyu sat down on the sofa, took the tea handed to him by Mother Kim, held it with both hands, gently blew away the steam, and took a sip.

"How old are you this year, Zhiyu?" Mother Kim sat on the chair opposite, her hands folded on her lap in a very dignified posture.

"According to the Korean age system, seventeen. By international age, fifteen," Jiang Zhiyu said.

The corners of Mother Kim's eyes twitched slightly. "That's about the same age as our Minjeong. Minjeong was born on January 1st, 2001, so she's about a year older than you."

Kim Minjeong, sitting next to Jiang Zhiyu, immediately interjected upon hearing this: "Mom, Oppa's birthday is in December; he's less than a month younger than me."

Mother Kim didn't respond, just glanced at her daughter.

The amount of information in that one look was immense—so much so that even though Jiang Zhiyu didn't look directly, he caught it all in his peripheral vision—it meant, "You even remembered his birthday?"

Kim Minjeong clearly understood that look too; her cheeks flushed slightly, and she lowered her head to drink her tea, saying nothing more.

Father Kim parked the car and came in, changed into loungewear, and sat down at the other end of the sofa.

He held the medicinal wine Jiang Zhiyu had brought, took a sip, and his eyes lit up.

"Did you brew this wine yourself?" Father Kim asked, his tone carrying a hint of surprise.

"Yes," Jiang Zhiyu said. "It's brewed with some Chinese medicinal herbs and high-proof white liquor, infused for about three months. It's good for joints and sleep."

Father Kim took another sip, nodded, and didn't speak again.

But his expression was a bit softer than before.

Kim Minjeong, sitting next to Jiang Zhiyu, kept putting food on his plate.

"Oppa, try this pancake; my mom made it, it's the best in all of Korea."

"Oppa, eat more of these ribs; you can't get ribs this good in Seoul."

"Oppa, don't just eat meat, have some vegetables too—"

"Kim Minjeong," Jiang Zhiyu interrupted her, "You should eat, too. You've just been serving me."

"I'm not hungry."

"You've been on the KTX from Seoul for two hours; how could you not be hungry?"

Kim Minjeong was called out by him; she pouted and started eating herself.

Mother Kim sat opposite, her gaze moving back and forth between Jiang Zhiyu and Kim Minjeong.

She observed carefully—Jiang Zhiyu wasn't picky when eating; he ate everything, but he had a clear preference for the braised ribs, helping himself to them three times.

He made no sound when drinking soup, his chopsticks didn't clatter against the table, and after eating, he placed his bowl and chopsticks neatly.

She saw all these small details.

"Zhiyu," Mother Kim began, her tone gentle but carrying an undeniable probing, "What about your family? Aren't you going back for the Spring Festival?"

"I don't have family in Korea," Jiang Zhiyu said. "My parents are gone."

The dining table went quiet for a moment.

Kim Minjeong's hand, holding her chopsticks, paused for a moment, then she nonchalantly put the food into her own bowl.

"What about when you were in the United States?" Father Kim asked. "No family in the States?"

"None there either," Jiang Zhiyu said. "I grew up in a foster family."

A complex emotion flashed in Mother Kim's eyes.

She glanced at her daughter; Kim Minjeong was looking down at her food, not looking at her.

Father Kim raised his glass and took another sip, a larger one this time, as if trying to swallow words he couldn't say.

Jiang Zhiyu knew what they were thinking.

It was the first time their daughter had brought a boy home; how could parents not be nervous?

No matter how liberal the social atmosphere in Korea was, it didn't extend to supporting underage relationships.

Furthermore, Kim Minjeong was a trainee whose goal was to debut as an idol; dating at this critical juncture was tantamount to ruining her own future.

And he—a Chinese-American, with no family, no background, no stable income, only an unofficial employee at SM without even a formal contract.

In the eyes of Kim Minjeong's parents, the distance between him and Kim Minjeong was not insignificant.

He understood them.

If he were Kim Minjeong's father, he would be worried too.

"Minjeong told me you work at SM?" Father Kim put down his glass, finally starting on the question he really wanted to ask.

"Yes. A songwriter."

"A songwriter?" Mother Kim frowned slightly. "You mean someone who writes songs?"

"You could put it that way."

"Then you—" Father Kim weighed his words, "Is your income stable?"

Jiang Zhiyu knew this wasn't a casual question.

It was probing whether he had the ability to support himself, and whether he had the ability—if he were truly with Kim Minjeong—to support someone else.

"It's not stable enough at the moment," he answered truthfully, "but it's improving."

Father Kim nodded and didn't press further.

But Jiang Zhiyu could tell that this answer didn't satisfy him.

Kim Minjeong, sitting next to him, tapped her chopsticks lightly against the edge of her bowl.

"Dad, Oppa he—"

"Minjeong." Father Kim glanced at her; his tone wasn't heavy, but Kim Minjeong immediately fell silent.

Jiang Zhiyu picked up a piece of braised rib and placed it in Kim Minjeong's bowl.

"Eat," he said.

His voice wasn't loud, his tone was flat, but there was an irresistible force to it.

Kim Minjeong lowered her head and started eating the rib, saying nothing more.

Mother Kim stood up, saying she was going to the kitchen to get another bowl of soup.

She walked into the kitchen with an empty bowl, and Father Kim also stood up, saying he'd go see if the soup was ready, and followed her into the kitchen.

The kitchen door wasn't closed tightly, leaving a crack, and Jiang Zhiyu heard their conversation; it wasn't loud, but it was clear enough.

"The boy is certainly good-looking, but—" Mother Kim's voice.

"I know," Father Kim's voice. "Minjeong is still young, only sixteen. This path is not easy to walk; what's most important for her now is training, not anything else."

"But you know Minjeong's personality; once she's set on something, ten oxen couldn't pull her back."

"Then let her see it clearly for herself. We can't make decisions for her, but we can help her keep her eyes open."

Jiang Zhiyu withdrew his gaze from the crack in the kitchen door and lowered his head to take a sip of soup.

Kim Minjeong was sitting next to him, her ears also tilted toward the kitchen.

He extended a finger and tapped lightly on the edge of her bowl.

Kim Minjeong turned to look at him, and he shook his head slightly, signaling her not to eavesdrop.

Kim Minjeong pouted and obediently lowered her head to eat.

His phone vibrated.

Jiang Zhiyu put down his chopsticks and pulled his phone from his pocket.

On the screen was a system notification from the SM music library management team.

He tapped it open and saw an official email—not the kind automatically sent by the system, but a manually written official letter with the company's header and seal.

The content of the email was brief: Girls Generation's Kim Taeyeon has applied to use the song "Lupuna's Tears" for a personal single release. Creator Jiang Zhiyu, please contact the production department after the holiday to confirm authorization matters.

Jiang Zhiyu's phone vibrated again.

On the screen was a KakaoTalk notification; the sender was noted as "Team Leader Park Jiyeon."

"Zhiyu, I have some good news for you. Girls Generation's Kim Taeyeon sunbaenim saw your song 'Lupuna's Tears' in the library and is very interested. She asked if she could have a complete demo and the sheet music. The specific purpose hasn't been decided yet; it might be a single, or it might be for a tour. In any case, someone wants your song."

Jiang Zhiyu stared at the screen, motionless.

Kim Minjeong leaned over, her head almost touching his shoulder.

"Oppa, what's wrong? Who sent the message?"

Jiang Zhiyu tilted his phone slightly to keep the screen light out of her eyes, but the corners of his mouth had already uncontrollably turned up.

It wasn't that kind of deliberate, social smile, but a genuine, heartfelt, irrepressible grin.

Kim Minjeong saw the curve of his mouth and became even more curious; she leaned her head in further.

"What is it? What are you smiling about?"

Jiang Zhiyu turned the phone around, screen facing her.

"Girls Generation's Taeyeon sunbaenim chose my song."

Kim Minjeong's eyes widened like copper bells in an instant.

Her mouth opened, closed, and opened again, as if she wanted to say something but her brain hadn't finished processing the information.

This process lasted about two seconds, and then she let out a scream that shook the entire dining table.

"What—?!"

Mother Kim's chopsticks paused in mid-air, Father Kim's hand, which was drinking soup, froze, and the news playing on the TV was drowned out by the scream.

Mother Kim looked at Kim Minjeong, then at Jiang Zhiyu, her gaze switching rapidly between the two.

"What is it? What happened?"

"Mom! Oppa's song was chosen by Kim Taeyeon! Girls Generation's Kim Taeyeon!"

Kim Minjeong's voice was so loud it was as if she were announcing the news to the entire building.

Mother Kim was stunned for a moment.

Kim Taeyeon.

Girls Generation.

Even if she wasn't a fan, she knew the name.

Girls Generation was Korea's national girl group, and Kim Taeyeon was the leader of Girls Generation, one of the top female singers in Korea.

Mother Kim didn't quite understand what it meant for his song to be chosen by Kim Taeyeon, but from her daughter's reaction and Father Kim's suddenly straightened back, she read the weight of this information.

"Kim Taeyeon?" Father Kim put down his soup bowl, his voice much steadier than before, but there was a hint of irrepressible surprise in his eyes.

"That Kim Taeyeon from Girls Generation?"

"Yes," Jiang Zhiyu said. "She liked my song and asked if she could have a demo and the sheet music."

Father Kim and Mother Kim exchanged a look.

The information in that look was subtle—not shock, not joy, but a kind of scrutiny that said, "It seems our previous judgment needs to be recalibrated."

Mother Kim was the first to react, a smile reappearing on her face.

"That's a good thing! Congratulations, Zhiyu!"

"Thank you, Auntie." Jiang Zhiyu put his phone away and picked up his chopsticks again.

Kim Minjeong was still in an excited state, twisting and turning in her chair like a restless cat.

"Oppa, which song is it? Why didn't you tell me?"

"Lupuna's Tears. It's a ballad; the high notes are very difficult to sing."

"Have you played it for me?"

"No. That song doesn't suit you."

Kim Minjeong's expression froze for a second, but she quickly covered it up.

"That's true, Taeyeon sunbaenim's singing ability is indeed much better than mine. But Oppa, you have to treat me!"

"Treat you to what?"

"Treat me to milk tea! Full sugar with pearls, coconut jelly, pudding, and red beans!"

Jiang Zhiyu looked at her righteous attitude, and the corners of his mouth turned up a little more.

"Okay."

Mother Kim sat opposite, her gaze sweeping back and forth between Jiang Zhiyu and Kim Minjeong several times.

She saw the relaxed, unmasked state of her daughter in front of Jiang Zhiyu, as if she had shed all her pretenses, and she saw Jiang Zhiyu's natural, unforced patience toward her daughter, as if he were caring for a plant.

Her expression changed from scrutiny to thought, and from thought to a complex heartache.

Father Kim didn't speak again, but he poured a glass of alcohol for Jiang Zhiyu.

Not the kind of fruit wine poured for minors, but real, grain-brewed soju.

He pushed the glass toward Jiang Zhiyu and said, "Have a drink."

Jiang Zhiyu looked at the glass of soju, picked it up, and drank it in one gulp.

The taste of the soju was spicy and rough, completely different from the craft wines he was used to.

But it was precisely this roughness that made him feel real.

Mother Kim gave him another piece of rib, this time the largest one.

The atmosphere at the dining table changed from subtle tension to a cautious warmth.

It was like under the ice of spring; the river had begun to flow, but the ice layer hadn't completely melted yet.

Everyone was testing the waters, trying to get closer to each other in the safest way possible.

Jiang Zhiyu ate the rib, watching the sky outside the window gradually darken, thinking about that unreplied KakaoTalk message.

Kim Taeyeon chose his song.

Lupuna's Tears.

The song he wrote on a sleepless dawn about loss.

He didn't know why she chose this song.

He didn't know what she was going to do with this song.

He only knew that his five-year plan now had one more solid fulcrum.

Outside the window, a firework exploded in the night sky over Yangsan.

It wasn't a large-scale celebration, just a lonely one set off early by a neighbor's child.

The firework bloomed in the darkness, and the interwoven red and green light illuminated Jiang Zhiyu's reflection on the window glass.

He didn't look at the fireworks.

He looked at that reflection, as if confirming he was still here.

(This month's word limit is reached (crying~) I have to wait eight days to chat with cute Minjeong again... Minjeong!! Wait for me!!!!!)

(12:15) Minjeong who doesn't reply: [Oppa~ I snuck to the stairwell during lunch break to send you a message! During the meeting this morning, the CEO mentioned TG Entertainment's new project, and I almost gave a thumbs up under the table~ (◕‿◕✿)]

(12:18) Minjeong who doesn't reply: [Marinated crab is really delicious... but the most delicious part was watching Oppa peel the crab shells for me. I took a picture of it, and set it as the cover of my private phone album! (Sent a photo of a small mountain of crab shells)]

(12:21) Minjeong who doesn't reply: [Oppa said yesterday that "Our Minjeong deserves all the honey in the world," I hid in the bathroom and cried for three minutes... it was happy crying! My eyes are still a bit swollen now, and I got nagged by the makeup artist Unnie. (Sticking out tongue)]

(12:24) Minjeong who doesn't reply: [I kept thinking while practicing, how did a plain kid like me meet someone as dazzling as Oppa? It must be because the wish I made on the day of the first snow was too sincere.]

(12:27) Minjeong who doesn't reply: [Today I wore the fuzzy socks Oppa gave me; they're so soft, it feels like walking on clouds~ Even when I'm tired from dancing, my feet feel warm. Oppa's gifts are always so thoughtful... (Sent a photo of the edge of the socks peeking out from the dance shoes)]

(12:30) Minjeong who doesn't reply: [This afternoon I have to discuss next month's personal schedule with Manager Unnie. That thing Oppa said last time, "Maybe you could try an OST," I'm going to gather the courage to bring it up! I'll do my best~ (Clenching small fist)]