8: Chapter 8 Please name it?

When the bus pulled out of Yangsan Passenger Station, the sky was not yet fully bright.

At 6:40 AM, the winter morning was like a piece of unmelted ice, bitingly cold. A thin layer of frost had condensed on the bus window, blurring the world outside into an ink wash painting—a grey sky, bare trees, and a few scattered houses on the distant hills, looking like a few sesame seeds someone had casually tossed down. Jiang Zhiyu sat in the last row by the aisle, with Kim Minjeong sitting next to him by the window. She had pulled up the hood of her down jacket, the ring of faux fur around the brim framing her face like a flower bud wrapped in cotton.

The bus started, the engine's vibration traveling up from the floor, humming like a giant bee nesting under the chassis. There were few people inside; an elderly couple sat in the front row, the old woman handing a thermos to her husband as they silently shared a cup of hot coffee. The middle rows were empty, the seats covered with white headrests printed with advertisements featuring a Korean actress Jiang Zhiyu didn't recognize, her smile a bit excessively bright.

Kim Minjeong's mother stood outside the window, waving at them through the frost-blurred glass. Father Kim stood behind her, hands tucked into his overcoat pockets; he didn't wave, but he stood there for a long time until the bus turned out of the parking lot and his figure was cut off by the corner of a building.

Jiang Zhiyu saw that scene. He didn't say anything, merely withdrawing his gaze to focus on his phone screen.

Stored on his phone were the photos he had taken in Yangsan over the past few days. Not many, about twenty or so. He wasn't someone who enjoyed taking photos; back in the Tianxuan Continent, his phone gallery contained nothing but work-related screenshots and that one photo with Baek Ji-xin. But during these few days of celebrating the New Year at the Kim family home, he found the frequency with which he picked up his phone had increased. Not because he had changed, but because there were moments he felt should be remembered.

The first photo was from the afternoon of New Year's Eve, showing Mother Kim making pancakes in the kitchen. She wore a floral apron, sleeves rolled up to her elbows, revealing the somewhat rough skin on her forearms from years of managing the household. Her hands flipped the pancakes in the oil pan with movements so practiced they seemed to require no thought. Jiang Zhiyu had stood at the kitchen door and captured this moment. Mother Kim heard the shutter sound, looked back at him, and said with a smile, "Why take a picture of me? What's there to photograph about this old face?" but after laughing, she straightened her apron, smoothed her hair, and had him take another one.

The second photo was of Father Kim putting up Spring Festival couplets in the yard. He was balanced on a folding ladder, holding the red paper with black ink characters, gesturing to find the right position. Kim Minjeong stood below the ladder, head tilted back as she shouted, "The left is too high," "The right is too low," "A bit more to the middle." She shouted five or six times, yet Father Kim still couldn't find the spot she described. Finally, Jiang Zhiyu took the couplets, climbed the ladder, and aligned them perfectly on the first try. Kim Minjeong clapped from below, while Father Kim stood nearby with a subtle "young people are truly capable" expression on his face.

The third photo was of Kim Minjeong and her mother making Songpyeon together. The two sat across from each other at the dining table, kneading dough in their hands, stuffing red bean filling inside and pinching them into half-moon shapes. The Songpyeon Kim Minjeong made were of varying sizes, some fat and some thin, like a class of students of uneven heights. Every single one Mother Kim made was identical, as if poured from a mold. Kim Minjeong looked at the Songpyeon her mother had made, pouted, and then called Jiang Zhiyu over to take a photo of her with her creations. In the photo, Kim Minjeong held up a lopsided Songpyeon, smiling at the camera so widely her eyes disappeared.

The fourth photo was from the morning of New Year's Day, showing Kim Minjeong in a Hanbok giving New Year's greetings to her parents. She knelt on the living room floor, hands folded at her forehead, bowing deeply. Father Kim and Mother Kim sat in chairs, accepted the gesture, and then handed her the New Year's money. When Kim Minjeong received the money, her face held that proud "I've grown another year older" expression, but the next second, Mother Kim said, "When will you finally be able to debut?" and her expression shifted from pride to pressure, and from pressure to stubbornness. "This year," she said. "Mom, I will definitely debut this year."

The fifth photo was of Kim Minjeong having New Year's dinner with the Kim family relatives on the evening of the second day of the New Year. Over a dozen people sat at the table—aunts, uncles, cousins—it was as lively as a wedding. Kim Minjeong was surrounded by relatives asking this and that—"Is being a trainee at SM hard?", "When are you debuting?", "Have you seen EXO?", "Can you get me an autograph?"—Kim Minjeong answered them one by one, the smile on her face never faltering from start to finish. Jiang Zhiyu sat in the corner with his bowl, watching her navigate the crowd with ease, suddenly feeling that this child was much stronger than he had thought. Not a sharp, aggressive strength, but a gentle, pervasive strength that could take care of everyone, like water.

Jiang Zhiyu slowly scrolled through these photos, his finger sliding gently across the screen.

Kim Minjeong leaned against his shoulder, the faux fur from her hood brushing against his neck, tickling him. She was also looking at the photos, and whenever she saw an unflattering candid of herself—like the moment she was eating rice cakes with her mouth wide open, or her expression frozen while yawning in the kitchen, or the scene where she crouched to play with the neighbor's old cat only for it to snub her and walk away—she would reach out to snatch the phone.

"Delete this one!"

"No."

"Oppa!"

"This one looks good."

"How does it look good! My mouth is open wide enough to fit a fist!"

"That's what makes it authentic."

Kim Minjeong glared huffily at Jiang Zhiyu, but the glare only lasted two seconds before it was interrupted by the next photo Jiang Zhiyu scrolled to. The photo showed the backs of her and Mother Kim in the kitchen, the two standing side-by-side at the stove; Mother Kim was stir-frying while she handed over the seasonings. The sunset outside the window stretched their shadows very long across the floor, like a silhouette painting.

Kim Minjeong went quiet.

She didn't fuss about deleting the photo anymore, simply leaning against Jiang Zhiyu's shoulder, looking at the picture in silence.

Jiang Zhiyu didn't speak either. He looked at that photo for a few more seconds before continuing to scroll down.

At the top of the phone screen, a KakaoTalk message popped up.

"Hello, Creator Jiang Zhiyu, I am Park Min-jung, assistant to Senior Kim Taeyeon. Senior Taeyeon listened to your 'Lupina's Tears' demo and liked it very much. She hopes to hear a fully arranged version of the song and, if possible, would like to meet with you in person a week from now to discuss the details of the track. Currently, Senior Taeyeon is celebrating the New Year at her home in Jeonju and is expected to return to Seoul in a week. Please let us know your schedule if convenient, thank you."

Jiang Zhiyu's finger paused above the screen.

Kim Minjeong's head was still resting on his shoulder; she saw the message, and her breathing hitched noticeably. But she didn't speak, just leaning there quietly like a small animal pretending to be asleep.

After reading the message, Jiang Zhiyu's finger hovered over the input box for two seconds before he began to type.

"That works. I will have the full demo produced within a week. Please let Senior Taeyeon set the meeting time; I am available whenever."

Sent.

He flipped the phone over, placing it screen-down on his lap.

Kim Minjeong didn't move, her breathing on his shoulder steady and soft. But Jiang Zhiyu knew she wasn't asleep—because her fingers were unconsciously gripping the sleeve of his overcoat, clutching it so tightly that her knuckles were slightly white.

The bus merged onto the highway. The scenery outside changed from urban buildings to suburban fields, and then from suburban fields to rolling hills. The winter fields were a grayish-brown, the harvested rice stalks lined up neatly like a code for the earth. The distant hills were covered with sparse pine forests, their dark green canopies appearing particularly somber under the grayish-white sky.

Jiang Zhiyu stared at the back of the seat directly in front of him, the poster of the excessively smiling actress right in the center of his vision. His right hand rested on the armrest, his index and middle fingers alternately tapping the plastic surface, producing a faint, rhythmic clicking sound. This was his habitual movement when thinking, something Kim Minjeong had seen many times—in the recording studio, after he listened to her sing, or when he stared at the mixing console faders in silence.

She looked up at him.

Jiang Zhiyu didn't look at her. His gaze was fixed on the seatback in front of him, but his eyes were unfocused. His brain was working at high speed—what instruments the full arrangement needed, the proportion of strings, whether the piano was the lead or supporting role, whether to add synthesizer pads in the chorus to build the atmosphere, whether the high notes needed to be transposed down in advance to suit Kim Taeyeon's vocal range, and who would sing the demo recording—himself or a female vocalist—

Find a female vocalist.

Jiang Zhiyu's gaze finally regained focus.

He looked down at Kim Minjeong leaning on his shoulder.

Kim Minjeong was looking up at him, her eyes sparkling, reflecting the daylight from outside the window. Her cheeks were tinged with a faint red from the bus's heating and the insulation of her down jacket, looking like a freshly picked peach, the fine down glowing slightly in the light.

"Minjeong-ah." Jiang Zhiyu reached out and ruffled her hair.

"Hmm?" Kim Minjeong blinked.

Jiang Zhiyu's hand stopped on her head. The 'Eight Acupoints of the Head and Face' massage technique inherited from the Medicine King Valley stirred at his fingertips, but he restrained himself. Now was not the time. He looked into her sparkling eyes and thought—let Kim Minjeong try singing the full demo for 'Lupina's Tears'. Her high notes were good, her emotional expression had shown clear improvement in recent training, and she was familiar with his working habits, so they could understand each other's intentions without much adjustment.

But he thought for a moment, then thought again, and finally took his hand off her head.

"Never mind, it's nothing."

Kim Minjeong blinked, her expression shifting from anticipation to confusion, and then from confusion to a sort of irritation after being teased. Her brow furrowed, her lips pressed into a line, and she sat up straight from her leaning position, turning to face him.

"Ya! Oppa! It's so annoying when you say things like that!"

Her voice wasn't loud, yet it still sounded exceptionally clear in the quiet bus cabin. The elderly couple in the front row looked back; the old woman's mouth held a knowing smile, that "ah, young people" kind of smile. Realizing her voice was too loud, Kim Minjeong quickly covered her mouth and shrank back into her seat, leaving only her eyes visible as she glared at Jiang Zhiyu.

Jiang Zhiyu watched her look of anger, embarrassment, and frustration, the corners of his mouth turning up slightly.

"You did that on purpose!" Kim Minjeong accused in a low voice. "You definitely did that on purpose!"

"Did what on purpose?"

"First saying 'Minjeong-ah' to get someone's attention, then saying 'Never mind, it's nothing'. You definitely did it on purpose!"

"I didn't."

"You did!"

"Really, I didn't."

"You did! That's just your personality! You look gentle on the outside, but you're actually wicked to the bone! NingNing said you're a Snake in the zodiac, and snakes are exactly like that!"

Jiang Zhiyu recalled that NingNing had indeed said something similar—"Teacher, you're a Snake; snakes are those animals that look very quiet but are actually full of bad ideas." He didn't deny it, because Ningning was right. Being born in the Year of the Snake wasn't something he could choose, but he could grudgingly accept the evaluation of being "full of bad ideas."

He smiled, pulled his phone from his pocket, opened KakaoTalk, and entered their group chat of four.

The group chat was named "The Four of Us," named by NingNing. Kim Minjeong felt it was too casual and suggested changing it to "SM Future TOP Girl Group Preparatory Team," while Karina remained silent for a long time before sending a "..." to show her opposition, and Jiang Zhiyu sent a "..." to second Karina's motion. Ultimately, the name remained "The Four of Us."

Jiang Zhiyu typed in the input box: @NingNing When are you coming to the company?

Sent.

The reply was almost instantaneous. NingNing's profile picture—a small white cat wearing a bow—popped up at the top of the screen.

"The day after tomorrow!!! Teacher, I missed you!!!"

Three exclamation marks. No, four. Jiang Zhiyu counted.

"I brought Harbin red sausage! My mom found that master and ordered ten links! She said since it's the first time meeting you and she didn't know what you like, she'd have you eat these first and send more once you're finished!"

Jiang Zhiyu looked at the message and was silent for two seconds.

"Let's not talk about the red sausage for now. Protect your throat on the way back; don't eat spicy things, don't drink ice, talk less and rest more. There's something I need to trouble you with when you get back."

This time, NingNing's reply was a beat slower. Not because she wasn't online, but because she was thinking. The word "trouble" coming from Jiang Zhiyu's mouth carried a different weight. He never used "trouble" lightly; he would say "help" or "hard work," but rarely "trouble." "Trouble" meant the task wasn't easy, that he needed her to do something beyond the daily routine.

Three seconds later, NingNing's icon popped up again.

"Little Cat Saluting.jpg"

No asking what it was. No asking why her. No asking about a reward. Just an emoji of a white kitten raising a paw as if saluting, or as if saying "leave it to me."

Jiang Zhiyu looked at the emoji, the curve of his mouth widening a bit more.

Kim Minjeong's head leaned closer, the faux fur on her hood brushing his neck again. She saw NingNing's reply and the curve of Jiang Zhiyu's mouth; her lips pursed slightly, but she didn't speak.

Another message popped up in the group chat.

Karina: @Everyone Tomorrow night at six, at that 'Palsaik Samgyeopsal' in Sinchon, I've booked a table. Anyone unable to make it?

NingNing: Crying.jpg Crying.jpg Crying.jpg I won't arrive until the day after tomorrow...

Karina: I'll treat you separately when you get back.

NingNing: Really?! Karina Unnie, are you serious?!

Karina: Mm.

NingNing: Then I want to eat Hanwoo!!!

Karina: ...

NingNing: Unnie, if you don't speak, I'll take it as a yes!

Karina: When I say 'mm', it doesn't mean yes.

NingNing: But it doesn't mean no either!

Watching this exchange, Kim Minjeong burst out laughing. She leaned against Jiang Zhiyu's shoulder, burying her face in his overcoat sleeve, her shoulders shaking with laughter. Jiang Zhiyu looked down at her, didn't move, and just tilted the phone slightly toward her so she could see more clearly.

Karina sent another message: @NingNing Do you want to video call and eat together?

NingNing: Karina Unnie!!!

NingNing: Then I'm going to Haidilao to video call you guys!!!

NingNing: I'll make you guys so jealous!!!

Kim Minjeong laughed so hard she leaned her whole weight against Jiang Zhiyu, the fabric of her down jacket rustling against his overcoat sleeve. The old lady in the front row looked back again, her expression changing from "ah, young people" to "it's so good to be young."

Jiang Zhiyu put his phone away.

The bus continued along the highway. The sky outside was now fully bright, and the winter sunlight slanted through the window, plating Kim Minjeong's hair with a layer of pale golden light. In the sunlight, her hair appeared as a warm brown tone, identical to the color of her mother's hair in the sunset.

[part:gemini-3.1-flash-lite]

Kim Minjeong's breathing slowly steadied. She leaned back against Jiang Zhiyu's shoulder and remained quiet for a moment.

Then she spoke softly.

"Oppa, what do you want Ningning to do?"

Jiang Zhiyu watched the fields flying backward outside the window. "The song 'Tears of Lupina' that Kim Taeyeon selected requires a female vocal demo."

"So you want Ningning to sing it?"

"Yeah."

Kim Minjeong didn't speak immediately. She was silent for about three or four seconds. During those few seconds, the bus passed through a tunnel, and the carriage grew dark. The window glass changed from transparent to a blurry mirror, reflecting the silhouettes of the two people—she was leaning on him, he was sitting, and their two shadows overlapped.

The tunnel passed quickly, and sunlight flooded back into the carriage, so blinding that it made one want to squint.

"Ningning's high notes are indeed more stable than mine," Kim Minjeong said. Her voice was very soft, as if she were talking to herself, or perhaps confirming a fact she had known for a long time.

Jiang Zhiyu didn't respond. He knew Kim Minjeong still had more to say, so he just needed to wait.

"And her high notes have a kind of... how should I put it..." Kim Minjeong tilted her head and thought for a moment. "A kind of confidence that says 'I can just hit it.' When I sing high notes, I'm always worried about whether I'll crack on the next second. Ningning doesn't worry. She's just the type who feels—'the note is right there, and I can grab it as soon as I reach out.'"

"Your high notes are also very good," Jiang Zhiyu said.

"I know." Kim Minjeong looked up at him, her expression serious. "I know my high notes aren't bad. But there is a line between 'not bad' and 'good,' and I'm still on this side of the line."

"The high notes in that song require more than just technique," Jiang Zhiyu said. "They require a sense of—'brokenness.' Not the heart-wrenching kind of brokenness, but the kind of restraint that says 'I'm in pain, but I won't say it.' Your high notes are too clean, clean like glass. Ningning's high notes have a grainy texture, like a layer of frost on glass, blurry, which actually gives it more flavor."

Kim Minjeong remained silent for a long time after hearing this.

She wasn't angry. This was what Jiang Zhiyu appreciated most about her—she could accept the fact that others were better than her and wouldn't develop unnecessary emotions because of being compared. It wasn't because she lacked self-esteem; on the contrary, because her self-esteem was strong enough, she didn't need to belittle others to prove herself.

"Oppa," Kim Minjeong looked at him seriously. "Do you really think Ningning is more suitable for this song than I am?"

"Yes." Jiang Zhiyu didn't hesitate.

"Not because Ningning is your fellow countrywoman from China?"

"No."

"And not because you think I can't hit the notes?"

"You can hit the notes. But just hitting them isn't enough."

Kim Minjeong took a deep breath and then let it out slowly. She leaned back in her seat and pulled the hood of her down jacket down to cover half her face. Jiang Zhiyu couldn't see her expression, only the tip of her nose and her slightly pursed lips.

The bus drove over another stretch of hilly road. A river appeared outside the window, its water shimmering with a silvery light under the winter sun, looking like frozen silk.

"When I have time," Jiang Zhiyu said, "I'll write one for you."

Kim Minjeong peeked at him with one eye from the shadow of her hood.

"A song that suits you. No need to compare with anyone. Just yours."

Kim Minjeong blinked that eye. She didn't respond immediately, but instead pulled the hood away from her face, revealing her whole face. Her cheeks were flushed from being stifled in the hood, the tip of her nose was red, and her lips were a bit dry, but those eyes were moist, as if they had been dampened by something.

"Oppa," she said, "I will take that seriously."

Her tone was very serious, serious enough to be like signing a contract. It wasn't a joke, it wasn't acting cute, and it wasn't just a casual "I'll take that seriously." She was truly saying—I will treat what you said as a promise. If you said you would write a song for me, I will wait forever. A day, a month, a year, ten years. I will wait.

Jiang Zhiyu looked into her eyes and saw something he had never seen before in those moist, sparkling eyes that seemed to hide an entire starry sky. It wasn't dependency, it wasn't admiration, it wasn't gratitude, it wasn't any emotion that could be defined by language. It was something more primitive, more instinctive, as natural as a plant growing toward the sunlight.

He reached out and pinched her nose.

Kim Minjeong's nose was pinched, and her mouth opened involuntarily, like a fish pulled out of the water. She stared at him with wide eyes, patting his arm with both hands, shouting indistinctly, "Mmph, mmph, mmph, Oppa, let go."

Jiang Zhiyu didn't let go. He pinched her nose, applying slight pressure, causing the tip of her nose to be pressed into a flat shape between his thumb and index finger.

"Hey, in your heart," he said, his tone as flat as reading a weather forecast, "am I the type of person who tells lies?"

Kim Minjeong stopped struggling.

With her nose pinched, mouth slightly open, and eyes wide, she looked like a cat with its neck stuck. The look was so funny that when the old lady in the front row turned around for the third time, she finally couldn't help but laugh.

Jiang Zhiyu let go.

Kim Minjeong gasped for air, rubbing her nose tip, which had been pinched red. Tears were almost coming out—not because of the pain, but because pinching the nose makes it sore, and when it gets sore, the eyes water.

"Oppa... you are really... so annoying..."

She sniffled, her voice carrying a soft, aggrieved tone, like someone who had been bullied but didn't know how to fight back.

Jiang Zhiyu took a pack of tissues from his pocket, pulled one out, and handed it to her.

Kim Minjeong took the tissue, wiped the corners of her eyes, and then clenched the tissue in her palm, not throwing it away.

She leaned her head back onto his shoulder.

This time she leaned more forcefully. Not the cautious kind of leaning where one only dares to use a little strength, but the kind that says, "I'm going to lean on you, and there's nothing you can do about it," pressing her entire weight against him, like a cat that had finally found a comfortable nest.

Jiang Zhiyu didn't push her away.

He took out his phone again, opened the group chat, and glanced at the conversation between NingNing and Karina. NingNing had already sent dozens of stickers, and Karina hadn't replied since a certain point, probably because she had gone to do something else.

He put his phone away and leaned back in his seat.

The bus drove steadily along the highway, the humming of the engine like a melody-less lullaby. Kim Minjeong's breathing gradually became long and even, her eyelashes stopped trembling, and she looked like a small animal curled up in the sun, warm and quiet.

Jiang Zhiyu didn't sleep.

He looked out the window at the fields, hills, rivers, and villages flying backward. He remembered many things. He remembered that when he was on the Tianxuan Continent, he had also sat in a vehicle like this, with another person sitting beside him. That person also liked to lean on his shoulder to sleep, liked to wait quietly while he was thinking, and after he said, "I'll write one for you," would also look into his eyes seriously and say, "I will take that seriously."

He closed his eyes.

The sunlight outside the window shone through his eyelids, dyeing the whole world a warm orange-red.

In this color, all longing became blurry, so blurry that it was hard to tell if he was missing a person or missing a feeling.

The bus continued to drive forward.

Seoul was still ahead.

That "Palsaik Samgyeopsal" in Sinchon was hidden in a narrow alley. The storefront wasn't large, but the Korean writing on the signboard was written in a free and unrestrained style, as if it had been splashed on in one go with a brush dipped in sauce. Jiang Zhiyu stood at the entrance and glanced at the sign, his lips twitching slightly—he had seen similar calligraphy on the Tianxuan Continent. It was written by an old calligrapher he knew in the Nanming Kingdom. Later, that old gentleman was taken away for questioning by the Detective Division for allegedly passing information to an underground organization, and after that, there was no "after that."

"Oppa, why are you standing at the door? Go in!" Kim Minjeong pushed him from behind.

Jiang Zhiyu stumbled half a step forward, steadied himself, and turned his head to look at her. Kim Minjeong was wearing a creamy white turtleneck sweater today, her hair let down over her shoulders with slightly curled ends, as if she had been dragged out the door just after waking up, before she had time to comb her hair. Her cheeks were flushed from the cold winter night wind, the tip of her nose was red, and her lips were coated with a layer of clear lip glaze, gleaming with a moist light under the streetlamp.

Karina had already arrived. She was sitting in the innermost seat, facing the door, her hands folded on the table, her posture as upright as if she were taking a passport photo. Seeing the two of them enter, she slightly raised her hand, a small gesture, but enough for Jiang Zhiyu to catch the "over here" signal. She had already taken off her coat and draped it over the chair next to her, revealing a black slim-fitting knit top, the neckline neither too high nor too low, just right to reveal her collarbones. Her hair was tied in a low ponytail, without a single stray hair, and she looked as clean and sharp as if she had just walked off an advertising shoot.

Jiang Zhiyu walked over and sat down in the seat opposite Karina. Kim Minjeong naturally took off her coat, hung it on the back of the chair, and then sat down next to Jiang Zhiyu—not opposite, but next to him. This choice itself had no problem; three people eating, two on one side and one on the other, was perfectly normal. But the moment Kim Minjeong sat down, Karina's gaze lingered for a fraction of a second on the distance of less than thirty centimeters between Kim Minjeong's shoulder and Jiang Zhiyu's shoulder.

Then she moved her gaze away.

Jiang Zhiyu noticed it. He always noticed these things. This was a habit he had developed in the Detective Division—observing the direction of everyone's gaze, recording every person's micro-expression changes, and analyzing everyone's potential intentions. But he didn't say anything; he just picked up the menu on the table, flipped through two pages, and then put it down.

"Pork belly?"

"Yeah," Karina said.

"Hanwoo?"

"...Yeah." Karina's voice was a degree lower than before.

Jiang Zhiyu looked up at her, a tiny arc at the corner of his mouth. That arc wasn't a smile, but a subtle expression of "I caught you." Karina didn't look at him, her gaze fixed on the menu as if she were seriously studying the text, but the tips of her ears had already turned a faint pink.

Kim Minjeong didn't notice the silent confrontation between the two. Her attention was entirely captured by the word "Hanwoo" on the menu. "There's really Hanwoo?! Karina Unnie, did you really order Hanwoo?!"

"Yeah."

"Didn't you say Hanwoo was too expensive?"

"Eating it once in a while isn't impossible." Karina's tone was as calm as if she were reading a textbook.

Kim Minjeong turned to look at Jiang Zhiyu. Jiang Zhiyu expressionlessly picked up the water glass on the table and took a sip. Kim Minjeong pursed her lips, the expression meaning "I knew it." But she didn't press further, because the Hanwoo was already on its way, and pressing further would only make her feel more depressed.

The charcoal was soon brought out. Red charcoal was piled into a small mountain in the iron basin, flames poking out from the gaps in the charcoal blocks, licking the grill above. The heat rushed toward his face, carrying the unique charred fragrance of charcoal and a faint, elusive scent of smoke. Jiang Zhiyu rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, revealing the faint scar on his forearm—it was left when he fought that Western Twilight Continent female mercenary in the underground works of Liangshan on the Tianxuan Continent. He still remembered the feeling of the blade slicing through his flesh: cold, sharp, like being cut by the coldest wind of winter.

He took the barbecue tongs and sat down in the position directly in front of the grill as if it were the most natural thing to do. This wasn't arranged by anyone, nor was it even his conscious choice. But after the three of them sat down, that position was left empty, and he just happened to sit there. Kim Minjeong and Karina sat on either side of him, like the two base angles of an isosceles triangle, and he was the apex.

The pork belly made a sizzling sound on the grill, grease dripping onto the charcoal, splashing up a small cluster of flames, and then quickly extinguishing. Jiang Zhiyu's movements for flipping the meat were unhurried, the tongs in his hand seeming like a part of his own hand. Each piece of meat was precisely flipped, each side grilled to a golden, crispy perfection, with not a single piece forgotten in the corner to burn into charcoal.

"Oppa, did you specially practice your barbecue skills?" Kim Minjeong rested her chin on her hands, watching him flip the meat, her eyes reflecting the red of the charcoal fire.

"Yeah," Jiang Zhiyu said, "I practiced."

"Where did you practice?"

"At a friend's house." He didn't say that the friend was also named Kim Minjeong—no, wait, it was Kim Jeong-gi, or rather, the home of her good friend, Liu Zhenrou.

In the Liu family mansion in Liangshan City on the Tianxuan Continent, the image of Li Huixia teaching him to barbecue still remained in his memory. She stood in front of the stove, wearing a floral apron, holding tongs in her hand, her movements for flipping the meat exactly the same as his now. "The meat needs to be flipped three times: the first time to lock in the moisture, the second time to grill out the grease, and the third time to make the surface crispy." Her voice carried the soft, glutinous ending characteristic of the Liangshan dialect, almost identical to the tone of Mother Kim in this world.

Jiang Zhiyu cut the grilled pork belly into small pieces and used the tongs to distribute them into Kim Minjeong's and Karina's plates. Kim Minjeong's portion was a bit more, and Karina's was a bit less—not because of favoritism, but because he knew Karina was controlling her weight. She wouldn't say "I don't want it," but she would eat at an extremely slow pace, so slow that it was like performing some kind of penance. Kim Minjeong was different; she would wrap the meat in lettuce, add garlic slices, chili sauce, and grilled kimchi, stuff it into her mouth in one go, and then make a satisfied sound, like a kitten purring.

Sure enough, Kim Minjeong had already started wrapping. She picked the largest and greenest lettuce leaf, spread it on her palm, put the grilled pork belly on it, added a garlic slice, chili sauce, and a piece of kimchi grilled until slightly charred and yellow, then wrapped everything into a ball like a dumpling and stuffed it into her mouth. Her cheeks puffed up, and her jowls bulged and retracted as she chewed, looking like a hamster hoarding food.

"Is it good?" Jiang Zhiyu asked.

"Mmh, mmh, mmh!" Kim Minjeong nodded indistinctly, a little chili sauce on the corner of her mouth.

Jiang Zhiyu pulled a tissue from the tissue box on the table and handed it to her. Kim Minjeong took the tissue, wiped the corner of her mouth, and then took a new one, folded it, and placed it by Jiang Zhiyu's hand—she knew that his hands were oily from barbecuing and it wasn't convenient for him to pull a tissue himself.

Karina watched all this without saying a word. She picked up a piece of pork belly from her plate, didn't wrap it in lettuce, didn't add any condiments, and just put it directly into her mouth, chewing slowly. Her way of eating was completely different from Kim Minjeong's: quiet, restrained, every bite like performing some kind of ritual. But Jiang Zhiyu noticed that her chewing speed was a bit faster than usual—this was a subtle change that only appeared when she was in a good mood; she probably hadn't realized it herself, but he had noticed.

The Hanwoo arrived.

The marbling of the meat was impossibly beautiful, snow-white fat winding between the red muscles like an abstract painting. When Kim Minjeong saw this plate of meat, her eyes lit up, then dimmed a little. "Such beautiful meat, it's so stressful to grill."

"I'll do it." Jiang Zhiyu took the plate of Hanwoo and placed it on the grill.

Hanwoo and pork belly are different.

Pork belly can be grilled however you like; it has a lot of fat, so you don't have to worry about it getting tough.

Hanwoo is different; grilling it for even a second too long is a waste.

Jiang Zhiyu stared at the meat on the grill, his gaze as focused as if he were performing a delicate surgery.

The moment the surface of the meat changed color, he flipped it.

After grilling the other side for less than ten seconds, he picked up the meat and placed it onto Kim Minjeong and Karina's plates.

"Eat," he said, "Don't let it get cold."

Kim Minjeong picked up the piece of Hanwoo.

Without wrapping it in lettuce or adding anything else, she put it straight into her mouth.

She chewed twice, then closed her eyes.

"...Is this meat? This isn't meat. This is a cloud that fell from the sky."

Karina ate hers too.

She chewed even more slowly, so slowly that it felt like she was using her tongue to record every molecule of the meat.

She didn't speak, but Jiang Zhiyu noticed that her hand gripping the chopsticks was tighter than usual.

Jiang Zhiyu ate a piece himself.

The taste of the Hanwoo was different from the Hanwoo in his memories of the Nanming Kingdom—no, there was no Hanwoo in the Nanming Kingdom.

He wasn't eating any food from the Tianxuan Continent, but rather the Hanwoo of this world—from Seoul, from this barbecue restaurant in Sinchon.

But that feeling of "deliciousness" was the same.

That sense of happiness—where the fat melts on the tip of the tongue, carrying a faint milky aroma, as if gently enveloped by something—was no different from any top-tier beef he had eaten in the Tianxuan Continent.

He picked up his phone, took a photo of the Hanwoo, and sent it to the "The Four of Us" group chat.

The caption was just one word: "Beef."

Three seconds later, NingNing's profile picture popped up.

"????????????????????"

Sixteen question marks.

Jiang Zhiyu counted them.

"You guys are eating Hanwoo?! I'm eating hot pot at Haidilao and you guys are eating Hanwoo?! Karina Unnie, didn't you say it was too expensive?!"

Karina's reply was brief.

"Occasionally."

"What do you mean occasionally! What about me! Am I not a person! Am I not a member of this team! Shouldn't I be there instead of being a thousand kilometers away in Harbin!"

Jiang Zhiyu looked at Ningning's messages, the corners of his mouth curling up slightly.

He picked up his phone and took another photo of Kim Minjeong wrapping the meat—she was wrapping a piece of Hanwoo in lettuce, her mouth open wide enough to fit a tennis ball.

He sent the photo with the caption: "Since you're not here, Minjeong ate an extra portion."

"Teacher, you are a devil."

Kim Minjeong leaned over to glance at the phone screen and burst out laughing.

"Ningning is going to be so mad."

"She won't die of anger," Jiang Zhiyu said, "She'll turn her grief into appetite and order ten plates of shrimp paste at Haidilao."

No sooner had he finished speaking than NingNing's message popped up.

"I've already ordered five plates of shrimp paste. This is the sixth."

Kim Minjeong laughed even harder, leaning her whole body against Jiang Zhiyu's shoulder, shaking with laughter.

Karina watched this scene, the curve of her lips turning up just a tiny bit—not much, but Jiang Zhiyu caught it in his peripheral vision.

"Karina Unnie!" Kim Minjeong suddenly remembered something and sat up straight, "You said before you wanted to video call NingNing and eat together, shall we do it now?"

Karina took out her phone and started a video call in the group chat.

NingNing answered almost instantly—what appeared on the screen wasn't her face, but a pot of bubbling red soup base, with a thick layer of chili oil and a few green onion segments floating on the surface.

Then the camera flipped, and NingNing's face appeared on the screen.

She was wearing a red hoodie, her hair tied into two buns, looking like a candied hawthorn skewer with a face.

"Karina Unnie! Minjeong Unnie! Teacher!" She waved at the camera, holding a peeled shrimp in her hand, "Look, I'm eating shrimp paste, tripe, aorta, duck intestine, beef brisket, lamb, tofu, enoki mushrooms, lotus root slices, potatoes—"

"Alright, alright, we get it." Kim Minjeong interrupted her, "You eat your food, we'll talk about ours."

"What are you talking about?"

"Gossip."

NingNing's eyes lit up instantly.

She propped her phone against a bowl to aim the camera at herself, holding a bowl of dipping sauce in both hands like a little squirrel holding a pinecone.

"Whose gossip?"

Kim Minjeong looked at Jiang Zhiyu.

Jiang Zhiyu was flipping the meat on the grill and didn't look up.

"Go ahead," he said.

"Then I'm saying it." Kim Minjeong cleared her throat and lowered her voice, as if engaging in some kind of secret rendezvous, "Oppa, you go first. That thing you mentioned last time, about Taeyeon Sunbaenim and Byun Baekhyun Sunbaenim, what happened after that?"

Jiang Zhiyu's hand, which was flipping the meat, paused.

He didn't answer immediately; instead, he finished flipping the meat and placed it on the edge of the grill to let it cook slowly before speaking.

His voice wasn't loud, but amidst the noisy background of the barbecue restaurant, it had a strangely clear quality.

"Taeyeon and Byun Baekhyun, they were photographed in 2014," he said, "Dispatch caught them in a car. Even though both were wearing hats and masks, Dispatch's cameras didn't need to see their faces; seeing the car was enough."

Kim Minjeong and Karina put down their chopsticks at the same time.

On the other end of the screen, NingNing also stopped chewing, holding half a shrimp in her hand, suspended in mid-air, motionless.

"The story at the time was that the two met because of a collaboration stage, developed mutual feelings, and naturally got together. But the problem was the timing."

Jiang Zhiyu flipped a new piece of pork belly.

"In 2014, Girls Generation was in its most turbulent period. Jung Sooyeon leaving the group happened that year."

Karina's brows furrowed slightly.

Kim Minjeong's mouth opened and closed, as if digesting this information.

"The company needed something at that time to divert public attention. Dating news is the best shield—it can create buzz while covering up a larger crisis."

Jiang Zhiyu's tone was as calm as if he were reading a weather forecast.

"So this matter was exposed. It wasn't a coincidence; it was intentional."

"You mean," Karina finally spoke, "the company actively exposed this?"

"I can't say they actively exposed it, but at least they didn't stop it," Jiang Zhiyu said, "Before Dispatch publishes news, they usually give the company a heads-up. If the company strongly objects, some news can be suppressed. But this news wasn't suppressed. On the contrary, the company admitted it very quickly after the news broke, without even a struggle."

Kim Minjeong's eyes widened.

"So Taeyeon Sunbaenim and Byun Baekhyun Sunbaenim were used by the company as—"

"Tools," Jiang Zhiyu said, "Used to hedge against the impact of Jung Sooyeon's departure."

The barbecue restaurant went quiet for a moment.

The charcoal crackled under the grill, and guests at the next table were talking loudly; laughter and the clinking of glasses intertwined, as if providing a soundtrack for the silence.

"Then what happened later?" NingNing's voice came from the phone, lower than usual.

"Later, the two broke up." Jiang Zhiyu placed the grilled pork belly onto Kim Minjeong's plate, "It wasn't that there was a problem with their feelings, but they couldn't continue. The fans' reaction was too big, so big that neither of them could handle it psychologically. Taeyeon was scolded for a long time, and Byun Baekhyun was also scolded. A relationship that could have developed slowly was put under the spotlight to roast; it dried up, burned, and in the end, nothing was left."

He paused and flipped the Hanwoo on the grill.

"SM's approach, from the company's perspective, was successful. The buzz from the news did indeed overshadow the matter of Jung Sooyeon. But from the perspective of the two individuals—"

He didn't finish, but the meaning was already very clear.

Karina looked at the Hanwoo on her plate without picking up her chopsticks.

Her expression remained that cold, emotionless calm, but Jiang Zhiyu noticed her fingers tapping lightly on the table—not a rhythmic tapping, but an unconscious, subconscious movement as if she were thinking about something.

"So, the company will sacrifice the artists' feelings for profit." Karina said.

This wasn't a question; it was a statement.

Jiang Zhiyu looked at her.

"Yes," he said.

Karina raised her eyes and met his gaze for a second.

In that second, Jiang Zhiyu saw many things—not fear, not anger, but a calm, almost cruel clarity.

She wasn't asking "Would the company do this," but confirming "To what extent would the company go."

These are two completely different questions.

The former is a judgment about facts, the latter is a probe about the bottom line.

She didn't press further.

Intuition told her not to.

It wasn't because Jiang Zhiyu would lie, but because he would tell the truth, and the truth is often harder to bear than a lie.

Kim Minjeong clearly didn't have Karina's ability to "stop at the right time."

She had fully entered gossip mode, her eyes shining like two little light bulbs, leaning forward in her chair, hands supporting her on the table, chin resting on the back of her hands like a cat lying on a windowsill watching birds.

"Oppa, Oppa, what about the other Girls Generation members? Were Yoona Sunbaenim and Lee Seung-gi Sunbaenim real?"

"Real," Jiang Zhiyu said, "But they've already broken up."

"What about Sooyoung Sunbaenim?"

"Still together. Jung Kyung-ho and Sooyoung have been dating for over a decade; everyone in the industry knows."

"What about Tiffany Sunbaenim?"

"That was fake. The company and the other company colluded to hype it up to cover up another matter."

"What matter?"

Jiang Zhiyu glanced at Kim Minjeong.

Her curiosity had burned to its peak, her eyes filled with "tell me, tell me, tell me."

Jiang Zhiyu placed the grilled Hanwoo into her plate, using his actions to replace an answer—meaning "eat the meat, don't ask."

But Kim Minjeong didn't take the hint, or rather, she took it but pretended not to.

"Oppa—"

"Eat the meat first," Jiang Zhiyu said, "It won't taste good if it gets cold."

Kim Minjeong pouted, but obediently picked up the Hanwoo and put it into her mouth.

While chewing, her eyes remained fixed on Jiang Zhiyu, as if saying "I ate it, now tell me."

Jiang Zhiyu, helpless under her gaze, picked up a piece of meat to eat himself, chewed it unhurriedly, wiped his mouth, and then spoke.

"The Girls Generation stuff is finished. Whose do you want to hear about next?"

"EXO!" Kim Minjeong and NingNing said in unison.

Kim Minjeong's voice came from Jiang Zhiyu's left, and NingNing's voice came from the phone; the two voices overlapped, like a duet.

Jiang Zhiyu glanced at Karina.

Karina hadn't said who she wanted to hear about, but her posture had changed from "upright" to "slightly leaning forward."

The change was no more than five degrees, but it was enough to show that her attention was completely captured.

"EXO." Jiang Zhiyu rolled the two words on his tongue, as if tasting a complex wine, "Who do you want to hear about?"

"Kai Sunbaenim and Jennie Sunbaenim!" Kim Minjeong said.

"That was real. But the time was short; as soon as they were photographed, they broke up."

"What about Chanyeol Sunbaenim?"

"He has too many stories; which one specifically are you referring to?"

Kim Minjeong paused.

"What do you mean 'too many'?"

Jiang Zhiyu didn't answer directly.

He picked up his water glass and took a sip, as if weighing his words.

"Chanyeol Sunbaenim has a very wide network in the industry, so wide that some people think he is 'too' wide. I can't say the specific details; if I did, you'd know."

This answer was even more intriguing than just stating it directly.

Kim Minjeong's eyes widened further, and on the other end of the screen, NingNing brought her face closer to the lens, like a cat approaching prey.

Karina's expression didn't change, but her hand pouring water paused—the spout was pointed at the cup, the water was already full, but she was still pouring.

Jiang Zhiyu reached out to move the spout away from her cup rim, and water splashed a small puddle onto the table.

Karina looked down at the puddle of water, expressionlessly pulled out a tissue, and slowly wiped it away.

"Karina Unnie, you zoned out." Kim Minjeong said.

"No," Karina said, "I was thinking about something."

"Thinking about what?"

"Thinking about why Producer Jiang knows so much."

Jiang Zhiyu's hand, which was flipping the meat, paused for a moment.

Then he continued flipping the meat, his tone flat.

"The seniors said it when they were drunk at company dinners. I just listen, remember, and that's it."

"Aren't you afraid of being found out if you tell others?"

"That's why I don't say names," Jiang Zhiyu said, "I only tell the story, not who is who. If you guess it yourself, that's your business. I didn't say it."

Kim Minjeong and Karina exchanged a look.

There was a "learned something" expression in Karina's eyes, while Kim Minjeong's eyes held a complex expression of "Oppa is so cunning."

NingNing chuckled on the other end of the screen.

"Teacher's trick is smart; it avoids offending anyone while satisfying our curiosity."

"Satisfied?" Jiang Zhiyu asked.

"No! It's just getting started!" NingNing's voice went up an octave, "Keep going! I want to hear about BLACKPINK!"

Jiang Zhiyu shook his head, but the corners of his mouth curled up slightly.

He distributed the last few pieces of Hanwoo on the grill to everyone and then turned the topic to the next target.

"BLACKPINK, whose do you want to hear about?"

"Jennie Sunbaenim's! Besides Kai Sunbaenim, are there any others?"

Jiang Zhiyu was silent for a second.

"Yes. But that person isn't an idol; they are from another circle. I can't say specific details, I can only say—that person is very influential in the fashion industry."

Kim Minjeong's eyes lit up again.

"Is it that—"

"I didn't say any names," Jiang Zhiyu interrupted her, "If you guessed it, that's your business."

Kim Minjeong covered her mouth, but the light in her eyes couldn't be hidden.

NingNing was slapping the table in a rush on the other end of the screen.

"Who is it, who is it, who is it! Minjeong Unnie, if you guessed it, tell me!"

"I can't say! Oppa said we can't say names!"

"Then use your mouth shape!"

Kim Minjeong glanced at Jiang Zhiyu.

Jiang Zhiyu wasn't looking at her; he was focused on flipping the kimchi on the grill—kimchi tastes better when grilled, something Mother Kim taught him.

Kim Minjeong thought for a moment and shook her head.

"Forget it, I won't say. Oppa is right; knowing is enough, no need to say it out loud."

NingNing let out a wail, slumped over the table, her face buried in her arms, revealing only her eyes, staring at the camera resentfully.

"You guys are in Seoul eating meat and hearing gossip, while I'm in Harbin eating hot pot and hearing second-hand gossip; this world is unfair."

"This world has never been fair," Jiang Zhiyu said.

The topic ran like a wild horse off its leash, from BLACKPINK to TWICE, from TWICE to BTS, from BTS to Red Velvet, from Red Velvet to all the seniors and juniors they knew.

Kim Minjeong's reserve of gossip far exceeded Jiang Zhiyu's expectations—she looked like a quiet little cat, but once the floodgates opened, she became an unstoppable myna bird.

"I heard that two members of a certain girl group have a terrible relationship and don't even talk backstage."

"Which one?" Jiang Zhiyu asked.

"I can't say the name! If I did, you'd know!"

Jiang Zhiyu glanced at her.

Kim Minjeong pursed her lips and then whispered a number—not a name, but the number of members in the group.

Jiang Zhiyu thought for a moment and nodded.

"The two people you are talking about indeed have a bad relationship. But it's not because of clashing personalities, it's because of resource allocation. One person has too many resources, and one person has almost none; over time, conflicts arose."

"Then doesn't the company care?"

"Why would the company care?" Jiang Zhiyu countered. "Conflict creates buzz, and buzz creates heat. The company is practically begging them to fight. The fiercer the fight, the more news, and the better the albums sell."

Kim Minjeong's mouth formed an "O" shape. Karina's brows furrowed slightly—not out of shock, but because she was thinking. She was wondering what the company would do if, one day, a resource allocation issue arose between her, Kim Minjeong, and NingNing. She was wondering what she would do if that day actually came. Jiang Zhiyu saw that furrowed brow and understood the meaning behind the expression, but he said nothing. Some things, she needed to figure out for herself.

NingNing suddenly spoke up from the other end of the screen. "What about boy groups? Did TXT's Choi Yeonjun and Choi Soobin really have a conflict? I saw a post saying Yeonjun left their group chat?"

"It's true," Jiang Zhiyu said. "Yeonjun was under too much pressure when releasing his solo album and wasn't in a good state. He didn't want to bring negative emotions to his teammates, so he voluntarily left the group chat. Soobin didn't know how to ask at first, and the two were awkward for a while. Later, Soobin took the initiative to go drinking with Yeonjun, and as they drank, they both cried and made up. The next day, Huening Kai pulled Yeonjun back into the group chat and changed his nickname to 'Hyung, don't leave again'."

After listening, Kim Minjeong was silent for two seconds. "...That's so moving."

"What's moving about it?" Jiang Zhiyu asked.

"It's just very moving. Senior Yeonjun didn't want to make his teammates worry, so he carried it himself. As the leader, Senior Soobin didn't know how to start the conversation but did it anyway. In the end, they made up and cried together while drinking. Isn't that moving?"

Jiang Zhiyu looked at her slightly reddened eyes and said nothing. He felt Kim Minjeong was right. It was indeed moving. He just wasn't used to using the word "moving" to describe anything anymore.

The conversation continued to ferment. From boy groups to girl groups, from the third generation to the fourth to the fifth, from dating scandals to internal conflicts, from plastic surgery controversies to image collapses. Kim Minjeong seemed to have had a switch flipped; the more she talked, the more excited she became, her speaking speed increasing, changing from her initial cautiousness to later recklessness.

"I heard about a certain senior who is hyped online as having a 'god-tier face,' but she actually had the three-piece facial contouring surgery before debut!"

"Which one?" Jiang Zhiyu asked.

Kim Minjeong gestured with a number. Jiang Zhiyu thought for a moment and nodded. "She did have it done, but her foundation was good to begin with; it just made her more refined after the procedure."

"What about that other senior? Was her nose done?"

"The nose was done. But her issue wasn't the nose, it was the chin. The chin was done too."

"And that one! The one called the 'Nation's First Love'! Is she—"

"Wait a second," Jiang Zhiyu interrupted. "The one you're talking about, I'm not sure. I don't have a confirmed source of information, so I won't speak carelessly."

Kim Minjeong pouted, but didn't press further. Jiang Zhiyu's "not sure" carried credibility with her—when he said he was sure, it was basically the truth. When he said he wasn't sure, it meant he really didn't know, or he knew but couldn't say. In either case, pestering him was meaningless.

After a long silence, Karina finally spoke. "What about Senior IU?"

Jiang Zhiyu's hand, in the middle of flipping meat, paused.

Kim Minjeong and NingNing fell silent at the same time. The gazes of all three—plus NingNing at the other end of the screen—were focused on Jiang Zhiyu.

"Senior IU," Karina repeated, "Does she have any... stories?"

Jiang Zhiyu finished flipping the meat on the grill, put down the tongs, and picked up his water glass to take a sip. He didn't answer immediately, as if he were thinking about where to start, or perhaps hesitating about whether he should say anything at all.

"You've probably heard some things about Senior IU," he finally began. "For example, that photo of her and Senior Eunhyuk."

Kim Minjeong nodded. That photo was from 2012; Eunhyuk was wearing pajamas, IU was wearing pajamas, and the two were on IU's sofa. The photo was posted to Twitter by IU herself, and deleted seconds later, but it had already been screenshotted. The incident was huge at the time, so huge that IU cried during her next public appearance and apologized, saying she had "posted it by mistake."

"The photo was indeed posted by mistake. But the issue wasn't that it was 'posted by mistake,' the issue was 'why did this photo exist in the first place?'" Jiang Zhiyu's tone was as calm as if he were reading a report. "The two did have a relationship. Eunhyuk was very good to IU, and IU relied on him a lot at the time. But the company's reaction came faster and harder than their feelings—the photo was deleted, the news was suppressed, and the two were separated. Later, IU changed management agencies, and Eunhyuk's side stopped mentioning the matter."

Kim Minjeong's eyes reddened a bit more. "So they were broken up by the company?"

"Not entirely," Jiang Zhiyu said. "Their own situations were also very complicated. IU is the 'Nation's Little Sister,' and her image couldn't have any flaws. Eunhyuk is a member of Super Junior with a massive fan base. The exposure of their relationship did neither of them any good. Rather than saying they were broken up by the company, it's more accurate to say there was never a possibility of them being together from the start."

After listening, Karina was silent for a moment. "What about later? Did Senior IU have other—"

"Yes," Jiang Zhiyu said. "But that person wasn't an idol; he was a songwriter. The relationship lasted for a long time, but they gradually drifted apart due to work reasons."

"A songwriter?" Kim Minjeong's eyes lit up again. "A man or a woman?"

"A man."

"Who?!"

Jiang Zhiyu glanced at her. Kim Minjeong immediately shut her mouth. "I won't ask. If you said I can't say it, I won't ask."

Jiang Zhiyu nodded and continued flipping the meat. But he didn't stop—about IU, there was still a lot he could say. Not because he wanted to trash her, but because these things were open secrets in the Korean entertainment industry; it's just that no one had strung them together to tell the story before.

"Regarding Senior IU's controversies, besides the photo incident, there's also the matter of plagiarism." Jiang Zhiyu placed the grilled kimchi onto everyone's plates. "Her songs have been accused of plagiarism quite a few times. Some were forced connections, but some were indeed very similar. Her company's way of handling this is very direct—sue. Sue until the other party shuts up."

"Does it work?" NingNing asked.

"It works," Jiang Zhiyu said. "But not because they won the lawsuit, but because the person being sued couldn't afford the damages. If an average person posts insults online and gets sued, having to pay tens of millions of won—who can afford that? So they delete the posts, close their accounts, and never speak of it again. As for whether that song actually plagiarized or not, no one bothers to investigate anymore."

"Isn't that just—"

"It's just using money to shut mouths," Jiang Zhiyu said. "Very effective."

Kim Minjeong and NingNing exchanged glances—across the screen, they couldn't actually make eye contact, but they both displayed the same expression, that "I've learned something new" look. Karina's expression didn't change, but her fingers tapped on the table twice more.

"There's also the nationality controversy," Jiang Zhiyu said. "Someone spread rumors online that IU wasn't Korean and had forged her nationality. This rumor circulated for a long time, and IU's company sued and won, resulting in a five-million-won fine."

"They can spread rumors about that too?" Kim Minjeong asked, incredulous.

"They can," Jiang Zhiyu said. "Netizens' imaginations are infinite."

Kim Minjeong shook her head, as if unable to understand why anyone would spend time fabricating such baseless things. NingNing, on the other hand, was quite calm—she had seen similar rumors in China and was already used to it.

"There are also posts involving sexual harassment." Jiang Zhiyu's voice lowered a bit. "Someone posted sexual harassment content targeting IU on a forum; they were sued by the company and sentenced to ten months in prison, suspended for two years."

The barbecue table went quiet. Kim Minjeong's expression changed from gossipy excitement to a complex, indescribable heaviness. Karina's brows furrowed even tighter. NingNing set down her chopsticks at the other end of the screen, watching the camera quietly.

"These things," Karina spoke up, "where did you hear all of them from?"

"When the company has dinners, the seniors talk about it when they've had too much to drink," Jiang Zhiyu said. "And some I saw in the news; court verdicts are public, anyone can check them."

Karina didn't ask again. She lowered her head, picked up the cold Hanwoo from her plate, and slowly put it into her mouth. Cold Hanwoo wasn't as good as when it was hot; the fat had solidified, and the texture had become a bit greasy. But she didn't spit it out; instead, she chewed slowly and swallowed it slowly.

The conversation continued. From IU to other female soloists, from female soloists to actors, from actors to models, from models to influencers. Kim Minjeong and NingNing's gossip radar was fully activated; every name could trigger a new round of discussion. Jiang Zhiyu was like a walking database; as soon as they mentioned a name, he could provide several pieces of information that couldn't even be found on a search engine—some he heard from company seniors, some he observed himself, and some he deduced through logical reasoning.

"The maknae of that boy group, who looks so obedient, is actually famous in the industry for being—"

"Don't say the name," Jiang Zhiyu interrupted.

"—a famous playboy."

"Mhm."

"Really?!"

"Really. But not just him. There are several in that group."

Kim Minjeong gasped. NingNing made an ambiguous "Oh—" sound from the other side of the screen. The corner of Karina's mouth twitched slightly—not in surprise, but with a sense of "as expected" realization.

"What about the leader of that girl group? She looks so aloof, but actually—"

"Actually, she loves acting cute."

"Yes, yes, yes!"

"Mhm, it's true. She's a completely different person inside the group versus outside."

"Then does she have—"

"Yes. But that person isn't in the industry."

Kim Minjeong's mouth formed a perfect circle. "How do you know everything?"

Jiang Zhiyu didn't answer the question. He just placed the last piece of meat from the grill onto her plate. "Eat, the meat is cold."

Kim Minjeong looked down at the golden, crispy grilled pork belly on her plate, was silent for two seconds, then picked it up and shoved it into her mouth. While chewing, her eyes remained fixed on Jiang Zhiyu, as if saying, "You can't escape, I'll keep asking."

Jiang Zhiyu knew she wouldn't stop. He didn't want her to stop either. Because in this conversation, in this space surrounded by charcoal fire and the aroma of barbecue, in this moment where it was just the few of them and there was no need to guard against anyone, he felt he was a little closer to the Tianxuan Continent.

Not geographically close, but psychologically close. Back in the Tianxuan Continent, he was like this too, sitting in front of a barbecue stall with Wang Shuyun, with Kim Soo-yeon and Park Eun-sung, and with his colleagues at TG Entertainment, eating barbecue while talking about everything and nothing. He never felt those moments were precious because they were too ordinary, so ordinary that he didn't think he would ever lose them.

Now he had lost them.

But here, he had found similar moments again. Not the same, not replaceable, just similar. Like different versions of the same piece of music; the melody is the same, but the instruments are different, the arrangement is different—it sounds like a different song, but at its core, it's still the same one.

On the phone screen, NingNing was peeling shrimp in front of the Haidilao hot pot. Her movements were slow and careful, as if she were performing some task that required high concentration. Kim Minjeong was arguing with Karina about whether a certain girl group member had plastic surgery; their views were diametrically opposed, but the way they argued was surprisingly gentle—not fighting, but exchanging opinions, like having an academic discussion.

Jiang Zhiyu sat in the middle, listening to them talk, occasionally chiming in, occasionally not. He was still holding the barbecue tongs; there wasn't much meat left on the grill, and the temperature of the charcoal fire had dropped, but he didn't add more charcoal. He felt this was enough. No need to add more.

Outside the window in Seoul, the night was already deep. Pedestrians on the streets of Sinchon were becoming sparse, and only the signs of a few barbecue restaurants were still lit; red, yellow, and blue lights intertwined in the night, like an oil painting washed by water.

(My own cute Minjeong.)

(16:20) Minjeong who doesn't reply to messages: [Recording is done! The teacher said when I sing, it's "like hugging snowflakes," and I said, "because there's a winter living in my heart"... I blushed after saying that (* / ω ＼ *) Oppa, was I too direct?]

(16:23) Minjeong who doesn't reply to messages: [I ran into Irene Unnie after the audition, and she gently patted my shoulder and said "Congratulations," her eyes were so gentle... but for some reason, I felt like crying. Oppa, it feels like I'm being treated well by this world.]

(16:26) Minjeong who doesn't reply to messages: [I drank all the throat tea Oppa had someone send over, I even ate the lemon slices! Now my throat feels sweet and warm... it's Oppa's taste. (Sends a photo of an empty thermos)]

(16:29) Minjeong who doesn't reply to messages: [Manager Unnie quietly told me that Oppa's recommendation is in the OST producer list... I hid in the bathroom and checked on my phone for a long time. When I saw the words "This voice is as pure as the first snow," tears soaked my screen.]

(16:32) Minjeong who doesn't reply to messages: [I have to practice dance late tonight, but I'll dance with the warmth Oppa gave me! Even if I'm too tired to lift my arms, as long as I remember Oppa said "Our Minjeong is shining," I can spin around again~ (Sends a photo of herself in the mirror clenching her fist to cheer herself on)]

(16:35) Minjeong who doesn't reply to messages: [Oppa will be watching me today too, right? Even if you're far away, I believe Oppa's gaze is on me. Because I am... Oppa's secret agent puppy. (Attached is a GIF of a dog with its tail wagging so fast it's a blur)]