Peninsula: I can steal the luck of disgraced celebrities

When Jang Nara came out of the storage room, Dean Choi was standing by the water dispenser at the other end of the corridor, holding two cups of hot cocoa.

She didn't ask anything, just handed one of the cups over, and then turned and walked towards the office.

Jang Nara followed behind, holding a cup, the steam from the cocoa condensing into a small cloud of white mist in the cold November air.

The electric heater in the office was on, casting an orange-red light on the filing cabinet opposite.

Dean Cui sat down behind his desk, opened a drawer, and took out the brown paper envelope that Lin Zhixun had just left behind.

She didn't open it; she simply placed the envelope on the table and pushed it towards Jang Nara.

"Just like last time, please donate this to the International Red Cross for me."

"The welfare home receives government subsidies, so it doesn't need that much money."

Jang Nara put down her cup and took the envelope.

She used her fingers to pry open the seal and peek inside.

It was thinner than she had imagined.

In South Korea, the average actor's pay per episode is very low, equivalent to only 6000 yuan.

"This child is lying again."

Dean Cui picked up his cup of hot cocoa, blew on the steam rising from the rim, and spoke calmly, not as if he were angry, but rather as if he were stating a conclusion that had been repeatedly verified.

He said he kept half, but I estimate he kept at most a month's living expenses.

"I guessed so." Jang Nara put the envelope back on the table and tapped the edge of the envelope lightly twice with her fingers.

"I just asked him in the storage room, and he wasn't looking at me when he said half of it."

Dean Cui remained silent.

She lowered her head, took a sip of hot cocoa, then placed the cup on the table, folded her hands, and looked at Jang Nara over the top of her glasses.

Jang Nara recognized that look in her eyes.

Last winter, when Dean Cui first mentioned Lin Zhixun to her, he used this kind of look in his eyes.

"What do you think? It's been a year, and he still seems the same."

Dean Cui sighed, "The pain of one's family of origin can only be healed by the family itself; you can't help him."

She took off her reading glasses and rubbed the bridge of her nose.

"Perhaps..." Jang Nara said softly, "I can become family with him."

Upon hearing this answer, Dean Cui asked in surprise, "You like him?"

"I don't know..." Jang Nara shook her head. "I feel very relaxed when I'm with him, a feeling I don't have with other people."

"I have feelings for him, and I get upset when he's with other people, but..."

"Do you like it? I don't know."

Dean Cui took a sip of hot cocoa, the mist blurring her glasses.

She took off her glasses and wiped them dry with the corner of her clothes. Her eyes, which appeared even more profound after removing the lenses, stared directly at Jang Nara.

"You told me last year that you wanted to help him. I'm asking you, what about now?"

Jang Nara did not answer immediately.

She looked down at the cup of hot cocoa in her hand, which was now mostly cold, and unconsciously twirled the cup with her fingers.

Moonlight streamed through the half-open blinds onto the table, casting long, thin shadows on the back of her hand.

Jang Nara frowned slightly. "The same answer."

"Last year you helped him as a friend, but what about this year?"

Jang Nara did not respond.

Instead, she paused, as if considering her words, then looked up into Dean Cui's eyes and announced the decision she had been thinking about for some time.

"I want to set up a charitable foundation. I have already studied the application, and the approval process will take about three to six months. I will provide the start-up capital, and I have also compiled a list of fundraising channels in the past few months."

Dean Cui raised his eyebrows slightly, but the smile on his lips didn't change much, as if he wasn't entirely surprised by the suggestion.

"Have you thought this through? Running a foundation isn't as simple as just donating money."

"I've thought it through. My fan club can connect me with some resources, and I also got to know a few organizations that are interested in doing charity work while I was filming in China."

She stopped turning the cup, placed it on the table, and the bottom of the cup made a very soft sound when it touched the table.

"He doesn't manage money; he just pushes it away, but the foundation can."

"From now on, when he donates money, he will donate it to the foundation."

"This money will appreciate in value and will be used where it's needed. When he needs this money in the future, he won't have to rely on others for help anymore."

Dean Cui was silent for a moment, then turned the file rack in front of him around and took out a business card.

That was the contact information for the Korean Social Welfare Association, which she obtained at the last industry conference.

"I know someone here who has a standard application form for foundations. I can help you prepare some of the relevant documents."

Dean Cui placed the business card in front of Zhang Nara and tapped it lightly twice with his finger.

Jang Nara accepted the business card.

She turned the business card over and looked at the back, glancing at it twice.

"Okay, I understand." Jang Nara put the business card back into her bag.

She picked up the cooled hot cocoa and drank it all in one gulp, then stood up.

She then took the brown paper envelope from the shelf of unprocessed documents, folded it carefully, and put it into her bag.

"This money, once my foundation is registered, will be his first official donation. The name will be—" She thought for a moment, a slight smile curving her lips, "The Red Balloon Foundation."

"Why not call it the Rope-Tethering Fund?"

"I'm the one holding the rope." Jang Nara walked to the door, glanced back at Dean Choi, and said, "The balloon is him."

……

Flowers bloom inside the wall, but their fragrance wafts outside.

On the third Monday of November, Lim Ji-hoon was attending a class in the law department building at Yonsei University.

His phone vibrated a dozen times in his pocket, but he didn't answer.

When he came out of the classroom and turned on his phone, he found a screen full of missed calls: five from Kim Won-seok, two from Park Min-young, and even one from Song Joong-ki.

He called Song Joong-ki back, and the first thing he said on the other end was, "Where are you?"

"Yonsei, what's wrong?"

"The Japanese broadcasting rights for 'Sungkyunkwan Scandal' have been sold."

"oh."

Lin Zhixun slung his backpack over his shoulder, pushed open the door of the teaching building, and felt the cold November wind rushing into his collar.

"How many did you sell?"

"2.7 billion Korean won."

Lin Zhixun stopped on the steps of the teaching building.

"Is that a lot?"

Lin Zhixun genuinely didn't know the market situation.

On the other end of the phone, Song Joong-ki's voice rose an octave, filled with undisguised excitement.

"That's very high. We've set a new record for KBS's highest export volume in 2010."

Around 2010, most Korean dramas were sold to Japan for a few hundred thousand US dollars, and only a handful sold for more than one million US dollars.

"Oh," Lin Zhixun replied casually, "Was there a raise?"

"Um...no, but this is a record-breaking achievement!" Song Joong-ki was a little uncomfortable when asked.

This is a record-breaking amount. Why care so much about the salary? It will distort the actors' efforts.

"Then why are you calling me so many times?" Lin Zhixun said.

"Because of the promotional activities in Japan, we need to go back to the film set to shoot some additional promotional videos," Song Joong-ki explained.