Managing the Korean entertainment industry: I have superpowers, but I won't say.

The red light in the recording studio finally went out. When the director uttered that priceless "Cut," Cai Xiubin felt that her vocal cords had gloriously retired, and she had even held a retirement ceremony in her throat.

Three days, forty lines—she managed to transform a narration into something with the poignant feel of an epic disaster film. As she walked out the door, her assistant handed her a bouquet of flowers. She took them, feeling like a wounded soldier just returned from the battlefield, except while others carried guns, she carried her nearly worn-out tonsils.

The rain stopped, and the sun shone down on the wet asphalt as if it were free. She took out her phone and sent three words to Su Yu, who was in Los Angeles: "Filming wrapped."

It's the middle of the night in Los Angeles, and this big shot hasn't replied. Cai Xiubin sneered, "Fine, a man like you can't even spare a punctuation mark."

On the way back, she had her assistant drive to the beach. The wind on the seawall was so strong it felt like it was fighting over her hair, and the waves crashed against the rocks, shattering like her current rationality. She stood there for two minutes, her mind filled with the image of Su Yu slinging his coat over her shoulder when he last visited her on set.

"It's windy, don't try to look cool."

She rolled her eyes at the time, but now she felt that the coat was much warmer than the sea breeze.

Back at the hotel, she packed her luggage. A suitcase, a backpack, two packets of fish cake, two bags of seaweed, and a postcard that the woman at the barbecue restaurant had forced on her.

The back reads: "Soobin, bring your boyfriend next time, and I'll treat you to Korean beef."

Cai Xiubin stared at the crooked handwriting, her lips twitching. "Auntie, I heard everything you were planning in Busan." But for the sake of Korean beef, she decided to include the postcard in the script, as a family heirloom.

Check out, board the train, high-speed rail.

The scenery outside the window seemed to be traveling at double speed, from the city to the fields, and then back to the city. Leaning back in her chair, her mind automatically replayed the "Busan Ordeal" of the past two months: being sprayed with coffee by the machine on the first day, the strawberries Su Yu brought during his visit to the set were sickeningly sweet, the soju at the seaside barbecue restaurant was so spicy that she almost used the script as a napkin, and the last scene, where she stood at the coffee shop door and turned around, and the moment the director yelled "cut," she almost sent Su Yu a video proposal on the spot.

My phone vibrated.

Su Yu woke up.

"You're awake. We're in Seoul?"

"Still in the car. One more hour."

"Be careful on the road."

What time is it where you are?

"8 PM. Flight tomorrow afternoon."

"So you'll arrive the day after tomorrow morning?"

"Um."

"I'll come pick you up."

"No need, you should rest."

"I'll come pick you up."

Cai Xiubin stared at the word "good" and suddenly realized that the air conditioning on the high-speed train was too strong; otherwise, why would her face be so hot? She held her phone to her chest. Outside the window, the sun was setting, and the sky looked like a spilled bottle of orange soda.

By the time we arrived in Seoul, it was already completely dark.

Dragging her suitcase into the apartment, Su Yu's slippers were neatly arranged in the entryway, as if lined up to welcome her. She changed her shoes and first walked around the house, like a head nurse making her rounds.

There was a bowl in the kitchen sink that Su Yu drank from before she left, and it hadn't been washed.

Cai Xiubin raised an eyebrow. "Fine, Representative Su, you wait."

She washed the dishes, wiped the stove, and the note she left on the refrigerator was still there—"The kimchi soup is in the freezer. Use low heat when it's hot."

Su Yu didn't tear it.

She opened the refrigerator and found that one box of kimchi soup was missing from the freezer compartment, while two boxes of newly bought Korean beef had appeared next to it.

Cai Xiubin stared at the two boxes of Korean beef, and her eyes suddenly felt a little hot.

I wasn't moved, I was angry.

This man didn't wash the dishes before he left, but he knows to buy Korean beef when he comes back?

She took a deep breath, took out the Korean beef, and put it in the refrigerator, her movements as gentle as if she were defusing a bomb.

My phone vibrated again. Park Jiyeon.

"Soobin, I heard you're back in Seoul? Are you free tonight? Let's have dinner together."

Cai Xiubin replied, "Okay."

Ten minutes later, she was sitting in a Korean restaurant in Gangnam District, opposite Park Ji-yeon.

Unnie had cut her hair short and was wearing a black turtleneck sweater, looking like she had just stepped out of a Viennese classical music concert, and had conveniently swapped her violin for beef bone soup.

"Unnie, when did you get back?"

"Yesterday. I came back right after filming in Vienna." Park Jiyeon placed a piece of beef bone on her plate. "You've lost weight. Was the food in Busan not good?"

"It's delicious." Cai Xiubin took a sip of the soup, hissing from the heat. "It's just hard on the throat."

Park Jiyeon smiled, a smile that held a certain meaning. "Slow down."

The two ate and chatted. Park Jiyeon talked about the old pianos in Vienna, the violinists performing on the street, and how the hotel breakfast was so sweet it felt like honey in her mouth. Cai Xiubin listened, occasionally smiling, but her mind was preoccupied with when Su Yu's two boxes of Korean beef would finally thaw.

"Soobin, what's wrong?" Park Jiyeon suddenly asked.

"Nothing much. I'm probably just too tired."

"It's not that I'm tired." Park Jiyeon put down her chopsticks, her eyes sharp as if she were interrogating a criminal. "You have something on your mind."

Cai Xiubin paused for a moment, stirring the soup in her bowl like she was mixing a cocktail. "Unnie, when you're alone abroad, do you ever feel so lonely that you can't do anything?"

Park Jiyeon paused for a moment.

"meeting."

"Then what are you going to do?"

Park Jiyeon lowered her head, her voice so soft it sounded like she was telling a secret: "I don't know what to do. Just bear with it."

She looked up, smiled, but with a hint of bitterness: "You'll get used to it eventually."

Looking at her, Cai Xiubin suddenly realized that Park Jiyeon had also lost weight, becoming as thin as a violin on the streets of Vienna, trembling in the wind.

The two of them didn't say anything more and finished their soup.

Park Jiyeon drove her home. The car stopped downstairs, and Chae Soo-bin unbuckled her seatbelt but didn't get out immediately.

"Unnie, thank you."

"No need to thank me, it's on my way." Park Jiyeon gripped the steering wheel without turning her head. "Soobin, when is CEO Su coming back?"

"the day after tomorrow."

Park Jiyeon nodded. "Then don't keep it to yourself. If you want to talk to someone, just call me."

"Unnie, you too. Don't keep it all bottled up inside."

Park Jiyeon smiled, her eyes a little red. "Okay."

Cai Xiubin got out of the car and waved from the roadside. Park Jiyeon's car drove away, its taillights turning a corner and disappearing like a shooting star, flashing briefly before vanishing.

She turned and walked into the apartment building.

She took a shower, changed into her pajamas, and curled up on the sofa. The TV was on, but she didn't watch it; she just wanted some sound in the room, otherwise it was so quiet she could hear her own heart pounding.

She picked up her phone and texted Su Yu: "Have you eaten?"

A few minutes later, he replied, "I ate. A sandwich."

Cai Xiubin stared at those three words and almost crushed his phone.

"You're just going to eat this?"

"The hotel breakfast was not good."

"I'll make it for you when you come back."

Su Yu sent a "OK".

Cai Xiubin scrolled through the messages again. Sulli posted a teaser for her new song on her WeChat Moments, with the caption: "Released next week. Written for someone very important."

Someone commented "Who is it?" below, but Sulli didn't reply.

Cai Xiubin stared at the line of text, paused for a moment, and then swiped past it.

She turned off the TV and the lights, and lay down on the bed. The night view of the Han River outside the window was quietly lit, exactly the same as it had been two months ago, like a huge, unmelting block of ice.

She turned over and pulled Su Yu's pillow over to hug her.

It no longer tastes like him.

Only the scent of laundry detergent and the lingering warmth of her own body remained.

She closed her eyes, thinking about picking him up from the airport the day after tomorrow, about heating up the kimchi soup in advance, about taking him to that newly opened barbecue restaurant after he came back, and about whether the barbecue restaurant lady would really treat them to Korean beef.

Lost in thought, she fell asleep.

In her dream, Su Yu stood on the beach in Busan, holding two boxes of Korean beef, and called out to her, "Cai Xiubin! Come and eat!"

She ran over; the wind was strong and the waves were loud. She was panting heavily when she finally reached him and reached out to take the two boxes of Korean beef.

Su Yu hid Han Niu behind his back and laughed.

"Want some? Give me a kiss first."

Cai Xiubin glared at him, but he smiled like a smug fox.

She stood on tiptoe, about to kiss him, when the alarm clock rang.

She opened her eyes, and the ceiling was blindingly white.

Outside the window, it was dawn.

She touched the pillow; it still smelled of laundry detergent.

Su Yu hasn't returned yet.

But the Korean beef was in the refrigerator, and the kimchi soup was in the freezer. Although her voice was hoarse, her heart was still beating.

She sat up, stretched, and said to the empty room:

"Su Yu, you'd better come back soon."

"Otherwise, I'll just eat those two boxes of Korean beef myself."