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

On the day Bitcoin broke through $1,500, Su Yu was in a weekly meeting at the company.

Kim Eun-sook glanced at her phone midway through the meeting, and her expression changed. She didn't say anything, and after the meeting ended, she followed Su Yu into the office and closed the door.

"Representative Su, Bitcoin has risen to 1,520."

Su Yu sat down, turned on his computer, and glanced at the candlestick chart. "Hmm."

"The value of your current holdings..." Kim Eun-sook paused, as if calculating a number, "is over 11 million US dollars. You initially invested less than two million."

Su Yu didn't speak.

"I suggest you sell now," Kim Eun-sook said seriously. "This price increase is abnormal; the bubble is too big. Once it crashes, you might not even be able to keep your principal."

Su Yu leaned back in his chair, looking at her. "You said it was a bubble when it was just a few hundred dollars. Now it's fifteen hundred."

Kim Eun-sook was taken aback. "I'm doing this for your own good."

"I know," Su Yu said, "but I won't sell."

Kim Eun-sook stared at him for a few seconds, then sighed. "Representative Su, I know you're accurate. But this thing has no fundamentals, no government backing, it's purely market sentiment driving the speculation. You've already made enough money, there's no need to put your profits into this kind of risk."

Su Yu paused for a moment. "Do you believe me?"

Kim Eun-sook was taken aback.

"If you trust me, then don't ask any more questions."

Kim Eun-sook opened her mouth as if to say something, but in the end she just nodded, turned and left. As the door closed, Su Yu heard her sigh in the hallway.

In the afternoon, Shirley came to the company.

She had only been back from Japan a few days ago and was still jet-lagged; her complexion was a bit pale. Pushing open the door to Su Yu's office, she saw him staring at the computer screen, not looking up.

"Looking at Bitcoin again?" Shirley sat down on the sofa.

"Um."

"How much is it?"

"One thousand and five."

Shirley didn't understand what the number meant, but she saw Su Yu's expression—not excitement, but a calm, resolute confidence. "How much did you earn?"

"Around eleven million."

Shirley paused, taken aback. "Dollar?"

"Um."

Shirley fell silent. She remembered the first time she saw Su Yu at the convenience store; he was still working there, wearing his uniform, cooking oden for her. At that time, she only thought this Chinese man was handsome, quiet, and a bit aloof. She never imagined that a little over a year later, he would be sitting in an office building in Gangnam District, facing a computer screen, a multi-millionaire.

"When do you plan to sell it?" Shirley asked.

"Not for sale."

"Will it go up again?"

"Um."

How did you know?

Su Yu glanced at her. "A feeling."

Shirley laughed. "You always say it's a feeling. Your feelings are so accurate."

Su Yu didn't reply. He closed the Bitcoin interface, turned to look at Shirley. "You don't look well. Didn't you sleep well?"

"Jet difference. I haven't adjusted yet since returning from Japan."

"Go back and rest. Don't push yourself."

Shirley looked at him, her gaze complex. "Su Yu, sometimes you care about me a lot, and sometimes you're so cold. What are you thinking?"

Su Yu was silent for two seconds. "You're an artist in my company. If you're not feeling well, it will affect your work."

Shirley stared at him for a few seconds, then smiled. "Okay. Representative Su. I'll go back and rest then." She stood up, walked to the door, and turned back. "By the way, how's Cai Xiubin doing in Busan?"

"fine."

"You went to see her over the weekend?"

"Um."

Shirley nodded, pushed open the door, and went out.

That evening, Su Yu returned to his empty home. It was the second week since Cai Xiubin left. The kimchi soup in the refrigerator was still unfinished, two days' worth of clothes were piling up in the washing machine, and a few magazines she hadn't taken were scattered on the coffee table. He changed his shoes, hung his coat in the entryway, went to the kitchen, heated up a bowl of soup, and sat down at the dining table to drink it alone.

The phone rang. It was a video call with Cai Xiubin.

He answered. On the screen, Cai Xiubin's face was very close, her hair was wet, she had just taken a shower, and her skin was glowing white.

"Have you eaten?" she asked.

"I drank the soup. The one you left in the fridge."

"Kimchi soup? That's expired."

Su Yu glanced at the soup in the bowl. "It's fine. It tastes good when it's sour."

Cai Xiubin laughed. "You really are something. Throw it away tomorrow, don't drink it anymore." She shifted her position, leaning against the headboard. "What scenes did you film today?"

"I'm not filming. I'm in a meeting at the company."

"I mean me."

"Oh. I don't know."

Cai Xiubin glared at him. "You don't even care what I'm filming."

"I've seen everything you've filmed," Su Yu said. "I also have the scripts."

Cai Xiubin paused for a moment, then laughed. "You really are something. You even have the script, so help me analyze how to act out that scene the day after tomorrow. The female lead is waiting for the male lead in a coffee shop, and she's been waiting all day, but he hasn't come. The script says, 'She looks out the window, she's not crying, but her eyes are red.'"

"How do you want to act?"

"I don't know. The director told me to find my own feeling."

Su Yu thought for a moment. "Have you considered that she's not waiting for that person? She's waiting for an answer?"

Cai Xiubin stared at the screen for a few seconds. "And then?"

"That person's absence is the answer. There's no need to cry."

Cai Xiubin fell silent. She lowered her head, traced two circles on the screen with her finger, then looked up. "Su Yu, why are your acting instructions always so good?"

"I've seen a lot."

How many scripts have you read?

"Not many. But a good script, you can remember it after reading it once."

Cai Xiubin smiled. "So, have you memorized my script?"

"I've got it."

"all?"

"all."

Cai Xiubin's eyes reddened slightly, but she didn't cry. She brought her face close to the screen and whispered, "Su Yu, I miss you."

Su Yu looked at her on the screen and remembered how, just six months ago, she couldn't even scrape together 500 yuan. Now, she was the lead actress in a drama with a 16% viewership rating, filming an independent movie in Busan, with a bright future ahead. But she was still the same person, the one who would say "I miss you" in a video call.

"I miss you too," he said.

Cai Xiubin smiled, her eyes crinkling into crescents.

The two chatted for a while, then Cai Xiubin said she was sleepy and had to get up early to film the next day. Su Yu said, "Go to sleep," and Cai Xiubin said, "You too, stop looking at Bitcoin and go to sleep early." Su Yu said, "Okay." After hanging up, he put his phone on the table and glanced at the computer screen. The price of Bitcoin was stuck at 1,520, unchanged.

He turned off the computer and went to wash the dishes.

The water was running, and he was alone in the kitchen. He thought about Cai Xiubin's days in Busan, the way Shirley looked at him today, and Kim Eun-sook's expression when she advised him to sell Bitcoin. These things were all mixed up, like a tangled mess of threads. But he wasn't in a hurry. He had plenty of time.