"We're heading to the Shilla Hotel now. I've reserved a luxurious suite for you—it's elegant, decorated in traditional local style, and it's the best hotel in Seoul. I hope you enjoy your stay."
After boarding the car, Jiang Hai and his companions were driven toward their destination. Perhaps out of fear of Jiang Hai, the reception officer behaved with extreme caution. What Jiang Hai didn't know was that if the negotiation went poorly, the man in charge would personally have to cover the $100 million in damages. Naturally, he wasn't in the mood to act friendly.
"Oh, sure," Jiang Hai replied casually, turning his gaze to the city lights outside.
Incheon wasn't far from Seoul. Seoul actually had two airports—Gimpo Airport for domestic flights and Incheon International for overseas travel. Jiang Hai couldn't help but think, How big is South Korea anyway, to need two airports?
The trip from Incheon to Seoul took just over an hour. Their driver's vehicle carried official plates, so speeding and running red lights wasn't an issue. The journey was even shorter than usual. Soon, the car exited the highway and entered the heart of South Korea's capital.
Although the Chinese often called the city Hancheng, the South Koreans rejected that term, insisting that Hancheng was an ancient name—back when Pyongyang served as the capital. Unlike China, which had its long-established capital, the old Goryeo kingdom had several historical capitals: the Imperial Capital, the Southern Capital, the Western Capital, even the "Foggy Capital."
Historically, Pyongyang had been Goryeo's true capital. Hancheng, though important as one of the "Three Capitals" and the birthplace of King Taejo, had remained secondary—a mere city. It wasn't until 2005 that Hancheng officially became Seoul.
Today, Seoul was one of the most crowded cities in the world. Jiang Hai had read that South Korea's total population was about 30 million, with 10 million residing in Seoul alone. Many more lived in surrounding areas but commuted to work in the capital. In other words, nearly two-thirds of South Korea's population depended on Seoul.
The city's vast sprawl soon unfolded before them—endless towers and neon lights.
Sitting beside Jiang Hai, Cheryl Lee eagerly pointed out famous landmarks and described local cuisine and attractions, knowing well how curious Jiang Hai could be about such things.
Across from them sat Li Xihuai. He opened his mouth several times, hoping to speak, but each time, Cheryl's lively chatter drowned him out. His expression tightened with frustration.
Jiang Hai noticed but didn't intervene. He wasn't here to make things easy for the man.
When Cheryl finally stopped to sip her drink, Li Xihuai seized his chance.
"Mr. Jiang Hai," he began cautiously, "my superiors asked me to confirm when you'll be available to begin negotiations. We'd like to start as soon as possible."
Jiang Hai didn't even glance at him, pretending not to hear. The car was silent except for the hum of the road beneath them. Li Xihuai forced a bitter smile. Of course, Jiang Hai had heard him—he just didn't care.
But Li Xihuai had no choice but to endure. If Jiang Hai grew offended and simply left, Li's career—and likely his life—would be over. The South Korean government wouldn't forgive him for damaging its international reputation. Worse still, Jiang Hai's compensation demand of $100 million would fall squarely on him, and he couldn't possibly pay that back.
For his job, his future, and his family, Li Xihuai had to swallow his pride. His only option was to please Jiang Hai.
"Um… Mr. Jiang Hai," he tried again with a forced smile, "what do you think of my proposal?"
"Why rush?" Jiang Hai finally replied with a faint smirk. "I just arrived. Shouldn't I at least have a few days to enjoy myself first?"
The sarcasm in his voice made Li Xihuai's stomach twist.
"Mr. Jiang, please… it's already too late…" He hesitated, then sighed. "To be honest, I was the one who seized your plane—but I only did it under orders. When you demanded a hundred million dollars in compensation, my superiors immediately abandoned me. They said if any payment was required, I'd have to handle it myself. But how could I possibly afford that? My total assets aren't even close to ten billion won. If you really demand that money from me… I might as well die."
He lowered his head, his voice trembling with helplessness.
Jiang Hai simply smiled coldly. "And what does that have to do with me, Mr. Li?"
Li Xihuai's face twitched, anger flashing for a moment before he swallowed it back down. He couldn't afford to provoke Jiang Hai. All he could do was keep trying to please him.
His eyes flicked briefly to the women accompanying Jiang Hai—Cheryl Lee on his left, Wallis on his right, Azarina in the passenger seat, and Galina in the car behind them. He thought he understood Jiang Hai's weakness.
All men had one, after all.
"Mr. Jiang Hai," he said suddenly, forcing a smile, "are you familiar with our culture?"
"I'm from Northeast China—from Ice City," Jiang Hai replied. "So I know a few things. Korean barbecue, cold noodles, plastic surgery, and K-dramas…"
That was all he could say without being offensive. The rest—his real opinions about South Korea's vanity and nationalism—he wisely kept to himself.
"Yes, our cuisine is indeed quite famous," Li Xihuai said quickly, relieved that Jiang Hai had responded. "I've arranged for you to enjoy an authentic Korean set meal tonight. As for our dramas—they're part of our cultural pride. Do you happen to have a favorite girl group or celebrity?"
"Girl group?" Jiang Hai chuckled. "Honestly, I can't tell them apart. They all look the same to me."
He remembered an online joke:
A few Chinese men once compared their foreign wives. One said marrying an Indian woman taught him how low his status could fall. Another said marrying a Russian woman showed him how much a woman could gain weight after marriage. But the man who married a South Korean woman said, 'Marrying one is like marrying all of them—they look exactly alike.'
The thought made Jiang Hai smirk. He had little fondness for South Korea or its women—especially given the online rumors about them. As for K-dramas, he found them melodramatic and boring. He preferred comedies.
Li Xihuai wiped the sweat from his forehead. Jiang Hai's dismissive tone gave him no room to continue.
"You really don't know any Korean girl groups?" Cheryl Lee interjected playfully. "Even I know a few! They're super popular."
"I really don't," Jiang Hai said with a shrug. "I don't pay attention to that."
"Still, you must've heard some of their songs," Cheryl insisted. "Like Nobody by the Wonder Girls!" She hummed a few lines and danced slightly in her seat.
"Oh, that one—I've heard it," Jiang Hai said after a moment. "But those girls weren't exactly easy on the eyes."
Cheryl rolled her eyes. "You must've heard of Girls' Generation too! The one with that catchy Gee gee gee gee baby baby baby song."
"Oh, right, I know that one too," Jiang Hai said, clapping lightly. "But honestly? I never paid much attention to their faces. Didn't they all look the same anyway?"