"What's up?" Lin Yun'er asked Kim Taeyeon, snacking as she watched TV.
Lin Yun'er was a true foodie, her appetite insatiable, especially over the past few days of gloom. She'd been eating constantly, worrying secretly about whether she'd gained weight. Perhaps it was also to avoid Lee Seung-gi; the thought of seeing him made her uneasy.
Upon arriving at Kim Taeyeon's house, Lin Yun'er had already turned off her phone. Only Kim Taeyeon's was ringing.
Kim Taeyeon had muted her phone as well, ensuring Lee Seung-gi couldn't track them. If he wasn't close to them, he wouldn't have found them, but this text message was something she had to read.
Hearing Lin Yun'er's question, Kim Taeyeon hesitated, then tossed her phone aside.
"Nothing… just a text from the company," she said.
Lin Yun'er froze for a moment, then snatched the phone, quickly scanning the message. It was indeed from the company, but its tone was far softer than the previous day. It was an invitation—to a cocktail party.
Yet, as she read, Lin Yun'er's body trembled. The message specified that the accompanying guest was Jiang Hai. Accompanying Jiang Hai? They had already endured that once, hadn't they?
"We can ignore them. We already made a sacrifice the day before yesterday. Don't be afraid. It'll be over soon," Kim Taeyeon said, sighing as she hugged her sister. Anxiety colored her expression.
She was genuinely worried for Lin Yun'er, but also furious at the company and Li Xihuai. Were they planning to humiliate them repeatedly? First once, then twice, then three, four, five times? The thought made her clench her teeth. She wouldn't let them get away with it, even if it became a life-or-death struggle.
"No, I want to go!" Lin Yun'er suddenly lifted her head, face flushed with unshed tears, her voice firm.
"But…" Kim Taeyeon hesitated, overwhelmed. Why would she go under such circumstances?
"I want to see what they can do!" Lin Yun'er interrupted, her eyes burning with resolve. Kim Taeyeon sighed helplessly, realizing there was no stopping her. If Lin Yun'er went, she would go with her. She also wanted to see how Jiang Hai and the others would act—and if they dared to cross the line, she would face it with her sister.
The sky darkened, and before they knew it, it was time for the event.
After a quick review, the two sisters descended the stairs, boarding the company car sent to pick them up. They headed for the Shilla Hotel, gazing at Seoul's nightscape, their hearts heavy and dark.
No one could know what they were thinking. Meanwhile, Han Jiaren wandered home, her face weary, her eyes filled not with anger but endless confusion.
Despite her wealth and fame as a South Korean actress, she felt powerless. Housing in Seoul was expensive, and most celebrities rented their homes. But Han Jiaren, considered a national treasure, owned a small, exquisite two-story villa of about 150 square meters.
She returned like a ghost, opening the empty villa door and leaning against it helplessly. Slowly crouching, she rubbed her face before standing again. She searched the house but found no sign of her husband; their daughter had been sent to her mother after a quarrel. The villa was unusually silent.
After meeting Jiang Hai earlier, she had wandered the streets of Seoul alone, unsure how to face her family. She feared her husband's suspicions and didn't know what to say. For a while, she drifted outside, powerless, like rootless duckweed. Eventually, night fell, and she returned home, still alone.
"Huh… it's over, right? Just a nightmare… But why does waking from one nightmare just lead to another?" she muttered bleakly, cleaning the house half-heartedly.
Suddenly, the door opened, and her husband stumbled in, drunk and dazed. He barely glanced at her before retreating to the bedroom, collapsing onto the bed without showering or undressing. The smell of alcohol and a hint of perfume lingered, evidence of a messy drinking party.
Normally, Han Jiaren would have argued, but now, feeling equally tainted, she laughed self-deprecatingly and sat in the kitchen, her eyes wandering.
Meanwhile, at a Shilla Hotel dining room, Li Xihuai and the others were seated with Jiang Hai.
Knowing Jiang Hai disliked Korean set meals, they opted for Western cuisine. Highly regarded Chinese cuisine in South Korea had been excluded—it had been transformed beyond recognition. Jiang Hai preferred authentic flavors; abroad, most Chinese dishes were overly sweet, adjusted to foreign tastes, and often incorporated ketchup rather than the traditional sugar-vinegar balance he loved.
Chinese cuisine was versatile, but its true artistry was often lost abroad. That was why Jiang Hai opted for Western food: it retained complexity, detail, and respect for culinary traditions in a way that foreignized Chinese food could not.
Meals were served separately. Unlike previous arrangements, Jiang Hai and his companions sat across a long table from the South Koreans. Li Xihuai, the representative, three other men from the Blue House, and three female relatives sat across from him—eight in total.
On Jiang Hai's side were only Jiang Hai and Cheryl Lee.
Azarina, uninterested, went to rest, while Cheryl Lee, eager to join the fun, followed Jiang Hai. She was quite pleased with the high-ranking officials in front of her.
Just then, the door to the western-style restaurant opened, and two women they had met previously walked in, looking reluctant.