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

Chapter 104 Supplementary Recording in Busan and the "Scumbag" in Los Angeles

The rain in Busan was like God was pouring out his foot bath water; it was not only heavy but also accompanied by strong winds.

Tsai Hsiu-bin, wrapped in her blanket, felt like a frozen dumpling thawing. Her phone screen lit up; Su Yu had sent a message at 3 AM: "Los Angeles, sunny, 23 degrees. Is it raining where you are?"

Cai Xiubin rolled her eyes and replied with a single word: "Hmm," followed by a photo of the gray, hazy sea outside the window, as if filtered through ten layers of the underworld.

Su Yu didn't reply. Cai Xiubin stared at the ceiling, thinking: Fine, men, so what if you go to do business? Even the bright sunshine of Los Angeles can't compare to the torrential rain of Busan.

The assistant's urgent phone call rang right on time. Cai Xiubin scrambled to her feet like a soulless zombie, threw on a sweatshirt, and rushed out. In the hotel lobby, a couple was taking wedding photos. The bride, wearing an off-the-shoulder white dress, had her lips turning purple from the cold, yet she still managed a forced "peaceful and serene" smile for the camera. As Cai Xiubin passed by, she couldn't help but silently wish the bride well: Sister, you're risking your life for a good photoshoot!

She touched her left ring finger; it was empty. The silver ring Su Yu had given her was lying dusty in the drawer of the hotel bedside table. It wasn't that she didn't want to wear it, but she was afraid of losing it—after all, it was a "promise that wasn't a proposal." What if she lost it someday? Would she have to ask Su Yu for reimbursement?

The taxi, swaying like a drunkard in the torrential rain, finally arrived fifteen minutes late. By the time they reached the recording studio, Cai Xiubin's trousers were soaked through, and her shoes looked like two miniature swimming pools. She squatted by the door, wiping her shoes, while the director inside impatiently yelled, "Cai Xiubin! Are you planning to wash your shoes by the door? Come in!"

Cai Xiubin sighed, stepping barefoot onto the recording studio floor, a chill running straight to the top of his head.

This narration is the final scene of the film. The female protagonist, Jung Ah-young, closes her café and sits by the sea, thinking, "The sea breeze is cool, but I don't want to leave. I'm afraid that if I leave, I'll never come back."

The director wanted the feeling of "speaking to oneself." Tsai Hsiu-pin tried three takes. The first one sounded too much like a recitation competition, the second too much like chanting scriptures, and the third was too soft, as soft as a mosquito buzzing in the director's ear.

The director's voice came through the walkie-talkie, laced with obvious hostility: "Cai Xiubin, do you even understand the character? She's not tragic, she can't let go! Your current state is like your boyfriend going to America on business, and you at home forgetting to even turn the food over!"

Cai Xiubin: "..."

Director, you've hit the nail on the head.

She took off her headphones and took a deep breath. Her mind automatically played Su Yu's photo of the Los Angeles sunset—a pinkish-purple sky, silhouettes of palm trees, and even the air seemed to exude an arrogant "I'm on vacation" vibe.

She put her headphones back on and signaled to the director to start again.

"The sea breeze is cool, but I don't want to leave." Her voice was soft, but each word was like a shard of glass coated with sugar; swallowing it would hurt, but spitting it out was unbearable. "I'm afraid that if I leave, I'll never come back." She deliberately dragged out the last three words, as if resigned or coquettish.

The director remained silent for five seconds.

A single word came through the walkie-talkie: "Pass."

Cai Xiubin took off her headphones, her fingers still trembling slightly. Her assistant handed her a hot Americano, and holding the cup, she felt as if she had finally transformed from a frozen dumpling into an edible one.

"Unnie, what's wrong with you today?" the assistant asked cautiously. "You seem to be glowing, but not in a happy way, it's more like... the glow of a hungry wolf pouncing on its prey."

Cai Xiubin: "...Shut up."

Emerging from the recording studio, the rain had lessened somewhat. Cai Xiubin didn't get in the car, but instead walked along the seaside path, umbrella in hand. The sounds of the waves and the rain blended together, creating a free white noise concert.

After walking for ten minutes, the door of the barbecue restaurant by the roadside was open, and the owner, an older woman, was splashing water at the entrance. Upon seeing Cai Xiubin, the woman's eyes lit up instantly, as if she had seen a walking KPI.

"Huh? You're alone today?"

"Yes. My boyfriend went to America."

"America?" The middle-aged woman put down the basin of water, her tone filled with a gossipy eagerness. "What are you going there for?"

"Let's talk business."

The older woman clicked her tongue, her eyes saying, "You young people really know how to have fun: Your relationship is like a spy movie. Next time you bring him, I'll grill him a super nutritious meat."

Cai Xiubin was amused and went inside to sit down. The older woman served two portions of meat, saying, "Eat more, you've lost weight." Cai Xiubin said, "I can't finish it," and the older woman said, "If you can't finish it, you can take it home. There's no charge for the takeout, but you must bring your boyfriend next time."

The meat sizzled on the hot plate, oil splattered onto her hand, burning her. Cai Xiubin didn't flinch; instead, she felt the pain was quite real—much more real than Su Yu's "Los Angeles sunny."

My phone vibrated halfway through the meal.

Su Yu sent a photo: a sunset in Los Angeles, a pinkish-purple sky, silhouettes of palm trees, perfect composition, superb lighting, caption: None.

Cai Xiubin stared at the photo for three seconds, then took a picture of charred meat on a hot plate and sent it over.

Su Yu: ?

Tsai Hsiu-pin: I was thinking about something and forgot to look.

Su Yu: What are you thinking about?

Cai Xiubin typed a few words, then deleted them, and finally sent three words: It's nothing.

Su Yu typed a period.

Cai Xiubin stared at the period, and her nose suddenly stung with tears. She knew what that period meant—"I don't believe it, but if you don't tell me, I won't ask."

She couldn't explain what she was thinking. Maybe she was missing him, maybe she felt pathetic, or maybe... she simply felt wronged because the meat was burnt.

The older woman didn't take the money, saying, "Just bring your boyfriend next time." Cai Xiubin said "okay," but in her heart she was thinking: Next time? If Su Yu dares to post these kinds of provocative "scenery photos" again, she'll just post a video of Busan's torrential rain with the caption: "Sunny in Los Angeles? Flooded in Busan, don't worry."

Back at the hotel, it was already completely dark. Cai Xiubin took a shower and lay on the bed scrolling through her phone.

Su Yu sent a message: "I'll sign the contract tomorrow. After that, I can set a date to return to China."

Cai Xiubin didn't reply. She scrolled through her WeChat Moments and saw that Sulli had posted a photo of a recording studio with the caption: "New song, written for one person."

Someone in the comments section asked, "Who is this written for?"

Shirley didn't reply.

Cai Xiubin stared at the photo, her finger lingering on the screen for a moment before swiping away. She didn't know who Shirley had written it to, but she knew that Su Yu was definitely in a room somewhere in Los Angeles, looking at his phone, waiting for her reply.

She was blow-drying her hair when the video call came in.

Turn off the hairdryer and answer the phone. On the screen, Su Yu, wearing a white T-shirt and with slightly messy hair, leans against the headboard. Behind her is the hotel's white wall, so clean it looks like a blank sheet of paper.

"What time is it where you are?" Su Yu asked.

"10 PM."

"Why aren't you asleep yet?"

"I can't sleep." Cai Xiubin propped her phone against her pillow and snuggled into the blanket. "I got yelled at by the director today while recording a voiceover."

"What are you cursing about?"

"They said I didn't understand the character." Cai Xiubin pulled the blanket up to her chin. "But then it got over."

Su Yu looked at her, a hint of a smile in his eyes: "You went too far, but you're not happy."

Cai Xiubin was taken aback. She stretched a hand out from under the covers and touched her face: "You could tell?"

"Um."

"How did you figure that out?"

"Your eyes aren't sharp." Su Yu paused, then added, "Besides, the burnt meat you just posted wasn't cooked properly. You don't usually cook it like that."

Cai Xiubin: "..."

She stared at the screen for a few seconds, then laughed: "You even noticed that? Su Yu, did you install a surveillance camera in my head?"

"No," Su Yu said softly, "but I remember you said last time that you need to flip the meat three times to prevent it from burning."

Cai Xiubin lowered her head and drew circles on the bed sheet with her finger: "Su Yu, that photo you posted today, the sunset in Los Angeles, it's very beautiful."

"Um."

I want to watch it with you.

"I'll bring you next time."

"You said it."

"Um."

There was a moment of silence between them. Suddenly, Cai Xiubin asked, "Have you listened to Sulli's new song?"

Su Yu looked at her, his expression unchanged: "I listened."

"Does it sound good?"

"It sounds nice."

Cai Xiubin didn't ask any more questions. She didn't know why she asked, nor what she hoped he would answer. Perhaps she wanted to confirm something, but what good would it do? Did she expect him to say, "That's not nice to hear, I only listen to you"?

She turned over, buried her face in the pillow, and mumbled, "Su Yu, I miss you."

Su Yu's voice came through the phone, not loud, but very clear: "Me too."

Cai Xiubin had her eyes closed, and she could hear the sounds of him flipping through documents, the scratching of a pen on paper, and the occasional click of the mouse. She didn't know what he was doing, but she knew he was there.

This is enough.

"Go to sleep," Su Yu said.

"Don't hang up. Let me listen to you."

"it is good."

Cai Xiubin placed her phone next to her pillow and closed her eyes. She heard Su Yu turning pages, heard him cough softly, and heard the rain outside the window gradually subside.

The sounds blended together, like a strange lullaby. She wondered if he could hear them from outside his room in Los Angeles. Then she stopped thinking about it, because she had fallen asleep.

Su Yu listened to Cai Xiubin's breathing on the other end of the phone; it was very light and even.

He put down his pen and leaned back in his chair. The night in Los Angeles outside the window was quiet, unlike Seoul. There was no Han River, no Namsan Tower, nothing familiar to him.

But her breath was there, across the Pacific Ocean, more than 10,000 kilometers away, right next to his ear.

He whispered "Goodnight" and hung up the phone.

Then, he picked up his phone and sent Shirley a message: "Listened to the new song, it's good. But don't post photos of the recording studio next time, it's easy to cause misunderstandings."

Shirley replied instantly: "What misunderstanding?"

Su Yu replied, "They misunderstood that I'm in Busan, have a girlfriend, and am listening to you sing, and then they got jealous."

Sherry: "..."

Su Yu put down her phone and closed her eyes.

The night in Los Angeles has finally quieted down.