69: No.

After reaching the top, Chairman Wang Shunyi thought the biggest changes would be stock prices, market share, and overseas expansion. But he didn't expect the first thing to change would be the "Good morning" message on his phone every morning.

Previously, Park Min-ji's messages to him were all work-related—"President, the report has been sent to your email," "President, don't forget the ten o'clock meeting." Now it's different. The first "Good morning" was sent on New Year's Day. He stared at the screen for several seconds to make sure he hadn't misread it, then replied "Morning, you too." Since then, every morning at seven o'clock sharp. Neither early nor late, just like her.

Today as well. Just as he opened his eyes, his phone lit up: "Good morning, Sunyi. Remember to eat breakfast."

The corners of his mouth curved up as he typed a few words: "Good morning, Minji. You too." After sending it, he rested the phone on his chest and lay there for a while. Outside, it wasn't fully light yet; the winter sun rises late in Seoul, and a bit of grayish-white light filtered through the gap in the curtains, like ink diluted with water.

When he arrived at the company, it was 7:50. The corridor was empty, except for a cleaning lady pushing a mop out of the pantry, who bowed to him. He nodded and walked past, pushing open his office door to find the hot Americano already set on the table. The cup was hot to the touch, freshly brewed.

He took a sip; it was bitter, no sugar. She always remembered he didn't take sugar.

At nine o'clock sharp, Park Min-ji knocked. She was wearing a deep blue suit jacket, her hair tied up, holding a thick stack of materials. "President, here's the material for the strategy meeting. Please take a look."

He took it and flipped through. Data, charts, analysis—all done by her, clean and efficient, with even the page numbers perfectly aligned.

"Thanks for the hard work." He looked up at her. Sunlight slanted through the window, falling on her shoulder and casting a soft glow on the suit fabric. She wore a pair of tiny pearl studs on her earlobes, unnoticeable unless one looked closely. He hadn't seen them before.

"New?" He pointed to his own earlobe.

She instinctively touched her ear. "I saw them while shopping last weekend. Do they look good?"

"They look good."

She smiled and turned to leave. The sound of her heels on the floor—tap, tap, tap, tap—was no different from usual. But he could tell the rhythm today was slightly lighter than usual.

For the 10:30 strategy meeting, over a dozen people were seated. Zhang Junhao had flown back from Singapore and caught some sleep; there were dark circles under his eyes, but his spirit was fine. Park Min-ji sat to Chairman Wang Shunyi's right, flipping through her laptop, which showed a heat map of the Southeast Asia market. Throughout the meeting, she didn't look at him once, and her tone when speaking was exactly the same as before—concise, accurate, and leaving no room for doubt. This was their unspoken understanding: in the company, they were President and Director, nothing else.

"In the Chinese market, last year's online sales were 120 million RMB." Park Min-ji pointed to the bar chart on the large screen. "The growth rate was lower than expected, mainly because offline channels haven't been opened. Consumers see our products on Tmall but can't buy them, so they can only shop online. We must roll out offline this year, or we'll hit the growth ceiling soon."

Chairman Wang Shunyi nodded. "Regarding the Shanghai headquarters, who's going?"

"I'll go." She closed her laptop and looked at him. "Slotting fees, entry fees, distributor negotiations—I can handle these faster than anyone else. I'm familiar with the financial data, so I have a baseline for pushing prices down during negotiations."

"How long will you need?"

"Three to six months. I'll return once things are stable there."

The meeting room fell silent for a moment. Zhang Junhao looked down at his phone, pretending not to hear. Kim Soo-jin was writing in her notebook, her pen tip scratching.

"Fine," Chairman Wang Shunyi said. "If you need people or money, submit a proposal. Next item."

At noon, the meeting ended. The executives left one by one. Zhang Junhao was the last to leave; before exiting, he looked back at Chairman Wang Shunyi and mouthed, "President, fighting!" Chairman Wang Shunyi ignored him.

He returned to his office, sat down, and picked up his phone. The chat window was still on "Good morning, Minji. You too." He wanted to send something, typed "Lunch together?", then deleted it. Typed "I know about you going to Shanghai," then deleted it again. Finally, he typed two words: "Minji." Send.

An immediate reply: "Hm?"

"Nothing. Just wanted to call your name."

The other side was silent for over ten seconds, then replied: "Are you too idle lately? Not enough work?"

He stared at the message for a few seconds and smiled. Not a loud laugh, but the corners of his mouth slowly curving up, stopping halfway for fear of being seen.

At 3:00 PM, he went to SM Entertainment. Lee Soo-man had called the night before while he was reviewing procurement contracts in his office. His phone rang, showing no caller ID, just a string of numbers. He answered, and a voice on the other end, old but full of vigor, said, "President Wang, this is Lee Soo-man. Is it convenient to meet tomorrow afternoon?"

He was stunned for a moment. Lee Soo-man, the founder of SM Entertainment and the godfather of the Korean entertainment industry. This man wouldn't be looking for him for celebrity chasing.

"Chairman Lee, hello. I'll visit you at three tomorrow afternoon."

"Good. I'll send you the address."

SM Entertainment's headquarters was in Cheongdam-dong, Gangnam District, a grayish-white building with a small sign at the entrance, but the people coming and going all had celebrity faces. The receptionist took him to the eighth floor. At the end of the corridor was a dark wooden door. It was open, and Lee Soo-man sat inside, wearing a black turtleneck sweater. His hair was completely white, but his eyes were bright. On the coffee table in front of him were two cups of tea; one had lost its steam, while the other was still steaming—that one was for Chairman Wang Shunyi.

"President Wang, please sit."

Chairman Wang Shunyi sat down and picked up the tea but didn't drink.

"Chairman Lee, why did you ask for me?"

Lee Soo-man leaned back on the sofa, looking at him. "President Wang, Shunyi Foods went from zero to industry leader in just three years. This speed hasn't been seen in the Korean business world for a long time. I've seen your products—fire chicken noodles, the plant-based series, double truffle noodles—they all have unique characteristics. Your company's approach is different from Nongshim's; you take the innovation route."

"Chairman Lee, you flatter me."

"I'm not praising you." Lee Soo-man's tone was flat. "Shunyi Foods' brand awareness is very high among young people, and SM Entertainment has many artists that young people like. If we cooperate, it will be beneficial for both parties."

Chairman Wang Shunyi swirled his teacup. "What form of cooperation?"

"Brand endorsement. Portrait rights of SM artists, social media, concerts, variety show exposure—full channel promotion. A one-year contract for five billion won. You have the choice of artists, but we must confirm the final selection." Lee Soo-man's voice was calm, as if talking about the weather. "Additionally, I hold a portion of SM Entertainment's shares and have been looking for a buyer recently. Is President Wang interested?"

Chairman Wang Shunyi looked at him. Rumors of the conflict between Lee Soo-man and other SM Entertainment shareholders had long circulated in the business world. He wanted to sell his shares to cash out and was looking for a buyer himself. Shunyi Foods buying SM Entertainment shares sounded like a massive leap across industries, but it wasn't entirely illogical. Young people loved eating Sunyi's noodles, and young people followed SM's stars. Buying shares wasn't just an investment; it was binding the two brands together.

"Chairman Lee, I need to discuss the shares with my team. As for the endorsement cooperation, I agree in principle. Regarding which artists to choose and how to allocate the five billion budget, I'll have our CMO, Kim Soo-jin, coordinate with your people."

Lee Soo-man nodded. "Fine. I'll wait for your news."

It was already 5:00 PM when he returned to the company. He walked into Park Min-ji's office; she was looking at documents, with a thick stack of contracts spread out on her desk. She looked up at him and put down her pen.

"What did Lee Soo-man want with you?"

Chairman Wang Shunyi recounted the endorsement cooperation and the share matter. After listening, she was silent for a while, took a sip of water, and then said something very "Park Min-ji": "The endorsement can be discussed. Regarding the shares, be cautious."

"What are you worried about?"

"SM Entertainment's shareholding structure is complex. Lee Soo-man holds 18%, the second-largest shareholder. If we want to buy shares from him, first the price must be negotiated, and second, the relationship with other shareholders after entering must be cleared up. This isn't like an endorsement where you just sign a contract and it's over." She paused. "However, it's not without value. If we can get SM's shares, Shunyi Foods' brand influence will directly jump to a new level."

"How much do you think it's worth?"

"A stake of no more than 5%, with a price within 30 billion won. Any more, and forget it."

Chairman Wang Shunyi nodded. "Understood."

He stood up, walked to the door, then stopped and looked back at her. "Minji, tonight together tonight?"

She looked up at him, the corners of her mouth curving slightly, then lowered her head to continue flipping through contracts. "Where to?"

"The usual place."

"army stew?"

"Yeah. Auntie Jiang called a while ago saying she missed me."

"Is it that you miss Auntie Jiang, or you want to eat army stew?"

"Both."

The car parked at the entrance of that alley in Hongdae; it was already dark. The word "stew" on Auntie Jiang's shop sign still didn't light up, but the door was open, and steam wafted out, mixed with the scent of kimchi and luncheon meat. The two of them pushed the door open and went in. Auntie Jiang was sitting behind the counter peeling garlic; when she saw them, she immediately smiled, her smile like the bubbles bubbling in a pot.

"Sunyi, Minji, it's been a long time." Auntie Jiang put down the garlic and wiped her hands. "The usual?"

"The usual," Chairman Wang Shunyi said.

The army stew was served, along with an extra plate of fish cakes and two slices of cheese. Auntie Jiang said the cheese was on the house, seeing how thin they'd become. Chairman Wang Shunyi said, "Auntie, I've gained two kilograms since last year," and Auntie Jiang said, "What you've gained isn't weight, it's good fortune."

The kimchi soup in the pot boiled, the rice cakes floated up, and the luncheon meat sank to the bottom. Park Min-ji used a spoon to scoop up rice cakes, but two pieces slid off. Chairman Wang Shunyi took the spoon from her hand and helped her scoop them into her bowl.

"How did you know those were the two I wanted?"

"I can tell which ones you want just by looking at your eyes."

She lowered her head to eat the rice cakes without responding. He watched her eat the noodles; a bit of soup was on her lip, un-wiped. He reached out and handed her a tissue. She took it, wiped the corner of her mouth, and smiled with her head down.

When they came out after dinner, the night wind in Seoul was bitingly cold. She shrunk her neck and turned up the collar of her coat. He walked on her right; the wind came from the left, and he blocked a bit of it for her.

"Sunyi, what are your plans for this year?"

"I have many plans. Deepen the Chinese, Japanese, and Southeast Asian markets. It would be even better if we can secure the SM Entertainment shares. What about you?"

"Help you finish these things."

"And after they're finished?"

She didn't answer. The streetlights stretched their shadows very long, overlapping, then separating, then overlapping again.

The car stopped below her house, but she didn't get out immediately. She looked at the mist slowly condensing on the windshield and used her finger to draw a smiley face on it—crooked, looking less like a smile and more like a cry.

"Your drawing skills are still so poor," he said.

"If you're so good, you do it."

He reached out and drew a "ㅅ" and an "ㅇ" next to the crooked face—the initials for "Sun" and "Min." In the middle, he drew a heart.

She looked at the two letters and the heart, silent for a few seconds.

"Sunyi, you... when you're not romantic, you're infuriating, and when you are romantic, you're also infuriating."

"Then which kind do you like?"

She didn't answer. She pushed open the car door and got out. After a few steps, she looked back through the car window at the mist drawing that hadn't faded yet, smiled, and turned into the building.

The next morning at 7:00, the phone lit up. Still that "Good morning," as punctual as an alarm clock. But today there were more words—"Good morning, Sunyi. Regarding the Shanghai matter, I'll wait for you to come before making a decision."

He stared at the screen for a few seconds. She was waiting for him. Not waiting for his approval, but waiting for him to go with her.

He replied: "Understood. Wait for me."

Then he rested the phone on his chest and closed his eyes. The corners of his mouth curved up again.