Chapter Fifty-Three: The Play

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Entertainment Is All Around—No Ads

Story takes place: May 2005
Recommended song: TVXQ – Hiyaya
Disclaimer: This is a work of pure fiction. Please do not relate it to real people; any resemblance is purely coincidental!

The office door was opened once again.

Jiang Yihan turned around, stood up immediately, and blurted out, “Jaejoong?”

Indeed, the person entering was Kim Jaejoong, Jiang Yihan’s good friend. Jaejoong was also surprised to see Jiang Yihan there. “Hyung, what are you doing here?” He asked, and then the other four members of TVXQ followed him in, quickly greeting everyone as they saw the room was full.

“You’re the other mystery guests?” Jiang Yihan couldn’t hide his astonishment.

“What mystery guests?” Jaejoong, puzzled by Jiang Yihan’s surprise, replied, “President Lee asked me to come here. I don’t know what it’s about.”

Clearly, none of the TVXQ members knew what was going on; everyone looked at Lee Tong, waiting for an explanation.

“Hehe, I called you five here today to inform you of two things,” Lee Tong said, smiling amiably to the five members of TVXQ. “First, you’re changing managers—your new manager is Li Ran.”

“Why?” Li Ran stood up and asked before anyone else. The five TVXQ members looked on, uncertain about the situation.

“Because you’re capable. What, you lack confidence?” Lee Tong asked with a grin.

“It’s not about confidence. How can I manage so many people alone?” Li Ran complained. “And you didn’t even discuss it with me before deciding. That’s too dictatorial.”

“Don’t worry, they’ll still have their own managers, one each. Those five managers will accompany them on their schedules and take care of them. But you’re the primary manager, which means their schedules will be arranged by you, and you’ll guide their future direction.”

Li Ran rested his chin on his hand, thinking it over. Then he looked up again, “Give me a reason.”

“Because I believe you have the ability to be the top manager,” Lee Tong said, voicing a grand vision.

To be a successful star manager, one must first have keen artistic judgment—the responsibility of choosing roles and shaping song styles often falls to them. Second, they must be excellent talent scouts, able to spot potential stars. Most importantly, a good manager must have extensive social connections—to help artists rise to fame overnight or make comebacks. They need to maintain good relations with the media, as well as with performance organizations, directors, and producers to promote their artists and raise their profiles. The nature of the profession demands managers to be shrewd, experienced, loyal, and above all, discreet. They must know what to say and what not to say, so as to navigate the industry smoothly. For reliability—and to keep benefits within the family—the phenomenon of “star managers as one big family” is common in the circle.

As for Li Ran, his planning skills were unique; the way he arranged Jiang Yihan’s schedule and chose opportunities showcased his excellence. Although Li Ran was rather cold, his calm and composed approach to handling affairs, combined with the initial good relationships he had established with artists and media, meant his future connections couldn’t be underestimated. The bond between Jiang Yihan and Li Ran was obvious, and for TVXQ, Jiang Yihan and Li Ran were the most familiar faces in ABC Company.

Of course, Lee Tong had his own motives—he hoped to cultivate a top manager, a great partner, which would give him more confidence in his company’s future development. Now that Jiang Yihan and TVXQ had already achieved some success and the initial difficulties had passed, relying on Li Ran’s abilities and giving him a chance to grow seemed reasonable.

Li Ran deliberated for a long time, glanced at the five young men around him, then at Jiang Yihan, and finally sighed, “Alright.”

Lee Tong’s smile became victorious. “Good, then you’ll have to rely on Li Ran from now on.”

The five young men immediately bowed, “We’ll be counting on you,” making Li Ran quite embarrassed.

“Alright, now for the second matter,” Lee Tong continued, finally relieved after settling the first issue. “It’s about the mystery guest—actually, the second mystery guest today is Kim Jaejoong.”

“Ah!” Everyone present, except Park Youngho, dropped their jaws in shock.

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“The actor was my choice,” Park Youngho explained with a smile. “All five of you attended the audition that day. After reviewing the audition materials, I thought Jaejoong suited the role, so I temporarily settled on him. Since you’re all from the same company, it’ll be easier to cooperate. And now you all share the same manager, so it’s even more convenient.”

Having said that, Park Youngho looked at Jaejoong for his opinion.

“Ah? I’m taking the role? Is it a movie?” Jaejoong was still processing the news. After receiving confirmation from Lee Tong and Park Youngho, he began to think seriously, “Actually, I’m not confident about acting. I haven’t read the script, nor do I know the details, so I’ll let the company decide. I trust Li Ran hyung’s judgment.”

Everyone’s gaze shifted to Li Ran, who felt the pressure mounting—managing multiple artists was definitely no easy task.

Li Ran coughed to dispel his awkwardness and then asked, “Uncle Park, before I make a decision, I’d like to ask your opinion about the film’s subject matter.”

“It’s about your view on films with a homosexual theme,” Li Ran added.

Boom… The office fell silent.

Indeed, the film everyone had been discussing, "First Love," was about same-sex love. Although the story was pure and followed a fresh, natural style, its tone was unmistakable—this was not an issue that could be avoided. This was Li Ran’s main concern.

“Hehe, I knew you’d ask that,” Park Youngho smiled. “This is my directorial debut—you think I haven’t considered this issue? The film describes the bond between two boys, but it won’t overemphasize the word ‘homosexual’; instead, it will focus on ‘first love’ and the concept of ‘love,’ allowing everyone to experience pure first love again. So it’s not a major problem. At the end of the film, I want to show that love transcends age and gender—a pure, unadulterated love. Also, there are many excellent precedents for pure love films; if we don’t innovate, we won’t attract anyone. Changing the subject matter isn’t necessarily a bad thing, especially since same-sex love has become a serious social issue worldwide—why shouldn't it be discussed in Korea? Lastly, I believe with the images of Jiang Yihan and Kim Jaejoong, this theme is not unacceptable. Pretty boys are always popular, after all.”

Everyone laughed at his last comment.

“What do you two think?” Li Ran bit his finger and turned to the two leads.

The two glanced at each other; Jaejoong spoke first. “From the audience’s perspective, I think this subject will be hard for the Korean public to accept—it’s just too sensitive. But as an artist, I think it’s worth trying—a challenge brings progress. As for myself, I feel it’s alright; we’re newcomers to the film industry, we have nothing to lose, and a single movie isn’t enough to define us. So overall, if the script is good, I’m fine with it.”

“Mm, I think Jaejoong is right,” Jiang Yihan said, resting his chin on his hand and pouting thoughtfully. “The theme is important, but if the script can be revised to tone down the same-sex aspect and highlight ‘love,’ then overall, there’s no problem. Besides, if the audience only sees us as the characters after one film, it means our acting was successful.”

After hearing their opinions, Li Ran’s brows furrowed. He looked at Jiang Yihan for a long moment, his gaze conveying something indescribable. Jiang Yihan smiled, giving Li Ran a reassuring look. Li Ran rubbed his brow, “From a manager’s perspective, I agree to take this film.”

The happiest person at that moment was Park Youngho, who jumped up in delight. Indeed, a film with a homosexual theme is a challenge for anyone—if done well, it can lead to fame; if not, it’s a disaster. Li Ran made the professional decision to accept the film, though even he wasn’t sure whether it was right or wrong.

Leaving the office, Jiang Yihan and all of TVXQ returned to the practice room. The group sat together, reading and discussing the script.

“Yihan hyung, which role are you playing?” asked Shim Changmin, the youngest present.

“They only said I’m the lead, but didn’t mention the name.” Jiang Yihan flipped through the script again, finding only letters like ABCD at the top. He scratched his head. “I guess it’s A. I’m not sure.”

“This script is good—it doesn’t give a strong feeling of being a story about same-sex relationships,” said leader Jung Yunho.

“Yeah, the beginning just feels like good friends,” Park Yoochun murmured absentmindedly, absorbed in the script.

“Hey, this part is tough to act,” Kim Junsu exclaimed, pointing to a passage. “Jaejoong hyung, you have to give a really sad back view then turn your head with difficulty—haha, how do you act a sad back view? Yihan hyung’s is harder; he has to watch the car leave and quietly shed tears. Haha.”

Junsu stood up as he spoke, then posed for a sad back view. “Does this look sad?”

“Sad my ass,” Jaejoong smacked Junsu’s butt. “Anyone can tell you’re goofing off.”

“Then you try it, Jaejoong hyung,” Junsu laughed, turning around to coax Jaejoong into demonstrating.

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Jaejoong stood, patted his butt, and muttered, “Alright, I’ll do it.” He composed himself, turned to show a sorrowful back view, but after a few seconds burst out laughing.

Everyone joined in the laughter. Indeed, such emotional scenes are difficult—it’s not easy to express the intended effect.

Amid the playful banter, they gradually finished reading the script. Park Yoochun suddenly wiped his eyes and said, “Wow, it’s so touching. If it’s filmed well, it’ll be really moving.”

Everyone looked at the last part of the script in Yoochun’s hands and nodded in agreement.

Late at night, the group returned to their dorms, saying their goodbyes—one upstairs, one downstairs.

“Do you think taking this film was right or wrong?” Jiang Yihan asked Li Ran, fresh out of the shower and sitting on the sofa.

“In my view, the benefits outweigh the risks,” Li Ran replied, continually pressing the remote, unsure what to watch.

“Did Uncle Park tell you when filming starts?” Jiang Yihan decided not to dwell on whether it was right or wrong—they’d already accepted, after all.

“Around late May or early June. Still need to cast other roles and assemble the crew. It’ll probably be mainly newcomers—from director to lead actors, all newbies. Who knows how it’ll turn out?” Li Ran said.

At that moment, Jiang Yihan’s phone rang. Without looking, Li Ran said, “It’s Li Yimei, right?”

Recently, Li Yimei had been calling Jiang Yihan four nights a week on average, and Jiang Yihan had gotten used to it. Because of his busy schedule, and since Li Yimei always initiated contact, their main connection was nightly phone calls. In Li Ran’s view, though the two were still just friends, habit is a powerful thing—maybe someday Jiang Yihan would get used to it, and being together would come naturally.

Jiang Yihan glanced at his phone, smiling. “No, it’s Hyori nuna.” He answered, “Hyori nuna, how are you today?”

“Hehe, I accepted a role today, so I’ll be busy soon,” Jiang Yihan happily shared his news with Lee Hyori.

“Is that so? Then you’ll be working hard—filming means less time to rest,” Lee Hyori said, sincerely happy for Jiang Yihan. “Yihan, I called about the song I asked you to write last time, remember?”

“Ah, yes, Hyori nuna, I’m sorry, I’ve been so busy lately, I really apologize,” Jiang Yihan said, feeling embarrassed. With his poor memory and recent busyness, he’d forgotten all about it. “I’ll speed up, I promise, Hyori nuna, sorry.”

“Hehe, don’t worry, my dear little brother.” Lee Hyori chuckled softly. “No need to rush—the album’s been postponed.”

“Ah? Why?” Jiang Yihan was surprised.

“There’s no choice—the music market is so bleak right now. Male artists are more easily accepted by the public, and female artists have less and less room to survive. So the company feels it’s not the right time for an album and wants to delay it,” Lee Hyori said, her tone helpless and weary.

“But Hyori nuna, you’re among the top female artists—maybe even top three. Surely an album is worth a try?” Jiang Yihan still didn’t understand.

“I’m taking more endorsement deals now, already earning a lot for the company. So whether I make an album or not, they feel it’s unnecessary,” Lee Hyori said, resigned about the current music market. “I just want to sing. I still cherish my identity as a singer.”

“Sigh,” Jiang Yihan could only sigh—these were objective factors; they weren’t the ones calling the shots, so there was nothing they could do.

After chatting a while longer, they finally hung up.