Chapter Sixty-Two: The Worries of Young Yihan

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The story takes place between June and November, 2005.

Recommended song: Wakin Chau – “A Difficult Scripture”

Disclaimer: This is a work of pure fiction. Any resemblance to real persons is purely coincidental.

Some time had passed since the confession. Jiang Yihan remained as busy as ever, often working day and night on set. However, something had changed: Jiang Yihan was now often seen stealing glances at his phone, smiling to himself. Anyone could guess what had happened.

Li Yimei occasionally stopped by the set, bringing home-cooked Chinese meals. For Jiang Yihan’s sake, Li Yimei had learned to make all sorts of dishes she’d never tried before. Her life had become full—she’d even enrolled in a Mandarin class to fill her spare time. Sometimes she chatted with Jiang Yihan over the phone or by text; sometimes she dropped by the set; sometimes they’d meet at Jiang Yihan’s apartment. This rhythm of life brought Li Yimei a fulfillment she’d never known before.

Jiang Yihan was thoughtful and gentle—traits Li Yimei had never noticed before. He would call frequently to let her know his whereabouts; bring her delicious treats; call her in the morning to wake her up; sneak into her school and sit at the back of her classroom during his breaks; make up excuses to give her gifts—sometimes just a bouquet of flowers was enough to make Li Yimei’s whole day. When tired, he would call her and pour out his complaints. He would openly tell others that Li Yimei was his girlfriend, even if she wasn’t comfortable with it.

Jiang Yihan quickly became the center of Li Yimei’s life, as if her entire world revolved around him.

Once, Jiang Yihan seriously asked Li Yimei whether she wanted their relationship to be public, leaving the decision entirely to her. After some thought, Li Yimei decided against it. After all, Jiang Yihan’s career had just begun, and there had recently been some anti-fans. If word got out that he had a girlfriend, it would surely cause chaos. Even though Jiang Yihan didn’t mind, Li Yimei insisted on keeping things private.

For now, Li Yimei was satisfied with the way things were.

After ending a call with Li Yimei, Jiang Yihan entered the waiting lounge, smiling. Today, Kang Ho-dong had invited him to appear on a talk show, and Jiang Yihan had requested three hours off from the film crew just to help out.

The moment Jiang Yihan walked in, Kang Ho-dong gave him a bear hug—a painful one.

“You’re really riding high these days,” Kang Ho-dong grinned, already aware that Jiang Yihan had a girlfriend. “Why not introduce her to your big brother? I’m still single, you know.” He made a pitiful face, eyes wide, and Jiang Yihan pushed him away with a laugh.

Kang Ho-dong then went to discuss the taping with the director, leaving Jiang Yihan to sit at the makeup station and review the interview questions. Li Ran had already checked them, so there would be no surprises. Jiang Yihan read them over, wanting to be prepared.

Just as he was reading, the lounge door opened. Thinking Kang Ho-dong had returned, Jiang Yihan looked up—only to find five young men standing before him, with someone he knew well, Lee Hyori, right behind them.

“Hyori, what brings you here?” Jiang Yihan stood, greeting everyone. Though still a bit awkward, he tried to appear natural.

Lee Hyori approached, smiling. “What, you’re so happy with life these days you’ve forgotten your big sister?” She was in on his secret, but having spent years in the business, she knew how to behave—what to say, what to do. Everything was natural and easy.

“Come on, Hyori, I’d never forget you,” Jiang Yihan replied, a bit embarrassed, rubbing his head. Maybe in the moment he confessed to Li Yimei, his mind had been a mess—he couldn’t even understand his own feelings, hence his awkwardness. “But what brings you here today?”

“I brought my juniors to meet their seniors. The PD said you were here, so I thought I’d bring them to see you.” Lee Hyori gestured to the five young men.

“Hello, senior. We are SS501, just debuted. Please guide us well!” they said in unison.

“Oh, hello, hello,” Jiang Yihan replied, clearly uncomfortable. “I’ve only debuted a few months myself—no need to call me senior. We’re all peers here. Hyori, you’re making too much of this.”

“Oh, but you debuted a few months earlier and have already achieved such great results. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” Lee Hyori nudged him, laughing.

“Come on, introduce yourselves,” she said to the five young men.

Jiang Yihan learned their names: Kim Hyun-joong, Heo Young-saeng, Kim Kyu-jong, Park Jung-min, and Kim Hyung-jun.

“If you have any questions, ask Senior Jiang Yihan for advice,” Lee Hyori joked, causing Jiang Yihan to blush even more.

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“Senior, do you have any stage experience to share with us?” Kim Hyun-joong asked first. “We just finished our debut stage on June 8th, and we still feel there’s much to improve.”

“Debut stage?” Jiang Yihan laughed awkwardly. “I was just as lost during mine. It was Hyori who taught me—how to use my eyes, my movements, everything. With such an experienced senior like Hyori, why ask me? I’m really embarrassed.”

Jiang Yihan’s easygoing manner put the five young men at ease.

“Senior, you haven’t been in the industry long, but you’re already so popular. Do you have any troubles?” Park Jung-min, the boldest, asked, sensing Jiang Yihan was approachable. The conversation quickly became relaxed, putting Jiang Yihan at ease.

“Troubles? There are plenty,” Jiang Yihan replied, looking up at the ceiling as he thought. “As a newcomer, I have to maintain good relations with the media and fans, but I’m often misunderstood as being arrogant, which worries me.”

“Why do you say that?” Kim Hyung-jun asked.

“For example, when meeting fans, sometimes my schedule is so tight that I can’t greet everyone. A few people then say I’m ignoring their feelings, neglecting them,” Jiang Yihan explained. “But I’m really just in a hurry. I wish I had more time for them, but if I’m late, the directors and writers will remember, and it’ll be harder to get on shows. So they think I’m putting on airs, but there’s really more to it.”

“You’re right, senior. But if we’re in that situation, there’s not much we can do,” Park Jung-min said.

“We can only hope fans understand,” Jiang Yihan sighed. “And you have to be careful with the media—one careless word and there are rumors, like the one about me clashing with a senior. Gossip can easily damage your image if you’re not careful.”

“We know about that, senior. You handled it very well,” said the well-mannered Kim Kyu-jong.

“Haha, I was just lucky. If I hadn’t managed it well, my relationship with the media would have soured,” Jiang Yihan laughed heartily.

“That’s why I have a love-hate relationship with the media,” he continued. “They can lift you up, magnifying your strengths, or knock you down, amplifying your mistakes. I’m sure your company has trained you on how to deal with the media—remember that.”

“Yes, we’ve had lessons on what to say and how to interact with the media,” Kim Hyun-joong nodded.

“I have another big headache these days,” Jiang Yihan said, not sure whether to laugh or cry. “Every day, fans wait for me outside my building, even until midnight. I’m grateful for their support, but I really worry about their safety—and their parents must be worried too. My neighbors complain about the noise, and I just don’t know what to do.”

“Really? You already have fans waiting downstairs?” The rookies were amazed.

“It’s not that many. There’s another popular group in my building—fans waiting for them are even more,” Jiang Yihan smiled. “Neighbors always complain about the trouble we bring, but there’s nothing we can do. Fans waiting late into the night—of course their parents worry. It’s tough, but luckily, I live in a standalone unit now. If not, I’d probably have to move soon.”

“We have fans waiting downstairs too, but we don’t know what to do either,” Park Jung-min said, troubled.

“All we can do is ask them to go home early and stay safe,” Jiang Yihan said.

The five young men nodded in agreement.

“My biggest worry is not having a personal talent for variety shows,” Jiang Yihan admitted. “It’s tough.”

Instantly, all five nodded vigorously, even the quiet Heo Young-saeng.

In Korea, variety shows often require you to showcase a personal talent, and the most popular is voice imitation—not singing or dancing, but mimicking how others speak or sing. Jiang Yihan found this especially difficult, even after taking special lessons and seeking advice from the likes of Shin Jung-hwan and Park Myung-soo. He just didn’t have the knack for it.

Lee Hyori, who had been listening, burst out laughing. “Yihan, I’ll teach you a voice imitation—it’s simple, you’ll definitely pick it up.”

“Really?” Jiang Yihan was eager, and all five young men looked over.

“I ran into Min Kyung-hoon, the lead singer of Buzz, recently,” Lee Hyori began, referring to the up-and-coming band whose lead vocalist was known for his voice and singing skill. Jiang Yihan had met him during the recording of Kang Ho-dong’s “Love Letter.” “He did a voice imitation for me that nearly killed me with laughter.”

“What was it?” everyone asked, curiosity piqued.

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“He imitated senior singers,” Lee Hyori said, still laughing. “When imitating Kim Jang-hoon, he’d just go ‘ah!’ For Shin Seung-hun, also ‘ah!’ For Kim Gun-mo, it was still ‘ah!’ Only the tone and inflection changed. It was all the same, not really an imitation at all, but he did it with such seriousness—it was hilarious.”

Jiang Yihan and the others were speechless. That’s supposed to be a voice imitation? It was so corny—but undeniably funny, showing Min Kyung-hoon’s incredible potential for deadpan humor.

They laughed and chatted for nearly twenty minutes, until the director came to fetch Jiang Yihan for recording.

“Thank you for your guidance, senior,” the five young men said, bowing once more.

Jiang Yihan, embarrassed, scratched his head. “No, no, it’s nothing. I wish you all the best in your careers.”

After exchanging farewells, the five left.

“Yihan, let’s catch up next time—give me a call,” Lee Hyori said cheerfully as she left.

Watching Lee Hyori go, Jiang Yihan thought of Li Yimei, who was now by his side. He gave himself a little slap—such daydreams were pointless. He already had someone. Lee Hyori was like an older sister to him; all his confusion and strange feelings should end here. Taking a deep breath, he looked away from where she’d left.

Nearly half a year had passed, and it was already late October of 2005. Throughout the summer, Jiang Yihan had taken on very few other jobs, devoting all his time to filming. Since it was Park Young-ho’s first time directing a movie and he was meticulous about details, shooting went from summer into autumn and almost winter before it drew to a close.

The entire crew might wait two weeks just to capture a sunrise or sunset in the right weather, then rush to film in the brief moment that Park Young-ho needed for the perfect shot. They’d debate for nights over the right scene or detail, until everyone finally agreed on a solution.

Everyone was part of the film’s creation; it was a movie made with blood, sweat, and tears, and it was finally nearing completion.

Today was the last scene, though it wasn’t a key moment—just a transitional one, chosen for its simplicity as the wrap-up shot. The leads were Kim Jae-joong and Kim Xiaoxi, so Jiang Yihan and Han Ji-hye, who had already finished their scenes, spent their time goofing around on the sidelines. Spirits were high, laughter and outtakes abounded, and it took a real effort to finish.

When Park Young-ho finally called, “Cut!” the set erupted in celebration. After half a year of sleeping barely three or four hours a night, it was finally over. Now, the post-production team would take over—the hard work was theirs now.

Jiang Yihan shouted with joy, only to be showered with champagne by Kim Jae-joong. As soon as Jiang Yihan realized what was happening, he grabbed another bottle and sprayed it back. Soon, everyone was drenched, laughing and screaming, celebrating the end of a grueling journey.

But after the joy came sorrow.

After half a year together, the cast and crew had become a family, sharing every high and low. Now they were about to disperse. After the laughter, someone began to cry, and then the tears wouldn’t stop.

Kim Xiaoxi clung to Jiang Yihan, sobbing uncontrollably. She knew Jiang Yihan was with Li Yimei now, knew she had to let go. Perhaps there was reluctance, regret, sadness, or frustration, but accepting reality was her best choice.

She softly called him “Yihan,” but the meaning had changed.

The filming had ended. The movie—now titled “Can I Love You?”—had finally wrapped.