Chapter 132 How to describe 202...
How would you describe 2023?
Chaos and turmoil ensued.
Fortunately, everything eventually returned to peace, like leaves returning to the earth, like the sky clearing after the rain, and all was quiet.
With everything settled, a rare sense of freedom washed over him, starting today. He was finally free from all that damned romance, celebrity gossip, and inexplicable media hype. He could buy any plane ticket he wanted. Go wherever he wanted, see whoever he wanted.
When Kwon Ji-yong pushed open the glass door, the wind chimes tinkled.
"A cup of hot lemon water, without sugar."
The only change was probably in the shop assistant; the current assistant was a young woman. Hearing this, she looked up and glanced at him a couple more times, probably thinking he looked familiar, but not daring to recognize him. A mask covered most of his face, revealing only a pair of tired yet bright eyes.
The first snowflakes drifted outside the window as Kwon Ji-yong gazed at the training base stretching to the end of the road. Back then, he always "bumped into" her buying hot drinks. There was no coincidence at all; he simply noted down the athletes' training schedules from the security guard, timed his arrival perfectly, and said, "What a coincidence." They bumped into each other six or seven times. Finally, he gave her his contact information at the convenience store.
In the steaming warmth of the lemonade, he suddenly smiled.
He sat there all afternoon. In the evening, he came to the entrance of a narrow alley. In the dim light, the aroma of grilled meat filled the air. He wandered through the alley, finally stopping in front of the barbecue restaurant. He wasn't sure if it was just his imagination, but the sign didn't seem as bright as it used to be. But looking at the words "Meets doping control standards," he felt an unexpected sense of familiarity. A feeling of getting closer and closer to her.
Before coming, he was worried that the place would be closed, but it was still open. But thinking about it, it makes sense. Even if the service is mediocre, at least the athletes at the training ground next door can back them up.
When the meat was served, he took a picture, pulled out his WeChat, and saw that the last message was from 2017. He hadn't deleted a single one. After hesitating for a moment, he still didn't send it.
Chili oil splattered on the back of his hand, scalding him and making him jolted. It turns out that some pain sensations can suddenly return even after many years.
Just as he was about to turn off his phone, he received a message. It wasn't unexpected; he hadn't shown up during the contract termination saga. He hadn't contacted him either. They'd known each other for so many years, and there had been genuine moments between them. He was like a mentor and a father figure to him; he knew him best, and he understood that this time he was determined. But he also knew best that he was a sentimental person, a soft-hearted person, knowing all his vulnerabilities, yet he hadn't done anything. Perhaps his silence stemmed from his own complex emotions.
So many years have passed.
The photo shows the cover of his first solo album, which he revised for a long time, preparing many versions, but he still kept all the rejected drafts. Over the years, he has been cautiously respectful, argued, complained, hoped, and disappointed. Sincerity was mixed with pretense, pretense with interests, but interests were also mixed with sincerity. Perhaps the mentor-father relationship will change after being entangled with capital. He was once a musician dedicated to music, which led to YG's continuous breakthroughs in music, and his works became YG's foundation. But later, it became a business, the market became paramount, and many things changed. As a listed company, YG's shareholders' decisions and his desires became intertwined. It's hard to say whether he was using the shareholders' words to express his inner desires, or whether many circumstances were not what he wanted. Perhaps in those unknown corners, he also struggled.
Kwon Ji-yong has been aware of the internal problems at YG Entertainment over the years, but that's just how it is. He's not a god, nor does he need to be omniscient; otherwise, it would be too exhausting.
He never hated him, not from beginning to end. He always treated him with respect.
Perhaps it's just disappointment, perhaps it's just that she no longer gives her whole heart in hopes of his slightest recognition.
That's good. After stripping away all the financial interests, we should be able to sit down and have a meal together peacefully.
The snow has stopped, but the bicycle rental booths along the Han River are still lit up.
Kwon Ji-yong chose a blue bicycle and slowly rode along the embankment. In the early summer of 2016, he and Ren Xiyao had competed here. Although they were busy, those moments of leisure were especially precious. At that time, she suddenly stopped halfway through her ride, pointed to the LED screen on the opposite bank, and said, "I might compete there when you enlist in the army."
The screen was showing a countdown to the Pingcheng Winter Olympics at the time. Now it displays a mobile phone advertisement, and Ren Xiyao has already finished competing in her home Olympics.
The wheels crunched through the snow. Cheers erupted in the distance; someone had set off fireworks ahead of time. Kwon Ji-yong stopped his bike and realized he had unknowingly ridden to the bench where they had kissed years ago.
The wind was cold by the Han River. Kwon Ji-yong wrapped his black coat tighter around himself, his breath dissipating into the night. Fireworks began to explode sporadically in the distance, reminding people that the year was drawing to a close.
Finally, it's all over.
YG ultimately compromised and agreed to all of his termination conditions. All music copyrights were returned, and although the trademark rights were redeemed, the company publicly stated that they were "gifts," thus preserving a semblance of dignity for both parties.
He reached out and caught a falling snowflake; the icy touch melted in his palm.
They are free.
“I knew you’d be here.”
The sun's voice came from behind him. Kwon Ji-yong didn't turn around, but simply moved aside to make room for him.
Taiyang sat down beside him and handed him a can of hot coffee: "Is everything settled at the company?"
"Mm." Kwon Ji-yong pulled the tab, and steam rose up, blurring his vision: "Starting tomorrow, I'll be a free man."
Taeyang laughed: "A free agent? You're probably going to be even busier than you were at YG."
Kwon Ji-yong didn't refute. Negotiations with the new company and preparations for the new album were in their final stages; the team, funding, projects... everything was proceeding at a rapid pace. But he didn't feel tired; instead, he felt a long-lost excitement.
"And you?" he joked. "Not spending time with your wife and kids today?"
"Look at you!" the sun laughed too. "My good brother has accomplished one of the most important things in his life, so I have to come and celebrate with you."
Kwon Ji-yong smiled somewhat childlike, clinking his coffee cup against Sun's, everything understood without words.
The two stared at the river in silence for a while, then Taiyang suddenly said, "Xiyao is preparing for the 2014 Winter Olympics."
Kwon Ji-yong's fingers tightened slightly, and the coffee can made a soft "click" sound.
"I know."
When do you plan to go see her?
Quan Zhilong raised his head, and fireworks exploded in the distance, illuminating half the sky.
"If all goes well, next year," he said softly. "After everything at the new company is settled, after all the contracts are cleared up..."
He paused, a slight smile playing on his lips.
"Then, go see her with an innocent face and start over."
"With such confidence, she'll wait for you."
Kwon Ji-yong couldn't help but laugh out loud, but his reply revealed a kind of obsession: "She must be there! She definitely is!"
Late at night, Kwon Ji-yong returned home and entered the room filled with memories.
He pushed open the door. The room was quiet, with only the occasional sound of fireworks outside the window. He didn't turn on the light, but sat quietly in the room by the dim light from the window, as if surrounded by her presence.
He reached out and gently touched the photograph, his fingertips tracing her silhouette.
He pulled out the Las Vegas marriage certificate, framed it, and placed it in the most prominent spot. It served as a constant reminder to him to hurry.
He walked to the table and sat down, taking the dark jade ring out of his pocket. The inscription on the inner band gleamed faintly in the moonlight.
"I saw it."
He suddenly remembered what Ren Xiyao had once said.
Yes, she saw it. While everyone else only saw "G-DRAGON," she saw Kwon Ji-yong.
And now, he can finally just be Kwon Ji-yong.
The New Year's countdown began outside the window, and fireworks exploded in the night sky, illuminating the entire room.
"Ten, nine, eight..."
Kwon Ji-yong recalled the first time he met Ren Xiyao. In that bar in 2013, everyone's faces were distorted in the interlacing lights, but she sat quietly in the corner, like a tree in the Siberian wilderness.
"Seven, six, five..."
He remembered the night she climbed through the window to the hospital; the pain in her knees and the suppressed fear made her body tremble slightly. But in the end, he compromised and said, "I was more afraid of something happening to you. Are you satisfied now?"
"Four, three, two..."
He recalled the cold look in her eyes when she pointed to the seats of the Korean Ice and Snow Association after the Pyeongcheng Winter Olympics. He stroked the letter he had written before enlisting in the army.
"one!"
The city's bells rang simultaneously. Kwon Ji-yong took out his plain ring and put it back on his hand. Deep inside the safe, he retrieved the key to Harbin.
Outside the window, a series of clear footprints were left on the snow, like a letter that had finally finished writing its ending.
Kwon Ji-yong sat at his desk, a blank sheet of paper spread out in front of him. He picked up a pen, hesitated for a moment, and finally wrote:
"2024, a new beginning."
The pen paused for a moment, then added another line:
"I'm going to see you."
Stick the paper on the wall and look up out the window.
It was almost dawn.
2023 was not an easy year for Ren Xiyao either. Although she resumed training and started competing internationally again, everything had changed. Sometimes the saying "a new emperor, a new court" applies to competitive sports as well.
The new national team coach has clearly prioritized the men's team, not because she's led them to any great results, but because they're generally struggling. The fundamental reason for this lack of focus on the women's team is likely her inability to coach them effectively. Everything seems to be masked by a couple of gold medals. But those involved know that everyone is resting on their laurels, and facing the rapidly changing international landscape, they are increasingly finding themselves powerless.
After finishing the fourth leg of the World Cup in preparation for the 2014 Winter Games, they returned to their respective national teams. Training ended at 10:30 PM. Lin Shan had already slipped away, saying she was going to video chat with her boyfriend to celebrate the New Year. Ren Xiyao returned to her dorm alone and made herself a bowl of braised beef noodles.
The team captain invited Xu Qinghe as a guest to his live stream. The host asked, "As a senior player, what are your thoughts on the current situation of the women's team?"
Xu Qinghe smiled and said, "Every athlete will encounter a bottleneck. The key is to figure out why you want to persevere."
Ren Xiyao turned off the live stream.
Her phone vibrated; it was an email from her advisor: "NYU visiting scholar offer approved. Confirm by February 15th." She stared at that line for a long time, until a film of oil formed on her instant noodle soup.
She recalled that when she was a teenager, she dared to challenge the head coach as soon as she joined the national team, saying, "I'm going to fight for the all-around champion title." Back then, Ren Xiyao only had the finish line in her eyes and never hesitated about whether it was "worth it."
Now, at 29, she sits in her dimly lit dormitory, her old injuries throbbing all over her body. She's still weighing the pros and cons in her mind: should she stay and fight for Milan, or retire and go back to school?
My phone vibrated again. It was a voice message from Lin Shan: "Damn! Did you see the trending topics? Kwon Ji-yong terminated his contract!"
For some reason, she couldn't help but think of the day she broke up in 2017. Actually, she had been deliberately avoiding thinking about 2017 for far too long, because almost every time she did, it felt like reliving the feeling of being ripped out of her body. But she had to admit how resolute she was back then, throwing herself headlong into training without a second thought.
But now, just seeing his news makes my fingertips unconsciously curl up, subconsciously weighing the pros and cons.
Ren Xiyao locked the screen and threw her phone onto the bed.
But what the years take away is more than just physical strength; they also take away the all-or-nothing courage of a 20-year-old.
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