Chapter 88: Time passed day by day during training...
Time passed day by day during training. On one side, Ren Xiyao was getting better and better, and on the other side, Kwon Ji-yong was getting busier with tours and appearances. The two never lost contact. But the distance between them only intensified their longing for each other.
She frowned and clicked on the top post, a screenshot of a trending topic on Weibo sent by Lin Shan:
#Kwon Ji-yong's hyperventilation syndrome#
The accompanying image is a clip from last year's tour. Kwon Ji-yong, pale-faced, struggled to finish the performance until the lights dimmed, where he suddenly collapsed on stage. His fingers were tightly clutching the fabric of his shirt, while staff frantically handed him an oxygen bag and used ice packs to cool him down.
Ren Xiyao's breath hitched for a second.
The night she recognized him at the Seoul venue, the night she climbed through the window to go to the hospital to find him.
The phone suddenly vibrated; it was Li Enjing calling: "Xiyao, did you see that?"
"Hmm." Her voice was surprisingly calm.
"Don't worry, that's an old video from last year..."
"I know."
After hanging up the phone, Ren Xiyao clicked on a video clip trending on social media. The comment section was in chaos:
[My heart aches for my brother TT]
[YG, have some decency!]
Is this something from 15 years ago being brought up for hype now?
Her thumb hovered above Kwon Ji-yong's chat window, but she ultimately backed away. He should be at the concert now; she couldn't afford to be distracted.
Kwon Ji-yong had just stepped off the stage, his shirt soaked with sweat, and the makeup artist was busy touching up his makeup. Suddenly, Daesung rushed in, phone in hand: "Ji-yong hyung! Something's happened!"
The trending topic was displayed on the screen.
"Damn it..." Kwon Ji-yong suddenly stood up, knocking over his foundation box: "When was this posted?"
“An hour ago.” Taiyang’s face was grim. “The company didn’t consult with us at all.”
Loudly whispered from the side, "During the interview, they asked a bunch of questions, thinking it was just a routine. We all know you don't like this, and we didn't expect it to be edited in directly."
Kwon Ji-yong grabbed his phone and rushed to the dressing room. His manager called after him, "Do you want to post something?" Kwon Ji-yong ignored him and slammed the dressing room door shut. His fingers trembled as he dialed Ren Xiyao's number.
No one answered.
Kwon Ji-yong scratched his hair in frustration.
The phone suddenly called back.
"Ren Xiyao!" He answered so quickly that he almost bit his tongue.
I heard her steady breathing on the other end of the phone: "Mmm."
"That's a video from last year. I'm fine, really fine."
"I know."
Kwon Ji-yong gripped his phone tightly: "Are you... angry?"
"No."
"You clearly have it."
There was a few seconds of silence on the other end of the phone, then Ren Xiyao took a deep breath and said, "Kwon Ji-yong."
"Um?"
"Why didn't you tell me it was serious enough to be photographed?" He closed his eyes. The starry sky of Jeju Island that night suddenly flashed into his mind; he lay on the beach telling her "I love you," the lights casting a soft, fuzzy glow on her silhouette. And now, two thousand kilometers away, he was making her worry again.
Last year at the hospital, she appeared at the ward door, looking travel-worn and disheveled, her hair soaked with sweat, barely able to stand. He was so preoccupied with feeling sorry for her injuries from climbing out of the window that he forgot how frightening he looked.
"I was afraid you'd worry," he said, his voice lowering.
"So you want me to see it in the news?"
Kwon Ji-yong was speechless.
Ren Xiyao sat on the edge of the bed, her phone pressed to her ear, listening to Quan Zhilong's rapid breathing, which was exactly the same as in the video.
“I wasn’t informed when the company was editing the footage.” He spoke quickly: “They kept dragging their feet on showing us the final cut, and today they just released the trailer…”
“Kwon Ji-yong,” she interrupted him, “take a deep breath.”
There was a sudden silence on the other end of the phone, followed by a long sigh.
Are you feeling better?
"Hmm." His voice finally calmed down a bit: "Don't look at those comments."
Ren Xiyao looked out the window at the still bright sky over Xinjiang. Having stayed here for so long, she subconsciously ignored the time difference: "I didn't look."
"That's a lie."
She chuckled softly: "Really, I only watched the video once."
The agent suddenly pushed the door open and came in, his face also looking grim: "Ji-ryong, it's President Yang on the phone."
Kwon Ji-yong's expression instantly turned cold. He whispered into the microphone, "I'll call you back when I get back to the hotel."
"Go ahead." Ren Xiyao paused, "...Don't argue."
On the other end of the phone, Yang Hyun-suk's voice carried a feigned concern: "Gi-yong, the movie is doing very well, and the fans are very worried about you..."
"So what?" Kwon Ji-yong interrupted him: "President, has there ever been a moment when, besides the hype and business, you thought of Kwon Ji-yong as a living, breathing person? You should at least discuss things with him."
The lounge fell silent instantly.
Yang Hyun-suk sighed: "This is for the sake of generating buzz..."
"Haven't you had enough of habitually exploiting my pain all these years? When will this end?" Kwon Ji-yong stood up, his voice trembling: "Fifteen years, what am I in the president's eyes?"
The phone was slammed onto the table. Taeyang patted his shoulder, pulled his manager, and they turned and left, leaving Kwon Ji-yong alone.
“Damn it…” Kwon Ji-yong rubbed the photo with his fingertips: “I miss her so much.”
Her phone vibrated in her pocket. She took it out and glanced at it; it was a video call request from Kwon Ji-yong.
She stopped, wiped the sweat from her brow, and answered the call. On the other end of the screen, Kwon Ji-yong sat amidst a pile of fabric samples, his hair disheveled, his glasses perched crookedly on his nose.
"What are you doing?" he asked.
"running."
"So late?"
"Just finished ice training." She caught her breath. "And you?"
Kwon Ji-yong turned the camera around; the studio floor was covered with design drafts and fabric samples, and several staff members were dozing in a corner. "Preparing for the brand launch," he rubbed his temples, "It's officially launched tomorrow."
Ren Xiyao walked to a bench by the track, sat down, unscrewed a bottle of mineral water, and took a sip: "Nervous?"
"A little." Kwon Ji-yong took off his glasses, revealing reddened eyes: "After three years of preparation, it's finally time to meet people."
The screen shook slightly, and Ren Xiyao saw the dark jade ring on his left ring finger gleaming warmly under the light.
"Ren Xiyao." Kwon Ji-yong suddenly leaned closer to the camera: "You said..."
"Um?"
"Won't the brand name be too difficult to pronounce?"
She raised an eyebrow: "You're only thinking about this now?"
"It just happened suddenly..." He scratched his head, "Never mind, it's not important."
Ren Xiyao looked at the dark circles under his eyes and suddenly said, "It will succeed."
Kwon Ji-yong was stunned.
“Your designs,” she added, “have always been excellent.”
There was a few seconds of silence on the other end of the phone. Kwon Ji-yong suddenly buried his face in his hands, his shoulders trembling slightly. Ren Xiyao thought he was crying, until she heard a muffled laugh: "Ren Xiyao, do you know how incongruous it is for you to say something like that?"
"Then take it back."
"No!" He looked up abruptly, his eyes sparkling: "Words spoken are like water spilled."
The coach's whistle came from afar, and Ren Xiyao stood up: "Lights out."
Kwon Ji-yong's expression immediately fell: "Another month without seeing you?"
"The training camp location is too remote."
"Okay..." he drawled, then suddenly lowered his voice: "Give me a kiss?"
Ren Xiyao glanced around, quickly made a "mua" sound at the screen, and immediately hung up.
At the brand launch event, Kwon Ji-yong stood backstage, repeatedly adjusting the wrinkles on his cuffs. Taeyang leaned over to help him straighten his tie: "Is it really necessary? Are you nervous about your own design?"
“This isn’t nervousness, this is solemnity,” Kwon Ji-yong slapped his hand away: “Where’s the ring I told you to wear?”
Taiyang pulled a small velvet box from his pocket: "Here. But are you sure you want to wear it? The media will be taking close-up shots..."
Kwon Ji-yong took out the silver ring and put it on his right index finger, which complemented the black and white jade ring on his left hand.
“That’s what we envy,” a loud voice suddenly came from behind, grabbing his shoulder: “Our GDxi is now a married man!”
Kwon Ji-yong laughed and elbowed him, then turned and walked towards the stage. The moment the spotlight shone down, he subconsciously touched the ring on his left hand.
The flashes from the cameras below the stage were dazzling.
Ren Xiyao finished training and watched the entire press conference live in the physiotherapy room. In the video, Kwon Ji-yong spoke eloquently about his design concept, his right hand occasionally brushing against the dark jade ring on his left hand, as if confirming something.
She saved several high-resolution images from the media and was about to shut down her computer when a new message popped up from Kwon Ji-yong: "See? I told you it would succeed."
The accompanying picture shows a champagne tower at the victory celebration banquet.
Ren Xiyao replied: "Yes, congratulations."
Kwon Ji-yong replied instantly: "That's it."
She thought for a moment, then pulled out a photo album from last year that she had secretly taken in Jeju Island. Kwon Ji-yong was asleep on a beach chair, and Ren Xiyao's hand was in the frame, misaligned as if she were supporting his chin.
"award."
Three seconds later, the phone rang. Kwon Ji-yong's voice was slurred with alcohol: "Ren Xiyao, you've gone astray..."
"Did you drink too much?"
"Just a little bit," he mumbled. "I miss you."
Noisy background noise came from the other end of the phone, with someone jeering, "GD is on the phone again," followed by a series of strange sounds.
Ren Xiyao buried her face in the pillow: "Drink less."
"I know..." he drawled, his tone lingering with a sticky reluctance.
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com
