035.
notes: dragon beard candy! liberties taken with zhou mi and victoria coming to south korea...
italicised dialogue = Korean, otherwise dialogue is Mandarin.
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"Korea will be an adventure," the boy beside her says with sparkling eyes. "It'll be wonderful, and beautiful, and full of opportunities and experiences and--"
She clutches at his hand as the plane takes off, smile wavering.
"It'll be good, I promise."
She knows that he only makes promises when he isn't too sure, himself.
Korea is an adventure, but in the way she wasn't expecting it to be.
"See! Look at this, we should try some. Hi, one of these please?" He holds up one finger to the vendor, who smiles and nods, starting.
"Hey," she says, eyes wide. "Isn't that--"
The vendor looks up, smiling as he starts unwinding the sugar, swinging it slowly before he makes a thin ring.
"One," he counts in Mandarin, and Song Qiancan't help the small gasp that comes out. He looks up, grinning.
"I can tell," he says haltingly, even as his fingers deftly weave the sugar, folding it to form a double ring. "Two."
Song Qianwatches, eyes wide, the scene familiar to Zhou Mi from the streets of his town.
"Four. Count with me?" the vendor offers, and Song Qianlets out a small smile.
"Eight," they both say in Mandarin as he folds over another layer. "Sixteen. Thirty-two. Sixty-four. One twenty-eight."
Zhou Mi watches, a small ache in his chest as he remembers when he had been captivated by the dragon beard candy weavers back at home. But that's long ago now, of unimportance in relation to what he's to do here.
"One thousand and twenty-four," they're up to.
He gets a flash to something his mother used to tell him about time and the world. The world, and time, was created by the string people's lives, that was weaved together to form a quilt that people called history, that without one strand, though seemingly insignificant, would break apart the threads of history.
"Four thousand and ninety-six."
Zhou Mi bites his lip as the weaver brings one finger to his lips, shooshing her before quickly flipping ten more times.
"Done," he says, before cutting a small section and wrapping it around some nuts. "Princess."
There's a grin on, and Zhou Mi pays him as Song Qian takes a bite and lets out a small moan of appreciation.
"Delicious!"
The man gives them a grin and a wave before Zhou Mi drags her off.
"We're not here to sightsee," he snaps, trying to reign in his anger but failing miserably. The magic of the moment is gone.
She swallows it down quickly. "I know, but--"
He knows he shouldn't be as harsh on her as he is, but what he says is true -- they aren't here to sightsee; they're here to fulfil their dreams. Already he's put China out of his mind, the language the only thing reminding him that Korea is not home. By his logic, she should too -- they're not here as Chinese tourists, but as skilled artists trying to make it in the industry. They have work to do.
"Ah Qian, no. Come on."
The SM Entertainment building never looked more comforting.
Years pass in a blur, debut and the following events imprinting themselves in his memory for an indefinite amount of time.
"I know this isn't what you expected, but I must do this. I'm sorry, Zhou Mi, my dear friend, but it has to be done." Voicemail was never Zhou Mi's favourite form of communication, but he doesn't care anymore. Nothing matters anymore.
Song Qian -- Victoria, now -- calls an hour after the news breaks out, as some sort of buffer between reality and what used to be his dreams.
"Zhou Mi?" she asks hesitantly. "I heard about what happened -- has anyone contacted him? Is it true?"
"Is what true?" Zhou Mi asks blankly. He's sitting at the dining table, back straight and head held high.
"The Han Geng rumours, information. Is it true, is the lawsuit true?"
Zhou Mi isn't sure what to believe.
It isn't a secret that above all, Zhou Mi cherishes his friends and values them, second only to family. He would put his career second to them, give it up if it meant that his closest friends would stay happy forever.
But Han Geng didn't do that -- he put himself above all else. Zhou Mi doesn't know, or rather, he doesn't want to know how he should react. Support him? Condemn him? He's lost.
"It sounds true," Zhou Mi finally says. Song Qian makes a small sound of surprise, a gasp caught in her throat.
"Are you okay with it? Is he okay?"
He closes his eyes, trying hard to steady himself.
Be strong, he tells himself. There's only you, now.
"I'm fine, I'm sure he is, too. Can we talk about this later? I'll call you once we get more news."
"Yes, I mean, if you're okay. If you're okay, when you're okay, no, if you need my help, then yes, just call me. I'm sorry this had to happen, Zhou Mi."
"I'm fine." It's fine. "I'll talk to you later. Goodbye, Ah Qian."
If you let every little setback in your life anchor you down, you will get nowhere.
This is the mantra Zhou Mi repeats each day. This is the prayer he whispers when he's down, when he's anxious, when he's nervous and when he doubts himself. There is only one thing that matters; that he must believe in himself.
It's been seven days since the Han Geng's lawsuit came into existence in the eyes of the media, and everyone's lying low. Zhou Mi takes the precious, quiet days to train, to do what he loves best and not let anything hold him back.
"Is he okay?" he hears Song Qian ask Donghae when she's over, though she should be training, too.
"Coping, like the rest of us, I think," Donghae says in reply.
Not coping, he wants to tell them. Living and moving on.