When in China
AN: EXO-M fascinates me. I like EXO-K, (because Suho is an angel and Kaisoo is a drug), but there is something so much more complex and intriguing about the dynamics of EXO-M.
EXO-K is simple, loveable, fun and fluffy. Watching them on shows is pure joy because the members click so easily with one another and their discourse feels as natural as breathing.
In EXO-M you’re juggling with two different races / languages / cultures. It’s difficult enough having a bunch of boys thrown together and being forced to act as if they’re BFFs while working in foreign countries. Add the internal friction of their membership and you’ve got a nutshell of a boy band.
I realize what I’m saying sounds really negative, but it’s not actually. My point is that because they don’t come around as easily, the friendships and bonds formed in EXO-M are that much more meaningful. That EXO-M has to struggle more and has more tears and sweat put into their work is precisely what I admire about them.
I wish them all the best. 加油, EXO-M. Fighting. <3
An introspective piece on Jongdae
Word Count: ~1.7K
Just for the record, Jongdae does not hate China.
He certainly likes it much less than Korea, but Korea has the advantage of being the country Jongdae was born and raised in. In another situation, like if he had been visiting China as a tourist, Jongdae probably would have loved the vibrant cities that never seemed to slow or sleep. The appreciation he has now for things like the street food and the amount of history that surrounds everything would have been even greater and more genuine.
As part of a visiting boy band though, Jongdae has to force the interest rather than let it come naturally. He’s not like Tao, their maknae, who can doze off on his feet and be ribbed gently for it with a single bat of his dark-circled panda eyes. Jongdae has responsibilities as one of the leading vocalists, as a member of EXO-M and as a representative of a Korean citizen. For this reason, he ends up acting more stiff and formal while in China.
It’s a little funny how they flip situations every time they fly from Korea to China. The four Chinese members of his team noticeably change when they’re in their home country. In fact, they start changing in the airport terminal heading to China, when they’re surrounded by Chinese tourists eager to go home. It’s something about being in the proximity of a familiar language and culture that triggers the change.
Maybe change is too strong of a word for what Jongdae means. What he notices is more like a relaxation. Literally. Wufan sleeps more out in the open, no longer as conscientious of judging eyes. Yixing is suddenly a bag of tricks and mischief, which Jongdae did not expect from the sleepy-looking dancer he knew in Korea.
Zitao walks differently; his head and shoulders are even higher and his long limbs seem to stretch out like they were tied down before. There was one time when Jongdae was walking behind Zitao through the bridge connecting the plane to the gate of the Hong Kong International Airport. With fascination he watched as with every step closer to Chinese soil the maknae’s body loosened and expanded like a flower bud spreading its petals to the first touch of sunlight.
Luhan smiles more, though to be truthful this is something all four of them do. Coming to China is like opening up the floodgates of smiles after a drought. What’s interesting about Luhan is that his smiles not only increase in quantity but differ in quality. The first time Luhan really, truly smiles at him, Jongdae can’t help but flinch. Yixing immediately bursts into laughter at seeing his reaction.
“You had no idea your deer-ge was this ugly, did you?” Yixing asks in amusement, his dimples cut so deeply into his cheeks that they look like potholes in his smooth face. “He looks like a demented elf, huh?”
Luhan shoves him in mock-anger. “Don’t listen to anything Yixing says,” Luhan tells Jongdae as he multitasks with grinding his fist into the yelping dancer’s head. “Everything that comes out of this guy’s mouth is bullshit.” All this was said in Chinese, which Jongdae only understood because the very first thing his Chinese band mates seemed to personally teach him were swear words.
That’s another thing Jongdae notices. Even standing in front of the international gate, there’s always a sudden barrage of Chinese being spoken. In their enthusiasm, his foreign band mates often forget that Jongdae and Minseok can’t understand even half of what they say. Jongdae is suddenly being nudged in the ribs as foreign jokes fly over his head, and Tao’s heavy-eyed complaints become even more incomprehensible in a different language.
It feels naive to admit it, but to be honest Jongdae did not expect the group to change its mode of language even in a different country. He expected them to be using Korean amongst themselves even in the smack-dab middle of China; but when he stumbles into the kitchen in the morning, Wufan is greeting him with a solemn, “Zǎo ān,” and it takes Jongdae’s sleep-stupid brain several seconds to grasp that Wufan is saying “good morning” and not the alien language he made up when they played a game of silent 007 with EXO-K.
Jongdae feels as if he’s been mislead, and then he feels spoiled for thinking that way. Of course they only spoke Korean before because they were in Korea. It makes sense then for the group to speak only Chinese when in China, but his foreign members are always making concessions for him and Minseok, which makes a tangled lump of gratitude, shame and helplessness lodge in Jongdae’s throat when he thinks about it. He has to swallow it down with the bitter Chinese tea they drink in the mornings.
The language barrier is merciless. Every time Jongdae think it’ll be better, that whatever late-night studying he crammed the night before might help, he is disappointed. Ninety-percent of the conversation goes over his head, and to hide this he has learned to nod, laugh and gasp at the appropriate times on the shows they appear on.
Jongdae is now a ninja master of wordless speech. It is not a satisfying accomplishment.
Sometimes, he slips up and the endless flow of Chinese becomes background noise. His manager berates him every time Jongdae is caught on camera zoning out. He is a lead vocalist, a member of EXO-M and a representative of Korea. He should not be fooling around with his responsibilities. Those are the days Jongdae wishes he could crawl in bed and hide until it’s time to fly back home.
Perhaps the worst thing of all is that Jongdae cannot complain that everything (the language barrier, the homesickness, the foreign people / food / culture) is too difficult to bear because he is in an entire group of members that have gone and do go through the exact same experience. Minseok-hyung is in the same boat, but when Jongdae meets his gaze in one of his bewildered moments, his hyung offers him a easy smile and a shrug.
(Jongdae’s theory is that Minseok-hyung is used to being in the background, which is why he takes to their forced uncommunicativeness much better than Jongdae, who usually has words in his mouth faster than he has thoughts in his head.)
He would be downright hypocritical to bring up his own discomfort when his foreign band mates have spent even more time away from their friends and families in their training periods than he has in promotions. Even with all the promoting they do in China, they are still in Korea more often to do solo or joint activities with EXO-K. There Jongdae sees how stifled they are on Korean shows, how cut off they are in every other conversation despite the effort they put into being more likeable, funnier, more talented. For the first time in his life, Jongdae understands because he recognizes his own weariness in their faces.
This is the reason why, despite his deep desire to avoid conflict, Jongdae corners Baekhyun alone one day and frankly suggests that he should lay off teasing Zitao so much. Teasing is how Baekhyun shows his affection, but he doesn’t notice when he goes too far and cutting Zitao off five times in a broadcast will guarantee that the boy doesn’t open his mouth again for the rest of the day.
Before their big concerts, Jongdae whispers jiayo to his members and feels more than sees the gratitude the simple saying can bring. Things start to slot together for the group in a slow but meaningful way.
Jongdae smiles broadly when he gets a hushed fighting from Luhan during a recording of Happy Camp. Being ignored by the hosts feels much more bearable when he knows he’s not being ignored by his band mates.
Ge becomes so familiar to his mouth that he forgets sometimes and says Minseok-ge even when they’re back in Korea, which gets him odd looks from the K-group and oddly content looks from his group.
He learns to read Yixing’s expressions and anticipate when he needs to go on a snack run so that he can rush for his wallet to join him. Yixing is a serial snacker, but he tries to be more discreet about it when they’re at home base. There are less demands for the manager and more late-night mini mart runs, and surprisingly Jongdae likes it better this way. In their odd mix of Korean, Chinese and Pantomime they argue over which snacks are best to eat at 2 in the morning, whether ramen bloat will be ruin the next day’s filming and over who’ll be paying this time around.
(“No, it’s your turn to pay, Yixing-ge!)
Good mornings remain Zǎo ān for Wufan no matter where they are, and Jongdae falls into the habit of stealing sips of his bitter tea, especially after he finds out how beneficial it is for the body. Wufan half-heartedly swipes at him but always makes enough tea for two people so Jongdae doesn’t buy his annoyed act.
Of all the members, Jongdae connects with Zitao the least because the maknae is bratty, refuses to attend all of his Korean language classes and spends most of his time taking selcas when they’re not promoting. But then there are times when Zitao gets so sad or tired that he curls up in the corner of the van and doesn’t speak to anyone for hours. For these days Jongdae makes himself available through proximity, offering nudges, shoulder pats and random hugs like discount coupons at a supermarket. Since Zitao is the most physical person he knows, Jongdae doesn’t expect any word of thanks. The wushu expert’s gratitude comes in the form of him leaning back into Jongdae’s hugs and the spontaneous (bratty) pokes in the side Jongdae gets at times when he’s trying to concentrate.
Jongdae won’t lie and say there weren’t periods when he wished he wasn’t in EXO-M, because his time in the group has been unarguably the most challenging of his entire life. If asked now though, Jongdae can honestly say that he can’t imagine being anywhere else. He has carved his own place into the group, and he is pleased with the kind of person it has made him.
AN: I was surprised at where this came from because I never really paid much attention to Chen until now. My favorite members of EXO-M are Lay and Tao, but as I write about the group I start to appreciate the other members much more. EXO-M <3. X)