Step; Chapter 2
Chapter 2
Opening his eyes, Luhan lifts his aching head from Yixing’s shoulder and looks at the ever-beautiful mountain scenery around him, his gaze meeting Yixing's blank eyes.
“You’re awake, oh great one.” Yixing says.
Luhan stares at Yixing, as if studying the details of his face.
“I... What happened to me just now?” He asks.
“The next time you’re going to suddenly nod off, will you at least give me a warning in advance? Yawn or something.” Yixing looks at Luhan and laughs.
“How long was I asleep?” Luhan pulls out his phone to check the date.
“A few minutes.” Yixing massages his shoulder, then gets to his feet and walks over to the bag of snacks. He turns to Luhan again. “Be honest with me; did you come here to take a nap out of spite because we were lying on your bed before?”
Luhan glances at Yixing and is about to speak, but he hesitates and stops himself.
“You’re so gloomy today,” Yixing comments, “just say what’s on your mind.”
Luhan looks at Yixing and stammers, “Last year...music awards...did I, I mean, was it...”
Yixing’s lowers his eyes and his arms fall to his sides. “Why are you still thinking about that?"
Luhan freezes in place; Yixing's words, calm like water, hit him hard.
"It was a long time ago, no one even cares anymore... we got the award and we apologised; the fans even felt bad for you,” Yixing says. “But you were really weird that day. First you spaced out on stage, then you completely forgot what happened after we went back. Tao kept saying something about temporary memory loss and tried to drag you to go get it checked out, but then you came back around… Just-don’t take sleeping pills anymore, okay?”
But Luhan isn’t even listening to Yixing speak, instead turning around slowly and walking towards the rock wall. The tiny nail is lodged peacefully in a crevice covered by mud and weeds; the hammer lies on the ground; the arrow is by Luhan’s feet.
Suddenly, Luhan picks up the hammer and throws it into the forest as hard as he can. He grabs Yixing’s hand, and drags him away.
“Huh? You’re leaving?” Yixing hurriedly picks up his bag.
Holding onto Yixing’s hand, Luhan runs away from the rock wall and the surrounding thickets as if escaping from a nightmare. He uses his other hand to rub at his eyes, and Clown's kind smile materializes before his eyes, "don't forget the way back."
“I won’t fucking come back!” Luhan suddenly turns and yells at the top of the mountain.
Yixing is silent.
“Yixing, if I ever want to come back to this place, no matter what the reason, you have to stop me.” Luhan looks into Yixing’s eyes, “promise me that.”
Yixing stares blankly back at Luhan. “Why?”
“Promise me,” Luhan repeats, still holding his gaze.
“Okay,” Yixing takes note of Luhan’s serious expression. “You just need to let me know when it is you want to come back.”
Just then, Luhan’s gaze weakens and begins to falter. His legs give out and he collapses to the ground.
There are many things one should avoid probing into. Though a sense of curiosity pushes humankind towards advancement and development, it just as well pushes humankind closer to its destruction. Faced with something unexplainable, something that cannot be probed, Luhan decides to kill his curiosity.
Because he simply can’t allow his curiosity to kill him.
--
The following week passes by peacefully. In the mornings, Luhan checks his calendar, and starting from his roommate, Kris, he checks to see if everyone’s memories from the night before have perhaps overlapped with his own. Everything seems to be in order every time he checks-and so slowly, Luhan begins to believe that life has again returned to normal.
There was a time when Luhan had grown tired of his everyday life and had unconsciously wished for something exciting to happen. Now, Luhan rejects all such prospects of excitement.
Fortunately, the days are busy and his schedule is crammed tight like a package of crackers. He barely has enough time to recall that strange dream, constantly running back and forth between rehearsals, performances, fansignings, radio station and TV interviews, and photoshoots where he musters a wide range of expressions, from sexy, to thoughtful, to cute, under the flashing scrutiny of the studio lights. His arm could be clinging to Sehun’s, or onto Yixing’s shoulder; either way, it doesn’t bother Luhan. Even during variety shows, whether it be complying with Duizhang’s outlandish requests, or perhaps sacrificing his lips in mouth-to-mouth contact, Luhan’s never been bothered.
He’s been preparing for all this since he was seventeen, and while Luhan certainly isn’t jumping for joy now, he’s found that there is nothing to complain about.
He deserves it.
It’s like going to medical school-you’re aware that if you go, you may end up working in a hospital, spending the rest your days tending to sick patients. Luhan is prepared for a lot of things.
When Luhan’s high school classmates were doing all they could to prepare for college entrance exams, Luhan was doing everything he could to prepare for SM. Perhaps the name of this college wasn’t all too familiar, and perhaps its graduation rates weren’t very high, but Luhan was interested in the fields of studies offered there. When Luhan graduated with a job to his name, he felt incredibly thankful-thankful that he belonged to that slim twenty percent who made it. And when he started his job, like most other newcomers taking their first steps into society, Luhan wasn’t sure how to deal with the change of air. It took some time for Luhan to realize that reality and what he had imagined differed quite a bit - that in the end, in order to do the things you love, you’d always have to bear with the things you dislike. It’s the same for every profession.
There are plenty of things Luhan dislikes about this job. He’s lost his sense of privacy, has dealt with hurtful criticism, has accepted social invitations that couldn’t ever be turned down to begin with. And then, judging off what Luhan’s seen transpire with his seniors, there are things awaiting in his near future: cross-dressing, kissing during concerts, fans fighting and chucking water bottles at his face.
He thinks back to their debut showcase and recalls the smooth and tempered way the leader of a senior group carried himself, the courteous way he treated fans, the way he thought everything through thoroughly before speaking - how many incidents it took for him to mold his personality into such a smooth circle while Luhan himself was just a triangle at the time, it’s hard to say.
Of course, there are plenty of things about his job Luhan likes-the stage he longs to stand on, the bliss he experiences when immersed in a performance, the love he receives from so many strangers, and, to a certain extent, having a say in things.
Fame is good about ninety percent of the time. It allows you to express yourself, all while in the center of discussion. Of course, this is only under the circumstance that you are allowed to speak openly at all, and that there isn’t anyone hiding around the corner, hand poised and ready to stab you in the back.
And so time goes on, the days passing one by one, busy, yet steady and calm. At a fansigning, Luhan, mouth stiff from smiling for so long, continues to sign thousands of cute, cartoon-like autographs. His strained arm and the signature that he barely recognizes are both constant reminders that he is a mere serviceman carrying out his duties. Screams and cheers sound somewhere in the distance and somewhere nearby.
This is a comedy that cannot change. The clown on stage is professional - his work ethic forces him to keep his own expressions under a mask, kept only to himself.
The customers are gods, the customers are angels. Luhan used to think that he existed for the stage. He realized later on that the stage existed for the audience.
Without an audience, it cannot be called a stage.
That’s why, time and time again, he says sincerely to his fans, you are angels. I exist for your cheers.
So please continue to cheer, otherwise, I will no longer exist.
--
March 22nd, 2013. This isn’t the first time they’ve been called to a dinner party, and it isn’t the first time that the four of them have gone together. A drizzle sprinkles the ground outside. Luhan, whose cold developed into a fever from lack of rest, has thrown on a jacket over his shirt. A car arrives to pick them up and, together with Baekhyun, the two climb in. Chanyeol and Kris, who has just woken up, are close behind them. Kris’ phone, out of battery, beeps from inside his pocket and he quickly pulls it out to take a look; he then glances at Baekhyun and Luhan before putting his phone back and getting into the car.
Luhan is used to these kinds of dinner parties now. TV stations, magazines, producers, drama production companies, virtually any other group that has worked with the company-it seems that everyone wants to “get to know them”; behind every contract is a dinner party, carefully conducted under some harmonious guise. When it comes to this entertainment company, whose only goal is to gain profit or expand their influence over the entirety of the industry, Luhan has long known that the idols themselves exist at the bottom of the pyramid, that the executives will always need them at the end of their golden whips to stand on the frontlines of the business battlefield. Singing and dancing is one aspect, relying on their handsome appearances and unwavering presences to captivate fans from all ages, countries, and markets, quite another. Now, they’re banking on their warmth, their kindly demeanours, to impress at the dining table.
These are all aspects of work that cannot be overlooked, and they require great skill.
A dinner party is just a dinner party; it's not actually as scary as imagined. Just like a car salesman would sometimes have to attend social functions for the sake of work, the main product they're selling is ultimately their face; having to attend the occasional dinner party as an idol is understandable, then. Like how rookies in every profession have to climb their way up from the bottom, cannot afford to have a temper, so too, Luhan understands. He believes that this is a good life experience to learn from, before his popularity explodes and he gains a stable social standing.
There aren't that many people at the dinner party on this day, some men and women, though its obvious that the company holds them in high regard. Also in attendance are some of the higher-ups who rarely show their faces. For small partnerships, usually the other side would request a certain person, one or two people at most. This time, four of them have come together, so it's apparent that apart from just being there as drinking partners in the usual sense of the word, they are also there to be marketed by the company.
After a few rounds of polite greetings, Luhan is slowly beginning to understand the main point of discussion at the dinner table - the company’s plans for EXO this year, rumours about the formation of a Japanese subunit, EXO-J.
The company is rigidly stratified, and other than the directors who hold shares, the high level management consists of about seven people, also known as the executive managers. Every executive manager is in charge of a respective department, of which include an array of low-level managers who are held responsible for other things: some are in charge of solo artists’ daily performance schedules, while others manage groups like EXO. Today, aside from the lead executive manager, two other directors are also present-it’s their way of showing recognition to EXO, who, after just one year after debut, have achieved a great deal of fame.
Although Luhan understands the weight of this dinner party and manages to keep a smile on his face, he has a hard time hiding the fact that he’s feeling unwell. Chanyeol takes up the task of proposing toasts, and amidst the chatter, quietly explains to Kris the other sides’ member organization.
“The one on the left who’s been smiling the whole time is the head of NHK TV entertainment productions.” Kris’ gaze follows Chanyeols’ and falls on the smiling face - the brightest, the fakest one. “Then there’s their company director,“ he continues. “The young one is the translator, and the girl at the other end is a seasoned manager. She used to be in charge of SMAP.”
Kris scans them down, one by one.
“We’ve been considering EXO-J even before the group’s debut,” the executive manager sitting beside Luhan says pleasantly, “but it’s been delayed since, one, EXO wasn’t mature enough when they first debuted and two, it takes time to gain and maintain foothold in both the Chinese and Korean markets.” He leans over to pour Luhan a drink, smiling all the while.
“Venturing into your country’s entertainment market is no small matter, and it’s not as if the company hasn’t made its fair share of attempts before. Without adequate preparation, however, it is difficult to achieve desirable results. We understand that implementing this plan will take time-in fact, we’ve begun preparations starting last year. EXO is still young… should we proceed with this project, your guidance and support is crucial to their success in Japan.” The manager goes on relentlessly, the translator following close by, words tumbling out in rapid succession. Luhan feels as if his head is going to split open, and he wills himself not to faint.
"Of these four artists, 2 are in K and 2 are in M; all of them have gained quite the impressive reputation and popularity in this one year, and also work well with others,” the manager remarks tactfully. “Although the member list has not yet been finalized, if J-team is formed then it’s likely that the members will be chosen among them, and the leader will also be one of them.”
“It looks like the two lead dancers are not present?” One Japanese director inquires.
“Oh,” a company director smiles and responds, “the two lead dancers are both irreplaceable in the current two teams, their Japanese isn’t very good, and they are rather shy and reserved, so perhaps they’re not suited to promote in a place other than their home country.” He points to Luhan. “If J-team is formed, we’re inclined to make him the leader of the J subgroup."
Luhan looks up, still dazed from the pounding in his head, but before he can even begin to grasp the situation, the director pulls him to his feet. “Luhan, who is currently promoting with M in China, can both sing and dance at an above-average level. Furthermore, he is popular, good-looking, and his language skills are solid.”
The director is all smiles and strokes Luhans cheek with the back of his hand, as if introducing a product, "I should also mention that Luhan is cooperative, sensible, and very adaptable. From our observations and understanding of him, he can definitely live up to expectations," as he speaks, he turns to look at Luhan's ashen face.
“Luhan? I’ve heard of you.” The NHK entertainment production leader stares at him, “are you interested in Japan?”
Luhan blinks, but his eyelids feel heavy. The manager beside him taps him on the back. "He's asking you a question!"
With a blank expression, Luhan only manages to say, “Oh, Japan, interested.”
The NHK representative examines Luhan’s face and chuckles, "Oh really? What aspects?"
"I..." Luhan feels as if there's a rock lodged in his throat, and his head buzzes incessantly. "… have eaten Japanese food."
Beside him, the translator and Baekhyun burst out laughing and Kris can't help but look down and smile. And action films, Kris completes Luhan’s unfinished sentence in his head.
But the Japanese director’s expression is far from pleasant, and soon all laughter and smiles in the room subside.
"He knows some Japanese," the manager offers, "and he often watches Japanese movies and variety shows." He tugs on Luhan’s arm and glares at him as he speaks.
Luhan, glued to the spot, is unable to speak.
The manager hurries to pour drinks for everyone, and fills up Luhan's glass as well. Suddenly, the room begins to spin and waves of nausea hit Luhan repeatedly; he grips his hands on the table for support. Chanyeol glances at the director and pushes the glass towards Luhan, but Luhan’s grip is still tight on the table and he has no intention of picking up the glass offered to him.
The other man still holds the glass in his hand, waiting wordlessly for Luhan to take it, but Luhan only continues to stare onward with that ashen face of his, brows furrowed.
Awkwardness settles over the table. Kris stares at Luhan for two seconds before quickly looking down; he vaguely recalls how Luhan occasionally used anti-Japanese products to express his slight anti-Japanese sentiments.
The Japanese director places his glass down on the table. “It looks like the words ‘cooperative’ and ‘sensible’ hold a different meaning in your country than it does in Japan.” He turns to smile at Luhan. “It seems that you treat your artists very well, seeing as they still have such tempers.”
Luhan is silent. The manager flashes an awkward smile at the Japanese director as their own company director moves to apologize immediately. “You misunderstand, we are also very strict when it comes to managing our artists.”
“Really?” The director studies him closely, some consideration evident in his expression. “I’m just afraid that if they’re like this in Japan, they won’t be able to adapt.”
The company director bows his head down. He then turns around, expression dark, and shoots a look towards the manager.
The manager frowns and blinks, then picks up the glass of wine in front of Luhan and splashes it all on Luhan’s face. Everyone suddenly quiets down.
Luhan remains motionless, wine dripping ever-slowly down from his face and from the ends of his hair. The feeling of the ice cold red wine on his skin isn’t bad at all, though; at least it lowers the temperature of his burning forehead.
The Japanese director, who appears completely unfazed, offers Luhan a silent smile. Luhan lowers his head and pauses for two seconds before bowing in apology. “Sorry, I will go fix myself up,” he says as he gets up, and walks towards the restroom.
There, Luhan immediately runs the tap and puts his face under the faucet to wash his face with cold water. There’s no time to complain-he just wants to clear his head a bit. He stares at his reflection with his hand on the mirror. Pale skin, delicate features-yet at that table, none of it mattered. He was as insignificant as an ant.
He practices a smile in the mirror; games aren't played this way.
But they don’t set the rules in this game-so how should they play?
Luhan walks back to the private room, pausing outside the door for a beat. When he finally pushes the door open, he’s adorned his face with the sweetest smile.
"I'm sorry about earlier," He walks back to his seat and stands beside it. “I’ll drink three glasses in apology.” He says all this in fluent Korean, and patiently waits for the translator to finish relaying the message back in Japanese before pouring a glass of liquor for himself, the smile never leaving his face. He chooses the Japanese sake.
The company director eyes him expressionlessly, and only when Luhan has downed all three glasses does his smile resurface. “Now this is the Luhan I introduced you to earlier.”
The Japanese director gestures for Luhan to sit down. “Don’t drink it if you can’t; this liquor is very strong, don’t force yourself.”
Luhan sits down shakily. Under the table, Chanyeol grabs his hand. Luhan keeps the same gentle smile on his face as he manages a polite, "No, no, its only appropriate."
For some reason, the Japanese directors seem to be set on making trouble for Luhan-or perhaps, using Luhan as a scapegoat to make trouble for their company. Not only do they continue to pour Luhan drink after drink, but they also request for the now completely red-faced Luhan to perform on the spot. No matter how much Chanyeol tries to protect Luhan, no matter how hard Kris tries to drink whatever’s offered to Luhan, the directors won’t relent until they’ve finished with him. It’s a delicate atmosphere; Luhan has to live up to SM’s promise, to be as cooperative as the company makes their artists out to be. At the same time, it seems as if the Japanese are using Luhan as an outlet to degrade the company.
In this kind of situation, the only thing Luhan can do is continue to graciously accept the alcohol offered to him, close his eyes, and throw the drinks back.
“Didn’t you say earlier that both his singing and dancing are above average?” The Japanes director claps and breaks into laughter. “Why don’t you let us hear that voice of yours? I can’t wait.”
“That’s right, if you’re coming to promote in Japan, let’s first see if you can blow us all away.” Another director chimes in.
Kris balls his hands into fists underneath the table.
Luhan does everything he can to hang onto his last thread of consciousness. “My voice is hoarse today,” He says. “Please let me off the hook this time.”
“Hoarse? I think it’s still a very moving sound. We have a tradition in Japan: ‘three rounds of drinks will liven up the song’-it makes things more fun for both the singer and listener.”
“I’ll sing instead of him, I sing well, too.” Chanyeol interjects, his expression willing, but his voice far too husky.
“You? Your voice is the hoarse one.” The producer comments smartly, and everyone around him laughs in agreement.
Chanyeol, now feeling quite awkward, refrains from further commenting. Kris, sitting beside him, seems to have reached the end of his tolerance and is just about to explode when suddenly, Luhan speaks.
“I’ll sing.” Luhan’s face no longer carries a red flush, and is rather reduced to a ghostly white. “But the song I would like to sing is in Chinese; the translator may not understand.” Luhan props himself up and smiles wearily.
“That’s all right,” The director says. “We just want to hear your voice.”
Kris looks up at Luhan, who is standing with his hands clutched onto the table for support, eyes closed. That image, Kris thinks to himself, is one he might not forget for the rest of his life.
A familiar melody quietly spills out from Luhan’s lips: The Olive Tree*, a song that Luhan often hums to himself.
Kris is the only one at the table who understands what Luhan is singing. But at that very moment, he wishes that he couldn’t understand a thing. The question that the melody poses, he cannot answer. As for what that olive tree of dreams is, or where it is…
He also does not know.
---
*Olive Tree: A famous Chinese song.
Lyrics:
Don't ask where I come from
My hometown is far away
Why am I wandering
Why am I wandering to the distance place, wandering
To fly freely like a bird in the sky
To flow freely like a stream in the valley
To desire for a wide prairie Wandering far away, wandering
Also,
It's because of the Olive tree in my dream.
Opening his eyes, Luhan lifts his aching head from Yixing’s shoulder and looks at the ever-beautiful mountain scenery around him, his gaze meeting Yixing's blank eyes.
“You’re awake, oh great one.” Yixing says.
Luhan stares at Yixing, as if studying the details of his face.
“I... What happened to me just now?” He asks.
“The next time you’re going to suddenly nod off, will you at least give me a warning in advance? Yawn or something.” Yixing looks at Luhan and laughs.
“How long was I asleep?” Luhan pulls out his phone to check the date.
“A few minutes.” Yixing massages his shoulder, then gets to his feet and walks over to the bag of snacks. He turns to Luhan again. “Be honest with me; did you come here to take a nap out of spite because we were lying on your bed before?”
Luhan glances at Yixing and is about to speak, but he hesitates and stops himself.
“You’re so gloomy today,” Yixing comments, “just say what’s on your mind.”
Luhan looks at Yixing and stammers, “Last year...music awards...did I, I mean, was it...”
Yixing’s lowers his eyes and his arms fall to his sides. “Why are you still thinking about that?"
Luhan freezes in place; Yixing's words, calm like water, hit him hard.
"It was a long time ago, no one even cares anymore... we got the award and we apologised; the fans even felt bad for you,” Yixing says. “But you were really weird that day. First you spaced out on stage, then you completely forgot what happened after we went back. Tao kept saying something about temporary memory loss and tried to drag you to go get it checked out, but then you came back around… Just-don’t take sleeping pills anymore, okay?”
But Luhan isn’t even listening to Yixing speak, instead turning around slowly and walking towards the rock wall. The tiny nail is lodged peacefully in a crevice covered by mud and weeds; the hammer lies on the ground; the arrow is by Luhan’s feet.
Suddenly, Luhan picks up the hammer and throws it into the forest as hard as he can. He grabs Yixing’s hand, and drags him away.
“Huh? You’re leaving?” Yixing hurriedly picks up his bag.
Holding onto Yixing’s hand, Luhan runs away from the rock wall and the surrounding thickets as if escaping from a nightmare. He uses his other hand to rub at his eyes, and Clown's kind smile materializes before his eyes, "don't forget the way back."
“I won’t fucking come back!” Luhan suddenly turns and yells at the top of the mountain.
Yixing is silent.
“Yixing, if I ever want to come back to this place, no matter what the reason, you have to stop me.” Luhan looks into Yixing’s eyes, “promise me that.”
Yixing stares blankly back at Luhan. “Why?”
“Promise me,” Luhan repeats, still holding his gaze.
“Okay,” Yixing takes note of Luhan’s serious expression. “You just need to let me know when it is you want to come back.”
Just then, Luhan’s gaze weakens and begins to falter. His legs give out and he collapses to the ground.
There are many things one should avoid probing into. Though a sense of curiosity pushes humankind towards advancement and development, it just as well pushes humankind closer to its destruction. Faced with something unexplainable, something that cannot be probed, Luhan decides to kill his curiosity.
Because he simply can’t allow his curiosity to kill him.
--
The following week passes by peacefully. In the mornings, Luhan checks his calendar, and starting from his roommate, Kris, he checks to see if everyone’s memories from the night before have perhaps overlapped with his own. Everything seems to be in order every time he checks-and so slowly, Luhan begins to believe that life has again returned to normal.
There was a time when Luhan had grown tired of his everyday life and had unconsciously wished for something exciting to happen. Now, Luhan rejects all such prospects of excitement.
Fortunately, the days are busy and his schedule is crammed tight like a package of crackers. He barely has enough time to recall that strange dream, constantly running back and forth between rehearsals, performances, fansignings, radio station and TV interviews, and photoshoots where he musters a wide range of expressions, from sexy, to thoughtful, to cute, under the flashing scrutiny of the studio lights. His arm could be clinging to Sehun’s, or onto Yixing’s shoulder; either way, it doesn’t bother Luhan. Even during variety shows, whether it be complying with Duizhang’s outlandish requests, or perhaps sacrificing his lips in mouth-to-mouth contact, Luhan’s never been bothered.
He’s been preparing for all this since he was seventeen, and while Luhan certainly isn’t jumping for joy now, he’s found that there is nothing to complain about.
He deserves it.
It’s like going to medical school-you’re aware that if you go, you may end up working in a hospital, spending the rest your days tending to sick patients. Luhan is prepared for a lot of things.
When Luhan’s high school classmates were doing all they could to prepare for college entrance exams, Luhan was doing everything he could to prepare for SM. Perhaps the name of this college wasn’t all too familiar, and perhaps its graduation rates weren’t very high, but Luhan was interested in the fields of studies offered there. When Luhan graduated with a job to his name, he felt incredibly thankful-thankful that he belonged to that slim twenty percent who made it. And when he started his job, like most other newcomers taking their first steps into society, Luhan wasn’t sure how to deal with the change of air. It took some time for Luhan to realize that reality and what he had imagined differed quite a bit - that in the end, in order to do the things you love, you’d always have to bear with the things you dislike. It’s the same for every profession.
There are plenty of things Luhan dislikes about this job. He’s lost his sense of privacy, has dealt with hurtful criticism, has accepted social invitations that couldn’t ever be turned down to begin with. And then, judging off what Luhan’s seen transpire with his seniors, there are things awaiting in his near future: cross-dressing, kissing during concerts, fans fighting and chucking water bottles at his face.
He thinks back to their debut showcase and recalls the smooth and tempered way the leader of a senior group carried himself, the courteous way he treated fans, the way he thought everything through thoroughly before speaking - how many incidents it took for him to mold his personality into such a smooth circle while Luhan himself was just a triangle at the time, it’s hard to say.
Of course, there are plenty of things about his job Luhan likes-the stage he longs to stand on, the bliss he experiences when immersed in a performance, the love he receives from so many strangers, and, to a certain extent, having a say in things.
Fame is good about ninety percent of the time. It allows you to express yourself, all while in the center of discussion. Of course, this is only under the circumstance that you are allowed to speak openly at all, and that there isn’t anyone hiding around the corner, hand poised and ready to stab you in the back.
And so time goes on, the days passing one by one, busy, yet steady and calm. At a fansigning, Luhan, mouth stiff from smiling for so long, continues to sign thousands of cute, cartoon-like autographs. His strained arm and the signature that he barely recognizes are both constant reminders that he is a mere serviceman carrying out his duties. Screams and cheers sound somewhere in the distance and somewhere nearby.
This is a comedy that cannot change. The clown on stage is professional - his work ethic forces him to keep his own expressions under a mask, kept only to himself.
The customers are gods, the customers are angels. Luhan used to think that he existed for the stage. He realized later on that the stage existed for the audience.
Without an audience, it cannot be called a stage.
That’s why, time and time again, he says sincerely to his fans, you are angels. I exist for your cheers.
So please continue to cheer, otherwise, I will no longer exist.
--
March 22nd, 2013. This isn’t the first time they’ve been called to a dinner party, and it isn’t the first time that the four of them have gone together. A drizzle sprinkles the ground outside. Luhan, whose cold developed into a fever from lack of rest, has thrown on a jacket over his shirt. A car arrives to pick them up and, together with Baekhyun, the two climb in. Chanyeol and Kris, who has just woken up, are close behind them. Kris’ phone, out of battery, beeps from inside his pocket and he quickly pulls it out to take a look; he then glances at Baekhyun and Luhan before putting his phone back and getting into the car.
Luhan is used to these kinds of dinner parties now. TV stations, magazines, producers, drama production companies, virtually any other group that has worked with the company-it seems that everyone wants to “get to know them”; behind every contract is a dinner party, carefully conducted under some harmonious guise. When it comes to this entertainment company, whose only goal is to gain profit or expand their influence over the entirety of the industry, Luhan has long known that the idols themselves exist at the bottom of the pyramid, that the executives will always need them at the end of their golden whips to stand on the frontlines of the business battlefield. Singing and dancing is one aspect, relying on their handsome appearances and unwavering presences to captivate fans from all ages, countries, and markets, quite another. Now, they’re banking on their warmth, their kindly demeanours, to impress at the dining table.
These are all aspects of work that cannot be overlooked, and they require great skill.
A dinner party is just a dinner party; it's not actually as scary as imagined. Just like a car salesman would sometimes have to attend social functions for the sake of work, the main product they're selling is ultimately their face; having to attend the occasional dinner party as an idol is understandable, then. Like how rookies in every profession have to climb their way up from the bottom, cannot afford to have a temper, so too, Luhan understands. He believes that this is a good life experience to learn from, before his popularity explodes and he gains a stable social standing.
There aren't that many people at the dinner party on this day, some men and women, though its obvious that the company holds them in high regard. Also in attendance are some of the higher-ups who rarely show their faces. For small partnerships, usually the other side would request a certain person, one or two people at most. This time, four of them have come together, so it's apparent that apart from just being there as drinking partners in the usual sense of the word, they are also there to be marketed by the company.
After a few rounds of polite greetings, Luhan is slowly beginning to understand the main point of discussion at the dinner table - the company’s plans for EXO this year, rumours about the formation of a Japanese subunit, EXO-J.
The company is rigidly stratified, and other than the directors who hold shares, the high level management consists of about seven people, also known as the executive managers. Every executive manager is in charge of a respective department, of which include an array of low-level managers who are held responsible for other things: some are in charge of solo artists’ daily performance schedules, while others manage groups like EXO. Today, aside from the lead executive manager, two other directors are also present-it’s their way of showing recognition to EXO, who, after just one year after debut, have achieved a great deal of fame.
Although Luhan understands the weight of this dinner party and manages to keep a smile on his face, he has a hard time hiding the fact that he’s feeling unwell. Chanyeol takes up the task of proposing toasts, and amidst the chatter, quietly explains to Kris the other sides’ member organization.
“The one on the left who’s been smiling the whole time is the head of NHK TV entertainment productions.” Kris’ gaze follows Chanyeols’ and falls on the smiling face - the brightest, the fakest one. “Then there’s their company director,“ he continues. “The young one is the translator, and the girl at the other end is a seasoned manager. She used to be in charge of SMAP.”
Kris scans them down, one by one.
“We’ve been considering EXO-J even before the group’s debut,” the executive manager sitting beside Luhan says pleasantly, “but it’s been delayed since, one, EXO wasn’t mature enough when they first debuted and two, it takes time to gain and maintain foothold in both the Chinese and Korean markets.” He leans over to pour Luhan a drink, smiling all the while.
“Venturing into your country’s entertainment market is no small matter, and it’s not as if the company hasn’t made its fair share of attempts before. Without adequate preparation, however, it is difficult to achieve desirable results. We understand that implementing this plan will take time-in fact, we’ve begun preparations starting last year. EXO is still young… should we proceed with this project, your guidance and support is crucial to their success in Japan.” The manager goes on relentlessly, the translator following close by, words tumbling out in rapid succession. Luhan feels as if his head is going to split open, and he wills himself not to faint.
"Of these four artists, 2 are in K and 2 are in M; all of them have gained quite the impressive reputation and popularity in this one year, and also work well with others,” the manager remarks tactfully. “Although the member list has not yet been finalized, if J-team is formed then it’s likely that the members will be chosen among them, and the leader will also be one of them.”
“It looks like the two lead dancers are not present?” One Japanese director inquires.
“Oh,” a company director smiles and responds, “the two lead dancers are both irreplaceable in the current two teams, their Japanese isn’t very good, and they are rather shy and reserved, so perhaps they’re not suited to promote in a place other than their home country.” He points to Luhan. “If J-team is formed, we’re inclined to make him the leader of the J subgroup."
Luhan looks up, still dazed from the pounding in his head, but before he can even begin to grasp the situation, the director pulls him to his feet. “Luhan, who is currently promoting with M in China, can both sing and dance at an above-average level. Furthermore, he is popular, good-looking, and his language skills are solid.”
The director is all smiles and strokes Luhans cheek with the back of his hand, as if introducing a product, "I should also mention that Luhan is cooperative, sensible, and very adaptable. From our observations and understanding of him, he can definitely live up to expectations," as he speaks, he turns to look at Luhan's ashen face.
“Luhan? I’ve heard of you.” The NHK entertainment production leader stares at him, “are you interested in Japan?”
Luhan blinks, but his eyelids feel heavy. The manager beside him taps him on the back. "He's asking you a question!"
With a blank expression, Luhan only manages to say, “Oh, Japan, interested.”
The NHK representative examines Luhan’s face and chuckles, "Oh really? What aspects?"
"I..." Luhan feels as if there's a rock lodged in his throat, and his head buzzes incessantly. "… have eaten Japanese food."
Beside him, the translator and Baekhyun burst out laughing and Kris can't help but look down and smile. And action films, Kris completes Luhan’s unfinished sentence in his head.
But the Japanese director’s expression is far from pleasant, and soon all laughter and smiles in the room subside.
"He knows some Japanese," the manager offers, "and he often watches Japanese movies and variety shows." He tugs on Luhan’s arm and glares at him as he speaks.
Luhan, glued to the spot, is unable to speak.
The manager hurries to pour drinks for everyone, and fills up Luhan's glass as well. Suddenly, the room begins to spin and waves of nausea hit Luhan repeatedly; he grips his hands on the table for support. Chanyeol glances at the director and pushes the glass towards Luhan, but Luhan’s grip is still tight on the table and he has no intention of picking up the glass offered to him.
The other man still holds the glass in his hand, waiting wordlessly for Luhan to take it, but Luhan only continues to stare onward with that ashen face of his, brows furrowed.
Awkwardness settles over the table. Kris stares at Luhan for two seconds before quickly looking down; he vaguely recalls how Luhan occasionally used anti-Japanese products to express his slight anti-Japanese sentiments.
The Japanese director places his glass down on the table. “It looks like the words ‘cooperative’ and ‘sensible’ hold a different meaning in your country than it does in Japan.” He turns to smile at Luhan. “It seems that you treat your artists very well, seeing as they still have such tempers.”
Luhan is silent. The manager flashes an awkward smile at the Japanese director as their own company director moves to apologize immediately. “You misunderstand, we are also very strict when it comes to managing our artists.”
“Really?” The director studies him closely, some consideration evident in his expression. “I’m just afraid that if they’re like this in Japan, they won’t be able to adapt.”
The company director bows his head down. He then turns around, expression dark, and shoots a look towards the manager.
The manager frowns and blinks, then picks up the glass of wine in front of Luhan and splashes it all on Luhan’s face. Everyone suddenly quiets down.
Luhan remains motionless, wine dripping ever-slowly down from his face and from the ends of his hair. The feeling of the ice cold red wine on his skin isn’t bad at all, though; at least it lowers the temperature of his burning forehead.
The Japanese director, who appears completely unfazed, offers Luhan a silent smile. Luhan lowers his head and pauses for two seconds before bowing in apology. “Sorry, I will go fix myself up,” he says as he gets up, and walks towards the restroom.
There, Luhan immediately runs the tap and puts his face under the faucet to wash his face with cold water. There’s no time to complain-he just wants to clear his head a bit. He stares at his reflection with his hand on the mirror. Pale skin, delicate features-yet at that table, none of it mattered. He was as insignificant as an ant.
He practices a smile in the mirror; games aren't played this way.
But they don’t set the rules in this game-so how should they play?
Luhan walks back to the private room, pausing outside the door for a beat. When he finally pushes the door open, he’s adorned his face with the sweetest smile.
"I'm sorry about earlier," He walks back to his seat and stands beside it. “I’ll drink three glasses in apology.” He says all this in fluent Korean, and patiently waits for the translator to finish relaying the message back in Japanese before pouring a glass of liquor for himself, the smile never leaving his face. He chooses the Japanese sake.
The company director eyes him expressionlessly, and only when Luhan has downed all three glasses does his smile resurface. “Now this is the Luhan I introduced you to earlier.”
The Japanese director gestures for Luhan to sit down. “Don’t drink it if you can’t; this liquor is very strong, don’t force yourself.”
Luhan sits down shakily. Under the table, Chanyeol grabs his hand. Luhan keeps the same gentle smile on his face as he manages a polite, "No, no, its only appropriate."
For some reason, the Japanese directors seem to be set on making trouble for Luhan-or perhaps, using Luhan as a scapegoat to make trouble for their company. Not only do they continue to pour Luhan drink after drink, but they also request for the now completely red-faced Luhan to perform on the spot. No matter how much Chanyeol tries to protect Luhan, no matter how hard Kris tries to drink whatever’s offered to Luhan, the directors won’t relent until they’ve finished with him. It’s a delicate atmosphere; Luhan has to live up to SM’s promise, to be as cooperative as the company makes their artists out to be. At the same time, it seems as if the Japanese are using Luhan as an outlet to degrade the company.
In this kind of situation, the only thing Luhan can do is continue to graciously accept the alcohol offered to him, close his eyes, and throw the drinks back.
“Didn’t you say earlier that both his singing and dancing are above average?” The Japanes director claps and breaks into laughter. “Why don’t you let us hear that voice of yours? I can’t wait.”
“That’s right, if you’re coming to promote in Japan, let’s first see if you can blow us all away.” Another director chimes in.
Kris balls his hands into fists underneath the table.
Luhan does everything he can to hang onto his last thread of consciousness. “My voice is hoarse today,” He says. “Please let me off the hook this time.”
“Hoarse? I think it’s still a very moving sound. We have a tradition in Japan: ‘three rounds of drinks will liven up the song’-it makes things more fun for both the singer and listener.”
“I’ll sing instead of him, I sing well, too.” Chanyeol interjects, his expression willing, but his voice far too husky.
“You? Your voice is the hoarse one.” The producer comments smartly, and everyone around him laughs in agreement.
Chanyeol, now feeling quite awkward, refrains from further commenting. Kris, sitting beside him, seems to have reached the end of his tolerance and is just about to explode when suddenly, Luhan speaks.
“I’ll sing.” Luhan’s face no longer carries a red flush, and is rather reduced to a ghostly white. “But the song I would like to sing is in Chinese; the translator may not understand.” Luhan props himself up and smiles wearily.
“That’s all right,” The director says. “We just want to hear your voice.”
Kris looks up at Luhan, who is standing with his hands clutched onto the table for support, eyes closed. That image, Kris thinks to himself, is one he might not forget for the rest of his life.
A familiar melody quietly spills out from Luhan’s lips: The Olive Tree*, a song that Luhan often hums to himself.
Kris is the only one at the table who understands what Luhan is singing. But at that very moment, he wishes that he couldn’t understand a thing. The question that the melody poses, he cannot answer. As for what that olive tree of dreams is, or where it is…
He also does not know.
---
*Olive Tree: A famous Chinese song.
Lyrics:
Don't ask where I come from
My hometown is far away
Why am I wandering
Why am I wandering to the distance place, wandering
To fly freely like a bird in the sky
To flow freely like a stream in the valley
To desire for a wide prairie Wandering far away, wandering
Also,
It's because of the Olive tree in my dream.