655: 530 2321 655: 530 2321 Goryeo.
Incheon.
An Airbus sliced through the night sky, descending on this city airport, which boasts a permanent population nearing three million people.
Compared to Shenzhou, where populations are often ten million and above, Incheon’s population is not worth mentioning, but in Goryeo, it is already the third-largest city after the capital Seoul, and Busan.
At the same time.
Goryeo is one of the few developed countries in Asia.
“Mr.
Jiang, I am Gao Zhengbi.
Director Shi asked me to pick you up.”
Arrival gate.
A few men in suits helped to take the luggage.
Among them, a handsome man who looked somewhat like a Goryeo celebrity—probably in his early thirties—shook hands with Jiang Chen.
The group walked out of the airport.
Two black sedans were parked nearby.
Gao Zhengbi, whose name was very characteristic of Goryeo, helped to open the car door.
Jiang Chen bent down and stepped into the car.
The others followed suit and got into the cars.
“Director Shi asked me to first take Mr.
Jiang to the hotel to rest,” Gao Zhengbi said meticulously, his hands on his knees, sitting upright.
Jiang Chen nodded and glanced at the crowd and streetscape outside the window.
Like most of his compatriots.
His impression of Goryeo was not particularly good.
However, he had to admit that in some areas, there was something worth learning from them.
Such as their film industry.
“Where are you from, Mr.
Gao?” Jiang Chen turned his head to ask.
“I’m from the west of Hunan, but I’ve been in Goryeo for over ten years,” was the response.
Jiang Chen raised an eyebrow.
“I also studied in Goryeo,” Gao Zhengbi added.
Jiang Chen suddenly understood.
“Then it seems Mr.
Gao should be quite familiar with Goryeo.”
“I can only say I’m fairly familiar,” Gao Zhengbi replied modestly and then asked, “Have you been to Goryeo before, Mr.
Jiang?”
Jiang Chen shook his head.
“No.”
His knowledge of the country was limited to the entertainment and movie industry.
Of course.
There was also the peculiar political culture and the powerful corporate chaebols that ruled the country.
“If Mr.
Jiang needs, I can be your guide,” Gao Zhengbi offered.
Jiang Chen smiled faintly, noncommittal.
His trip to Goryeo was not for tourism.
But as a newcomer, he was not in a hurry to gather information either.
They chatted idly on the way, finally arriving at the Sheraton hotel.
“Mr.
Jiang, this is your room key.
Please take a rest,” Gao Zhengbi said.
“Thank you,” Jiang Chen replied, receiving the room key and entering the elevator to his room.
It was a business suite.
“Whoosh.”
He drew back the curtains.
The brilliantly lit city lay stretched out before him.
Jiang Chen took off his coat, having thought Shi Qianxi would be waiting for him at the hotel, but to his surprise, she was nowhere to be seen.
It seemed that the lady was indeed very busy.
He looked at the time—it was eight o’clock in the evening.
Jiang Chen dialed room service to order food, planning to take a shower, when at that moment, “Ding Dong, Ding Dong”… the sound of the doorbell rang out.
The lady had arrived?
It had been a long time.
And to be honest.
He kind of missed her.
Jiang Chen walked over, opened the door prepared to speak, but to his astonishment, it wasn’t Shi Qianxi standing outside.
Instead, it was a woman completely bundled up, wearing a mask.
She wasn’t tall, probably under one hundred sixty-five centimeters, with just her eyes showing between the coverings, long eyelashes framing large, shimmering eyes.
Jiang Chen was taken aback.
“You are…”
“Hello, I’m Kim Joohyun,” the woman spoke, her voice slightly muffled by the mask, sounding a bit stuffy, but Jiang Chen managed to hear her clearly.
Kim Joohyun?
He felt the name was somewhat familiar, as if he had heard it somewhere before, but before Jiang Chen could ponder further, the woman had already breezed into the room, bringing with her a fragrant wind.
“Miss, I think you’ve got the wrong room,” Jiang Chen turned and called out.
“Please close the door,” the mysterious woman requested, bowing slightly to Jiang Chen.
Jiang Chen closed the door somewhat bewilderedly.
“Click.”
As soon as the door shut, the woman stood up straight and took off her mask, while also tidying her wavy hair.
“You’re that…” Jiang Chen was momentarily stunned.
He seemed to recognize her.
She appeared to be a Goryeo actress, a new representative of beauty among the younger generation.
The female entertainers of Goryeo need no introduction; the popular girl groups of the past have conquered the world, and though their prime may have passed, their appeal is beyond question.
After all, it’s worth noting.
Goryeo leads a global industry.
—Plastic surgery.
“Hello, I am Kim Joohyun.
I am pleased to meet you,” the woman reintroduced herself and bowed once more, her deference overwhelming.
Kim Joohyun.
She was indeed the new generation idol, with her only flaw being her height, but in terms of beauty, she was labeled by numerous netizens as the pinnacle of South Korean beauty.
Jiang Chen did not expect a Goryeo star to come to his room right after his plane landed.
A coincidence?
Obviously not.
“Miss Kim Joohyun, may I ask who sent you?”
While the star before him might be the dream goddess of countless otakus, by this point in his life, the concept of a beautiful woman was hardly enough to excite Jiang Chen excessively.
Once you’ve seen the vast ocean, smaller bodies of water seem insignificant.
He had seen too many beautiful women, some of which were truly extraordinary beings.
“It was arranged by the company.”
One could see that this popular new icon of Goryeo, despite the composed exterior, betrayed her inner unease and nervousness with the way she clutched her mask.
Jiang Chen remained silent.
The darkness of the Goryeo entertainment industry was a topic rife with stories on the internet.
Although such informal rules seem unavoidable in this industry, looking across the world, the plight of Goryeo artists might just be considered the most severe.
Many say Goryeo actresses are nothing more than playthings for the wealthy and the powerful.