Chapter 39: Taking a Chance, Whether There Are Plums or Not

That night, after parting ways with Quan Baoya, Gu Cheng walked back to the hotel with his cousin. The next day, he played tour guide himself, leading his cousin around Seoul for a day of carefree amusement, only returning at dusk.

As evening fell, Gu Cheng sent his cousin back to the hotel to rest, then made his way punctually to the COSTA café across from the S-M Company building in Gangnam. He requested a private room. As a man, he felt it his duty to protect his female relatives, never allowing them to appear before potential “enemies.”

Just after six, Han Geng and his father arrived on time. When they met, Han Geng still didn’t know why Gu Cheng had called him, his eyes full of resentment and malice. He’d scraped together six hundred thousand won, two-thirds from borrowing off a string of aunts and uncles—their own family could only gather two hundred thousand in cash. This sum was what his father had wagered on his son’s future. Now, he was informed that the HOT substitute plan had fallen through, and the “Eastern Deities Rising” project had been postponed indefinitely due to the Internet bubble.

In the days since, Han Geng had vented and attacked Gu Cheng in front of Jung Yunho and the other trainees who’d made it through selection. To his credit, though, he never revealed the most crucial secret—the backroom deal. If that ever came to light, Han Geng himself would be utterly banished by the company. So until he was truly desperate, he kept his mouth shut.

Gu Cheng’s purpose today was to ensure that, before Han Geng reached that point of despair, this leak was sealed once and for all.

“Sit down, have some tea,” Gu Cheng said, pouring out two cups of hot black tea in front of the Han father and son.

The two regarded him coldly, refusing to touch the cups.

Gu Cheng, unfazed, picked up his own cup and took a sip. “I’ve heard everything that’s happened in the company recently. I’m sorry for your misfortune. After all, when we made our arrangement, no one foresaw this sudden turn.”

“Spare me your hypocrisy! You must be pleased now!” Han Geng, young and hot-blooded, couldn’t hold back any longer and began cursing at Gu Cheng’s calm demeanor.

His father, more composed, pulled him back.

“Young man, calm down. Can you let me finish?” Gu Cheng said, lifting a white napkin to shield his face from Han Geng’s angry spit.

Once the atmosphere was firmly in his control, he continued, “Back then, you benefited from my withdrawal. I took your six hundred thousand; that was only right. Now, due to third-party unforeseen circumstances, you’ve lost the opportunity you should have had from our deal. Strictly speaking, it’s not my fault—there’s always risk in business.

“But I’m a fair man. Out of humanitarian concern, I’m willing to refund your principal today—let’s say I’ll shoulder the risk of the HOT plan’s collapse myself.”

At these words, Han Geng began to tremble, his whole body shaking as if with Parkinson’s.

Gu Cheng reached down, unlocked a suitcase by his feet, and pushed it across the table.

“There’s six hundred fifty thousand here. You should count it—I’m generous; after just half a year, I’ve given you eight percent interest, which is no small thing.”

Han Geng’s legs gave out and he sank to his knees.

“Brother Cheng… I was wrong about you. I was blinded by greed. Please, forgive my foolishness…”

Gu Cheng waved a hand as if dispersing the smoke before him. “Enough. I made six hundred thousand into two million in half a year; naturally, I’m capable of much more. As for the past, you know how to keep your mouth shut, don’t you?”

The figure of two million was pure invention—Gu Cheng didn’t want to frighten these country bumpkins with talk of six million.

“Of course, of course! If I ever say a word about you, may I be a pauper for life!” Han Geng nodded furiously, like a pecking chick.

Gu Cheng didn’t press further. “Alright. Now tell me, what’s the first thing you’ll do with this money?”

Han Geng hesitated, unable to answer. His father, quicker on the uptake, rapped him on the head and scolded, “Of course, you’ll pay back all the relatives, and make sure the lies you told to borrow the money are covered up!”

Smart man.

Gu Cheng saw no issue and checked his watch before standing up. “That’s that. I have a red-eye flight to catch, so I won’t be joining you for dinner.”

“Safe travels, Brother Cheng.”

…

After dealing with Han Geng, Gu Cheng returned to the hotel, somewhat weary.

Pan Jieying greeted him at once. “Is everything settled?”

“Don’t worry, it’s all sorted,” Gu Cheng replied, washing his face.

“That’s good.” She breathed a quiet sigh of relief, glad for her younger brother.

But Gu Cheng was far from relaxed. He summarized their predicament: “After paying this money, we’re left with only three hundred thousand.”

Pan Jieying forced optimism. “Didn’t Grandma mention the belongings left in Kaesong? If we can get them, no matter how much they’re worth, it’ll help. If not, we can always use the game’s copyright as collateral for a loan when we get back home.”

“Exactly what I was thinking. It’s too late today; tomorrow I’ll check with Brother Quan for the latest information. If we can get to Kaesong soon, all the better.”

That night passed quietly. Early the next morning, when he thought Quan Shunyu would be awake, Gu Cheng called him.

“Brother Quan, any news on what I asked you about? Right, sneaking into the Kaesong development zone’s delegation. I’m in Seoul and can go anytime.”

On the other end, Quan Shunyu needed a moment before answering. “Wait a bit, I’ve already asked around—let me check when the next delegation is.”

He hung up. Half an hour later, he called Gu Cheng back.

Gu Cheng, a little anxious, asked, “Any news?”

Quan Shunyu replied, “You’re in luck; there’s a group leaving tomorrow. But I heard from Xiaoya you’ve been with a woman these days? I only got you one spot—can’t squeeze in two.”

Gu Cheng snorted, “Don’t get the wrong idea. I’m just with my sister. One spot is enough. Where do I meet you in the morning?”

“Easy. Come to my company at nine; the bus leaves then.”

After hanging up, Pan Jieying, having overheard most of the conversation, spoke sensibly. “Since there’s only one spot, I’ll skip it. I’ll head back to China tomorrow. That way, once you have the money, I can help you register the game company right away.”

Gu Cheng considered explaining further, but seeing how understanding his sister was, decided not to waste his breath.

“Alright, no need for formalities. I’ll count on you back home.”

That day, Pan Jieying booked her ticket and flew back to Qiantang.

Gu Cheng stayed alone in Seoul for one more night, then set off early for Quan Shunyu’s company the next morning. Quan Shunyu introduced him to some friends in the investment delegation, securing him a spot. They then boarded the Kaesong-bound government bus and departed from Seoul.

The city lay only eighty kilometers from the border—an hour’s drive on the expressway. At the crossing, Gu Cheng saw many men in green uniforms watching from a distance. The southern investment group’s bus was flanked front and rear by military vehicles, ensuring they neither saw nor were seen by any “unharmonious” locals.

Gu Cheng, uneasy at this display, lowered his voice. “Brother Quan, are we not allowed to move freely at all?”

Quan Shunyu reassured him, “It’s strict through the military zone at the border, but you’re free to move about inside the development area.”

Gu Cheng finally relaxed.

The bus stopped at a newly built, rather crude hotel in the heart of the development zone, where the delegation would stay. Gu Cheng exchanged some southern currency for northern cash, only to find that the official exchange rate was seventeen times the black market rate—much like China’s old foreign exchange certificates.

Back in the 1980s, the official rate for converting RMB to USD was as low as 1.8 foreign exchange certificates per dollar, while on the black market, it took over eight RMB per dollar. The nominally equivalent notes differed by over four times in actual value.

Now, in Kaesong, seventeen ordinary northern won equaled one northern foreign exchange won. Worse still, the authorities made no effort to distinguish between the two, relying solely on restricting foreigners’ access to drive up the official rate.

“Whatever, I won’t be here long, so I won’t spend much,” Gu Cheng muttered, plugging his nose and making the exchange.

He soon noticed that wherever a dual-currency system existed, those in power would exploit it. In the military-first North, the most privileged were, of course, the officers.

That evening at dinner, Gu Cheng and Quan Shunyu shared a table. Nearby sat a Major named Kim Gennam, pretending to admire the scenery, though it was obvious he was there to keep an eye on the group.

Gu Cheng’s table was laden with seven or eight dishes: roast duck, pork belly, ginseng chicken stew, sukiyaki… On Major Kim’s table, there was only a small plate of pig’s blood sausage and a large bowl of kimchi. The sausage was a delicacy in the North—glutinous rice was rare and reserved for special occasions, never eaten as a staple. The officer’s “main course” was a coarse acorn cake.

For the sake of national dignity, even today’s sausage had been laced with the precious pig’s blood; usually, they just used soy sauce as a substitute when no foreigners were present.

Gu Cheng observed the officer. Though not a high-ranking power in the development zone, he was still in charge of his own patch. For now, this was the man assigned to monitor certain members of the delegation.

It seemed, if he wanted more freedom of movement, he’d have to find a way around this fellow.

Turning these thoughts over, Gu Cheng soon began to formulate a plan.