"Hello, who is this?"
Jihoon picked up the unknown international call, pressing the phone against his ear while narrowing his eyes.
He hadn't been expecting anyone—not at this hour, anyway.
A familiar, aged voice replied on the other end.
"Hello, it's me…"
Jihoon froze.
"…It's me?" he repeated it under his breath, staring at the wall as if it could help translate the absurdity.
For a full second, he swore he saw three animated crows flapping over his head, leaving behind a trail of black dots like in an old cartoon.
Because who the hell introduced themselves as ME!?
What?! Was he supposed to reply 'I was wondering if after all these years, you'd like to meet' or 'Hello from the other side'?
And technically speaking, Adele had already predicted that Jihoon was in California dreaming about who they used to be.
After wrestling his thoughts back into order, he finally managed to speak, though his tongue felt like it lagged behind his brain.
"Eh… about that… your 'me' is who…?"
The grammar was a mess, but the meaning was clear. Hopefully.
On the other end, Han Sanping nearly choked on air.
The way Jihoon said it… this brat really didn't save his number.
Han Sanping pinched his forehead, rubbing the vein threatening to pop.
"I'm CFGC's Han Sanping."
"Oh—OH! Hi, Mr. Han! How are you doing?"
Jihoon blurted, instantly shifting into damage-control mode.
Heat rushed up his neck.
Yes, he had messed up.
Yes, he absolutely deserved the embarrassment.
But still—who says it's me on an unknown international call?
Han snorted.
"Haha… you little brat. You really know how to bite the hand that feeds you."
"No, no, not at all, Sir! I've just been busy with work lately… didn't pay much attention… hehe…"
Jihoon's awkward laugh could've watered a desert.
Han chuckled, his irritation fading.
"Yeah, yeah… I've got to admit, you're the hottest thing in the film industry right now."
"Eh, quit messing with me, Sir. I don't think you're the type to call just to poke fun at me." Jihoon rubbed his temple with a sigh.
Han barked a laugh.
"Patience, young man. I'm calling about your film Buried—its box office performance in China. Even though CFGC purchased it with a buy-out agreement, as the Chinese distributor, I'm obligated to inform you of how it's performing."
"Oh? Then… how is it performing in China?" Jihoon asked, curiosity sharp in his tone.
Han inhaled dramatically.
"Well… it's doing goddamn well. The opening week totaled 18.5 million."
Jihoon blinked.
"…mmh… RMB?" he asked slowly.
Because if the number was in RMB, the film had just bombed harder than a wet firecracker.
He mentally calculated:
If the opening had only gotten 18.5 million RMB, that translated to 2.6 million USD in gross sales. And knowing how film sales usually trend — with Week 2 to Week 4 drops for a low-budget film going down roughly 50% per week — the estimated total after the full theatrical cycle would be around 4.8 million USD.
That would be embarrassing.
Devastating, even.
Enough to make Jihoon's future China expansion extremely risky.
The 2008 market wasn't the modern powerhouse yet.
Entering too early required double the resources—and triple the luck.
Han nearly shouted.
"Of course not! China isn't a weak country, you fool! Because of import regulations, we calculate foreign films in USD for analysis!"
Jihoon exhaled so hard that his chair squeaked.
"Phew… Sir, you scared the crap out of me. I was already imagining the failure before you finished the sentence."
Han laughed triumphantly.
"Anyway, besides telling you the opening numbers, I'm also calling to share our analysis. Our team predicts the total box office will reach around 25.5 million USD after the full cycle. And the audience reception is excellent. You probably don't know you have a broad fanbase here in China, do you?"
"Oh? Really? I didn't know. My previous films like Secret and Sunny were all distributed by CJ Entertainment—they never shared the viewer data with me." Jihoon replied.
"Tsk. That Mikyeong always works like that."
Han's tone immediately dipped into disgust, like he was remembering a bad debt.
"Out of all the distributors in Korea, you went with CJ when you debuted? I don't understand—they're greedy and impossible to please…"
Jihoon awkwardly scratched his cheek.
He couldn't dodge the question—not with someone like Han, who could smell dishonesty from a kilometer away. If China was a market he planned to seriously enter next year, one misstep would haunt him.
So he chose truth.
"Honestly… Mrs. Lee Mikyeong is my relative. And when I started making films, CJ was the only company willing to give me a distribution channel."
"…Eh?"
Han's voice cracked.
"…You're not joking, right? You're from the Lee family? The Samseong Lee family?"
Jihoon answered casually,
"Yeah. A distant relative of theirs but I have no shares or involvement in their business."
Han inhaled sharply.
Suddenly, every previous calculation he had made about Jihoon shattered.
Even if Korea and China weren't the same political environment, Samseong was still Samseong we knew in the present world.
No sane person provoked a conglomerate of that magnitude.
Relative or not, as long as Jihoon carried that surname of Lee, he wasn't someone to casually offend.
In less than a second, Han reorganized his entire stance.
His voice brightened.
"Well! It doesn't matter. Now that you have a direct link with CFGC, you're welcome to utilize our distribution channels anytime."
This wasn't kindness.
This was diplomacy.
Preservation instinct.
And a business move.
Because Samseong aside, Jihoon himself was already becoming a filmmaker capable of bringing China's media presence to the global stage.
Jihoon answered politely,
"I'm inclined to do that, Mr. Han. But I'm still busy with work in Hollywood. If the timing is right, JH will gladly enter the China market next year."
It wasn't a yes.
It wasn't a no.
It was negotiation.
Han understood instantly—and laughed.
"Just call me Han. Drop the 'Mr.' You're making me sound old."
Jihoon laughed too.
"Alright, alright. I'll stop. And since you mentioned China's performance… how about America? Don't tell me it's underperforming and losing to China? Hahaha!"
Han teased.
"Haha—okay, okay. Enough about manners…"
Jihoon flipped through the report in his hand—the same one Han was holding in Beijing, except in English.
After a short pause, a grin tugged at his lips.
"You won't believe this, Han. I'm holding the numbers right now… and it's doing even better in America than in China."
His tone was playful—almost taunting, but friendly.
And on both ends of the call, laughter echoed.