Chapter 21: Minyan, Uncle Here Is Quite Skilled at Fortune-Telling.
“Minjun, how do you think you did just now?”
Mingyan hurried over to ask as soon as his niece came out.
He sensed that her expression wasn’t very good.
“Uncle, I… I…” Minjun’s small face was troubled. She felt she had been too nervous and hadn’t even sung the nursery rhyme that Jisoo had taught her properly.
Mingyan quickly comforted the little one: “It’s okay. It doesn’t necessarily mean you failed.”
The S.M. Saturday auditions didn’t announce results on the spot; the company would notify successful trainees later, though the timing was uncertain. Seokki had once thought she was eliminated.
But one day, while drinking soda and watching TV at home, she suddenly received a call from S.M. The kid almost thought it was a scam.
“I don’t have much hope,” Minjun said, feeling her skills were far behind the others.
“Minjun, do you believe I can read fortunes?” Mingyan suddenly asked seriously.
“Fortune-telling?”
“Yes, your sister probably told you—I used to learn fortune-telling.”
In Korea, superstition runs deep, even more so than in neighboring Japan. Celebrities often get their palm read, check their Four Pillars, or pull tarot cards during variety shows. Not to mention the numerous fortune-telling tents lining the streets.
So Mingyan’s words genuinely startled Minjun.
Her mother hadn’t mentioned it…
Mingyan smiled, “Minjun, you have a rosy glow on your face. Today’s audition will surely be a success.”
“Uncle, are you just trying to comfort me?” Minjun suspected he was merely trying to make her feel better.
“If you don’t succeed, I’ll let you punish me, okay?”
“Okay.”
They even linked pinkies, and Minjun’s smile finally blossomed again.
She might not have fully believed Mingyan’s fortune-telling, but the absence of blame and presence of support and encouragement lifted her spirits. With enough positive feedback, she could muster the courage to chase her dreams.
“What do you want to eat?” Mingyan asked as he helped her into the car and started the engine.
Food is the greatest joy in the world.
No matter the audition's outcome, one has to eat well. Like Nayeon said, if S.M. doesn’t work out, there’s always JYP. Becoming a trainee isn't that hard.
Seoul's entertainment companies almost outnumbered the active groups.
“I…” Minjun hesitated but then caught her uncle’s eager look and said, “I want to eat hotpot.”
“Alright, hotpot it is.”
Only a real niece would love hotpot.
But from Mingyan’s observation, Minjun enjoyed whatever she ate; perhaps she was born lucky.
“Uncle, how did you become an actor?” Minjun suddenly asked during their meal.
She still felt somewhat discouraged.
“That’s a long story,” Mingyan paused. “When I was in arts high school, your mom didn’t agree and even slapped me once.”
He leaned forward to show the side of his face, but time had erased all traces; nothing was visible anymore.
Minjun opened her mouth in surprise. “Really?”
Her mother often said Mingyan was rebellious, but never mentioned a slap.
“Yes, your sister was furious back then. She said she wanted me to study hard and get into Seoul National University, Korea University, or Yonsei University.”
These three are known as the SKY universities—the top comprehensive universities in Korea.
Indeed, Minyeol had high hopes for her brother.
“Uncle, you were so smart,” Minjun said. She wasn’t gifted academically; some subjects, like math, were okay, but others were difficult.
Her passion was singing and dancing.
Don’t think being a trainee is an escape from studying—the competition can be fiercer than the college entrance exam. Like esports, loving games doesn’t guarantee becoming a pro; there’s a vast difference between professional and amateur.
Moreover, the consequences of being eliminated as a trainee are harsher than following a normal path.
More and more trainees now come from wealthy families, as ordinary households cannot bear the heavy upfront costs and the sunk cost of potential failure.
Mingyan suddenly laughed, “My grades were average; Nayeon’s were the best, and I was second.”
Out of the trio, you can guess who was last.
Jisoo: Damn, who are you hinting at?
He was the type who was smart but didn’t focus much on studying, so his grades were always above average. Nayeon was surprising—despite dedicating most of her energy to training, she still maintained good grades.
As for Jisoo…
Best not to mention.
“Uncle, you’re laughing at Jisoo, aren’t you?”
Minjun wasn’t a fool; seeing Mingyan’s smile, she guessed what was going on.
She already knew her uncle’s relationship with Jisoo and Nayeon was special—they were longtime close friends.
Back at Liangshan, her desk mate had a male best friend too, but…
“Ahem, no, I just remembered something happy,” Mingyan said, nearly choking on his drink, caught off guard by his niece’s insight. Why be so blunt?
“What happy thing?”
“I have a beautiful niece.”
Minjun blushed, lowering her head to focus on her food again, surprised by her uncle’s words.
After dinner, Mingyan didn’t head home immediately. It was Minjun’s first time in Seoul, and although nothing was settled yet, it was a good chance for her to relax.
The little one was full of curiosity everywhere.
Though she had eaten her fill at Haidilao, a stroll around had made her hungry again—the enticing aroma of street snacks was hard to resist.
“Minjun, once you become a trainee, you can’t just eat whatever you want.”
“Uncle, I might not even succeed.”
“Don’t forget, I can read fortunes.”
“Alright then~”
Back home, Minjun was too exhausted to think about the audition. After a quick wash, she went straight to her room to sleep.
She was well-behaved, managing to say goodnight to her uncle even with eyes barely open.
Mingyan realized raising Minjun wasn’t much different from raising a puppy—once her energy was spent, she had no strength left to worry about anything else.
He glanced at the time; it wasn’t too late yet. Then he took out his phone and dialed a number.
“Hello, Minister Lee Minwoo? This is Mingyan…”