T/N: Uju -> Wooju
“Hello!”
Holding my mother’s hand, I squeezed past the busy staff and stepped into the shabby little shop.
Today was the first day of filming for The Cactus Flower Has Bloomed.
The first scene on the schedule was the moment my character first meets Ji Hyunseong (Moon Heeseong).
It wasn’t actually Kang Wooju’s first appearance in the story, but for various reasons we’d been told we would shoot this scene first.
“Oh, Siwoo, you’re here?”
Cha Ilnam, the person in charge of the set, had started calling me comfortably now.
After a month of meetings and the table read, we’d seen each other so often we’d grown quite close.
Of course, my mother came along, worried about her little kid working among adults.
And today, there was one more.
My uncle tagged along too, insisting he knew film sets better.
Before joining the troupe, he said he often came to drama sets—sometimes as a bit-part extra, sometimes doing whatever temp crew work they’d throw at him.
Originally, Kim Sangcheol had planned to come along to greet the staff, but because of the troupe’s schedule he sent my uncle in his place.
“I’m Han Siwoo’s uncle. If there’s anything you need done, feel free to work me hard!”
“Ah, yes.”
Far from being put out, my uncle seemed thrilled to be here on set; he was so perky some staff members were giving him odd looks.
Today’s location was an old gukbap joint in a neighborhood called Sinchon.
Despite its run-down sign and exterior, the inside was fairly tidy.
Maybe they’d just renovated the kitchen and dining room, inside looked nothing like outside.
You don’t notice it on TV, but there are an incredible number of staff on a drama set.
Compared to the few people I’d met at the network, this was a sea of bodies inside and out.
There were far more unfamiliar faces than familiar ones.
I sat on a folding chair they’d set out as “my spot” and watched the bustle.
People hauling equipment this way and that; people outside directing traffic.
Even outside the cramped shop there were tons of people setting up all kinds of gear and testing it.
Overwhelming.
Last night my uncle told me not to be startled when I saw a drama set; now I understood exactly what he meant.
“Good morning.”
“Hello.”
Just then, Moon Heeseong arrived with his manager.
Even with crew I didn’t know yet, Moon Heeseong seemed acquainted and greeted them cheerfully as he came in toward where I was.
After greeting Cha Ilnam, he headed straight for me.
“Hello, ma’am. Siwoo, did you sleep well?”
“Hello.”
“Yes!”
“I’m late because I stopped by the salon on the way. Have you been waiting long?”
“Mm. We just got here too.”
Maybe because he’d just come from the salon, Moon Heeseong’s looks were positively radiant today.
Even my mother, who’d gotten used to seeing him lately, turned into a schoolgirl, clasping her hands at her chest and gazing at his face.
“Nice—nice to meet you! I, I’m…!”
“Ah, you must be Ji Donguk? I’ve heard a lot about you from Siwoo. I’m Moon Heeseong.”
“Gasp, an honor.”
Meeting Moon Heeseong for the first time, my uncle rubbed his hands on his pants and then grabbed the hand Moon offered, nervous to the point he couldn’t speak properly.
“Please have a drink, everyone. The sun’s strong today.”
Meanwhile, Moon Heeseong’s manager wove through the crew handing out cold drinks.
Since it was early June and starting to get hot, the staff gratefully accepted.
Like actor, like manager, they say.
Moon Heeseong’s manager also made a very friendly impression.
“Wow… amazing. I heard managers for top stars act all stuck-up. He seems to have a great personality.”
So my uncle was thinking something similar.
I perked up at his mutter as he came to my side and asked, interested,
“Really? Like, total jerks?”
“Uh, especially the more successful their client is, the more th— No, hold on. Where’d you learn to talk like that?”
“From the TV.”
I answered with great confidence.
My uncle’s jaw dropped, speechless.
“You—you little…! I’m telling your mom.”
“Go tell her. Watching TV is studying now!”
“Hey. Only use that kind of language in front of me on purpose, right? You think I don’t know?”
Wow, quicker on the uptake than I expected.
I figured it’d take him a few more years.
I’d gotten comfortable speaking Korean and only loosened up in front of my uncle, and he just now noticed?
I shook my head and gave him a pitying look.
“…Enough. I’m done talking to you.”
“Mm. Good idea.”
“Ugh, my blood pressure.”
Between trading little jokes with my uncle, I kept bowing to passing staff.
I thought I’d greeted everyone when I first came in, but each time I turned my head there was another new face, and another.
By the time it was over, I’d been greeting people for about thirty minutes.
“How are our actors feeling today?”
“Great!”
“I’m fine.”
“Okay. Then hold just a bit, we’ll call standby soon.”
At that, my body, which had been getting a little tired, felt light again.
Soon, my first-ever drama shoot.
Sitting in my chair, I skimmed the script I’d already read dozens of times.
Having finished a long round of greetings, Moon Heeseong unfolded a chair beside me and sat, staring at me openly.
They say you don’t look at the script during takes; I guess it’s true.
Under that unrelenting gaze, I finally snapped the script shut.
“Phew, what is it, ahjussi?”
“No, just… I thought you’d have something to say today.”
Huh? I was reviewing my sides. What was there to say?
I tilted my head, puzzled, and Moon Heeseong laughed as he explained.
“The shooting schedule. Today’s scene isn’t Wooju’s first entrance, right? I’m happy my first shoot is with you, Siwoo—but of course this is all going to be cut together out of order. I figured you’d have thoughts.”
“Ah.”
So that’s what he meant.
He remembered how annoyed I’d been when I first learned how screen acting works.
Back then I’d been angry at how casually people in this era seemed to treat acting—shooting a single scene in pieces, filming out of script order.
I’d pointed right at that and asked if this could really be called a proper performance.
“You’re okay with it now?”
I rolled my eyes, thought a moment, and answered briskly,
“Yes. When in Rome, do as the Romans do, right?”
“…Where did you pick that up?”
More than my answer, the proverb tripping smoothly off my tongue seemed to surprise him; he clicked his tongue.
“It’s a famous saying.”
I shrugged, as if to ask why he was surprised.
“Ha, sometimes I wonder if you’re the same kid who until recently didn’t even know the rhythm of a film shoot.”
“Kids grow fast.”
“So you do know you’re still a kid.”
He smirked and gently smoothed my mussed hair.
Since I was only six, they didn’t do heavy makeup; just wardrobe and a simple hair set to fit Wooju.
Today’s outfit was a bright yellow tracksuit, top and bottom.
The long wait had left my hair a little untidy.
I just giggled.
No matter what anyone said, there was still an old man inside me; what could I do about that?
When I got the script and confirmed I was doing the show, I made up my mind.
I would adapt to this era.
For the sake of acting, I was willing to try new things.
“You two! Stand by, please.”
“Okay!”
Standby. Time to get ready, filming was about to begin.
Heart pounding like an actor heading to the greenroom—no, backstage—I grinned wide with anticipation.
Following the crew’s directions, I sat at a table to wait.
Moon Heeseong waited outside the shop.
From our respective places, we finished becoming Kang Wooju and Ji Hyunseong.
“Scene number six! Ji Hyunseong and Kang Wooju’s first meeting. Cue!”
At Cha Ilnam’s call, the slate clapped crisply.
“…”
Wooju stares vacantly at two bowls of steaming soup-and-rice.
Earthenware bowls brimming with fermented soybean stew, piping hot as if just set down.
One bowl is placed in front of Wooju.
The other is placed across, at an empty seat.
Clack.
The door opens, and a very tall man steps in.
“Boss, one kimchi stew please.”
Ordering as he enters, he strolls toward a secluded table.
From behind him, the child mutters under his breath.
“…This place is famous for fermented soybean stew, not kimchi stew.”
“Huh?”
The man, halfway in, hears the tiny voice and looks over at the small child, Wooju.
“Boss! Make that fermented soybean stew instead!”
A ‘yes’ rings from the kitchen, and the man sits one table away from the child.
The kid sneaks sidelong glances at the man who listened to him.
Soon the stews arrive quickly, and the two quietly raise their spoons and begin to eat.
“Hoo-hoo—slurp.”
Ravenous, the man blows and slurps his hot stew; Wooju, by contrast, picks at his rice with chopsticks, barely eating.
In mid-bite, the man senses something odd and studies Wooju.
A tiny, cramped shop.
Only two customers.
So why is this child here alone, having ordered two stews, eating by himself in a dive like this?
Curiosity lifts his chin; he addresses the child.
“Did you come alone?”
“…None of your business.”
Wooju answers curtly and keeps eating.
But though his small hand grips the spoon firmly, very little food actually makes it into his mouth.
“Oh dear. Normally he comes with his mom. A kid this young couldn’t come alone.”
Just then, the owner, who has fried an egg the child might like, brings it over and speaks up.
“What about the kid’s mother?”
“His mom’s a doctor. She came with him and ordered but had to rush off. It was an emergency call, or something. They’re regulars, so I’ll keep an eye on the kid; his mom will come back to take him.”
Hearing this, Ji Hyunseong watches Wooju a moment, then rises.
He picks up his own bowl and rice and moves to the child’s table.
“Wh-what are you doing?”
“This…mind if I eat it?”
He points at the stew set out for the child’s mother.
Before the child can even answer, he ladles up the fermented soybean stew and eats.
Suddenly seated before two earthen bowls, Ji Hyunseong begins eating both.
The child is so flustered he’s at a loss for words.
“Your dad?”
“He and Mom got divorced.”
“Ah. I see.”
Dad isn’t around because of the divorce; Mom isn’t around because she’s busy every day.
And today, in the seat where Mom always sits, there’s a stranger.
With the light behind him, a faint halo seems to rim those broad shoulders.
“This fermented soybean stew is great. Aren’t you going to eat?”
“I am eating.”
Not wanting to be outdone, Wooju scoops a bigger bite than before and pops it into his mouth.
Smiling at that, Ji Hyunseong picks up some side dish and lays it on the child’s rice.
“Eat up, eat up. What’s with a kid having so much worry on his face.”
“You’ve got plenty too. Worry.”
“Heh. You don’t have any friends, do you?”
“…I do.”
“Don’t lie. I’ll be your meal buddy from now on. Call me when you’re eating alone again.”
In a blink he empties both bowls, pulls a paper napkin from the dispenser, and scrawls his number.
He presses it into the child’s hand, pays for the child’s meal as well, and leaves the shop.
“…”
Meal buddy.
A phrase with an unfamiliar ring, but not a bad one.
There’s a feeling of surprise, and a happy warmth.
Like a gift suddenly received, the feeling overruns the young actor’s face, plain as day.
This was how the two first met.
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