"How is it? Are you alright?" Han Geng asked, looking at Chen Jingwen as he returned.
Chen Jingwen sat down, a mysterious smile playing on his lips. "I'm fine. In fact, I've never felt better!"
Hearing this, Han Geng couldn't help raising an eyebrow. He looked closely at Chen Jingwen for a moment before shaking his head slightly. "I have this strange feeling that you've changed somehow."
Chen Jingwen paused for a second, then brushed it off with a casual tone. "Must be because I've mutated or something!"
"Ha..." Han Geng chuckled. He turned to look out the window, let out a long breath, and said, "Have you figured out what our next steps are once we get back to China?"
To be honest, Han Geng was still surprised that Chen Jingwen had chosen to join him in suing SM Entertainment and walking out on the group.
In Han Geng's eyes, Chen Jingwen was someone who practiced with relentless diligence yet possessed a somewhat aloof personality.
Aside from being on slightly closer terms with him as the team leader, Chen Jingwen had never formed any deep friendships with the other members—which perhaps had something to do with his background as an orphan.
Still, having someone to face the storm with undoubtedly lifted a heavy burden off Han Geng's shoulders.
Right now, Han Geng felt a great sense of exhilaration, as if a fish had finally reached the open sea and a bird the vast sky, a stark contrast to the oppression and confinement he had suffered inside SM Entertainment.
As the absolute pioneer of Chinese artists working in South Korea, Han Geng possessed top-tier looks, singing, and dancing skills. His popularity skyrocketed across Asia when he debuted as a member of Super Junior, the legendary boy band!
When Han Geng shot to fame, the most ecstatic and fanatical crowd wasn't anyone else—it was the fandom of all boy bands back in the mainland. To discover that the top South Korean band they loved featured one of their own? Who wouldn't shower him with love?
Consequently, the moment he debuted, Han Geng commanded a massive following and immense popularity in China.
Hitting the peak right at debut thrilled Han Geng, making him believe his dreams were within reach. But the reality of the work and life that followed over the next few years bred a growing resentment toward SM Entertainment.
First, unlike the later era of the "Four Returnees" when rules relaxed, foreign workers in South Korea at this time faced severe restrictions. For instance, they were only allowed to appear on television programs affiliated with networks that had contracts with the agency, and even then, the number was capped at no more than three.
That is why Han Geng's early fans might remember a period when he wore a mask during South Korean variety show appearances—because he was appearing on a network without a corporate contract and wasn't allowed to show his face!
Second, and this was the primary reason Han Geng cited for leaving Super Junior, the crushing pressure and demonic schedules had steadily destroyed his physical health, all while denying him proper time off. To make matters worse, the exclusive contracts grew increasingly absurd.
Trainee life in South Korea was far harsher than it would later be for trainees in China. It is safe to say that not a single person who managed to debut in South Korea walked away without chronic injuries.
Moreover, once they achieved fame, the density of their schedules exceeded normal human imagination.
Take December 2009 as an example: SJM flew to Japan three times and to China three times, while returning to South Korea twice in between. The entire month consisted of concert tours, show recordings, and award ceremonies, with schedules lasting anywhere from two or three days to at least a single day.
With such a packed itinerary—and this was only December 21, meaning all the above had been crammed into a span of just twenty days—SJM essentially had no rest whatsoever that month. Chen Jingwen's fever was directly related to this relentless, unbroken schedule.
And this was just one month. Boy bands operated at this punishing pace year-round, especially those at the peak of their popularity, who had zero exceptions made for them. How could any human body hold up under such conditions over the long term?
This was why not just Han Geng and Chen Jingwen, but also the later "Four Returnees," all cited health risks as a key reason for leaving their groups.
Then came the draconian contracts. Compared to the contracts signed by Chinese artists, the agreements binding South Korean boy bands were little more than indentured servitude.
A brief look at a few clauses makes this crystal clear:
Clause one: The term of the contract lasted a staggering 13 years! And this period did not even include time taken off for illness or leave.
In other words, if you fell ill and took a leave of absence during the contract period, you had to make up for those lost days after the 13 years were up before the contract could be considered fulfilled!
Clause two: As a signed artist of the agency, you had to unconditionally obey all work arrangements made by SM Entertainment, with zero right to modify any of them.
Clause three: Regarding financial compensation, the members of Super Junior as a whole only became eligible for a 2% profit cut on album sales if total sales exceeded 50,000 copies, leaving individual members with less than two-tenths of a percent!
As for overseas activities, all company expenses had to be deducted first before any remaining profits could be distributed to the artists. Whether there were any profits at all—or how much they amounted to—was entirely up to the company to decide.
Clause four: Anyone wishing to switch agencies during the 13-year contract faced astronomical penalties. Calculations showed the buyout could run as high as 6 million RMB.
...
Though South Korean boy bands were hailed as Asian sensations and appeared glamorous on the surface, their reality behind the scenes was far from glittering.
This was tied to South Korea's social climate, where the status of entertainers was low and incomparable to China.
Thus, it was hardly difficult to understand why Han Geng and Chen Jingwen, both Chinese nationals, chose to terminate their contracts.
Furthermore, Han Geng had repeatedly expressed a desire to branch into acting, but SM completely ignored his requests. In instances where scripts were offered directly to Han Geng, the company rejected them outright without even informing him.
That had deeply hurt Han Geng.
Of course, another piece of gossip surrounding his departure suggested he had broken up with his girlfriend from Girls' Generation at the time. Coupled with everything else, it made him eager to leave South Korea and return home.
Yet the more realistic driving factor was undoubtedly financial: earnings in South Korea were simply too low, completely disproportionate to the effort expended, and accompanied by frequent discrimination and suppression.
Back home, however, the status of artists was much higher, and most importantly, the pay was far more generous.
Han Geng must have already negotiated with a domestic agency before filing for termination, as he signed with Yuehua Entertainment shortly after returning to China.
Consequently, Han Geng still felt a lingering sense of guilt toward Chen Jingwen, who had plunged into this battle right alongside him with zero preparation.
"Not yet," Chen Jingwen replied, shaking his head.
The former Chen Jingwen had been young; while he possessed the courage to cut off his own arm to survive, he hadn't thought much about what would happen once they returned to China.
Hearing this, Han Geng felt even more apologetic. He hesitated, wanting to say more, but ultimately settled for, "Don't worry. With the popularity we have right now, we won't lack resources back home. But let me tell you one thing: having autonomy is crucial."
Chen Jingwen nodded. Han Geng's emphasis on autonomy clearly stemmed from the years of rigorous, suffocating control he had suffered under SM Entertainment.
"Only with autonomy can you truly do what you want to do," Han Geng continued, perhaps venting pent-up frustrations from years of suppression now that he was suddenly free. "Big agencies are fine, but you lose your freedom completely. It's much better to find a small company.
Or a newly established company—we can leverage their resources combined with our existing popularity to achieve a one-plus-one-greater-than-two effect."
Han Geng wasn't blowing smoke; this was precisely what he ended up doing.
Upon returning to China, he turned down all the major, well-known entertainment firms and chose Yuehua Entertainment, which had been founded just that year.
The company specialized in music, artist management, and variety shows, making it an ideal fit for a departed idol like Han Geng. While it later branched into film and television investments, Yuehua remained most famous for its trainees, such as the Yuehua Seven!
Right now, Chen Jingwen felt a sudden surge of fortune that his original self hadn't signed with any domestic agency. At least now, the power of choice and initiative rested entirely in his own hands.
Chen Jingwen couldn't help a thrill of excitement either. Having just broken away from SJM, Han Geng and Chen Jingwen were poised to return to China as the inaugural generation of top traffic stars in the Chinese entertainment industry!