I sat at the table, keeping my hands around my mug to make their trembling less apparent. No paparazzi or saesang fans were in sight-perhaps they thought this place was too small to attract customers in general, let alone celebrities. Yet this place had the best flavors and exotic tastes in the city. The owner’s wife already had twenty autographs from us stars, hidden somewhere in her manager office.

I sipped from my mug, letting the bitter taste of the tea clear my mind and make me relax. As the aroma lingered in my mouth, a pang of homesickness rolled over me. Even though I had been in Korea ever since I was signed up by JYP entertainment, China is still my home. I sometimes miss learning the many dances of my people, speaking Mandarin, fast as I can to my friends, and the comforting presence of my family.

At least I had Fei. Classmates at school, bandmates in Miss A, and Chinese trainees, we were almost tight as sisters. Both of us celebrated when Miss A debuted in China. We got to see our homeland once again.

But enough about me. The focus of this story if my guest, my visitor. I had not seen him since he joined the military. Every Korean man has to serve two years, usually before they turn thirty.

I closed my eyes, picturing his appearance before he left. His hair was cut horrendously short-to fit the military standards, not his taste.  I smiled as I remembered during the end of 2010, he had cut his hair almost as short and expressed his dislike on twitter.

I was the only friend who could come. Sulli was busy recording with f(x), although she missed her labelmate a lot. The Wondergirls were still in America-otherwise, I would have brought them with me.

We all missed our eccentric friend.

“Jia?” I turned to see Heechul-Oppa walk in.

“Oppa!” I stood up as he gave me a hug. His hair had grown to chin again. Maybe the hair requirements were not implemented for publicity officers.

“Anything going on in the performance industry I should know about?” Heechul asked as he sat down.

“Nothing really. Super Junior doesn’t look the same without you. People are promoting in Japan and spreading the Hallyu Wave as usual.”

As we sipped our drinks, Heechul described to me how he was nervous for training, since metal holds his leg together. However, the thrill of holding a gun and actually shooting the target was worth the hardship. We ran through “Goodbye Baby” together, like we had when we were both promoting around the same time.

When it was time to go, Heechul took a picture with his phone and posted it onto twitter. He turned to me with his infamous smile. “Jia, let’s give a French greeting to each other before we bid each other goodbye.”

“French?”

“Yes! Friends kiss each other on the cheek when they greet each other. So, let’s do that.”

I rolled my eyes. “Okay, oppa.”

“Monsieur Heechul to you, Mademoiselle Jia.” Then, awkwardly, we exchanged a cheek kiss.

As he left to return to his base, I stood outside the doorway, watching his back disappear into the darkness of the night. I wonder how much he missed of the celebrity life back in the barracks. My throat tightened. Even though I grew  up in China, where the Communist Party ruled, the constant tension in South Korea worried me too. It was painful to see the men go to be soldiers. I touched my cheek. Maybe this would be my last reminder, if the world decides to wreak havoc on the strained peace that exists here. Here, the small place where I have grown to love the beating of the heart of real, modern art.

Please, let our soldiers come home one day. The day the world can sit together at peace and let art show its beauty, untainted.

Please.