His hand in his pocket trembled. The bag that he was holding onto trembled. His heart palpitated. Taking step after apprehensive step, So YiJeong let out a ragged sigh as he meandered past pot holes and open drains. The black dirt-covered ground contrasted greatly with his polished leather Berluti’s, which shiny brown stood out from the matt black. A paper advertisement lay beside his insanely expensive footwear, informing him of the location of “Hot Pink Night”.

The second-generation chaebol shuffled to his left to avoid a rather large puddle in a pothole, only to clench his jaw when he realised that he was right next to a moss covered stone wall. His eyes widened slightly and he pursed his lips.

So YiJeong was not averse to dirt. He was just unfamiliar, and the nervousness and anticipation that he was feeling was taking a toll on him.

He unconsciously yelped and jerked away when a frog suddenly jumped out from an opening of someone’s rusty green-painted gate.

Born with a silver spoon in his mouth, he only knew the clean wide alleyways of CheongDamDong. He only knew of polished floors and wiped crystal clear windows. Wherever he went, nothing larger than an ant scurried around.  Whether it rained or snowed or shined, the roads were always the same, always smooth, always clean, and never littered. If something fell and wrecked the road, it would be repaired before sundown. Never had he ever have to walk to anywhere. He was always driven, or, he would always drive, right up to the entrance of his destination. Riches filled his world; only the best of the best appeared before him.

And just a year ago, the best of women appeared before him and within eight months of constant wooing from him, became his. She was perfect, except for everything that surrounded her and made her, her.

 So YiJeong bit his lower lip, eyes wandering around, searching for the number 12, amongst all the 2, 7, 26, 9, 15, and 10. He gulped, wondering if he had lost his way among the maze of buildings. Every turn he took seemed the same to him and every house he saw seemed like a shoebox. Some shoeboxes were stacked atop each other, others stood lonely on the ground.

He knitted his eyebrows, as his nervousness doubled. His breaths came marginally faster. He clenched his fists so tightly that his knuckles became white. So, there was this other side to Korea?

He contemplated calling his driver for directions when he spotted her waving at him just a short walk away.

“Oppa! YiJeong oppa!”

Relief washed over him like a rush of hot water on a cold wintry day as his eyes sparkles and a smile lighted up his face. Running towards her without a thought about potholes and frogs, he rushed head-first into her and wrapped his arms around her, clinging onto her like a survivor gripping a piece of driftwood from a shipwreck out at sea.

“Omo,” she gasped, as she steadied herself from the impact that almost knocked her off her feet.

They stood there for a little more than a moment, during which his heartbeat returned to normal as she patted his back. With her around, everything that was unfamiliar and different became understandable and, maybe, even a bit homely.

“Why? Is this your first time walking through the alleyways of a commoner’s neighbourhood?” she joked while smoothing his fringe as they broke apart. “Was our widdle YiJeongie scared?”

“Tsk, was not,” he lied, rolling his eyes.

She shot his a look of disbelief and he returned it with one of indignation.

She fixed the lapels of his Armani suit and let her hands sweep down its front, like she always did whenever she saw him, except with more care now.

“Ready to go in?” she asked.

“I’m scared,” he admitted even as he nodded and she slipped her fingers between his and gave his hand a soft reassuring squeeze.

“Come on,” she guided him through a green aluminium gate. “My parents won’t eat you.”

“GaEul, do you think they’ll be okay with my gift?” he whispered as they walked up a flight of stairs.

He watched as his girlfriend nonchalantly let her other hand glide against the bare cement wall beside the stairs while he gripped the bag he was carrying even tighter and focused on having it out of the harm’s way.

“Oh they’ll be fine with anything,” GaEul replied, turning the knob to a thick wooden door. “They’re just thrilled to finally see me bring a boy home after so long.”

“You mean, I’m not the first?” YiJeong asked his pitch a little higher and his tone marked with jealousy. Even though he had stepped into the warmed house, his heart remained chilled.

“YiJeong, I’m 24. Of course you’re not the first. Eomma, Appa, he’s here,” GaEul called out.

“Huh, you mean you even brought all those other casual dates home?” YiJeong scoffed, forgetting his nervousness.

“No,” she rolled her eyes. “I only brought SuPyo home during that time when we were going steady, you know?”

“Hah! That womanizer-”

“Omo, you’re here,” a warm short-haired lady with an apron and a spatula in her hand interrupted his sentence.

She had bright sparkling eyes, just like GaEul. She was not grand and stately like his mother, nor was she slim and curvaceous like the other women in CheongDamDong. She was not fat, but she was welcomingly plump. Her skin was not tight and taut but instead was made more beautiful by lines that had formed through years of laughter, sadness, worry. It made her look wise, and gave her face character. She looked nothing like celebrity mothers that he had seen both in posters and around his neighbourhood, but she looked more familiar and approachable. She wasn’t exceptionally gorgeous, but she was stunning.

So YiJeong the chaebol returned to his stuttering state.

“Y-yes,” he uttered when another man, with the same lined skin joined them. He had a little potbelly going on, but it didn’t make him look any sicker. In fact, it made him look healthier and robust. It seemed as if he had the fortune to experience all the little pleasures in life. As the man clasped YiJeong’s hand with both of his, YiJeong realised where GaEul got her beautiful slender fingers from.

“Eomma, Appa, this is So YiJeong. Oppa, these are my parents.”

“Annyeong Haseyo,” YiJeong greeted and bowed. “I’m So YiJeong.”

“Oho, So YiJeong ne,” GaEul’s father said as he pumped YiJeong’s hand vigorously with excitement.

“YiJeong-shii, come in. Dinner will be ready in 10 minutes,” GaEul’s mother said and waved him in.

“Ah, yes,” YiJeong bowed again. “Oh right, this is for you.”

YiJeong passed from behind him the bag that he had brought.

“Aigoo, you shouldn’t have,” GaEul’s mother chided lightly. “Thank you, dear boy. GaEul, help me in the kitchen.”

“Yes, mother.”

“YiJeong, YiJeong, come and sit here,” GaEul’s father patted the opposite end of the coffee table that he was already sitting at.

“Yes, Abeonim.” YiJeong replied, almost walking straight towards the coffee table without taking his shoes off.

GaEul’s father looked at him, stunned.

“Yah, take your shoes off,” GaEul hissed, peeking from the kitchen door.

Embarrassed, YiJeong did as was told. Soon, he was kneeling on a cushion opposite GaEul’s father.

“Sorry, Appa, like I said, he’s from a different circle. They do things differently,” GaEul explained.

“Ah,” GaEul’s dad nodded. Then he turned to YiJeong. “Do you drink soju?”

“Yah, no soju before dinner!” GaEul’s mother scolded from the kitchen no ten feet away.

“Eish. When men get together, there must always be soju!” GaEul’s father retorted.

“Then you can get together after dinner!”

YiJeong looked on, amused, and he would have smiled, if he were not so tense.

“Ah, Eomma, why are you quarrelling again?” he heard GaEul huff.

“Ah, what? It’s not me! It’s that guy. He can’t lay off soju!”

“We’re Koreans, of course we love soju! Right, YiJeong?”

YiJeong managed to crack a polite smile as he nodded. “Yes, sir,” he lied.

“Yah, oppa, don’t lie,” GaEul scoffed as her head poked out of the kitchen door. “You love red wine.”

“Red wine?” GaEul’s father asked as he rubbed the bristles on his chin.

“Y-yes, I like red wine,” YiJeong stammered and shot a look of displeasure at GaEul who only smirked back mischievously. “But I like soju too… sir.”

“Ei, what red wine,” GaEul’s father muttered while rubbing a certain particularly itchy spot beside his nose.

A certain silence came over the two men as no one knew what else to say. YiJeong fidgeted in his spot, racking his brains for something that he thought commoners would be able to relate to.

Just as he was about to open his mouth, thankfully, GaEul’s mother called them for dinner.

YiJeong stood awkwardly at his spot with GaEul’s father staring at him. He didn’t know that they ate dinner on the “coffee table” while seated on the warm heated floor. So, he went to the kitchen to bring out the dishes to cover his slip.

“Aigoo, you dear boy, we can do it ourselves, sit, sit,” GaEul’s mother instructed.

“Ani-yo, Eomonim, it’s my pleasure to help,” YiJeong replied.

“Oppa, sit,” GaEul reached out for him, pulling him to the cushion right beside her. Under the table, she took his hand in his and gave him a reassuring squeeze again, one that relaxed him better than any other pill.

YiJeong stared at the numerous dishes before him. Large lettuce leaves covered a huge plate and though there was rice, there was no indication of any main dish.

“YiJeong-shii, I made ssambap today. I hope you’re fine with it. This old man wanted this today,” GaEul’s mother explained, patting her husband’s thigh affectionately.

“Sa? Ssambap yo?” YiJeong asked.

“Oppa, ssambap is a kind of lettuce wrap. You put rice and other stuff and so on and then you wrap them all with a lettuce leaf. I’ll make one for you,” GaEul replied and proceeded to make one right there and then. He watched her rip a piece of lettuce leaf into half and add a small spoonful of rice atop it. Then she added some meat and fish and topped it with some kind of sauce. She then closed her fingers, effectively wrapping everything into the lettuce leaf.

“Ah,” GaEul said.

“Ah?”

“Open your mouth,” GaEul replied, rolling her eyes. He did and she stuffed the entire thing into his mouth. He frowned, taken aback by the huge mouthful, but as he bit into the lettuce, the flavourful sauce of the marinated meat oozed from within, eliciting a shock of pleasure. As he chewed more, the simple taste of moist well-cooked rice mixed with the red paste he saw her add earlier and soon, it blended in perfect harmony with the chewy bits of meat. He had never tasted anything as wonderful in his life. Fresh baked baguettes, he has eaten. The best Aglio Olio, he has eaten. The most well-cooked steak, he has eaten. He’s even eaten barbequed galbi before, but…

“YiJeong ah, you have never eaten ssambap before?” GaEul’s father asked incredulously.

YiJeong attempted to answer but found his mouth too full with food to even make a sound without disgustingly spilling food.

“Eo,” GaEul replied for him, patting his knee. “YiJeong Oppa, is friends with JanDi’s boyfriend. You know, the ShinHwa heir?”

GaEul’s parents’ eyes widened. Their gaze darted between their daughter and her boyfriend, as though not believing that the two could have ended up together.

“GaEul ah, you mean he’s a chaebol?” GaEul’s mother whispered.

“Mm. His father owns a museum.” GaEul nodded.

“Aiyoo, Aigoo,” GaEul’s father suddenly crossed his legs and uncrossed them again, flustered.

“So because he lives differently from us, he’s never tasted ssambap. It’s not exactly a very polite dish, you see,” GaEul explained.

YiJeong tapped the table, chewing faster and willing that ball of rice to go down so that he could explain.

“So sajang-nim, do you want to relocate to a restaurant?” GaEul’s mother asked, also flustered.

“N-no,” YiJeong replied, while swallowing his food. “I’m fine.”

“He’s the renowned potter So YiJeong also,” GaEul continued, amused and teasing.

“What?” GaEul’s father yelped as GaEul saw her father go a little paler in the face. “Ah, sir, pardon this old man for not recognising you.”

“No, no, no, no, no,” YiJeong repeated, trying to prevent the elder man from bowing to him.

“GaEul, why didn’t you tell me before hand?” her mother hissed.

GaEul merely shrugged, enjoying all this.

“Eomonim, please don’t do this,” YiJeong pleaded the elder lady from preparing to cook up a storm again.

“Aigoo, how can you eat ssambap? How can you eat so undignified?”

“Ei, other than us, there’s no one else. If you don’t tell and I don’t tell, no one will know,” YiJeong replied, trying to assure them. “How about this, I’ll wrap one for each of you.”

“H-huh? No, we cannot let you do that!”

“Abeonim, I’m here as GaEul’s boyfriend to visit you, please don’t think of me as someone special. Let’s see, how do we do this?”

“Take a lettuce leaf and put some rice on top,” GaEul offered.

As YiJeong busied himself trying to fix a portion of the most delicious food that he’d recently discovered while overriding the protests of his girlfriend’s parents, his girlfriend simply sat next to him and recited the order that food should be put and wrapped, all while having a hand on his knee, encouraging him.

When he finally finished wrapping one, he pushed it towards GaEul’s mother who was seating opposite him. She protested but GaEul encouraged her and YiJeong pleaded and like the cool mother that she was, she gave in in the end and ate the messily wrapped ssambap. All eyes were on her, a certain pair’s more intense than the others, as she chewed and gave a great big thumbs-up.

YiJeong laughed, more freely and louder than he had ever before. He revelled in that experience of push and pull. He enjoyed arguing with somebody about something so trivial. He enjoyed the feeling of having someone telling him not to do something not because it was wrong or because it would bring harm to the family reputation but because she was embarrassed. He liked it when winning a little argument resulted in both him and the opposition being happier. He loved it when he felt like he was really having a little tiff with a family, one that half-heartedly opposed you but you still knew that they loved you. It felt really comfortable and relaxing.

With GaEul’s mother’s affections won, YiJeong proceeded to gain GaEul’s father’s, armed with another portion of ssambap. He was met with the same half-hearted protests, which ended with a sentence from his new-found allay.

“Oh just eat it you old man!” GaEul’s mother ordered. The ssambap was promptly eaten.

“Oh, oppa, feed me too,” GaEul requested.

As YiJeong happily obliged, GaEul recited all the tons of ingredients that she wanted in hers.

YiJeong frowned, staring at the lettuce wrap.

“Are you sure you can stuff this in your mouth?” he asked.

“Hey, of course!” GaEul laughed and gobbled it up.

“Oho, my turn!” GaEul’s mother announced as she took a large lettuce leaf in her palm and proceeded to add ingredients. YiJeong saw her expertly measure the portions out and saw her wrap the lettuce. It was done so well that the lettuce wrapped seemed full yet did not seem to appear bursting any time soon.

“YiJeong ah, ah,” GaEul’s mother instructed.

YiJeong’s eyebrows rose, as he pointed to himself. He smiled as he noted how GaEul’s mother had dropped to banmal.

“Ah,” GaEul’s mother repeated.

Cautiously, YiJeong opened his mouth and accepted the food, happy when it tasted just as delicious - perhaps even more delicious this time round as he felt accepted by the family.

As they fed each other ssambap, each portion getting bigger and bigger, the night grew darker and laughter grew louder.

*** ***

Lying comfortably beside GaEul’s snoring father on the warm heated floor with bottles of soju between them, YiJeong rubbed his belly like some middle-aged common man. Red in the face from all the alcohol, YiJeong curled into a foetal position, just as his phone buzzed.

------- -------

Gu JunPyo

Yah, how was the meeting with her parents? Commoners are awesome, aren’t they?

------- -------

Me

Beyond awesome. I think I have better in-laws than you.

------- -------

Gu JunPyo

*Dying of laughter*

You are so marrying her. This marks the end of your Casanova days.

*Smirk*

------- -------

Me

Whatever. I didn’t like it all that much anyways.

------- -------

Gu JunPyo

Oooh~ I am so telling the rest how whipped you are.

------- -------

Me

Go ahead. No one’s more whipped than you.

------- -------

Gu JunPyo

YAH!

------- -------

YiJeong closed his eyes and rested, smiling.

“Eomma, where’s my pantyhose?”

“In your drawer! Can’t you look for it yourself, you wench?!”

“Eomma! YiJeong’s here!”

“Well you’re the one who shouted about -hoses first!”

Yep, he could get used to this.