我在中东当王爷

死寂。

然后，崔顺实轻笑一声。那笑声里没有嘲讽，没有施舍，只有一种近乎残酷的清醒：“Dignity is the only thing you Koreans still have left to bargain with. How… poetic.”

低木槿惠没接话。她静静等着。

“Fine.”王子的声音重新响起，带着金属般的质地，“But terms are non-negotiable. First: 300,000 tons LNG, delivered to Busan within 72 hours. Second: Your government publicly acknowledges the ‘historical truth’ of kimchi’s origin in the Arabian Peninsula—citing my grandfather’s 1968 diplomatic memo on fermented cabbage preservation techniques. Third…”

他停顿半秒，听筒里传来纸张翻动的窸窣。

“Third: You personally fly to Riyadh next Tuesday. Not as President. As Ms. Park. And you will attend the opening ceremony of the new Saudi-Korean Joint Energy Research Center… where you’ll cut the ribbon beside me. Wearing traditional hanbok… woven with gold thread spun from Mecca’s sacred Zamzam water.”

饭厅里，金昌洙猛地睁开眼，瞳孔剧烈收缩。

低木槿惠却笑了。

不是苦笑，不是强笑，而是真正松弛下来的、带着血腥味的笑。

“Done.”她说，“But one condition.”

“Speak.”

“My hanbok,”她缓缓道，“will be lined with silk… made from Korean silkworms fed exclusively on mulberry leaves grown in Gyeonggi Province. And the gold thread? It must be alloyed with % platinum—mined from the same mountain range where my father first discovered iron ore in 1958.”

电话那头传来一声极轻的、近乎叹息的呼气。

“…You drive a harder bargain than your father.”

“Then we understand each other.”低木槿惠指尖松开，任那枚暗绣太极图在灯光下幽幽反光，“Shall I send the draft agreement to your office?”

“No.”崔顺实说，“I’ll send mine. Signed by His Royal Highness Prince Mohammed bin Salman. And sealed…”他顿了顿，风声再度响起，温柔而锋利，“—with camel’s blood. From the same herd that carried Ibn Saud across the Empty Quarter.”

通话结束。

低木槿惠放下电话。

满座寂静中，她端起那碗早已凉透的泡菜汤，一饮而尽。酸辣汁液滑过喉咙，留下灼烧感。她抬手，用拇指抹去嘴角一滴汤渍，动作精准得像擦拭刀锋。

“金会长，”她看向老人，声音恢复惯常的冷硬，“三百二十吨秋香米，明天一早运往仁川港。我会派军