125: Chapter 125 President, I'm counting on you, Unnie.

"Krystal looks cold on the outside, but she's actually softer than anyone else on the inside." Tiffany Hwang looked toward the closed hospital room door, her gaze softening. "She idolizes Jessica Jung the most, and she only started learning to dance because of her sister.

When they were little, whenever Jessica Jung got injured during practice and ended up bruised all over, Krystal would see it and go off by herself to cry in secret. She was too afraid to let Jessica Jung find out, worried that her sister would think she was being immature."

She paused, her voice growing quieter. "Actually, Krystal has it very hard. Everyone in the family thinks Jessica Jung is outstanding and has high expectations for her, so the pressure is immense. Krystal is competitive by nature and wants to be the best at everything, not wanting to be outdone, but she also hates seeing her sister suffer.

She must have been worried sick about Jessica Jung getting injured this time. Look at how swollen her eyes are; she definitely must have cried in the car on the way here."

Song Tianhao listened quietly without interrupting.

At the end of the corridor, a nurse pushed a cart past. The sound of the wheels rolling across the floor was exceptionally clear in the quiet hallway.

As the nurse passed by them, she glanced toward the hospital room and muttered softly, "Celebrity families are just so dramatic; this is already the third group to come by."

The voice wasn't loud, but it was clear enough to hear. Tiffany Hwang frowned and was about to speak, but Song Tianhao had already raised his hand and gently pressed down on her shoulder.

He turned his head to look at the nurse. There was no expression on his face, and his gaze was calm, but that calmness carried an invisible pressure. He didn't say a word; he just watched her.

The nurse met his gaze and froze for a moment. Perhaps she recognized who he was, as her expression changed slightly. She quickly lowered her head and hurried away with the cart.

Tiffany Hwang curled her lip and whispered, "What a person..."

"Don't worry about it." Song Tianhao withdrew his gaze, his tone flat. "Just focus on doing what we need to do."

Tiffany Hwang nodded, glanced at the hospital room door again, and asked in a low voice, "President, do you think... will Jessica Jung's father really force her to retire?"

Song Tianhao didn't answer directly, asking instead, "What do you think?"

Tiffany Hwang thought for a moment and shook her head. "I don't know. But Jessica Jung definitely doesn't want to quit. She's sacrificed too much for the stage. In those years before she debuted, she basically lived in the practice room, sleeping less than four hours a day, with injuries all over her knees and waist.

There was one time she had a high fever of 39 degrees but still forced herself to go to practice. She ended up fainting in the practice room and was sent to the hospital for an IV drip, but the moment the needle was pulled out, she ran right back. She's such a strong-willed person..."

She didn't finish her sentence, but the meaning was clear.

Song Tianhao was silent for a few seconds before saying, "Her father is a businessman. Businessmen value profit, risk, and return on investment. In his eyes, the idol profession is unstable, high-risk, and a job for the young—it's not worth it. That's his way of thinking; it's not about right or wrong, just a difference in perspective."

"But that's Jessica Jung's life," Tiffany Hwang couldn't help but say.

"That is why," Song Tianhao said, looking at her with a steady tone, "she needs to be more determined and stronger. Strong enough to take responsibility for her own life, and strong enough to make her parents believe that her choice is the right one."

Tiffany Hwang was stunned, seemingly understanding only half of it.

Song Tianhao didn't explain further, his gaze returning to the hospital room door. From inside, the low, indistinct sound of the sisters talking could be heard; the content was unclear, but one could sense that unique, tentative closeness peculiar to family members.

About an hour later, the hospital room door opened. Krystal Jung walked out. Her eyes were still red, but her emotions had calmed down significantly. She closed the door, turned around, and was surprised to see Song Tianhao and Tiffany Hwang still waiting outside. She immediately walked over and bowed deeply to Song Tianhao.

"President, thank you for taking care of my sister." Her voice still had a hint of nasal congestion, but she was very earnest. "Please don't take what my father said to heart. He just has old-fashioned ideas and thinks girls should have a stable life. But I will definitely support my sister's stage career to the end."

She spoke with great firmness, her eyes clear, carrying a solemnity that belied her age.

Song Tianhao slightly turned to the side, avoiding her full bow and accepting only a half-bow. It was a subtle detail, but Krystal Jung noticed it. She looked up at Song Tianhao, and there was something new in her eyes.

"No need to thank me; this is what I should do," Song Tianhao said in a calm tone. "Your sister is an artist at Sky Entertainment and also... a very important member."

He paused, glanced toward the hospital room, and asked, "How is she?"

"She's asleep." Krystal Jung also glanced back, lowering her voice. "She took her medicine and is a bit sleepy. I talked to her for a while, and she's in a much better mood."

Tiffany Hwang let out a sigh of relief and whispered, "That's good."

Krystal Jung nodded, looked at Song Tianhao again, hesitated for a moment, and then spoke: "President, could I... speak with you alone for a few moments?"

Her tone was very respectful, using honorifics, but her eyes held clear inquiry and a trace of nervousness.

Tiffany Hwang immediately realized the situation and said tactfully, "Ah, I'm going downstairs to buy some drinks. What do you want to drink, Krystal? Coffee? Juice?"

"No need, Tiffany, I'm not thirsty." Krystal Jung shook her head.

"Then I'll go buy some fruit; Jessica Jung can eat it when she wakes up." Tiffany Hwang found an excuse, nodded at Song Tianhao, and turned to walk toward the elevator.

Only Song Tianhao and Krystal Jung were left in the corridor.

The lights were on at the nurse's station in the distance, and figures occasionally walked by. The night outside the window had deepened, and the city lights were dazzling, reflected on the glass and blurring the boundaries.

Krystal Jung didn't speak immediately; she seemed to be mentally preparing herself, her fingers unconsciously twisting the hem of her jacket.

Song Tianhao didn't rush her, just waiting quietly.

After about half a minute, Krystal Jung finally looked up, staring straight into Song Tianhao's eyes, and asked very directly, "President, I want to know, what are your thoughts?"

Song Tianhao looked at her without answering, signaling her to continue.

"Regarding my sister's injury, the doctor said she needs to rest for at least three months, and the recovery period might be even longer. Even if she recovers, no one can guarantee if she'll be able to return to her previous state."

Krystal Jung didn't speak fast, but every word was very clear, showing that she had thought about it repeatedly before coming. "You know better than I do how high the demands of stage performance are on the waist and legs.

If... I mean if, my sister cannot recover to the point where she can dance, or if recovery takes a very long time, a very, very long time, what will you... and the company do?"

Her question was very blunt, even a bit sharp, but her eyes were clean—no probing, no calculating, only pure anxiety out of concern for her sister.

Song Tianhao didn't answer immediately. He looked at this girl in front of him, only sixteen, but whose eyes had already lost their childishness prematurely. He remembered the thoughtful gaze she had cast when she was quietly observing him in the hospital room earlier.

He also noticed that earlier in the hospital room, when he spoke to Jessica Jung, he had unconsciously used the term "our Jessica Jung," and Krystal Jung's eyelashes had fluttered slightly.

"You're worried," Song Tianhao said, his voice not loud but very clear, "that because she might not be able to dance again, I will abandon her or neglect her?"

Krystal Jung was stunned to have her thoughts so directly exposed. She pursed her lips, didn't deny it, and just nodded, her eyes filled with stubbornness and unease.

Song Tianhao wasn't angry; instead, he smiled very lightly. The smile was faint, but it was inexplicably reassuring.

"Krystal Jung," he said her full name, his tone very serious. "To me, an artist is first and foremost a 'person.' As a person, one will get injured, get sick, and encounter setbacks.

If injured, treat it properly; if she wants to continue standing on stage, I will find her the best doctors, arrange the most scientific rehabilitation, and wait for her to return. Even if one day she feels tired and wants to leave, wanting to live a different kind of life, I will do my best to pave the way ahead for her."

He paused, looked into Krystal Jung's eyes, and said every word clearly: "But the premise of all this is that it is her own choice. Whether she wants to continue or leave, she is the one who decides. It is not her parents, not me, not the company, and not you who can choose for her."

Krystal Jung stared at him, stunned, her eyes slowly widening.

"Your father thinks that being an idol is not a long-term plan, that it's a 'youth job.' That thought isn't wrong; standing from his perspective, he has his reasons. But what I want to do is to break the curse of this 'not a long-term plan'."

Song Tianhao continued, his tone calm but every word carrying weight. "I want to ensure that Sky Entertainment artists, no matter what age they are, as long as they still have passion and ability, will always have a stage, have works, and have respect. Being an idol can be a 'youth job,' but it can also be a career worth striving for a lifetime."

He leaned forward slightly to meet Krystal Jung's eyes. His voice wasn't loud, but it carried a peculiar penetrative power. "Your sister, Jessica Jung, she is the main vocalist of Girls Generation and the shining Jessica on stage.

But first and foremost, she is Jessica Jung, an ordinary person who has dreams, persistence, and also weaknesses. I appreciate her and am willing to support her, not because she is a perfect idol, but because she is Jessica Jung. Do you understand?"

Krystal Jung looked at him for a long, long time.

The corridor lights shone down from above, casting faint shadows on Song Tianhao's face. His gaze was calm and composed, without any evasion or sentimentality, simply stating a fact.

Krystal Jung suddenly remembered earlier in the hospital room, her sister leaning against the headboard, pale and weak, but when she spoke of "I want the stage," the flame in her eyes refused to be extinguished. She also remembered the natural, effortless way Song Tianhao had adjusted the pillow for her, and that phrase, "I'm here."

She took a slow breath, then took a half-step back and bowed deeply to Song Tianhao once again.

This time, Krystal Jung's bow lasted longer and was more solemn than before.

"I understand." She straightened up, her eyes bright. The previous hesitation and unease had vanished, replaced by a clarity of resolution. "President, I leave my sister in your care."

Song Tianhao didn't avoid it this time, accepting her bow, and then reached out to gently pat her shoulder.

"You too," he said. "Take care of yourself. The one your sister is most worried about is actually you."

Krystal Jung felt a sting in her nose, quickly lowered her head, and gave a muffled "Mhm."

"Do you have a schedule tomorrow?" Song Tianhao asked.

"There's a pictorial shoot in the morning, but nothing in the afternoon," Krystal Jung answered honestly.

Song Tianhao nodded, took out his phone, dialed a number, and gave a few brief instructions.

After hanging up, he said to Krystal Jung, "The car is waiting downstairs to take you back to the dorm. I'll have the manager adjust the time for tomorrow morning's shoot and push it to the afternoon. You should get more sleep in the morning, then come over to keep your sister company. They can add a bed to the hospital room; you can stay tonight if you want."

Krystal Jung was stunned. She hadn't expected Song Tianhao to make such detailed arrangements, even thinking about an extra bed.

"President, I..."

"Don't force yourself." Song Tianhao interrupted her, his tone brooking no argument. "You are also an artist; if you aren't in good condition, it will affect your work, and your sister will be even more worried if she finds out. Get some good rest tonight, and come back tomorrow when you're refreshed. Being a caregiver isn't about grinding away your time; it's about giving her peace of mind."

Krystal Jung opened her mouth, wanting to say something, but ultimately just nodded and said in a low voice, "Thank you, President."

"Go." Song Tianhao said.

Krystal Jung glanced at the hospital room door again, then bowed slightly to Song Tianhao once more and turned to walk toward the elevator. When she reached the elevator, she suddenly stopped, turned around, took a small item out of her backpack, walked back quickly, and handed it to Song Tianhao.

It was a very old, small teddy bear doll with slightly faded fur, only about the size of a palm, but it was washed very clean.

"This," Krystal Jung's voice was very soft, "was a gift from my sister when I was little. Every time I'm scared or sad, I hold it. Please... when my sister wakes up, give it to her for me. Just tell her that I'll be here first thing tomorrow morning."

Song Tianhao took the small, soft doll and nodded.

Only then did Krystal Jung seem to let out a sigh of relief, turning and stepping into the elevator. The elevator doors closed, and the downward indicator light lit up.

Song Tianhao looked at the old doll in his hand. The stitching on one of its eyes was a bit loose, but it was clean and carried a faint scent, like it had been dried in the sun. He squeezed it, then pushed open the hospital room door and walked in.

In the hospital room, only one bedside lamp was on, the light dim and soft.

Jessica Jung was already asleep, her breathing steady. Her brows were no longer slightly furrowed as they had been before; they had relaxed, making her look much calmer. Tiffany Hwang was dozing by the bedside, also asleep, one hand still holding Jessica Jung's hand that wasn't attached to an IV drip.

Song Tianhao walked over with light footsteps and first placed the old doll gently by Jessica Jung's pillow. The doll rested against her cheek; she rubbed against it unconsciously, and the corners of her mouth seemed to curve into a tiny arc.

Then, he picked up a thin blanket draped over the back of a chair and gently covered Tiffany Hwang with it. Tiffany Hwang moved but didn't wake up, only muttering something indistinctly and burying her head in her arms, falling into a deeper sleep.

Song Tianhao stood by the bedside, watching the two sleeping figures. Jessica Jung's face looked exceptionally pale in the dim light, but also exceptionally gentle. Her long eyelashes cast faint shadows under her eyes, and her lips lacked color, but her breathing was even.

He leaned down, wanting to help tuck in the corner of her blanket.

At the very moment he leaned in, Jessica Jung's lips moved slightly, and she let out a very, very soft murmur, like someone talking in a dream.

Song Tianhao paused, tilting his ear to listen.

The sound was too faint, caught in her throat, and impossible to hear clearly.

Just then, Tiffany Hwang, who had been sleeping, suddenly moved and looked at Song Tianhao.

She rubbed her eyes and, in a whisper, very, very softly said: "She said... 'Thank you'."

Song Tianhao's movements froze.

He looked down at Jessica Jung's sleeping profile. The light cast a warm halo over her face, making her look with a kind of unreal tranquility.

Song Tianhao didn't speak; he just reached out and gently tucked a stray lock of hair from her cheek behind her ear.

His hand touched her skin; it was slightly cool.

Then, he straightened up, walked to the sofa by the window, and sat down. He didn't turn on the main lights, just using the dim light from the bedside lamp, took out his phone, dimmed the screen, and started to process emails.

The faint light from the screen reflected on his face, flickering on and off.

The hospital room fell completely quiet, save for Jessica Jung's steady breathing and Tiffany Hwang's occasional light snoring.

Outside the window, the city remained brightly lit, with traffic flowing like a tapestry. The night was still long.

And that small, faded old doll lay quietly by Jessica Jung's pillow, nestled against her cheek, like a silent guardian, and also like a gentle comfort that had crossed a long stretch of time.