13: Chapter 13 Stubborn Park Jiyeon

"It seems… a bit interesting." Park Hyomin looked into the mirror, observing her own reflection—eyes calm, no longer trying to deliberately please anyone—and whispered. This sentence was like a key, unlocking the door in her heart that had been locked by 'imitation' and 'anxiety.'

In the following days, Park Hyomin stopped secretly watching those chaotic tutorials. Instead, she held onto the book *Body Narrative*, studying it repeatedly. Combining it with the modern dance basics taught by Teacher Kim Su-jin, she attempted during training breaks to use her body to 'narrate' rather than 'perform.'

In her dance movements, that deliberate, outward display of 'allure' had faded, replaced by a more restrained, fluid grace that carried a sense of control, and her gaze had become resolute.

Upon seeing her change, the choreographer privately said to Song Tianhao, "This child has finally had a breakthrough. The feeling is right now; she is the 'hunter' we were looking for."

The team's integration progressed through stumbling blocks.

The dance formation, missing Lee Qri, needed readjustment. Fortunately, with Ham Eunjung, the main dancer, stabilizing the framework, Park Hyomin's sense of the center position was gradually improving. Park So-yeon's vocals were becoming increasingly stable, and Jeon Boram's unique timbre had become a highlight.

Everyone was gritting their teeth and persevering. With the debut date at the end of the month approaching, the pressure was increasing day by day.

This afternoon was dedicated to continuous, high-intensity formation practice.

The choreography for "Bo Peep Bo Peep" involved complex formations and fast speeds, placing extremely high demands on stamina and coordination.

The girls had been practicing for three hours. Sweat soaked their training clothes, and their heavy breathing was clearly audible during the pauses in the music.

Song Tianhao sat on a chair in the corner, tablet in hand, recording everyone's status. His gaze mainly rested on Park Hyomin, who was temporarily filling the center position, and the main dancer, Ham Eunjung, but his peripheral vision remained fixed on everyone.

An accident occurred during a move that required rapid lateral movement followed by an abrupt stop and turn.

Park Ji-yeon, standing at the edge of the formation, felt a slight but distinct "crack" from her left ankle as she turned and landed.

Her body lurched violently, and with a cry of pain, she dropped to one knee. Her left hand immediately clutched her left ankle, her small face instantly contorted in pain, and tears welled up in her eyes.

"Ji-yeon!" Park Hyomin, who was closest to her, exclaimed, and the others immediately crowded around.

Song Tianhao had already put down his tablet and strode over.

He pushed through the crowd, knelt in front of Park Ji-yeon, and said in a calm voice, "Don't move. Take your hand away."

Park Ji-yeon bit her lip, tears falling drop by drop, but she slowly released her hand from her ankle. It was visible to the naked eye that the outside of her left ankle was swollen and the skin was red.

Song Tianhao frowned slightly, reached out, and lightly touched the swollen area.

Park Ji-yeon gasped, her body flinching.

"You've injured this before?" Song Tianhao asked. It wasn't a question, but a statement. He recalled noticing during previous training sessions that she had a habitual way of protecting her left leg when exerting force.

Park Ji-yeon lowered her head, not daring to look at him, and nodded while sobbing softly. "I... when I was practicing dance before... I twisted it a few times... It wasn't serious, President. If I just rest and apply an ice pack, it'll be fine…"

Song Tianhao didn't speak. He reached out and gently rolled up the hem of her sweatpants on her left leg. Above the ankle, on her lower leg, one could see faint, old bruises, as well as several fresh marks from where medical patches had been applied.

He looked up at Park Ji-yeon. "Where is the medicine?"

Park Ji-yeon stiffened, her eyes darting away.

Song Tianhao didn't press her further. He stood up and said to Jang Seung-hwan, who was nearby, "Call a car. We're going to the hospital for an X-ray." Then he looked at Park So-yeon. "You go with her. Everyone else, training is paused. Take a half-hour break and do your own stretching and relaxation."

After speaking, he turned and extended his hand to Park Ji-yeon, who was still sitting on the floor crying. "Can you stand up? I'll help you."

Park Ji-yeon looked at the hand extended in front of her through teary eyes. She hesitated for a moment before placing her hand on his. Song Tianhao's hand was dry and strong; with a gentle pull, and his other hand supporting her arm, he half-carried and half-supported her up.

Park Ji-yeon didn't dare put her left foot on the ground, so she had to hop on one leg, being supported out of the dance studio by Song Tianhao and Park So-yeon, who had rushed over.

The hospital check-up results came out quickly: an acute sprain of the left ankle ligament, accompanied by a recurrence of an old injury. She needed immobilization and rest for at least two weeks, and strenuous exercise was strictly forbidden in the short term.

The atmosphere in the car on the way back was gloomy. Park Ji-yeon's left foot had been wrapped in a supportive bandage. She leaned back in her seat, looking out the window. Her tears had dried, but her eyes were red and swollen, and her lips were pressed tightly together, revealing a stubbornness that was both defiant and aggrieved.

Park So-yeon sat beside her, gently patting her back.

The car drove back to the Villa.

Song Tianhao said to Park So-yeon, "You help her back to her room to rest first, and have Jang Seung-hwan bring the ice pack and the medication prescribed by the doctor up."

Park So-yeon nodded and helped Park Ji-yeon slowly go upstairs. Song Tianhao didn't leave immediately. He walked to the kitchen on the first floor to pour a glass of water, scanned the living room, and then, after pausing for a moment, walked toward the stairs.

He arrived at the door of Park Ji-yeon's room. The door was slightly ajar.

Song Tianhao knocked on the door. From inside came Park Ji-yeon's voice, thick with nasal congestion: "Please come in."

He pushed the door open and entered. Park Ji-yeon was hopping on one leg, trying to move from the bedside to the desk. When she saw him enter, she was startled and almost lost her balance.

"Pr-President…"

Song Tianhao didn't respond, his gaze scanning the room. The room was decorated simply, in line with the preferences of someone her age, with some cute dolls and celebrity posters.

His line of sight landed on the desk drawer she had just been trying to reach. The drawer wasn't closed tightly, leaving a corner exposed; it seemed to be stuffed with many things.

Park Ji-yeon followed his gaze, and her expression changed instantly. She wanted to move over to block the drawer, but her foot injury made her movements slow.

Song Tianhao walked over and, under Park Ji-yeon's terrified gaze, pulled open that drawer.

Inside, there were no teenage diaries or secrets. It was packed to the brim with all sorts of medicine boxes, bottles, and patches.

Painkillers, anti-inflammatory drugs, medicated patches for blood circulation and bruising, sprays for muscle fatigue… a wide variety. Many had already been opened and used, and some were even over-the-counter strong painkillers bought from pharmacies.

In the entertainment industry, this method of relying on medication to push through was not rare, but for a girl not yet twenty years old, the quantity was shocking.

Song Tianhao picked up a box of strong painkillers that was already empty, checked the production date and dosage, and then looked at the other medications in the drawer. He was silent as he put the box back and closed the drawer.

Park Ji-yeon stood by the bed, head lowered, her hands gripping the hem of her clothes tightly, her shoulders trembling slightly, as if waiting for the final verdict.

Concealing an injury, using medication without authorization, delaying treatment, affecting the team's progress… any one of these was enough for her to be scolded severely, or even potentially replaced.

"Why didn't you say anything?" Song Tianhao asked, his voice betraying no emotion.

Park Ji-yeon's tears welled up again. She shook her head vigorously, her voice choked with sobs. "I... I couldn't say anything. If I said it... if I said it, I wouldn't be able to practice, and I would hold everyone back. The unnies are working so hard, and Lee Qri unnie is still in the hospital. I... I can't stop…"

She raised her tear-filled eyes to look at Song Tianhao. Her gaze held fear, but also a nearly paranoid persistence. "President, I can endure it, really! I can dance if I take painkillers; it's always been like this… Please don't replace me. I will be careful this time, I…"

"I'm taking you home."

Song Tianhao interrupted her incoherent words.

Park Ji-yeon's crying stopped abruptly. She blinked her teary eyes in confusion, thinking she had misheard. "…What?"

Song Tianhao walked up to her, looked at her tear-streaked face, and repeated it, his tone calm but carrying an unquestionable weight:

"I am taking you, home."

Park Ji-yeon was completely stunned. Home? Which home? Wasn't she already living in the Villa provided by the President?

"Back to your parents' home," Song Tianhao added, turning toward the door. "Pack some things, change your clothes. We leave in an hour."

An hour later, Park Ji-yeon sat in the passenger seat, wearing a simple hoodie and jeans, her left foot in a loose slipper, with a bandage wrapped around her ankle.

She held an old backpack in her arms that she had dug out from somewhere, her fingers unconsciously picking at the backpack straps. Her eyes gazed at the passing street scenery outside the window, nervous and uneasy.

Jang Seung-hwan was driving, and Park So-yeon and Song Tianhao, who was carrying a fruit basket, sat in the back seat.

The car drove away from the bustling Gangnam District and headed toward a relatively older area of Seoul.

Finally, it stopped at the entrance of an alley. The alley was very narrow, and the car couldn't drive in.

The group got out of the car. Park Ji-yeon hopped on one leg, supported by Park So-yeon. Song Tianhao carried the fruit basket, and Jang Seung-hwan followed behind as they walked deep into the alley to a multi-story residential building that looked quite old.

The stairwell was narrow and dimly lit, with mottled walls. Arriving in front of a door on the third floor, Park Ji-yeon stopped, took several deep breaths, and then tremblingly pressed the doorbell.

The door was opened quickly. A middle-aged woman wearing an apron, with a kind face but tired eyes, appeared at the door. Seeing Park Ji-yeon outside, and behind her, the distinguished-looking Song Tianhao and the others, she was visibly stunned.

"Mom…" Park Ji-yeon called out softly, her eyes turning red again.

"Ji-yeon?" Mother Park looked in surprise at her daughter's bandaged foot, then at Song Tianhao. "What happened to you… and who are these people?"

"Hello, Ma'am, sorry for the intrusion." Song Tianhao took a step forward and bowed slightly, his tone carrying the respect of a junior for an elder. "I am Song Tianhao of Sky Entertainment, the agency Park Ji-yeon belongs to.

This is Team Leader Jang Se-hoon, the company's manager, and this is Park Ji-yeon's teammate, Park So-yeon. Park Ji-yeon accidentally twisted her ankle during training, so we brought her back to check on her, and to pay a visit to you and her father as well."

His attitude was humble and polite, completely unlike the decisive, cold-faced president usually seen in the practice room.

Park Ji-yeon's mother was somewhat at a loss, hurriedly stepping aside from the doorway: "Ah... please, please come in! The house is small, please excuse the mess..."

The apartment was indeed not big, featuring a typical old-style layout with a cramped living room and worn furniture, though it was kept very clean.

In the most prominent spot on the wall, it was covered with certificates Park Ji-yeon had earned since childhood, ranging from kindergarten "Good Child" awards to elementary school "Outstanding Student" awards, with the majority being for various dance competitions; among them, a "National Dance Competition Children's Group Gold Award" was framed and hung right in the center.

A middle-aged man with a stern expression and slightly graying hair walked out from the inner room; seeing the scene, he was stunned as well, his gaze lingering on Song Tianhao's face for a moment, as if he recognized this newly crowned film actor, and his expression grew even more complex.

"Dad..." Park Ji-yeon's voice was even quieter.

"Hello, Sir, sorry for the intrusion." Song Tianhao bowed again.

Park Ji-yeon's father nodded somewhat stiffly, gesturing for them to sit. The sofa was small, so Song Tianhao had Park So-yeon help Park Ji-yeon sit down, while he and Jang Seung-hwan sat on folding chairs nearby.

Park Ji-yeon's mother hurriedly went to pour water and brought out a plate of washed fruit—bright yellow tangerines that had been carefully peeled and separated into segments.

"We don't have much to offer here, please don't mind..." Park Ji-yeon's mother rubbed her hands together, her eyes constantly glancing at Park Ji-yeon's bandaged foot, filled with heartache.

"Ma'am, you're too kind."

Song Tianhao took the water cup, thanked her, and then looked at Park Ji-yeon's parents, his tone sincere, "I came here mainly for two reasons. First, Park Ji-yeon was injured, and the company bears responsibility; it was our lack of care, and I apologize to you both. Second, I wanted to report to you both on Park Ji-yeon's recent situation."

He signaled for Jang Seung-hwan to place the fruit basket on the table, then took several documents out of his briefcase.

"This is a copy of the new contract Park Ji-yeon signed with the company; the terms are top-tier in the industry, and you are welcome to review them. This is the training and debut plan the company has formulated for her. The team is currently preparing a new album, with a debut expected at the end of the month, and Park Ji-yeon is an important member."

He then took out a tablet and opened several photos showing the exterior and interior of the Cheongdam-dong Villa, as well as pictures of the dance studio and vocal practice rooms. "This is the dormitory and training environment the company has arranged for them. All food, housing, training, and medical expenses are covered by the company."

Park Ji-yeon's parents looked at those photos, listening to Song Tianhao's clear, well-organized introduction, the wariness and doubt on their faces slowly dissipating, replaced by surprise and a hint of bewilderment.

In their memory, their daughter was still the stubborn girl who, two years ago, had ignored their objections and left home to become a trainee, leaving behind the harsh words: "If I don't succeed, I won't come back."

How, in the blink of an eye, had she moved into a big house that could only be seen on TV, gained such a young, promising, and seemingly powerful president, and was about to debut?

Park Ji-yeon's mother's tears fell immediately. She hurriedly wiped them with the back of her hand, choking up: "This child... she's been headstrong since she was little. Even when she's injured, she doesn't say anything, just bears it alone... Thank you, President Song, thank you for taking care of Park Ji-yeon..."

She picked up a peeled tangerine and stuffed it into Park Ji-yeon's hand, "Here, eat your favorite."

Park Ji-yeon held the tangerine, tears welling up in her eyes.

Just then, the voice of a middle-aged neighbor lady came from outside the door, her voice very loud: "Oh my, guests at the Park house? Who is it, driving such a nice car parked at the entrance of the alley?"

Then, the woman seemed to lean up to the door, peeking inside through the slightly ajar gap, and muttered, "I heard that Park Ji-yeon girl went to be some kind of trainee? Tsk, what kind of future is that? For a girl, showing her face in public, it's easy to pick up bad habits; it's not as stable as a proper job..."

Park Ji-yeon's father's expression was somewhat embarrassed, and he wanted to go out and say something, but Song Tianhao signaled to Jang Seung-hwan.

Jang Seung-hwan immediately stood up, walked to the door, opened it, and gave a polite smile to the curious woman. He then took out his phone, pulled up the photos of the Villa that Song Tianhao had just shown, and said in a voice that was not loud but clear enough:

"Ma'am, we are Park Ji-yeon's colleagues from her company. Park Ji-yeon is currently an artist our company is focusing on developing, and she lives in a dormitory provided by the company. Look, this is the dormitory environment. Although an artist's work is hard, the income and prospects are very good, and she can also realize her personal value."

The woman craned her neck to look at the luxurious interior of the Villa on the phone screen, then looked at the distinguished-looking Song Tianhao in the room, gave an awkward smile: "Oh... oh, that's great, that's great..." and hurriedly pulled her head back and left.

This small incident made the atmosphere in the room even more delicate.

Park Ji-yeon's father sighed, looking at his daughter who was keeping her head down, then at the composed Song Tianhao, and finally spoke, his voice somewhat hoarse: "President Song, we... we are just an ordinary family and don't understand the entertainment industry.

When Park Ji-yeon insisted on taking this path, we were against it, fearing she would suffer, fearing she would... pick up bad habits. But now it seems you are a reliable person, and the company treats them well."

He paused and looked at Park Ji-yeon, his eyes complex: "Park Ji-yeon, it's not that Dad doesn't support you, I'm just afraid you'll regret it. This road is not easy to walk. And now you're injured..."

"I don't regret it!" Park Ji-yeon lifted her head abruptly, tears finally rolling down, but her gaze was firmer than ever, "Dad, Mom, I know you're worried. But I love standing on stage, I love dancing and singing. President Song gave me an opportunity, and the unnies are all working hard; I don't want to give up!"

She squeezed the tangerine in her hand, juice seeping out and staining her fingertips, "This injury was my own carelessness, but after I recover, I will definitely be more careful and work even harder! I want to succeed, and I want to make you proud of me!"

Park Ji-yeon's mother sobbed uncontrollably, and Park Ji-yeon's father's eyes also turned red, and he turned his head away.

Song Tianhao watched this scene quietly. Only after their emotions had calmed down a little did he speak: "Sir, Ma'am, please rest assured. With Park Ji-yeon under my care, I will be responsible for her safety and future. She is very talented and willing to work hard; I believe she will succeed."

He looked at Park Ji-yeon, his tone becoming more serious, "Of course, the premise is that you must follow the doctor's orders, rest well, and training is absolutely forbidden until you are completely recovered. Those painkillers," his gaze swept over Park Ji-yeon's instantly stiffened profile, "stop taking them all. I will have the company's nutritionist and rehabilitation therapist follow up."

Park Ji-yeon bit her lip and nodded vigorously.

When they left, Park Ji-yeon's mother held Park Ji-yeon's hand, giving her endless instructions, and then secretly slipped her a thermos, whispering: "Inside is ginseng chicken soup; I stewed it all afternoon. Take it back and drink it to nourish your body..."

Park Ji-yeon's father saw them to the door. Watching his daughter being supported by Park So-yeon, his lips moved, but in the end, he only said: "If you get hurt... if it hurts too much, just come back. There will always be a meal for you at home."

Park Ji-yeon's tears welled up again, but she stubbornly lifted her little face, looked at her father, and said clearly:

"I won't."

On the ride back, Park Ji-yeon kept holding the still-warm thermos, her head down, not speaking. The streetlights outside the car window flashed by rapidly, casting alternating light and shadow on her face.

The car stopped at a red light. The streets at night were very quiet.

Song Tianhao had his hands on the steering wheel, looking straight ahead. Suddenly, he spoke, his voice sounding somewhat deep in the quiet car cabin:

"If it hurts, it's okay to cry."

Park Ji-yeon's body trembled slightly, and she shook her head, her voice muffled: "I won't cry."

After a few seconds, she lifted her head and turned to look at Song Tianhao's profile. The light from the streetlamp outlined his sharp jawline.

She asked softly, with cautious anticipation and uncertainty:

"President, when will I be able to truly become... a top artist?"

Song Tianhao continued to look ahead as the red light turned green. He slowly pressed the accelerator, and the car smoothly slid into the flow of traffic.

His voice was calm, yet carried a strange, convincing power:

"Soon."

He paused, turning at the next intersection, where the silhouette of the Villa was vaguely visible in the night.

"So, stop taking those painkillers." His tone grew heavier, carrying an unquestionable command, "I want you to stand on the peak in good health."

Park Ji-yeon's fingers holding the thermos tightened, her knuckles trembling slightly.

She nodded vigorously, burying her face into the warm shell of the thermos, responding in a muffled voice:

"Mhm."