150: Chapter 150 Every time I talk to the president about the script, I feel like time flies by.

Han Hyo-joo remained standing where she was, holding that pose, her chest heaving violently.

That momentary outburst had drained all her strength and emotions; she even felt somewhat weak, her knees wobbling.

"Han Hyo-joo-xi, great Acting!" the assistant director came over and patted her on the shoulder.

Only then did Han Hyo-joo dazedly snap back to reality. She squeezed out a pale smile for the assistant director, then subconsciously looked toward the direction of Song Tianhao.

Song Tianhao had already turned and left at some point, leaving behind only a tall, upright figure walking toward the temporary office.

Han Hyo-joo felt a hollow sensation in her heart, which was immediately submerged by a wave of immense exhaustion and some indescribable emotion.

She knew she had performed that take correctly and well, but the feeling of being immersed in the darkness and despair of "Shadow" did not immediately dissipate with the director's "Cut."

She only felt cold—a chill seeping from the marrow of her bones—along with that lingering, nauseating sense of "disgust."

The subsequent filming went relatively smoothly, but Han Hyo-joo remained somewhat absent-minded. By the time they wrapped up, dusk had already fallen.

Unlike the others, she didn't immediately remove her makeup to return to the hotel. Instead, wrapped in the down jacket her assistant handed her, she walked silently alone to the most secluded corner of the set, where some discarded set panels and props were piled up; there was no one there.

She sat down against the cold wooden boards, hugged her knees tightly, and buried her face in them.

Her body was still trembling slightly—a physiological reaction after an excessive emotional release, and... the lingering darkness of "Shadow" was still eroding her senses.

She couldn't quite tell if she was Han Hyo-joo or that "Shadow" filled with hatred and despair.

Footsteps approached, very soft.

Han Hyo-joo did not look up.

A pair of feet in light gray sneakers stopped in front of her. Then, that person crouched down.

Han Hyo-joo caught a faint scent of Son Ye-jin's perfume, mixed with a hint of disinfectant—the smell on the nurse uniform of "Yoon Soo-ah" in the play, which hadn't completely faded yet.

She did not speak.

Son Ye-jin did not comfort her immediately either. She just crouched in front of Han Hyo-joo, waited quietly for a while, and then said in a very soft, calm voice: "Han Hyo-joo."

Han Hyo-joo's body trembled almost imperceptibly, but she didn't move.

"Remember this feeling." Son Ye-jin's voice was exceptionally clear in the cool evening breeze. "Anger, hatred, disgust, and that... impulse to destroy everything. Remember it; this is the bone and blood of 'Shadow'."

Han Hyo-joo slowly raised her head, her eyes slightly red, still holding the lingering gloom within them.

Son Ye-jin looked at her, without the pity of a senior for a junior, nor the admiration of an actor for an actor, but with a nearly serious, professional earnestness.

"However," she paused, saying each word clearly, "also remember, when filming wraps, give it back to me."

Han Hyo-joo was stunned, staring at her blankly.

"'Shadow' is what I gave you." Son Ye-jin reached out, not to touch Han Hyo-joo, but to point at her, and then at herself.

"It is the part that the 'Yoon Soo-ah' I created didn't want, and it is what I gave to you. When filming is finished, you must give it back to me completely, without leaving a single bit. Then, go back to being Han Hyo-joo."

Looking at Han Hyo-joo's still-confused eyes, she softened her tone, adding a touch of senior-like gentleness: "This is the homework of Acting, Han Hyo-joo. Go in, and then come out. Bring the soul of the character into the Acting, but don't let the ghost of the character live in your body and never leave."

Han Hyo-joo stared blankly at Son Ye-jin. Son Ye-jin's eyes were very clear, containing concern, but more importantly, rationality and a transparency that comes after experiencing everything.

Her words were like a basin of water at just the right temperature, poured over Han Hyo-joo's chaotic, burning emotions. It didn't completely extinguish the flames, but it made them controllable, made them... detachable.

After a long while, Han Hyo-joo nodded very, very slowly, her voice somewhat hoarse: "I... I will try to give it back to you."

Son Ye-jin smiled, a warm and powerful smile: "No rush, the movie is still long. Let's go, go remove your makeup, have a good meal, and take a hot bath. Tomorrow is a new day; think about 'Shadow' tomorrow."

She stood up and reached out to Han Hyo-joo.

Han Hyo-joo looked at that clean, slender hand, hesitated for a moment, then reached out and took it. Son Ye-jin's hand was very warm, with a moderate grip, pulling her up from the ground.

"Thank you... Son Ye-jin unnie." Han Hyo-joo said in a low voice.

"No need to thank me; if you want to thank someone, thank yourself; you acted very well just now." Son Ye-jin patted her shoulder, turned to leave, took two steps, then looked back and winked, "Also, remember to thank President Song. His judgment of people is truly accurate."

Han Hyo-joo stood where she was, watching Son Ye-jin's back disappear around the corner of the set, and then looked down at her own hand. That cold and sticky sense of "disgust" seemed to have really... faded somewhat.

Late at night, the light in the temporary office was still on.

Song Tianhao sat behind a simple desk, a laptop in front of him, the screen playing a rough cut of today's footage. He was watching intently, especially that last take of Han Hyo-joo. The light from the screen shone on his face, flickering.

A very soft knock came from outside the door.

"Come in."

The door was pushed open, and Son Ye-jin poked half her body in. She had changed back into casual clothes, a simple beige sweater and jeans, her hair loosely draped over her shoulders, a hint of exhaustion on her face, but her eyes were very bright, and she was holding a thick script filled with notes.

"President Song, haven't you rested yet?" her voice was soft.

"Looking at today's footage." Song Tianhao paused the playback and looked at her. "Something up?"

"Yes." Son Ye-jin walked in and closed the door behind her, but didn't close it tightly, leaving a gap.

She walked to the desk, spread out the script, and pointed to a page densely marked with red pen. It was the last dialogue in the movie between "Light Yoon Soo-ah" and "Shadow Yoon Soo-ah" in the world of consciousness.

"After watching Han Hyo-joo's performance today, and my own... I have new thoughts about this part." Her finger tapped on the lines, her eyes shining with excitement.

"In the original script, before 'Shadow' finally chooses self-destruction, her accusation against 'Light' is mostly resentment and anger.

But that... 'disgust' that Han Hyo-joo performed today makes me feel that 'Shadow's' emotions toward 'Light' might be more complex.

She hates 'Light's' hypocrisy, hates 'Light' for treating her as something dirty and peeling her away, but on a deeper level, she perhaps also hates 'Light' for making her think that this world could have been clean, making her, in the filthy quagmire, still retain a yearning for 'Light.' This kind of hatred is more painful, and also more..."

She searched for words, her brows slightly furrowed.

"And also more pathetic." Song Tianhao interjected, his gaze falling on the lines her fingertips were pointing at. "Because the object of hatred is also what she subconsciously desires to become, or desires to possess."

Son Ye-jin looked up abruptly, her eyes startlingly bright: "Yes! That's exactly the contradiction! President Song, you understood it completely! So I was thinking, can we change the lines here?"

She immediately leaned over, almost half-lying on the desk, pointing to another part of the script.

"'Light' says 'I'm sorry, I didn't know you would be in so much pain,' and 'Shadow's' response, the original line is 'Your not knowing is more cruel than their malice.' But I think it can be changed to..."

She started talking incessantly, speaking quickly but with clear logic, each point of modification accompanied by a deep analysis of the character's psychology.

Song Tianhao did not interrupt, only occasionally asking a question or adding an opinion during her pauses, each sentence hitting the target precisely, and even being able to predict the direction of some of her designs.

"So, the last look 'Shadow' gives 'Light' here shouldn't be all hatred; there should be a bit of... relief, and a little bit of envy that even she herself is unwilling to admit.

Envy that 'Light' can continue to live 'cleanly' under the sun, even if that sun is fake." After Son Ye-jin finished a long segment, she felt a bit thirsty and subconsciously licked her somewhat dry lips.

Song Tianhao stood up, walked to the small table nearby where mineral water was placed, picked up a bottle, unscrewed it, and handed it to her.

"Thank you, President Song." Son Ye-jin took it and drank a small sip; the cool water cooled her overheated brain slightly.

Watching Song Tianhao's back as he walked back to the window, she suddenly asked: "What do you think, President Song? If we change it like this, won't it make the character 'Shadow' too... pathetic? Will it weaken her resistance?"

Song Tianhao stood with his back to her, looking at the sporadic lights on the set outside the window that had not yet been extinguished, his voice calm: "True tragedy is not absolute darkness, but a little bit of light that once existed in the darkness, or that one thought had existed. The pathos and strength of 'Shadow' both come from this.

Your change makes her more complete, and also more heartbreaking. Director Lee Chang-dong should like it."

Son Ye-jin looked at his back. He was standing in front of the window, his posture tall and upright. Outside the window was the thick, impenetrable night, and inside the room was the warm, bright light.

He was clearly an investor, a producer, even a "layman," yet he understood. Not only did he understand, but he could also offer such precise judgment and improvement. This feeling of being deeply understood, even led, in art, made her heartbeat lose its rhythm.

The discussion continued for a long time, from character motivation, to the possibility of directing a certain shot, to the tone of a certain line. Time passed quietly, and a few more lights outside the window went out.

When Son Ye-jin reached a key point, she subconsciously covered her mouth and let out a small yawn, a bit of physiological tears seeping from the corners of her eyes.

Song Tianhao stopped speaking and checked his watch; it was already past one in the morning.

"It's too late." He turned off the laptop. "I'll take you back to the hotel."

Son Ye-jin shook her head. Perhaps because it was late at night, or perhaps because the excitement brought by the discussion had not yet faded, her eyes did not maintain the perfect sense of distance they usually did during the day, but instead had a bit more of a hazy, real drowsiness, and a kind of... reluctance.

"President Song, I think... I'm a bit reluctant to end this. Every time I discuss the Acting with you, talking about these characters, I feel like time flies by."

She said softly, her voice exceptionally clear in the quiet office. "It's like... it's like there are many things I don't know who to tell usually, but with you, I can say them very naturally."

She paused, her gaze falling on the bright red handwriting on the script, her voice even softer: "And, seeing Han Hyo-joo's appearance in the play today, seeing her perform 'Shadow' so... flesh and blood, I suddenly felt that 'Yoon Soo-ah' is truly happy."

Song Tianhao looked at her.

Son Ye-jin raised her eyes, meeting his gaze. In her eyes, there was lingering artistic passion, late-night exhaustion, and also a hint of clear, gentle expectation and a little anxiety that belonged to Son Ye-jin herself.

"At least, in the play, her 'Light' and 'Shadow' eventually met and understood each other. Even if the ending is a farewell, it is still... a complete farewell."

After she finished speaking, she took a slight breath, as if having made up her mind about something, and asked softly, "President Song, after the movie is finished... that matter of mine, are you still waiting for it?"

The office fell silent, with only the sound of the wind faintly coming from outside the window.

Song Tianhao looked at her. She tilted her face slightly upward, the light casting shallow shadows under her long eyelashes, her cheeks flushed with a faint blush from staying up late and emotional fluctuations, her eyes clear and very serious.

A few seconds of silence were stretched very long.

Then, Song Tianhao nodded very slowly and firmly, his voice not loud, but clearly and undoubtedly: "Yes. Always waiting."

Son Ye-jin's eyes, in an instant, were like lit stars, startlingly bright. In them surged joy, relief, and a kind of tenderness of dust settling.

The corners of her mouth lifted, revealing a heartfelt, unreserved smile, as if she had finally unloaded something she had been carrying for a long time, and as if she had finally received a long-awaited promise.

"Then... I'm going back." She stood up and picked up the coat draped over the back of the chair. "President Song, rest early too."

Walking to the door, she grasped the doorknob and looked back again. With a charming smile, that smile was breathtakingly beautiful in the dim light.

"Good night, President Song." She said, and then, added in a softer, breathy voice that was still clear enough for him to hear, "And... thank you for tonight."

The door was gently closed, making a soft "click" sound.

The office returned to silence, the air seemingly still lingering with the faint scent of her hair, and the warmth brought by the intense and pure artistic atmosphere during the script discussion just now.

Song Tianhao walked to the window and looked toward the direction of the hotel in the distance. Among the sporadic lights, he knew one of them belonged to Son Ye-jin.

He watched for a long time, then walked back to the desk, picked up his phone, and sent a message to Han Hyo-joo's manager: "Tomorrow during a break in filming, arrange a professional psychological counseling session for Han Hyo-joo to help her get out of character; the company will cover the costs. Also, the latest treatment assessment plan and expert opinions for her mother in the United States have been compiled by my assistant and sent to your email. Forward it to her so she can be at ease. Tell her that I have everything covered, and she only needs to focus on her Acting."

Putting down his phone, he looked again toward the direction of Son Ye-jin's room outside the window. That light seemed to have just gone out.

"Light and Shadow..." He whispered to himself, the corners of his lips curling into an arc.

Just at this moment, the screen of the phone in his hand suddenly lit up, and the notification sound for a new message came through.

The sender displayed: Jun Ji-hyun.

The content of the message was a photo, a behind-the-scenes shot from the recording site of "Running Man." In the photo, Jun Ji-hyun was smiling brightly at the camera.

And next to her, someone had used clumsy Photoshop skills to paste Song Tianhao's serious ID photo. The two were shoulder-to-shoulder, with the familiar yellow logo of "Running Man" in the background.

Below the photo was a line of text: "President Song, filming is going hot on the movie set, don't forget our 'Monday Couple' date, okay~ Recording next week, shall I come pick you up? (Laugh)"

Song Tianhao looked at this funny photo and text, and could almost imagine the look of mischievous amusement on Jun Ji-hyun's face when she sent the message.

He shook his head and chuckled, his fingers tapping quickly on the screen to reply: "Okay. But, it will be me picking you up, Senior."

After sending, he turned off the office lights, locked the door, and walked into the cool night of late autumn.