169: Chapter 169 Once you step out of here, you will be the most beautiful scenery.

The chaos backstage at the first show of Paris Fashion Week was far beyond Sulli's imagination.

This was a completely different world from the glamorous fashion seen on TV.

The narrow corridor was crowded with people; models of all skin tones, speaking various languages, walked around in underwear or bathrobes, and the makeup mirrors were lined with faces waiting to be made up.

Hairstylists held curling irons and hairspray, makeup artists' hands danced rapidly over models' faces, and stylists hugged piles of clothes while shouting the models' names.

The air was filled with the chemical smell of hairspray, the heavy scent of perfume, a faint trace of sweat, and a kind of tension stretched to its limit.

The temperature here was significantly higher than outside. Sulli, wearing the pale pink cocktail dress provided by the brand and draped in a thin coat, sat in front of the makeup mirror. Her spot wasn't great; she was arranged next to a blonde, blue-eyed international supermodel.

That supermodel had a tall figure and a powerful aura, surrounded by four or five assistants and makeup artists, all communicating rapidly in French. The speed was so fast that Sulli couldn't catch a single word.

"Excuse me, let me through." An assistant carrying several pieces of clothing said to Sulli in English, her tone hurried.

Sulli hurriedly moved her chair forward, her knees almost touching the vanity. Her makeup artist was a French girl, whose attitude was friendly enough, but her movements were fast, and she didn't speak much English, so communication relied mostly on gestures and simple words.

Sulli felt a bit helpless and could only try her best to cooperate, but her heart had already started to panic. It was too noisy, everyone was in a hurry, and she felt like a pedestrian who had wandered into a high-speed lane, not daring to even breathe too hard.

"No, not that one! The other one!" The supermodel's makeup artist suddenly raised her voice, shouting at the assistant while waving her hands with large gestures.

The assistant hurriedly turned to grab another mascara, her elbow accidentally hitting a row of cosmetics on the vanity. A black mascara rolled away with a "clatter," stopping right at Sulli's feet.

The supermodel's assistant was a young woman in a black suit with a serious expression. She looked down at the rolled mascara, then looked up at Sulli, saying quickly in heavily accented English: "Your feet! Pick it up, hurry!"

The other party's tone wasn't malicious, but it was full of unquestionable impatience, as if Sulli were an obstacle in the way.

Sulli understood, and her face instantly flushed. It wasn't that she didn't want to help, but the other person's attitude made her feel a bit uncomfortable.

But who was she here? A small idol from South Korea invited to watch the show, facing an international supermodel team. She pursed her lips, said nothing, and bent down to pick it up.

Just then, a staff member carrying a mobile clothing rack full of clothes walked past her quickly, the metal wheels of the rack almost running over Sulli's foot.

Sulli was startled, her body leaning back instinctively, and her rising motion was interrupted, almost causing her to lose her balance.

At this moment, a strong hand steadily supported her elbow.

Sulli looked up and met Song Tianhao's calm gaze. He had crossed the chaotic crowd at some point and was standing beside her.

He was wearing a well-tailored dark gray suit today, without a tie, with the top button of his shirt unfastened, which was both formal enough for the occasion and carried a touch of casual composure. Compared to the sweaty and nervous staff around him, he appeared overly calm.

Song Tianhao didn't speak to Sulli immediately, but first turned slightly to block the space between her and the staff member who had just hurriedly walked away with the clothing rack, ensuring no one would bump into her again.

Then, he turned to the assistant who was still waiting for the mascara and spoke in fluent and clear French. His speed wasn't fast, but every syllable carried an undeniable, steady strength: "Excuse me. This is the brand's official guest, Sulli. Please take care of your items, thank you."

His tone was polite, but his wording was precise, emphasizing the terms "official guest" and "please take care." He didn't accuse the other party of having a bad attitude, but merely pointed out Sulli's identity and reminded the other party to pay attention. This manner of holding one's ground was more weighty than a direct confrontation.

The assistant was stunned, clearly not expecting this Asian man to have such authentic French, and that he had seen through her impatience at a glance.

The impatience on her face subsided a little. Her gaze swept quickly between Song Tianhao and Sulli, as if she had realized something. She immediately bent down to pick up the mascara herself and said in a reasonably polite tone: "Sorry."

Song Tianhao then turned to face Sulli.

He didn't ask things like "Are you okay?" or "Were you scared?" but simply lowered his head slightly and said in Korean, in a volume only the two of them could hear: "Don't move, just stand here."

His voice wasn't loud, but it seemed to have a strange magic, instantly isolating the surrounding noise.

Sulli looked up at him; his shoulders were broad, almost completely separating her from the chaos behind her, forming a short-lived yet reassuring independent space.

"Be my 'background board'." Song Tianhao continued, his tone even carrying a trace of a faint smile, as if telling a joke that only they understood, "They can do their thing, you just need to be beautiful."

A background board? Sulli blinked. Behind him, being his background board?

This phrasing made her heart skip a beat for no reason. He protected her behind him, yet asked her to be a background board. Did it mean... he was the foreground, the focus, and she only needed to be beautifully at ease in the stable space he created?

This realization made Sulli's ears heat up slightly.

She nodded obediently and whispered in response: "Yes, CEO Oppa."

Song Tianhao didn't say more, but raised his hand, naturally reaching past her to pick up an unopened bottle of mineral water from a small table piled with miscellaneous items. He twisted off the cap and handed it to her. The bottle was cold, condensing fine water droplets, dispelling the heat backstage.

"Drink some water and steady yourself." He said, "Walk out of here later, and you will be the most beautiful scenery."

His gaze fell calmly on her face, as if stating a simple fact.

Sulli took the water bottle, her fingertips touching his warm fingers, and she quickly shrank back, then gripped the cold bottle tightly, as if trying to absorb that calmness. "Thank you, CEO Oppa."

Not far away at another makeup mirror, Krystal had finished her makeup and hair. She was wearing a simple little black dress, her hair pinned up, revealing graceful neck lines, her temperament cold and clear.

From the reflection in the mirror, she clearly saw everything that had just happened. Sulli's helplessness, the assistant's urging, Song Tianhao's appearance, the back blocking in front, and the almost gentle outline of his side profile when he lowered his head to speak to Sulli.

Her makeup artist, a middle-aged Korean-American lady, sighed in Korean in a low voice while packing up her tools: "That President Song is really attentive to Sulli XI. In a place like this, most people can barely look after themselves."

Krystal's fingers, resting on her knees, curled slightly.

She didn't respond, just looked at herself in the mirror, her eyes calm and waveless. Then, almost imperceptibly, she nodded slightly toward a certain direction in the mirror, the position where Song Tianhao was, signaling that everything was fine on her side.

Song Tianhao also saw her signal in the mirror and nodded slightly in response.

At this moment, the phone in Song Tianhao's pocket vibrated.

He took it out and glanced at it; it was a message from a senior executive at the brand. It started with pleasantries, then tentatively mentioned hoping to have a drink with him after the show to discuss the possibility of becoming an "Asia-Pacific brand friend or even spokesperson."

The influence of Sky Entertainment's artists in South Korea and Asia had clearly entered the sights of these international big brands.

Song Tianhao quickly replied with "Okay, contact after the show," and put away his phone, as if he had just dealt with a routine business matter.

The urging sounds backstage were becoming more urgent; the show was about to begin. Guests needed to enter in advance. Song Tianhao, like a knight leading princesses, naturally extended his arm, signaling Sulli and Krystal to follow.

He walked in front with steady steps, skillfully avoiding the flow of people and piled-up debris, occasionally saying "Excuse me" in English or French, his tone calm, yet possessing an aura that made people turn and give way.

Passing through the last corridor hung with black curtains, the view suddenly opened up. The show venue was brightly lit, the runway extended straight, and both sides were filled with dense rows of white seats.

The music had already started—a rhythmic electronic track, with low drum beats hitting the heart. The air was filled with the scent of high-end fragrance and anticipation.

Song Tianhao accurately found their seats, on the side of the first row. This position was excellent; one could clearly see the models walking past, without being exposed to the main focus of countless media lenses like the center of the first row.

He turned sideways, letting Sulli and Krystal sit down first. Sulli sat on his left, and Krystal on his right.

The lights dimmed, leaving only the beams on the runway and the backdrop. The music grew louder, and the first model stepped out from behind the curtain, walking with precise steps. The fashion show officially began.

Sulli was instantly attracted by the glamorous clothes on stage and the cold, powerful aura of the models. She opened her mouth slightly, her eyes unblinking, completely immersed in the visual feast of fashion.

Occasionally, when seeing some particularly avant-garde or difficult-to-understand designs, she would unconsciously lean to the left, closer to Song Tianhao, and ask in a whisper: "CEO Oppa, why... why is it designed like that?"

Her breath, carrying a faint sweet fragrance, brushed against Song Tianhao's ear.

Song Tianhao would tilt his head slightly, leaning closer to her, and explain in a few sentences in a volume only the two of them could hear, whether it was the design concept, the brand's seasonal theme, or anecdotes about a certain master designer.

His voice, amidst the deafening music and the sound of models' footsteps, sounded low and clear, like a stable undercurrent.

In the darkness, the two were very close; from some angles, their heads were almost touching, appearing intimate.

Sulli listened very carefully, nodding from time to time, her eyes bright, completely unaware of how ambiguous this distance looked to outsiders. She only felt that CEO Oppa knew so much, and with him by her side, even watching the show became extra interesting and reassuring.

Krystal sat on Song Tianhao's right, her gaze on the runway. She watched very carefully, seemingly really appreciating the cut, fabric, and pairing of every outfit. But her peripheral vision always inadvertently swept to the left.

She could see the outline of Sulli's side face, could see her natural and dependent posture when leaning toward the CEO, and could see the line of the CEO's side face under the changing lights of the runway when he lowered his head.

Her fingers, resting gently on the skirt on her knees, curled slowly and unconsciously, pinching a subtle wrinkle into the smooth fabric.

On stage, the models displayed the latest designs with expressionless faces—beautiful, yet distant.

Off stage, light and shadow intertwined, and undercurrents surged silently.

Halfway through the show, the music changed to a more ethereal and dreamy piece.

Sulli was watching intently when suddenly, her body stiffened almost imperceptibly. Immediately after, a light, suppressed "Ah" came from her throat, and she instinctively clutched her lower abdomen. Her complexion rapidly drained of color under the changing lights, becoming somewhat pale.

Song Tianhao, who had been distracted and paying attention to the movements on both sides, noticed almost immediately. He turned his head, leaned closer to Sulli, his voice very low, carrying unmistakable concern: "What's wrong? Are you uncomfortable?"

Sulli's face flushed instantly, a redness that even overwhelmed the previous paleness. She was incredibly embarrassed, so distressed she almost wanted to bury her head in the ground.

What kind of occasion was this? The front row of an international fashion week! With CEO Oppa and Krystal sitting beside her, and fashion celebrities and media reporters all around! How could she...

"CEO..." Her voice was as thin as a mosquito's, carrying a crying tone and unspeakable shame, "I... I think my period came early..."

She was wearing a pale pink little dress provided by the brand, the fabric light and thin, the color pale.

If...

Sulli didn't dare to think further, only feeling the familiar dragging pain in her lower abdomen, and what panicked her even more was that the skirt might have already...

Upon hearing this, Song Tianhao's brows furrowed almost imperceptibly, but his expression didn't change at all, nor did he show any surprise or disgust.

His gaze swept quickly and covertly over Sulli's skirt, then he raised his hand, and seemingly casually, picked up his suit jacket that was draped over his knees.

"Don't panic." His voice remained stable, even lower than before, closer to her ear, ensuring only she could hear clearly, "Sit still first, don't move around."

As he spoke, he naturally draped that high-quality dark gray suit jacket over Sulli's shoulders, as if he were just afraid she would catch a cold.

The large jacket instantly covered most of her upper body and waist and abdomen, the long hem hanging down, just enough to cover the area above her thighs.

"Put it on, it's a bit cold." Song Tianhao's tone was as flat as usual, and he even explained to Krystal, who was looking over from the other side with inquisitive eyes, "Sulli seems to have caught a cold."

Krystal looked at Sulli, who was wrapped tightly in Song Tianhao's jacket, and then at Song Tianhao's calm side profile. She gave a soft "Hmm," didn't ask further, and turned her gaze back, only the hand resting on her knees tightened again.

Song Tianhao maintained his sideways posture, using his body to block any potential gaze from the side and back towards Sulli.

He took out his phone, his fingers tapping quickly on the screen; it was to Assistant Lin Wei.

The message was concise and clear: "Sulli is suddenly unwell and needs to leave early. Please prepare the car at the nearest exit, bring a dark shawl or coat, and necessary items like sanitary napkins. Immediately, low-key."

Click, send.

During the few seconds of waiting for a reply, he tilted his head slightly and said in a voice only Sulli could hear: "Assistant Lin Wei will be here soon. We will wait for this song to end and leave from the side passage. Follow me, don't say anything, and don't worry about anything."

His voice was steady, carrying an undeniable power. Sulli was wrapped in his jacket, the jacket still retaining his temperature and scent, completely enveloping her. The pain in her lower abdomen and the panic and shame just now seemed to be separated by this scent and temperature.

She clutched the front of the jacket tightly, her fingers trembling slightly from the force, and looked up at his steady, calm side profile close at hand. Her panicked heartbeat calmed down little by little.

She nodded, and with a heavy nasal sound, gave a low "Hmm."