173: Chapter 173 Even Shirley couldn't understand his subtle hints.

The morning in Paris carried the unique moist scent of the Seine River, and sunlight filtered through the gaps in the heavy curtains, casting long, thin spots of light on the carpet of the hotel suite.

Sulli woke up very early. Lying in bed, she stared at the exquisite crystal chandelier on the ceiling. Her mind repeatedly replayed the night view of the Iron Tower that Song Tianhao had sent her last night, as well as the photo on Krystal's phone of her and the president standing side by side in front of the Iron Tower.

In the photo, she was draped in his suit jacket, smiling incredibly brightly, while he...

She rolled over, burying her face in the soft pillow, her fingers unconsciously rubbing the cold, teardrop-shaped pendant around her neck. She had been wearing it ever since they left The Louvre Museum, never taking it off even to shower.

This was something she had secretly bought at The Louvre Museum's souvenir shop—a very cheap little thing with a silver chain and a tiny, teardrop-cut imitation crystal in the middle. She had bought it on a whim back then, telling herself she just thought it looked nice.

But now she knew that wasn't the case.

There was a gentle knock on the door, and Krystal's cool voice came from outside, "Unnie, it's time to get up. We have to leave for the shoot at nine."

"Coming!" Sulli replied, sitting up in bed. She took a deep breath and slapped her cheeks, trying to suppress her swirling thoughts. Today was official business—the inner page shoot for the French edition of ELLE—and nothing could go wrong.

At nine in the morning, a black business van parked right on time at the hotel entrance. Song Tianhao was already waiting in the car, wearing a well-tailored dark gray suit without a tie. The top button of his shirt was undone, making him look a little less serious and a bit more casual than usual.

He was holding a tablet, staring intently at the screen, and only lifted his eyelids slightly when he heard the car door open.

"Good morning, President," Sulli and Krystal greeted him politely, one after the other, as they got into the car.

"Morning," Song Tianhao replied, his eyes not leaving the screen. "The shoot is at a studio converted from an old factory on the Left Bank. The theme is 'Urban Encounter'."

"You will be working with a local French male model arranged by the brand. His name is Lucas, a new face at this year's Paris Fashion Week. It doesn't matter if you can't speak the language; just follow the photographer's instructions, and there will be an interpreter nearby."

"Yes, President," the two of them nodded.

The car drove through the morning streets of Paris. Sulli leaned quietly against the window, watching the scenery flow by, her fingers unconsciously brushing against the pendant around her neck again. Krystal sat beside her with headphones on, resting with her eyes closed, but judging by her slightly pursed lips, she didn't seem truly relaxed.

The studio was located in an old industrial area on the Left Bank of the Seine River. Converted from an old factory, it retained its rough red brick walls and high metal trusses. A huge skylight let in natural light, which interwove with the carefully arranged studio lights.

The air was a mixture of faint dust, metal equipment coolant, and high-end cosmetics.

The backdrop for the shoot had already been set up, simulating an urban subway station with cold concrete walls, retro tiled surfaces, old-fashioned subway maps, several long metal benches, and even a replica ticket vending machine and a blinking electronic timetable.

The lighting was arranged highly dramatically, with a cold key light outlining sharp silhouettes and a soft fill light casting ambiguous shadows on the models' faces.

The brand's art director was a French woman with short, graying hair and black-rimmed glasses named Art Director Isabella. Speaking rapidly, she explained the shoot's concept to Sulli and Krystal through the interpreter.

"We need three types of emotions: first, a romantic first encounter, brushing past each other in the subway station at the moment your eyes meet; second, distant parallel lines, being in the same space but indifferent to each other; third, ambiguous tension, close but not touching, with a story in your eyes."

Art Director Isabella waved her arms. "The focus is on the eyes! The body language! The atmosphere! Understand?"

The interpreter quickly translated.

Sulli and Krystal nodded to show they understood, but Sulli's heart was already pounding. Eyes? A story? And with a male model she didn't know at all and couldn't even communicate with?

Just then, the other protagonist of the day arrived.

Lucas, a typical French male model, looked to be over 1.9 meters tall. He had light blonde short hair, deep blue-gray eyes, a high-bridged nose, and was wearing a simple white T-shirt and dark jeans, topped with a khaki utility jacket—casual yet full of presence.

He greeted everyone in French with a smile. His smile was sunny, and his manners were impeccable.

The shoot started with Krystal first. Her part was relatively simple, mainly focusing on 'aloofness' and 'cool elegance.' Standing in front of a subway station billboard or leaning against a cold metal pillar, she looked away from the camera with a distant gaze, her body relaxed yet carrying an unapproachable aura.

Krystal was very good at this. With almost no guidance from the photographer, she perfectly captured the feeling Art Director Isabella wanted with just a few adjustments of her gaze and angles.

"Excellent! Miss Krystal, wonderful! That's exactly the feeling!" The photographer, a French man with a small ponytail, pressed the shutter excitedly.

Watching from the side, Sulli grew even more nervous. What Krystal did so effortlessly was a monumental challenge for her, especially the parts that required expressing 'ambiguity' and 'tension.'

She could be sweet, she could be lively, and she could even show a little bit of sexiness, but a 'sense of story' and 'ambiguity in the eyes' required a deeper emotional mobilization. Yet, she was facing a completely strange, handsome man with whom she couldn't communicate.

Soon, it was time for her and Lucas's duo portion.

The first scene was the 'romantic first encounter.' Walking from opposite ends of the 'subway passage,' they needed to have a brief exchange of looks the moment they 'brushed past' each other in the middle. This part went smoothly enough; Sulli only needed to show a bit of surprise and curiosity, and Lucas responded with a polite, captivated smile.

The problem arose in the third scene, 'ambiguous tension'.

The scene was set on a subway station bench, with the two of them sitting at opposite ends, separated by the distance of one person. With no lines, no contact, and not even direct eye contact, they had to use body language and shifting glances to create an atmosphere where 'even though there is no communication, attraction fills the air'.

"Miss Choi, relax your shoulders a bit, don't be so stiff," the photographer shouted in French, which the interpreter quickly translated.

"Your eyes! Your eyes need to have depth! You're not looking at an object; you're looking at someone who makes your heart flutter! There should be tentative testing, curiosity, and the feeling of being attracted yet restrained!" Art Director Isabella gesticulated from the side.

Sulli tried her best to adjust, but facing Lucas's handsome yet unfamiliar face, she simply couldn't find that feeling of 'heart-fluttering' or 'tentative testing.' Her gaze was either too direct, looking like a stare, or too fleeting, lacking focus. Her body was either too tense or too casual.

"Stop! No! The feeling is wrong!" The photographer had called stop who-knows-how-many times, his tone starting to grow impatient. "Lucas, try to guide her a bit!"

Lucas was also quite helpless. He tried using his eyes and subtle movements to guide Sulli, but they lacked chemistry, and Sulli couldn't read his subtle hints either.

Lucas said a few words in a mix of English and French, but Sulli could only look at him blankly before turning to the interpreter for help. By the time the interpreter translated, any emotional continuity had long been broken.

The shoot came to a standstill. The atmosphere in the studio grew somewhat stagnant. The staff began talking in low voices, and Art Director Isabella's brow furrowed.

Standing under the lights, Sulli's cheeks flushed with embarrassment and anxiety. Her fingers unconsciously twisted the hem of her clothes, and that familiar urge to retreat welled up again.

She stole a glance behind the monitor. Song Tianhao had been sitting there the entire time, watching quietly without making a sound.

"Ten-minute break!" Art Director Isabella clapped her hands, her tone leaving no room for argument.

As if granted a pardon, Sulli immediately stepped down from the center of the lights. She took the water handed to her by her assistant and sipped it, trying to calm her mind. Krystal walked over and said in a low voice, "Unnie, don't worry, just relax a bit."

"I can't relax..." Sulli's voice was filled with frustration and dejection. "I don't know how to look at him. He... he's very handsome, but I just don't feel anything. I can't act out that kind of..."

Krystal fell silent for a moment, her gaze sweeping over to Song Tianhao, who was sitting behind the monitor not far away. He was watching the playback of the footage they had just shot, his profile expressionless under the glow of the screen.

Just then, Song Tianhao set down his coffee, stood up, and walked toward Art Director Isabella and the photographer. He spoke to them in French for a few moments. His pace was steady and his voice wasn't loud, but Sulli saw Art Director Isabella and the photographer's expressions shift from confusion to serious listening, and finally, they both nodded.

Then, Song Tianhao turned around and beckoned to Sulli.

Sulli's heart skipped a beat. She put down her water bottle and walked over quickly.

Song Tianhao didn't speak immediately, only gesturing for her to follow. He led her to a relatively quiet corner of the studio, where some prop boxes were piled up, far from the noise and gazes of the main shooting area.

"President..." Sulli lowered her head, like a child who had done something wrong.

"Look at me," Song Tianhao's voice sounded calmly.

Sulli looked up and met his eyes. His gaze was very quiet—there was no blame, nor was there encouragement. He just looked at her very calmly, as if observing a state that needed adjustment.

"It's fine if you don't understand him," Song Tianhao spoke. His voice wasn't loud, but it was exceptionally clear in the relatively quiet environment. "Now, forget about the camera, forget about the theme, and forget about who is standing opposite you."

He took half a step forward, bringing him much closer than during their usual conversations. Sulli could even smell the clean scent on him, a mixture of a little coffee and aftershave. Her breath caught in her throat for a split second.

"Look at me," he repeated, lowering his voice slightly, carrying a strange, almost hypnotic stability.

Sulli's gaze locked firmly onto his eyes, unconsciously following his lead.

"Imagine," Song Tianhao's voice continued, in Korean, slowly, word by word, as if painting a picture, "you are in a completely unfamiliar city, in a massive, labyrinthine subway station.

Around you are crowds of strangers, unfamiliar languages, and unfamiliar faces. You are lost, unable to find the direction you need to go, feeling a little panicked and a little helpless."

With his words, the look in Sulli's eyes gradually changed, unconsciously revealing a trace of blankness and subtle tension, as if she were truly in that situation.

"And then," Song Tianhao's voice grew even lower, carrying a guiding magnetism, "among those unfamiliar figures brushing past you, you see someone.

You don't know him either, and you know nothing about him. But for some reason, you feel... maybe you can ask him for directions."

His gaze fell into Sulli's eyes, so focused as if they were the only thing that mattered.

"The way you look at him should carry a bit of tentative testing, a bit of cautious expectation, and a natural sense of distance born from unfamiliarity. That kind of... hesitation of wanting to draw closer, yet not knowing if you will be accepted."

Following his words, Sulli's eyes slowly took on the complex emotions he described. Her gaze unconsciously traced his eyes, as if he were indeed that stranger in the subway station who made her feel 'maybe I can ask him for directions'.

"Now," Song Tianhao's voice became almost a whisper, audible only to the two of them, "he has responded to you. Not with words, but with his eyes. He has understood your helplessness, your tentative testing. He doesn't speak; he just uses his eyes to point you in a direction."

Saying this, the corner of Song Tianhao's mouth curved upward ever so slightly.

It wasn't an obvious smile, nor could it even be called a smile. It was merely an extremely brief, almost fleeting, and incredibly subtle upward twitch of his mouth muscles. It was so brief that if one weren't staring intently at his face, it would go completely unnoticed.

But Sulli noticed it.

In that very instant, her heart felt as if it had been gently bumped by something, and then it suddenly began to beat wildly. Blood rushed to her cheeks, and a buzzing sound filled her ears.

The look in her eyes changed instantly. It was no longer pure blankness and tentative testing, but now held a trace of throb from being 'hit' by that subtle expression—a bright, shimmering glimmer of having received a response, and a bashfulness and longing that made her instinctively want to dodge yet unable to resist drawing closer after being scorched by that light.

It was incredibly complex, and incredibly vivid.

[part:gemini-3.1-flash-lite]

"Correct." Song Tianhao's voice returned to normal. He took half a step back, creating distance, his tone calm and devoid of emotion. "It was that look just now. Remember this feeling; remember the feeling you had when you were looking at 'whoever' that was. Now, go over, imagine Lucas, who is sitting there, is that 'whoever'. Go ahead and shoot."

Having said that, he didn't look at Choi Sulli again, turned around, and walked back behind the monitor.

Choi Sulli stood rooted to the spot, stunned for several seconds. Her cheeks were burning, and her heart was pounding like a drum. The emotions evoked by his words, his gaze, and that fleeting, almost nonexistent smile still lingered in her limbs, so intense that her fingertips were tingling.

She took several deep breaths, squeezed her eyes shut, and then opened them. When she looked toward the shooting area again, her gaze was completely different from what it had been ten minutes ago.

"Continue shooting!" Isabella shouted.

Choi Sulli walked back under the lights and sat down at one end of the bench. Lucas sat at the other end. The lights shone down.

The photographer looked through the lens and was slightly taken aback.

The girl in the lens was turned sideways toward the "subway passage," her gaze seemingly fixed on a point in the void, yet also appearing unfocused. Her shoulders were slightly relaxed, her fingers resting unconsciously on her knees, her fingertips curling gently.

Then, her eyelashes fluttered, and her gaze shifted, extremely slowly and with an indescribable sense of hesitation and inquiry, toward the man at the other end of the bench.

It wasn't a direct look, but rather that kind of gentle glance—using peripheral vision, cautious, like a butterfly tentatively touching a petal.

And then, she quickly looked away.

But it was that one look—that fleeting, almost impossible-to-capture glance—and the depth it contained that instantly excited the experienced photographer.

Within it was curiosity, the innocence of being drawn to someone, the shyness of a young girl, and a trace of the awkwardness and authenticity of "I want to get to know you, but I don't know how to start."

"Yes! That's it! Hold it!" The photographer's voice was filled with excitement as the shutter clicked repeatedly. "Lucas, give her a response! Nothing obvious, just with your eyes!"

Lucas was also swept up by Choi Sulli's sudden burst of expressive power. He tilted his head slightly, his gaze resting on the girl's profile, which was outlined softly by the lights. His eyes now carried just the right amount of that subtle, elusive curiosity between strangers, along with a hint of intrigued playfulness.

There was no contact, no conversation, not even a direct meeting of eyes.

Yet the air between them, less than a meter apart, seemed to begin to flow under the lens, becoming electrified, permeating with a subtle, tacit tension of attraction between two urban strangers.

"Perfect! Fantastic!" the photographer shouted excitedly, the sound of the shutter clicking in a continuous stream.

A one-take success.

No, it was an over-achievement.

Isabella also smiled, nodding repeatedly at the monitor.

The moment Choi Sulli heard "OK," she seemed to snap out of that hypnotic state. She exhaled softly, only then realizing that her back was covered in a thin layer of sweat. Subconsciously, she looked toward the area behind the monitor again.

Song Tianhao was speaking with Isabella, his expression calm, as if he weren't the same person who had guided her from the corner with his gaze and whispers just moments ago.

During the break, Choi Sulli practically ran over to Song Tianhao. Her eyes were startlingly bright, and her face still held a flush of excitement that hadn't yet faded.

"President! Just now..." She couldn't wait to share the joy of breaking through her bottleneck.

Song Tianhao simply took a bottle of water from the small cooler nearby, unscrewed the cap, and then handed it to her, cutting off what she was about to say. "You realized it yourself. You did very well."

His tone was flat, like he was stating a fact.

Choi Sulli took the water, her fingertips brushing against the spot where he might have touched when he unscrewed the cap, and she paused slightly.

She looked at his placid face. The words "You realized it yourself" made her heart feel both sweet and full, yet there was also an indescribable sense of loss. It was as if he hadn't given that brief, intimate moment of guidance a second thought.

"Thank you, President," she said quietly, then tilted her head back to take a sip of water. The cold liquid slid down her throat, slightly easing the heat on her face.

At this moment, Krystal also walked over, holding her own water bottle.

Song Tianhao's gaze shifted to her, and he nodded. "Krystal was also good. You captured that cold, aloof, and distant vibe perfectly. It felt very sophisticated."

"Thank you, President." Krystal tugged at the corner of her mouth, revealing a faint curve that could hardly be called a smile. Her gaze seemed to sweep unintentionally over Choi Sulli's still-flushed, radiant cheeks before quickly shifting away, landing on Lucas, who was laughing and chatting with the staff not far away.

Lucas seemed to sense their gaze. He turned his head, smiled at Song Tianhao, gave a thumbs-up, and said loudly in heavily accented English, "Mr. Song, you really are a magician! What did you say to her? Her performance just now was simply... wow!" He made an exaggerated expression of amazement.

Song Tianhao just smiled indifferently and responded in fluent English, "It was just a bit of a 'common language' between actors. She has good intuition herself."

Lucas shrugged, clearly unconvinced, but he didn't press the issue. He just smiled and winked at Choi Sulli.

Shooting wrapped up around four in the afternoon. The whole process went very smoothly. In the second half, in particular, Choi Sulli seemed to have had a breakthrough; her eyes and body language were full of narrative. Even Isabella specifically came over to pat her on the shoulder, praising her in a mix of French and English for being "very intuitive and a quick learner."

On the way back to the hotel, Choi Sulli was unusually quiet. She leaned against the car window, watching the Parisian streetscape at dusk, her fingers unconsciously stroking the pendant around her neck.

What played on a loop in her mind was no longer the Eiffel Tower, but that quiet corner of the studio: the clean scent of Song Tianhao when he leaned in, his lowered voice, the way his eyes focused on her, and...

That smile—fleeting, almost nonexistent, yet like a pebble dropped into the lake of her heart, still sending out ripples even now.

And the words he had said: "Then, he understood your helplessness... and smiled at you."

That "he" was a fictional stranger at the subway station. But that "smile" was one he had demonstrated himself.

Choi Sulli felt her cheeks beginning to burn again, so she quickly pressed her forehead against the cool car window to cool down.

Krystal was also silent, wearing headphones, but her eyes were fixed on the window, unfocused.

Song Tianhao sat in the passenger seat with a laptop on his knees, handling emails. His fingers slid across the trackpad, the light from the screen reflecting on his expressionless face.

Inside the car, there was only the faint hum of the air conditioning and the occasional soft click of Song Tianhao typing on his keyboard.

As they neared the hotel, Choi Sulli suddenly spoke up in a very low voice. Her tone was so soft it sounded like she was talking to herself, yet also like a question she couldn't hold back and was tentatively throwing out.

"President..." She looked at the back of Song Tianhao's head, her voice soft and tinged with a dependency and confusion she hadn't even realized herself. "Do you... teach every artist who encounters difficulties like this?"

What she really wanted to ask was, do you use that method with everyone? Do you get that close, speak in that low voice, and... smile like that with everyone?

But the words died on her lips, and she pulled back, changing it to a safer, more "professional" way of asking.

Song Tianhao's fingers, which had been typing on the keyboard, paused slightly.

He turned his head, his gaze sweeping over the rearview mirror. Choi Sulli's eyes happened to be looking through the mirror, and they met his in the reflection. Her gaze was clear, filled with unmasked sincerity and a hint of cautious inquiry, like a kitten tentatively extending its paw.

Song Tianhao looked at her for two seconds, his gaze calm and placid, then turned back to look at the road ahead, illuminated by the car's headlights. His voice was steady, devoid of emotion: "I teach according to each person's aptitude. You are suited to being guided; Krystal is suited to being given pointers. The methods are simply different."

This answer was very official and very rational. It seemed to answer the question, yet it also seemed to answer nothing at all.

The light in Choi Sulli's eyes dimmed slightly. She lowered her head, looking at her intertwined fingers, and said nothing more. Suited to being guided... was it really just because she was "suited"?

Krystal continued to look out the window, the vibrant night view of Paris flowing past her eyes without reflecting any emotion. However, her fingers, which were gripping her phone, tightened slightly.

In her phone's photo album, there was an encrypted folder containing a short video she had accidentally recorded during a break in shooting today while pretending to film behind-the-scenes footage.

In the video was that quiet corner. Song Tianhao stood with his back to the camera, leaning slightly, very close to Choi Sulli. Choi Sulli was looking up; her expression was unclear, but one could see her focused side profile as she gazed unblinkingly at Song Tianhao.

Song Tianhao's voice was very soft, making the content completely unintelligible, but one could see his occasional subtle, guiding head movements. The clip wasn't long—only about a dozen seconds—but the atmosphere that had formed between the two of them, one that outsiders could hardly intervene in, had been honestly captured by the lens.

By the time they returned to the hotel suite, the city lights were already twinkling.

Choi Sulli kicked off her shoes and threw herself onto the soft sofa in the living room, letting out a long sigh. Her emotions had fluctuated too much today, and only now, as she relaxed, did she feel the exhaustion. Yet, her mind remained in a strange state of excitement, with various images flooding her thoughts.

Krystal set down her bag, took off her jacket, walked to the small bar to pour herself a glass of water, and sipped it slowly.

Choi Sulli lay there for a while before suddenly remembering something. She sat up and picked up her phone. She pressed the screen to light it up, but the battery icon had turned red. It flickered twice and then automatically shut down.

"Ah, it's dead." Choi Sulli patted her forehead in annoyance and got up to look for her charger. She searched through her bag and rushed back to the bedroom to check, but it wasn't there.

"That's strange, I remember bringing it..." she muttered, returning to the living room and scanning the coffee table and sofa.

During a break in shooting earlier that day, her phone had run out of power, so she had gone to find Song Tianhao to ask if he had a power bank. He had been on a work call at the time and gestured for her to take one from the side pocket of his briefcase.

She remembered there was a multi-port charger in there. She had taken it out and used it, and after she finished, it seemed... she had just absentmindedly left it on the sofa on his side?

Later, filming had resumed, and she had completely forgotten about it. The charger must still be with Song Tianhao.

Choi Sulli checked the time; it was past eleven at night.

She hesitated for a moment, then walked to Krystal's bedroom door. Krystal had just changed into loungewear and was combing her hair.

"Krystal," Choi Sulli said, feeling a bit embarrassed, "my phone is dead, and my charger seems to be... with Song Tianhao. Do you have an extra one?"

Krystal paused in her combing and glanced at her in the mirror, her tone flat. "No. You should go get it from Song Tianhao."

Choi Sulli bit her lip, her voice even quieter. "It's very late now. Song Tianhao might be resting, or... still busy with work."

Krystal set down her comb, turned around, and looked at her. Her beautiful eyes were devoid of emotion as she said calmly, "Then just get it tomorrow morning. Or, go knock on his door and ask now. Song Tianhao shouldn't be asleep this early."

With that, she turned back to continue combing her hair, no longer looking at Choi Sulli.

Choi Sulli stood at the doorway, looking at Krystal's back, then at her own phone with the black screen. Her heart began to race again for no apparent reason.

She remembered Song Tianhao's brief smile, the suit jacket he had draped over her shoulders, his focused profile as he crouched down to adjust her skirt, and the story of the subway station he had described in his low, deep voice in the corner of the studio today...

An impulse, mixed with the slight excuse of "I just want to get my charger back," drove her forward.

She took a deep breath, as if having made up her mind, turned around, gently opened the suite door, and walked out.

The hallway was covered in a thick, dark carpet that muffled her footsteps. The overhead lights cast a soft, dim yellow glow. When Choi Sulli reached the door of Song Tianhao's suite, she stopped.

She raised her hand, her fingertips hovering before the dark wooden door, but then she hesitated and lowered it.

In the silent hallway, her heartbeat sounded exceptionally clear—thump, thump.

Finally, she raised her hand again, curled her index finger, and with her knuckles, knocked on the door—very, very lightly.

Choi Sulli's voice was as soft as a whisper, carrying a slight tremor she hadn't even noticed herself. "President, are you asleep? I... I came to borrow my charger."