82: Chapter 82 President, you were so cool just now!

The next day, at nine in the morning, the conference room at Song Tianhao's company was packed with reporters.

Cameras were set up in three full rows, and the flashes didn't stop from the moment Song Tianhao walked in with Lee Qri and Jeon Boram.

The sound of shutters rose and fell, like a rainstorm hitting a glass window.

Song Tianhao walked in front, wearing a well-tailored dark grey suit and a white shirt with no tie, the top two buttons left casually open.

There was no expression on his face; he simply walked to the main seat and sat down, his movements as natural as if he were just attending an ordinary routine meeting.

Lee Qri and Jeon Boram sat on his left and right, respectively.

Lee Qri was wearing an off-white turtleneck sweater paired with dark grey suit trousers; her hair was loosely tied in a low ponytail at the back of her head, and she wore light makeup, though a careful look could still reveal a hint of fatigue under her eyes.

When she sat down, her back was straight, and her hands were folded on her lap. Her nails were neatly trimmed, except for a tiny chip on the edge of her right index finger, which she had gotten yesterday while picking at the wall in the stairwell.

Jeon Boram's outfit was simpler: a light blue shirt, a black A-line skirt, and her hair styled in a fresh half-ponytail.

She wore a perfectly measured smile, neither showy nor timid, though whenever a camera swept over her, she would lower her eyes slightly, revealing a hint of the "nervousness a newcomer should have when facing a big scene."

The three of them sat side by side, with a huge projection screen behind them.

The screen was blank for now, but everyone knew that the focus of today's press conference lay right there.

The host of the press conference was the head of the Public Relations Department at Star Entertainment, a woman in her thirties wearing gold-rimmed glasses who spoke with watertight precision.

She first routinely thanked the media for attending and then briefly introduced the theme of today's press conference: "Clarification regarding recent unfounded online rumors."

As soon as she finished speaking, a reporter below raised his hand. He was a man in his thirties with a tone of clear provocation: "President Song, have you seen this morning's trending search? 'Song Tianhao is dating two T-ara members simultaneously, performing intimate scenes in the office.'"

"This topic has already surged to the number one spot in real-time searches. Can you explain this?"

The conference room went silent instantly, and all cameras were aimed at Song Tianhao.

Song Tianhao raised his eyes to look at the reporter, his face still devoid of expression. He didn't answer, but simply raised his hand and gestured to the PR department head.

The female department head understood and pressed the remote control in her hand. The screen behind them lit up.

The image was of the rooftop.

In high definition, one could clearly see Song Tianhao and Jeon Boram standing by the railing, the wind blowing their hair and clothes.

There was sound in the video, and it was very clear.

"Tears are an actor's most precious weapon, and also their most dangerous weakness."

Song Tianhao's voice came from the speakers, calm and professional, with the clear articulation peculiar to teaching.

"Controlling tears doesn't mean not crying, but knowing when to cry, how to cry, and who to cry for."

On screen, Jeon Boram's eyes were slightly red, tears welling up.

"For example, right now, if I wanted you to cry, how would you cry?"

Jeon Boram's tears rolled down.

Then, Song Tianhao reached out to brush the stray hair from her face, his movements very light, his fingertips not even touching her skin.

"Very good. Remember this feeling. It's not about bawling, but this state of tears on the verge of falling, of words left unspoken."

Next, Jeon Boram in the video stood on tiptoe and gently kissed Song Tianhao on the cheek.

Instantly, a collective gasp of surprise echoed through the conference room.

But the recording didn't stop; it continued to play.

In the video, Song Tianhao paused, then lowered his head, leaned into Jeon Boram's ear, and said something.

His lowered voice came through the speakers, very clearly: "Tuition... paid quite enthusiastically."

After hearing this, Jeon Boram smiled; tears were still hanging on her face, but her smile was bright.

Song Tianhao raised his hand to ruffle her hair, his movements as natural as an elder towards a younger person.

Then, Jeon Boram suddenly turned around and shouted towards the camera: "Have you filmed enough—?! If it's not enough—! Come down here and film—!"

Song Tianhao pulled her into his arms and gave the camera the middle finger.

Next, the video cut to the office.

It was still high-definition video, and it had sound.

Lee Qri was leaning against the floor-to-ceiling window, Song Tianhao standing in front of her, the two of them very close.

"Now," Song Tianhao's voice came from the speakers, calm and professional, "look into my eyes."

"Tell me, just now on the rooftop, when you saw Boram kiss me, what were you thinking?"

Lee Qri's profile appeared on screen; she was biting her lip, her eyes red.

"...All of it. I was jealous, I felt wronged, I was sad... I felt my chest was tight, I couldn't breathe."

"Remember this feeling." Song Tianhao reached out and brushed the back of his finger across her lower eyelid. "Remember this feeling of your heart being gripped tight, unable to breathe, wanting to cry but not being able to. This is 'jealousy'."

Song Tianhao's finger slid to her chin, lifting her face.

Song Tianhao in the video continued: "But right now, you cannot cry. Because the camera might be filming. What you need to do is suppress this feeling of wanting to cry, and then, transform it into another emotion."

"W-what emotion?" Lee Qri asked, somewhat bewildered.

"The forbearance of love that cannot be attained." Song Tianhao said each word clearly, his voice echoing through the entire conference room. "It's that... sense of brokenness where you clearly care deeply, yet have to let go; where you are clearly in pain, yet still have to force a smile."

He leaned close to her ear, his voice lowered further, but still clearly audible: "Just like now, you are clearly very sad, very wronged, very jealous, but you are standing here, looking at me, unable to cry, unable to make a scene, you can only look at me and use your eyes to tell me how much pain you are in, and how... unwilling you are to give up."

On screen, Lee Qri's tears rolled down.

Then, Song Tianhao lowered his head and gently kissed away a teardrop on her cheek.

Then he stepped back and looked at her: "This is your problem. Your tears are too real, so real that... you yourself can't tell whether you are Acting or truly sad."

The recording stopped there.

There was a deathly silence in the conference room.

All the reporters stared wide-eyed at the screen, then looked at the man in the main seat who still had no expression.

The male reporter who had asked the question earlier turned pale, his face shifting between shades of green and white. He opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but couldn't.

Song Tianhao waited a few seconds, letting the deathly silence in the conference room slowly ferment, before speaking slowly, his voice clearly reaching everyone's ears through the microphone:

"What was just played is the complete surveillance footage from my company's rooftop and the president's office between 3:00 PM and 4:00 PM yesterday. The sound was recorded simultaneously; you can all hear very clearly that I was teaching."

He picked up the laser pointer on the table and pressed the switch. A red dot of light hit the screen, landing on a certain frame of the rooftop recording.

"Here." The red dot of the laser pointer rested on the frame where Song Tianhao was leaning down to speak in Jeon Boram's ear. "I was saying 'Tuition... paid quite enthusiastically.' This sentence means that Jeon Boram, as a rookie actor, actively requested extra lessons, and as the president, I was affirming her learning attitude."

The red dot moved to the office recording, resting on the frame where Song Tianhao kissed away Lee Qri's tears.

"Here, I was demonstrating 'how to use body language to convey emotion.' In teaching intimate scenes, it is a common teaching method for mentors to use appropriate physical contact to guide actors into the emotional state."

Song Tianhao's voice was as calm as if he were lecturing. "If any of you have questions about performance teaching, I suggest you go to the Department of Theater and Film at Chung-Ang University to audit a few sessions of 'An Actor Prepares.'"

He put down the laser pointer, leaned forward slightly, resting his hands on the edge of the table, and swept his gaze over the silent reporters below.

"Now, regarding the trending search 'Song Tianhao is dating two T-ara members simultaneously, performing intimate scenes in the office'—" He paused, his tone finally carrying a trace of imperceptible sarcasm, "I need to clarify two points."

"First, I am not dating my artists simultaneously. I was working, during working hours, in a professional setting, carrying out my professional duties—that is, teaching."

"Second," he looked at the male reporter who had asked the question earlier, his gaze calm but carrying a certain intangible pressure, "if anyone maliciously edits, takes out of context, and adds misleading titles to professional performance teaching footage, attempting to create scandals, ruin the reputation of our company's artists, and disrupt our company's normal operations..."

He paused and scanned the room. "That is your problem, not mine."

The conference room was quiet for a few seconds, and then a huge uproar erupted. Reporters scrambled to raise their hands, questions bombarding him like a barrage.

"President Song! What about the photo of Lee Qri taken secretly in the stairwell? She is clearly crying in that photo; how do you explain that?"

Song Tianhao looked at the female reporter who asked the question, his expression still unchanged: "When that photo was taken, Lee Qri was in the stairwell, and I was on the rooftop. We weren't even in the same space. May I ask how this photo proves 'intimate scenes'?"

"But she was crying! If she was just watching a teaching session, why would she be crying?"

"Because she was practicing a crying scene." Song Tianhao replied as a matter of course. "Is there a problem with an actor crying while practicing Acting? Or are you saying that, in your opinion, actors can only cry in front of the camera, and cannot practice emotional expression in practice rooms, rehearsal halls, or any informal settings?"

The female reporter was choked up and wanted to ask more, but Song Tianhao had already averted his gaze to look at the next person raising their hand.

"President Song! Even if the video can prove you were 'teaching,' haven't the kiss on the rooftop and the... intimate contact in the office exceeded the scope of normal teaching? Isn't this a suspicion of workplace sexual harassment?"

This question was very sharp, and the conference room instantly went quiet again.

Song Tianhao looked at the male reporter who asked the question for two seconds, then suddenly smiled.

It wasn't that sarcastic smile, but a very light one, carrying a hint of helplessness and amusement.

"Reporter," he began, his tone even considered gentle, "I suggest that before asking questions, you at least familiarize yourself with the basic performance teaching system.

In the Stanislavski system, mentors using appropriate physical guidance to help actors liberate their instincts and enter the situation is the foundation of the basics. The Central Academy of Drama, Beijing Film Academy, and even the performing arts department at Seoul Institute of the Arts all have similar curriculum settings."

He paused and added: "Of course, if you insist that this is 'sexual harassment,' I respect your opinion. But at the same time, our company's legal department will formally file a lawsuit with the Seoul Central District Prosecutors' Office, accusing you of defamation and damage to reputation.

"At that time, we can invite Professor Kim from the Department of Theater and Film at Chung-Ang University and Professor Lee from the performing arts department at Seoul Institute of the Arts to testify in court, and explain to the judge and jury what is called 'professional performance teaching.'"

The male reporter's face turned pale instantly.

A low murmur of discussion arose in the conference room, and many reporters looked at their colleague who had asked the question with sympathy. This guy had kicked an iron plate.

But just then, a reporter in the audience suddenly raised their phone and shouted: "President Song! Even if the video can explain the rooftop and office incidents, there is a new exposé online!"

"It says you also have improper relationships with T-ara's Park So-yeon and Ham Eunjung! And Girls Generation's Kim Taeyeon! The whistleblower says they have evidence in hand and will release it tomorrow!"

As soon as these words were spoken, the conference room exploded.

Everyone's gaze focused on Song Tianhao's face, wanting to see how he would react.

Song Tianhao didn't answer immediately. He turned his head slightly, looked at the head of the PR department sitting on his left, and said something in a volume only the two of them could hear. The department head nodded and quickly began operating the laptop in front of her.

Ten seconds later, the image on the screen behind them changed. It was no longer a video, but a data analysis interface displaying an IP address tracking map of seven social media accounts.

"These seven accounts," Song Tianhao picked up the microphone again, his voice echoing through the conference room via the speakers, "are the most active accounts that have been posting false information such as 'Song Tianhao is having affairs with all members of T-ara and Kim Taeyeon of Girls Generation' under relevant topics in the past two hours."

He picked up a laser pointer, the red dot landing on those IP addresses.

"After being tracked by our company's technical department, the IP addresses of these seven accounts," he paused, his gaze sweeping across the room, and then slowly spat out the name, "all originate from the CJ Entertainment headquarters building, 17th floor, Media Monitoring Center."

The conference room fell instantly silent.

Everyone stared wide-eyed at the clear IP tracking path map on the screen.

"Coincidentally," Song Tianhao's voice remained calm, but every word hit the ground like an icicle, "the paparazzi who was secretly photographing us from the rooftop opposite yesterday, through facial recognition, has been confirmed to be a field operative from the CJ Entertainment Media Department, surnamed Kim, employee ID CJ-MD-0473. Do you need me to show his employee ID photo and clock-in records?"

He waited a few seconds; no one spoke.

So Song Tianhao picked up the phone on the table, and in front of everyone, dialed a number and pressed the speaker button.

Beep—Beep—!

The phone rang a few times before being answered.

A middle-aged man's voice came through the speaker, carrying obvious wariness and impatience: "Hello?"

"Chairman Lee," Song Tianhao began, his tone as calm as if he were discussing the weather, "I am Song Tianhao of Star Entertainment."

There was a two-second silence on the other end of the line, and then the voice became visibly nervous: "Pr-President Song? How did you…"

"I am holding a press conference," Song Tianhao interrupted, his gaze sweeping over the stunned reporters below, "regarding this morning's trending topics, and the fact that your employees were secretly photographing us on the rooftop and spreading false information online. Right now, I have the lenses of thirty-seven media outlets in front of me, all on, broadcasting live."

A "clatter" came from the other end of the phone, as if something had fallen to the floor.

Song Tianhao acted as if he hadn't heard it, continuing in that calm tone, as if discussing what to have for lunch: "I have already shown the IP tracking results to the reporters. All seven rumor-spreading accounts originated from your company building. Chairman Lee, what do you think? Should I call the police now and have them go to your company's 17th-floor Media Monitoring Center to collect evidence, or will you contact me voluntarily and explain what is going on?"

"Pr-President Song! Th-this must be a misunderstanding!" The voice on the other end was clearly panicked, "I—I will check immediately! I will check immediately!"

"A misunderstanding?" Song Tianhao chuckled softly. The laugh was light, but amplified by the microphone, it sounded exceptionally clear in the silent conference room, "Chairman Lee, do you really think it's a misunderstanding?"

"Ye-yes, yes, yes! It must be a misunderstanding! I…"

"I will give you thirty minutes," Song Tianhao interrupted, his tone still calm but carrying an unquestionable coldness, "Within thirty minutes, I want to see those seven accounts post public apologies, admit to spreading rumors, and identify the mastermind behind it. Otherwise…"

He paused, his gaze sweeping over the reporters below who had already raised their cameras and were shooting frantically.

"Otherwise, I don't mind turning today's press conference into a live event about 'CJ Entertainment maliciously spreading rumors about a competitor.' I think all of you reporters would be happy to have another headline."

Having said that, he didn't wait for a response from the other end and directly hung up.

The conference room was deathly silent.

Everyone was looking at the man in the main seat, watching him put away his phone, watching him lift his head again, and watching him sweep his gaze across the room with a calmness that was almost terrifying.

Then, Song Tianhao spoke, his voice clearly reaching everyone's ears through the microphone: "Today's clarification ends here. Finally, I would like to announce one thing."

He paused, waiting for everyone's attention to focus on him.

"Next Monday at 10:00 AM, Star Entertainment, in collaboration with the Department of Theater and Film at Chung-Ang University, will host the first public lecture on 'The Actor's Self-Cultivation'."

He looked at the cameras below, enunciating clearly, word by word: "The theme is: How to maintain clean Acting in a dirty entertainment industry."

"The course is open to all artists, trainees, and the public interested in Acting, with free registration. The lecturer for the first session will be me."

After saying this, he stood up, nodded slightly to the audience, then turned around and, under the escort of security, left the conference room with Lee Qri and Jeon Boram.

Behind him, the flashes lit up frantically again, and the sound of shutters crashing down like a rainstorm.

But this time, the lenses were no longer aimed at a scandal, but at a man who, in front of thirty-seven media outlets, had used the most professional and hardcore method to turn a PR crisis into a free advertisement.

In the backstage lounge, once the door closed, the noise outside was instantly cut off.

Jeon Boram let out a long sigh, leaning against the wall as if drained of all strength, and raised her hand to wipe away non-existent sweat from her forehead: "You scared me to death… President, you were so cool just now! That IP tracking, and that phone call! Oh my god, you didn't see the expressions on those reporters' faces…"

As she spoke, she looked at Song Tianhao with sparkling eyes, full of undisguised admiration.

Song Tianhao didn't respond, simply walking over to the sofa to sit down, loosening the top button of his collar, and letting out a long breath.

The air of ease and control he had on stage just now actually required total concentration. Every word, every expression, even every pause, had been calculated. He couldn't say too much, couldn't say anything wrong, and couldn't give his opponents any chance to seize a handle on him.

It was exhausting.

But he was used to it.

Lee Qri also walked over and sat down on the single sofa next to him. She didn't speak, just silently took a bottle of water out of her bag, unscrewed it, and handed it to him.

Song Tianhao took it and drank a mouthful; the water temperature was just right.

"Thank you," he said, his voice a bit hoarse.

Lee Qri shook her head, still not speaking, just looking at him with a complex expression.

Jeon Boram also leaned in at this moment, sitting on the other side of Song Tianhao, her body leaning forward slightly, her face still flushed with excitement: "President, is that public lecture you mentioned at the end really going to happen? Wow, it will definitely be packed! Can I be a teaching assistant? I can help collect assignments…"

She chattered on, like an excited little bird.

Song Tianhao listened without interrupting, only occasionally saying "Mm" to indicate he was listening.

It wasn't until Jeon Boram had said enough that she suddenly quieted down, looking at Song Tianhao, then at Lee Qri, the expression on her face slowly becoming somewhat subtle.

Jeon Boram bit her lip, as if she had made up her mind about something, and suddenly reached out and gently hugged Song Tianhao.

It was a very light hug, breaking away as soon as it touched.

"President, thank you." She let go, took a half-step back, looked at Song Tianhao, and said very earnestly, "Thank you for helping me… and thank you for everything you did today."

After saying that, she turned to Lee Qri and bowed: "Qri, I'm sorry. Yesterday on the rooftop, I… I improvised, making you sad."

Lee Qri looked at her, at this unnie who was older than her, who was usually quiet but dared to stand on her tiptoes to kiss the President at critical moments, and dared to shout at the paparazzi.

She was silent for a few seconds, then gently shook her head.

"You acted very well," Lee Qri said, her voice soft but clear, "Really. The emotions, the expressions, the on-the-spot reaction… all very good. I should learn from you."

Jeon Boram was stunned for a moment, then her eyes lit up again, but this time the sparkling stuff seemed to be more than just excitement.

"Qri…" she called out softly, her voice choked with emotion.

Lee Qri didn't speak again, just smiled at her. The smile was faint, but it lacked the sharpness and hostility of yesterday, leaving only a faint, relieved tenderness.

The atmosphere in the lounge became somewhat subtle.

Quiet, but not awkward. Like the tranquility of the sea gradually calming down after a storm.

Just then, the phone Song Tianhao had left on the table rang.

He glanced at the caller ID; three words were dancing on the screen: Kim Tae-hee.

Song Tianhao raised an eyebrow, picked up the phone, and pressed the answer button.

"Ms. Kim Tae-hee." He began, his tone returning to its usual flat yet polite cadence.

A gentle but smiling female voice came from the other end of the line: "President Song, your press conference today was wonderful. I just finished watching the live broadcast."

Song Tianhao smiled: "You flatter me."

"Not at all, it was wonderful." Kim Tae-hee's voice, coming through the receiver, was clearly audible in the quiet lounge, "So I was thinking, since President Song is so good at teaching Acting, then… are you interested in Acting in one yourself?"

Song Tianhao paused: "What do you mean?"

"I have a script on hand, a film. The director is Director Hur Jin-ho, and the screenwriter is Screenwriter Noh Hee-kyung. We are missing a male lead, a… male lead who is very good at teaching others how to act."

There was a smile in Kim Tae-hee's voice, but underneath the smile was a very serious attitude, "If President Song is interested, shall we meet and chat tomorrow at 3:00 PM at that cafe in Cheongdam-dong we often visit?"

Director Hur Jin-ho, Screenwriter Noh Hee-kyung.

These two names, in the South Korean film industry, meant quality, meant awards, meant… possibilities.

Song Tianhao was silent for two seconds, then spoke, his voice steady: "Okay, tomorrow at 3:00 PM. See you then."

Hanging up the phone, he put it down and looked at the two women sitting opposite him.

Jeon Boram and Lee Qri were both looking at him, their eyes full of inquiry.

Song Tianhao didn't explain, just looked at his watch, then stood up.

"Dinner is on me tonight," he said, his tone a bit lighter, "What do you want to eat? Korean BBQ? Japanese food? Or Chinese food?"

Jeon Boram immediately raised her hand: "Korean BBQ! I know a newly opened Hanwoo beef restaurant in Gangnam that is especially delicious!"

Song Tianhao nodded: "Fine, then Korean BBQ." He looked at Lee Qri, "How about you? Is there anything you want to eat?"

Lee Qri shook her head: "Anything is fine with me."

"Then it's settled." Song Tianhao picked up his jacket and said while putting it on, "But for now…"

He paused and looked at Jeon Boram.

"Your first lesson is over." Song Tianhao looked at her, his gaze calm, "The tuition…"

He paused and smiled very lightly.

"I have collected it."

Jeon Boram's face instantly flushed red, but her eyes were very bright, as if the entire galaxy had fallen into them.

Then, Song Tianhao turned to Lee Qri.

"Your third lesson is also over." He said, his tone returning to the usual business-like flatness, but if you listened carefully, there seemed to be a hint of gentleness hidden inside, "But your one month…"

He looked at the calendar on his phone.

"Still has three weeks left."

He raised his eyes, looked at Lee Qri, and asked: "Do you want to continue?"

Lee Qri looked at him, at his calm eyes, at the slightly upturned corners of his mouth, watching him stand there like a mountain, steady, reliable, capable of blocking all wind and rain.

She remembered the calmness when he looked at Jeon Boram on the rooftop yesterday; the tenderness when he kissed away her tears in the office; the composure he showed when facing thirty-seven media outlets at the press conference just now.

She nodded.

Then, she nodded again, very firmly.

"Continue," she said, her voice not loud, but very firm.

Song Tianhao smiled. The smile was short, but very real.

"Good," he said, picking up his car keys and walking towards the door, "Then starting tonight, we practice our scene work."

He stopped at the door, turned his head, looked at both of them, and swept his gaze over their faces.

"The theme is: The original wife and the mistress, meeting face-to-face in the restroom backstage at the celebration banquet."

He opened the door and walked out.

The door closed gently behind him.

In the lounge, Jeon Boram and Lee Qri looked at each other, and then, they burst out laughing in unison.

Their laughter was helpless, yet carried a hint of resigned relief.

Outside the window, the sunshine was just right.