113: Chapter 112 12333

As the filming progressed, Kim Taeyeon gradually discovered that Lee Tima's "filming" was neither aimless nor merely capturing isolated details. This little girl possessed a unique, almost instinctive logic of "story flow" artistic photography.

Unlike professional photographers who pursued perfect composition or exposure, she often broke conventions. Her visual language was rhythmic, emotional, and full of associations.

For instance, when Kim Taeyeon sat on a park bench she used to frequent as a child, recounting stories of playing there with friends until sunset, the main camera would steadily capture her profile and nostalgic expression.

But what about Lee Tima's lens?

It would first capture the smooth wood grain of the bench's armrest, worn down by time, then quickly move up, glancing past the tips of Kim Taeyeon's shoes as they unconsciously tapped the stone ground, before suddenly pulling back to frame the blurred, cheerful figures of a group of children playing hopscotch in the distance. Finally, it would rapidly push back in, freezing on the tips of Kim Taeyeon's eyelashes as they trembled slightly during her story, where the sunlight condensed into a tiny, fragmented point of light.

This series of shots had no dialogue, yet it seemed to use imagery to tell a complete little story about "traces, the present, the past, and subtle emotions." Kim Taeyeon's tapping toes were an unconscious action of the present; the children playing were echoes of the past; the texture of the bench was a witness to time; and the speck of light on her eyelashes was a ripple of memory.

In another instance, at an old-fashioned record store, Kim Taeyeon stroked rows of vinyl records, searching for melodies from her memory. Lee Tima's lens followed her fingers closely as they slid from one record to another, then suddenly turned to the spinning black disc of the record player, jumped to a section of a faded concert poster on the wall, and finally landed back on the corners of Kim Taeyeon's slightly pursed lips, which wore a look of reminiscence.

She seemed to be using the lens to build a private channel belonging only to Kim Taeyeon, connecting touch, hearing, vision, and emotion.

Kim Taeyeon didn't notice this at first, until during a break, she accidentally caught a glimpse of a playback clip on Lee Tima's camera screen. The combination of images—jumping yet strangely coherent and full of emotional tension—truly startled her. It wasn't a simple recording; it was... a highly personalized creation of lyric poetry through a lens.

This child was truly "seeing" the world, "feeling" and "expressing" it in a way completely different from adults, unfettered by rules. Kim Taeyeon's perception of Lee Tima added another layer beyond "troublemaker," "little genius," and "medicinal diet little devil"—a "keen and unique young artist."

This realization caused Kim Taeyeon's attitude toward Lee Tima to shift from helplessness and amusement to a quiet sense of genuine curiosity and tenderness. She began to actively observe Lee Tima's filming, sometimes even cooperating by providing small movements or expressions that might become part of the "story" in her lens.

In the afternoon, the sunlight was just right. During a break in filming, Kim Taeyeon stood under a blooming osmanthus tree. As a breeze blew past, tiny golden osmanthus flowers rustled down, with a few petals playfully landing on her hair and shoulders. She tilted her head back slightly, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath of the sweet-scented air, a comfortable and relaxed smile appearing on her face.

Naturally, the main camera wouldn't miss such a beautiful scene.

And Lee Tima also approached like a nimble little deer. But she didn't take a wide shot or a close-up. She squatted down, holding the camera very low, almost touching the ground, and tilted the lens upward for a low-angle shot.

Through the viewfinder, what she saw was: in the backlight, Kim Taeyeon's silhouette was outlined by a fuzzy golden glow, with fragmented osmanthus flowers falling around her like a golden rain of stars. Because of the low angle, Kim Taeyeon's figure appeared exceptionally tall and light against the background of blue sky and leaves. Her expression as she smiled with closed eyes was somewhat blurred in the backlight, yet filled with a serene and sacred beauty.

Lee Tima adjusted the angle, letting a cluster of low-hanging osmanthus branches serve as a blurred foreground frame, gently "framing" Kim Taeyeon within it.

"Perfect..." she muttered under her breath and pressed the record button.

After filming for a few seconds, Lee Tima seemed to feel it wasn't enough. Maintaining her squatting position, she tilted her head, then suddenly held the camera up high, using the screen to cover most of her face, leaving only a pair of curved eyes full of mischievous smiles to look at Kim Taeyeon through the camera.

Kim Taeyeon felt the gaze, opened her eyes, and looked down to see this sight: a little bean squatting in the osmanthus rain, "candidly" filming her with a camera, showing only two sparkling eyes.

She couldn't help but smile.

At that moment, Lee Tima lowered the camera (but still held it up), revealing her entire bright smiling face from behind it. Then, facing Kim Taeyeon, she gave a very forceful and exaggerated thumbs-up with her right hand, while loudly praising her in her clearest and sweetest voice without holding back:

"Unnie! You're so—pretty!"

(The pronunciation was deliberately elongated to emphasize the praise, and her thumb tapped twice in rhythm with the compliment.)

That tone, that action, that expression—pure, direct, and infectious—like a most sincere little fan, yet also like a little director feeling incredibly satisfied with her own "work."

Being praised for her looks in such a blunt and enthusiastic way by an eight-year-old child, Kim Taeyeon was stunned for a moment. Then, a warm current mixed with a bit of amused joy welled up in her heart. Looking at Lee Tima's proud little "hurry up and praise my filming" face, and that thumb held straight up as if it came with its own "super like" golden light, the complex emotions in her heart—stemming from the show, the memories, and even Lee Tima herself—seemed to be smoothed over by this simple and direct praise.

She didn't act modest or embarrassed like a typical idol. Instead, she slightly raised her chin, her face showing a vivid smile that was part pride and part amusement at Lee Tima's childish antics. Following the girl's lead, she responded in a matter-of-fact yet playful tone:

"Of course!"

Those two words were said with confidence and smiling eyes. It was both an acknowledgement of Lee Tima's "aesthetic" and a candid acceptance of her own state. At this moment, she wasn't the "shin-ting-tae" burdened with countless halos and pressures, but just a beautiful Unnie in a good mood after being sincerely praised by a cute junior.

The sunlight, the osmanthus, the beautiful senior smiling under the tree, and the "little director" squatting on the ground with a camera and a thumbs-up, smiling so wide her teeth showed... This scene wasn't fully captured by the main camera, but it became one of the warmest and most moving images of this Jeonju shoot in the hearts of many staff members present.

Having received the "model's" approval, Lee Tima contentedly retracted her thumb and went back to checking the playback of her "artwork," muttering, "Lighting angle perfect, emotion capture on point, can be named 'Autumn Goddess and Her Golden Star Rain'... Hmm, the copyright fee should be split a bit more with Unnie..."

Kim Taeyeon looked at her serious, money-grubbing expression, shook her head with a smile, and turned to continue the rest of the filming. But her pace seemed a bit lighter than before, and the smile on her lips didn't fade for a long time.

Perhaps Lee Tima's presence on this journey to find the soul of music was not just a "trouble" or a "surprise," but more like a unique mirror or a fresh breeze. In her own way—sometimes headache-inducing, sometimes amazing—she reflected different facets of Kim Taeyeon's brilliance and blew away the potentially heavy thoughts of the journey, bringing the most primitive joy and direct touch.

And this, perhaps, was one of the things that music, and indeed all art, ultimately wanted to bring to people.

As night deepened, the bustle of the Jeonju ancient city gradually subsided. The accommodation Kim Taeyeon's family arranged for the crew was a traditional Hanok guesthouse with a serene environment. After finishing the day's filming and having a warm chat with her parents, Kim Taeyeon went to bed early in a room filled with the scent of wood to recharge for the next day's itinerary.

However, in another room under the same roof, the situation was completely different.

In Lee Tima's room, the lights stayed on until the middle of the night. She sat cross-legged on the warm Ondol, her precious old tablet spread out in front of her, surrounded by data cables, a mobile hard drive (which she had wheedled out of the Manager, containing all the footage she shot today), and... a pair of professional-looking noise-canceling headphones (also "borrowed," supposedly for an "immersive creative environment").

Her small figure flickered in the dim yellow light, illuminated by the screen. Her expression was exceptionally focused, her fingers sliding, clicking, and dragging across the tablet screen at a dizzying speed. On the screen, complex editing software interfaces switched constantly, with video tracks neatly arranged, containing the seemingly fragmented footage she shot during the day.

She was completely immersed in creating her own "Director's Cut."

"Connect this... to here... cross-fade..."

"Rhythm is too slow... speed up 1.5 times... yeah, that gives a sense of vertigo..."

"This camera shake is good! Keep it! Add some film grain effects..."

"Sound... need ambient noise... wind through leaves... children's laughter in the distance... and... Taeyeon Unnie's soft chuckle..."

She even put on the noise-canceling headphones that were too large for her, squinting as she carefully adjusted the volume balance and subtle reverb effects of the audio tracks.

Occasionally, when she finished a particularly satisfying transition or spliced two seemingly unrelated shots to create an unexpected chemical reaction, an uncontrollable, low "Jie jie jie..." evil laugh would escape her throat, sounding exceptionally clear and eerie in the silent night.

"Perfect... it's simply a genius montage!"

"This sense of fragmented yet coherent narrative... the audience definitely won't be able to guess it, but they'll be drawn in!"

"Jie jie jie... when they see the finished product, they'll definitely kneel and beg me to open a masterclass!"

She wasn't just editing video; she also opened a music production app on the tablet (another "high-end toy" Jiang Zhiyu had installed for her to play with). She took the ambient sounds recorded during the day—the wind, falling leaves, the distant sounds of the market, Kim Taeyeon's occasional words—and sampled, time-stretched, looped, and layered them with simple electronic sound effects to create a highly atmospheric, ethereal, and slightly psychedelic background track.

"The music shouldn't steal the scene... it should exist like air... but it can't be absent..."

"Add some low-frequency pulses here... to simulate a heartbeat... yes, the heartbeat of memories..."

Her "creative" process was clearly not quiet. Although she wore noise-canceling headphones, her own occasional weird laughs, excited mutterings, and the sound of her fingers rapidly tapping the screen were still faintly audible in the quiet Hanok. Additionally, because she occasionally played the sound effects out loud to test them, those processed fragments of echoing wind or distorted human voices sounded... quite eerie in the dead of night.

The Manager, staying in the next room, was jolted awake by a wind effect that sounded like a "ghost's wail." He shuddered, threw on some clothes to check, and saw the light peeking through the crack of Lee Tima's door and the "jie jie" weird laughter coming from inside. He immediately felt a headache and a sense of powerlessness. He knocked on the door and lowered his voice: "Tima, it's very late, time to sleep! We have filming tomorrow!"

From inside the room came Lee Tima's matter-of-fact reply without her even looking up: "Uncle! Artistic creation cannot be interrupted! Inspiration has arrived! My 'blockbuster' is about to be born! Go to sleep, don't mind me!"

Manager: "..." He checked his watch; it was 2:30 AM. He silently returned to his room and sent a message to Jiang Zhiyu: [President Jiang, Tima is... at it again with her 'artistic creation,' making quite a bit of noise.] Jiang Zhiyu replied quickly: [It's fine, let her play. She'll sleep when she's tired. Remember to prepare more sweets for her tomorrow to replenish her energy.] The Manager looked at the reply and sighed deeply.

And Kim Taeyeon, sleeping at the other end, also seemed to vaguely hear some noise, but the fatigue from the day's filming soon pulled her back into dreamland. However, her dreams seemed to echo with the rustling of wind through leaves and the proud, eerie laughter of a little girl...