Amateur talent show? Top mentors are my students.

Final day.

Before dawn, the lights in the base were already on.

The cafeteria lights were the first to come on, their warm yellow light shining through the windows and onto the steps at the entrance, glistening slightly with dew.

The selection staff got up even earlier than the athletes, carrying walkie-talkies and moving back and forth in the corridor, their footsteps echoing crisply in the empty hallway.

He Xu arrived at the cafeteria at 6:10.

When he pushed the door open, there were already seven or eight people sitting inside—Yang Sheng was sitting in the far corner with a bowl of white porridge in front of him, his chopsticks resting motionless on the rim of the bowl.

Chen Yi was sitting next to him, his head down spreading jam on bread, his movements mechanical as if he were performing some kind of fixed procedure.

Li Bufan walked over from the food serving window with his tray in hand. His dirty orange hair had been styled into a stage look with hairspray, making it look much neater than usual, but also less flamboyant.

He sat down opposite He Xu, and before even picking up his chopsticks, he asked, "Brother He Xu, were you rehearsing on stage this morning?"

He Xu took a sip of porridge, glanced at him, and said, "What else? Should I dance for you on the spot?"

Li Bufan choked for a moment: "...That's true."

Chen Yi, who was standing next to him, finally stuffed the piece of bread with jam into his mouth, chewed it a couple of times, and swallowed it: "Teacher He, can't we take a look at your stage beforehand? We've been curious about it for days."

"No." He Xu's tone left no room for negotiation. "No one is allowed to watch before the final."

Li Bufan and Chen Yi exchanged a knowing look and didn't press the matter further.

The cafeteria gradually became more crowded.

Some people's hands were still trembling when they sat down with their bowls of porridge, some people kept reciting lyrics to a piece of paper, and some people were lying on the table with their eyes closed, taking deep breaths, but their foreheads were covered with fine beads of sweat.

Song Yingwen did not apply muscle tape today.

When he walked into the cafeteria, He Xu took a second look at his right leg.

His walking posture is completely normal now, with even stride, stable center of gravity, and no compensatory bias.

He sat down in the empty seat next to He Xu, took a bun, took a bite, chewed it twice and swallowed it. Then he turned his head and glanced at He Xu: "Teacher He, I can jump today."

He Xu put down her bowl of porridge and looked at him: "Do you think you can jump?"

Song Yingwen answered without hesitation: "Yes."

He Xu stared at him for three seconds, then looked away and picked up the porridge bowl again: "Then you decide for yourself."

He finished the last mouthful of porridge, stood up, put the plate on the recycling rack, and turned to walk out.

As he passed Li Bufan, he paused, turned his head, and said, "If you try to beat the shot again today, I won't just scold you."

Li Bufan's chopsticks froze in mid-air: "...Then what else can you do?"

He Xu didn't even turn his head: "I'll make sure you never debut."

Li Bufan shuddered, spat several times, and said with a dark look in his eyes, "Brother He Xu, why are you saying such discouraging things so early in the morning?"

At 9:00 AM, the full dress rehearsal officially began.

The studio lights were at least two degrees brighter than usual, all equipment was running at maximum power, and the hum of the air conditioner was completely drowned out by the background noise of the sound system.

The waiting area was packed with people.

All twenty contestants have changed into their stage costumes for the finals—different colors and styles, but each one has been repeatedly tried on and adjusted to ensure the best possible effect under the stage lights.

Hair, makeup, headset, hand microphone, stage shoes—all in place.

He Xu was the only exception.

He walked onto the stage wearing his ever-present black T-shirt and dark gray sweatpants, his hair barely styled, just hanging casually over his forehead.

The sound team had anticipated this scene, and some of them lowered their heads and pretended to adjust the equipment.

The rehearsal process was the same as yesterday—He Xu only moved around the stage from beginning to end, without dancing.

He even deliberately kept his facial expressions to himself, maintaining an attitude of "I'm just here for a stroll" throughout.

The contestants took to the stage one after another, fully dressed and made up, and went through the entire process.

Yang Sheng's stage costume was dark red, with a row of extremely fine silver rivets at the collar, which reflected a faint glimmer under the stage lights.

When he stood in the center of the stage, he was like a newly drawn sword, its sharpness fully revealed.

Qi Xunan wore a pure white coat with a silver brooch pinned to her collar. The wind she created as she walked made the brooch sway slightly, like a beating heart.

Li Bufan didn't rush to take pictures today.

He Xu stood behind the monitoring station, watching him complete the chorus without any rushing, and even more steadily than usual. The corners of his mouth involuntarily curved into a smile.

When the final rehearsal was over, the director picked up a walkie-talkie on the side of the stage: "Full dress rehearsal is over. Everyone, get back to work. Assemble promptly at 6 p.m."

The staff began packing up the equipment, and the athletes walked towards the waiting area in twos and threes. Some people were finally able to sit down and catch their breath.

He Xu walked out from behind the monitoring station, rolled up the process sheet and tucked it under his arm. He walked past the lighting crew who were tidying up cables and the stage crew who were moving props, and walked out of the studio through the side passage, heading towards the fourth floor.

The door to the dressing room was open.

Zhuang Wenmin has arrived.

She was standing in front of the clothes rack, her fingers pinching the shoulder seam of the black shirt, carefully examining something under the light.

Hearing footsteps, she turned her head to look at He Xu, her gaze lingering for a moment on the casual T-shirt he was wearing: "You went to rehearsal like this?"

"Hmm." He Xu walked in and sat down naturally on the dressing chair.

Zhuang Wenmin looked at his matter-of-fact attitude and smiled slightly: "Alright, I'll begin then."

Two assistants had already pushed the tool cart over.

The car was filled with all sorts of things that He Xu couldn't name—foundation, highlighter, contour, eyeliner, mascara, setting spray, and several brushes of different sizes.

When Zhuang Wenmin picked up the first brush, He Xu subconsciously closed his eyes.

The makeup and styling this time were more refined than during yesterday's trial makeup.

Zhuang Wenmin's technique was even slower than yesterday; each stroke was like sculpting a work of art that was about to be placed under the spotlight for scrutiny.

She applied foundation and started from He Xu's cheekbones, gently spreading it outwards, her movements as light as if she were touching something fragile.

The two assistants beside her occasionally handed her something, which Zhuang Wenmin would take, use, and then hand back, without saying a word throughout.

He Xu had his eyes closed, and he could feel her fingers occasionally brushing against his brow bone and jawline, cool and with a warm, drowsy feel.

But he didn't fall asleep.

He thought about the stage that night.

He recalled the first time he stood on the stage, he was so nervous that his legs were shaking, and he forgot the moves after dancing for less than thirty seconds.

He recalled that during the first public performance, he could barely hear in his left ear, and his palms were sweaty from holding the microphone, but he still managed to finish the entire dance.

He also recalled those nights he spent alone in the practice room, dancing to "Ouroboros" in front of the mirror—the sweat stains on the floor, the buzzing of the speakers, and Jiang Yanbai's lunchbox that had gone cold by the door.

He danced that dance more than a hundred times from beginning to end, revising every detail until he could find no fault with it.

Tonight, he's going to perform it for three thousand people.

"Open your eyes." Zhuang Wenmin's voice interrupted his reverie.

He Xu opened his eyes.

Zhuang Wenmin was standing in front of him, holding an extremely fine eyeliner pencil in her hand, tilting her head to examine the last step she had just completed.

Her expression was focused and critical, her gaze sweeping from He Xu's eyebrows and eyes down to his jawline, before pausing for a moment on the V-neck of his black shirt.

"Okay." Zhuang Wenmin put the eyeliner back on the tray and took half a step back.

He Xu saw himself in the mirror.

Even sharper and more refined than during the trial makeup—Chuang Wen-min removed all the unnecessary traces, leaving only the cleanest, most accurate lines that best highlight the bone structure itself.

After changing into that black shirt, her entire demeanor changed.

The V-neckline is very deep, just below the sternum, revealing a section of the collarbone and the smooth muscle lines above the chest.

The opening on the side of the waist was even lower than during the makeup trial, and the cinched waistline made it look as if the whole person had been cut by some sharp tool, with every inch just right.

Zhuang Wenmin stepped back three paces, put her hands in her pockets, and moved her gaze from He Xu's face to the shoulder line of his shirt, finally settling on his fingers hanging at his sides.

She was silent for several seconds before saying, "Alright, you can leave now."

He Xu stood up, stretched his neck, straightened the shoulder line of his shirt one last time in front of the mirror, and then turned and walked towards the door.

Just as he opened the door, a group of people were passing by in the hallway.

Yang Sheng walked at the front, wearing his dark red stage costume, and was talking to Chen Yi with his head down.

He caught a glimpse of the open door out of the corner of his eye, and subconsciously glanced up—then froze in place as if a pause button had been pressed.