Amateur talent show? Top mentors are my students.

He Xu was awakened by the sound of the blood pressure cuff on his wrist inflating.

When he opened his eyes, the morning light outside the window was still a grayish-blue, and the lights in the ward were not yet fully on.

Only the small nightlight by the bedside and the green numbers flashing on the monitor screen were lit in the darkness.

A nurse was kneeling beside the bed, checking his pulse with her fingers on his wrist. Seeing that he was awake, she smiled at him and said, "Good morning, Mr. He. How did you sleep?"

He Xu opened his mouth, but his throat felt as dry as if it were stuffed with cotton.

He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing, then squeezed out a few words: "...Fine."

His voice was hoarser than he had expected.

It could be due to fasting for too long, or it could be due to nervousness.

The nurse nodded and wrote a line on the whiteboard: "[English] Your vital signs look good. The surgery is scheduled for 7:30. I will be back in about twenty minutes to help you prepare."

He Xu nodded, and the nurse pushed the cart out.

After the door closed, the ward became quiet again.

He Xu lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, able to hear his own heartbeat.

He was not afraid.

This certainty even felt foreign to him.

He recalled the suffocating feeling of falling into an abyss when he had his examination in China, and then he remembered Dr. Chen's methodical and confident explanation of the surgical plan to him yesterday.

The intensity of these two emotions is quite different.

Twenty minutes later, a nurse pushed a wheelchair in.

When He Xu saw the wheelchair, he raised an eyebrow slightly: "...I can walk."

"Hospital policy: We wheel all surgical patients downstairs. It's safer."

He Xu looked at her for two seconds, then sat up from the bed, took the thin hospital gown she handed him, draped it over his shoulders, and sat in his wheelchair.

The wheels made almost no sound as they rolled over the carpet in the hallway.

The walls on both sides were bathed in the soft, off-white light of the morning sun, and occasionally a door was open, revealing people bustling about inside.

He Xu's fingers were slightly curled, and his fingertips were a little cold.

He tried to put his hands in his pockets, but the hospital gown had no pockets.

The nurse wheeled him to the operating room door, stopped, bent down, and gently patted him on the shoulder: "We're here. Your surgeon will be out in a minute."

He Xu nodded.

The operating room door was a double stainless steel door, its surface polished to a shine, reflecting his blurry silhouette as he sat in his wheelchair.

Then he heard footsteps coming from the other end of the corridor.

He Xu turned his head and saw Jiang Yanbai striding over from the end of the corridor, holding a paper cup that probably contained coffee.

He stopped in front of He Xu, looked down at him, glanced at the wheelchair beneath him, and paused for a moment before saying, "This chair suits you quite well."

"...Get lost," He Xu said, his voice still hoarse, but the disdain in his tone was no less.

Jiang Yanbai did not respond.

He placed the coffee cup on the windowsill next to him, squatted down, and looked He Xu in the eye.

He reached out and pinched the collar of He Xu's hospital gown, pulling the thin fabric up to near his neck, then patted it as if to make sure it was covered properly.

Are you cold?

He Xu paused for a moment, then said, "...Not cold."

"Your hands have turned white."

He Xu looked down at his hands, then looked up and met Jiang Yanbai's gaze.

Jiang Yanbai squatted down in front of him, his eyes more serious than usual: "I'll wait for you outside."

He Xu moved his lips: "...Okay."

He Xu looked at him for a while, then looked away and turned his head to look at the stainless steel door.

The operating room door opened. A nurse in a dark green surgical gown poked her head out: "Mr. He? We're ready for you."

He Xu took a deep breath, stood up from his wheelchair, and walked towards the door.

He paused for a moment as he passed by Jiang Yanbai.

She didn't speak, nor did she look at him.

But he reached out and gently patted Jiang Yanbai's arm before withdrawing his hand and striding into the stainless steel door.

The lights in the operating room were brighter than he had expected, a cool blue hue that illuminated the entire room without any shadows.

In the very center was a narrow operating table covered with a layer of dark blue sterile cloth.

Several machines of various shapes stood nearby, their screens displaying lines and numbers.

The anesthesiologist was adjusting the parameters of a ventilator when he heard the door open and looked up: "Mr. He? I'm Dr. Ross. I'll be administering anesthesia for you today. Have you had anesthesia before?"

"[English]...Yes. It was vocal cord surgery done in China."

Are there any problems? Such as nausea or allergic reactions?

No (in English).

Dr. Ross nodded: "Very good. I'll make you comfortable today. You won't feel anything. Now, please lie down in bed."

He Xu walked to the operating table, took off his coat, and lay down on the narrow bed.

The mattress was firmer than the hospital bed, with a slightly cool, disinfectant-soaked feel.

After he lay down, the nurse came over, clipped a blood oxygen monitoring clip onto his finger, and attached several electrode pads to his chest.

His movements were swift and efficient, without a single unnecessary word.

The overhead light was so bright that he had to squint.

Dr. Ross approached him, holding a transparent mask: "I'm going to give you oxygen and anesthesia through this mask. Just breathe normally. You'll feel sleepy soon."

He Xu nodded, opened his mouth as if to say something, but in the end he just closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

When the mask was applied, it had a slightly cool rubbery smell.

He heard his own heartbeat coming from the monitor, steadily beeping.

Then his eyelids started to feel heavy.

He heard Dr. Ross's voice coming from afar, muffled as if through a layer of water: "...Count backward from ten for me."

He Xu wanted to speak, but no sound came out.

His consciousness stopped somewhere on the count of "seven".

Only blank space remains.

-

He Xu slowly woke up in a floating state.

Consciousness is like being wrapped in a thick quilt, and all perception is shrouded in a layer of fog.

There's a strange feeling in my throat—it doesn't hurt, it feels more like something is stuck inside.

He instinctively tried to swallow, then felt a warm hand on his shoulder.

"...Don't swallow." A voice came from very close by, indistinct but familiar, "You'll choke."

It took He Xu a long time to recognize the voice.

Jiang Yanbai's voice.

He tried to open his eyes, but his eyelids were heavy, and it took him two or three tries to barely open them a crack.

In my field of vision was a blurry white ceiling with a soft, warm-colored light that was dimmed.

He turned his head and saw Jiang Yanbai sitting on the edge of the bed, leaning slightly forward, with one hand on his shoulder.

When Jiang Yanbai saw him open his eyes, his entire back visibly relaxed: "...You're awake?"

He Xu looked at him, wanting to say "nonsense," but only managed to squeeze out a very soft breath.

Hold.

His vocal cords fell asleep, completely asleep.

He frowned, tried again, but still nothing came up.

The feeling was strange—even though there was vibration in my throat, the sound seemed to be sucked away by something as soon as it reached my throat, and only the airflow escaped from my lips.

He opened his mouth, then closed it again, and then raised his hand to press his throat.

I could vaguely feel a foreign object under my skin, but it wasn't painful.

"...Don't move." Jiang Yanbai gently pulled his hand down. "The nurse said we must remain completely silent for 24 hours. You can't say anything now."

He Xu looked at him, paused for a moment, and then made a writing motion with his hand.

Jiang Yanbai immediately understood, and took a pen and a piece of white paper from the bedside table and handed them to him.

He Xu took it, his fingertips still a little numb, and holding the pen was more difficult than he had expected.

He slowly wrote a line on the paper, his handwriting a little more messy than usual:

"……smoothly?"

Jiang Yanbai glanced down at the words, then smiled: "Successfully. Dr. Chen said everything went smoothly during the surgery, your vocal cords are in better condition than expected, and the transplanted fat adheres very well. He said the results should be even better than anticipated after the swelling subsides."

He Xu looked at the line of text, went through it in his mind, and then nodded.

He wrote the second line: "...time?"

"It's 1:30 PM." Jiang Yanbai glanced at his phone. "You were in there for about two hours, and spent three hours in the recovery room. You slept very soundly; the nurse said you woke up once in the middle of the day, and then fell asleep again."

He Xu wrote: "Have you been here all this time?"

Jiang Yanbai looked at the line he had written but didn't answer immediately. After a while, he said, "...Otherwise what? Where do you want me to go?"

He Xu's eyelashes fluttered, and he turned the page of the paper with his head down, writing again: "What about the recording studio?"

"I canceled it." Jiang Yanbai's tone was flat. "I told you I wasn't going today."

He Xu looked up at him, then lowered his eyes and wrote on the paper: "I'm delaying your money-making."

When Jiang Yanbai saw that line of text, he paused for a moment, his voice trembling slightly: "...Xiao Xu, you just had surgery, can you take care of yourself first?"