Amateur talent show? Top mentors are my students.

He Xu did not write "yes" or "no".

But the length of his pause was enough for Jiang Yanbai to read the answer.

Jiang Yanbai did not speak immediately.

He paused for a few seconds, then spoke in a lower and slower tone than before: "He Xu, I've known you for six years. I've always known that you're afraid of causing trouble for others."

He paused, then lowered his voice by half an octave: "Do you feel that because you're sick and others take care of you, you owe them something?"

He Xu's eyelashes trembled slightly.

His fingers tightened around the pen, his knuckles turning white.

Jiang Yanbai looked at him, leaned forward, rested her arms on her knees, and got closer: "Who do you owe anyone? You owe no one. I'm here because I want to be here. Not because you 'deserve' or 'worth' it, but because I just want to stay here. Do you understand?"

He Xu's eyes suddenly reddened.

That red came very suddenly, without any warning.

Just a moment ago, he was holding the pen steadily, head down, putting on an air of "I'm fine."

The next second, her eyes turned completely red, and the tip of her nose also turned a light pink.

Seeing his expression, Jiang Yanbai stopped mid-sentence: "...What's wrong?"

He Xu shook his head, neither writing nor looking at him.

He turned his head and looked out the window at the darkening sky.

Something gleamed in the warm yellow light of the hospital room, then slid down the curve of my cheekbone and into the sheets.

Jiang Yanbai froze.

He rarely saw He Xu cry; the only time he saw him cry was when his voice was damaged.

That time it was because of sadness, but this time, Jiang Yanbai sensed an inexplicable grievance in her tears.

Jiang Yanbai was silent for a few seconds, then slowly stood up from the chair, walked to the bedside, and sat down on the edge of the bed.

He didn't touch He Xu, but just sat there, about an arm's length away, turning his head to look at him.

"He Xu," his voice was much softer than before, "What's wrong?"

He Xu did not answer.

He held the pen, his fingers trembling slightly, and wrote a few lines on the paper. The handwriting was more messy than usual, as if he was pressing down on something.

After he finished writing, he turned the paper over to show Jiang Yanbai.

The above consists of scattered words and short phrases, but at least it clarifies the matter.

"Gastroenteritis in a 12-year-old"

"Hospitalization"

"My dad"

"Say he's here"

"But he left and never came back."

"make money"

"It's not his fault."

"One person will support me."

"Indeed busy."

"I can do it alone."

Jiang Yanbai looked at those few lines of text and read them word by word.

Then his gaze lifted from the paper and landed on He Xu's face, which was slightly pale under the light of the ward.

"Are you trying to pin your father's problems on me?"

Jiang Yanbai's tone carried a hint of feigned relaxation.

He Xu neither nodded nor shook his head.

But he did not deny it.

Jiang Yanbai looked at him and remained silent for a long time.

Then he reached out, gently took the paper from He Xu's hand, folded it, and placed it on the bedside table.

His movements were slow, as if he were finding a safe place for something important.

Then he looked at He Xu again, his tone serious:

"He Xu, what you said hurt me a little. I've known you for six years, from when your voice was fine to when it was, from when you started swearing to when you couldn't speak anymore—when have I ever run past you?"

He paused, tilted his head to look at He Xu, a half-smile playing on his lips: "Your dad is your dad, and I am me. He left back then, but I didn't. He thought staying at the hospital would interfere with making money, while I skipped my recording studio appointment to bring you water and tissues—these two things are incomparable."

His voice wasn't loud, but he enunciated each word clearly: "How have you delayed me? I can make up for my other jobs by canceling them. But I missed your time because you were sick, and that can't be made up for."

You don't owe anyone anything. I take care of you because you deserve it.

He Xu's tears finally fell, one after another, silently landing on the bed sheet, leaving a small dark stain.

He kept his head down, his shoulders trembling slightly, his hand holding the pen resting on the notebook, his knuckles white, as if he wanted to write something but didn't know what to write.

Jiang Yanbai simply sat there, quietly keeping him company.

After a while, she slowly reached out, took the tissue box from the bedside table, and placed it next to He Xu.

"Wipe it off."

He Xu raised his hand, pulled out a tissue, pressed it against the corner of his eye, pressed it hard once, then again.

Then he clenched the tissue in his hand, looked down, and wrote a line in his notebook:

"Go back. I can stay here by myself."

When Jiang Yanbai saw that line of text, he chuckled, a hint of helplessness in his voice.

He stood up but did not walk towards the door.

He walked to the locker at the other end of the ward, opened it, pulled out a neatly folded thin blanket, walked back, unfolded it, and wrapped it around He Xu's shoulders.

"Xiao Xu, you want me to leave? I'm not leaving." His tone returned to its usual irritating manner. "You can cry all you want, I'll watch mine. It won't affect anything."

"Your dad is a bastard, he doesn't care about his own son—but don't worry, I'm not. I have a very good conscience, you can't get rid of me even if you try."

He Xu turned her head and glared at him, her eyes still red, but the "I'll bite you if you don't leave" attitude had returned somewhat.

Jiang Yanbai looked at his expression and smiled slightly: "Yes, that's the expression. The way you looked at me just now, as if you were asking me for trouble, made me uncomfortable."

He Xu did not write anything.

He put down his pen, leaned against the headboard, and wrapped the thin blanket tighter around himself.

My throat still hurts, and my eyes are still sore.

But the thought that "I don't deserve to be taken care of" is like something has punctured a hole, and it's slowly leaking out.

Jiang Yanbai walked back to the chair and sat down, his tone casual, with a hint of a smile: "I never thought I could be compared to your father."

"When you're better, call me 'Dad.' Not for any other reason than that I've accomplished everything your father couldn't back then—shouldn't I have some recognition?"

He Xu glared at him, his eyes still red, but his expression had changed from "I'm crying" to "I want to punch you but I can't say a word".

Jiang Yanbai looked at him and chuckled.

He Xu rolled her eyes, wiped away her tears, turned her back to him, but didn't chase him away again.

The nightlight cast a warm yellow glow, and there was no sound outside the window. Under the covers, my breathing gradually calmed down.