Amateur talent show? Top mentors are my students.

Emiko asked him to meet her at the company.

Specifically, it was the small meeting room on the second floor of the company that she often used to discuss music arrangement.

The company was much more impressive than He Xu had imagined, which was indeed befitting a star of her caliber.

When He Xu arrived, the door was half open, and a very soft piano sound came from inside—someone was playing a melody at a very low volume.

He Xu stood at the door for two seconds, then raised his hand and knocked on the door frame.

The piano music stopped.

Emiko turned around from the piano bench, her eyes lighting up when she saw him, her smile even wider than the last time they met: "Hey! You're here! And you look like a human being again."

He Xu went in and sat down in the chair opposite her.

The meeting room was small, with a window on one wall and a whiteboard on the other wall with some rough structural diagrams drawn on it with markers.

He glanced at it and could barely recognize it as a segment marker from a song.

Emiko closed the piano lid and turned to face him: "I listened to your ideas. The ones you sent. The bridge part—it's really good."

He Xu took out his phone, opened the notes app, typed a line, and handed it to her: "The framework is set up, but it still needs fine-tuning. What do you want to talk about today?"

Emiko glanced down at the text, then nodded: "Well. I want to go over the whole piece from start to finish. And I want to hear your thoughts on the stage design."

He Xu raised an eyebrow slightly.

He thought today would just be about the details of choreography—movement direction, segment transitions, and rhythm matching.

But Emiko mentioned "stage setup".

He picked up his phone and typed another line: "Stage setting?"

Emiko stood up from her chair, walked to the whiteboard, picked up a black marker, and drew a large rectangle in the blank area.

"This is the venue." She drew a small square at the left end of the rectangle. "Stage here. Audience here—facing the stage." She drew a patch of dots on the right half of the rectangle. "Capacity about five thousand."

He Xu raised an eyebrow.

Emiko noticed his expression: "You thought it was smaller, didn't you?"

He Xu did not deny it. He picked up his phone: "You said 'small venue' before."

"I did." Emiko leaned against the edge of the table, arms crossed. "But then the sponsors got involved, and so did the streaming platforms. They wanted to make it a global live event—so now it's not so small. It's still a one-night show, but it's going to be huge—a full venue setup, twelve cameras, a giant LED screen, and a rotating stage area."

She turned around and drew a few arcs on the whiteboard with a marker: "[English] There will be a live band here—drums, bass, keyboards, strings. I'll be standing in the middle. And you'll be here."

She drew a circle slightly to the left of the center of the rectangle, and then drew several radiating lines next to it: "[English] They also added a secondary stage on the right for the coda, with a lift that rises during the final segment."

He Xu stared at the scribbles and circles on the whiteboard and remained silent for a long time.

He originally thought it was just a venue, a choreography, and a performance.

Now, with thousands more people, global live streaming, twelve cameras, a giant screen, and a rotating stage, the scale has completely exceeded the scope of a "small performance" and is heading straight for the level of a large-scale concert.

He picked up his phone: "Is this still the same show you told me about?"

Emiko looked at him, her gaze serious: "Yes and no. The performance is still mine. But the scale has changed. I should have told you sooner. I guess I was afraid you would refuse if I said it was a big production."

He Xu looked at her for a few seconds, then lowered his head and typed: "Probably will."

Emiko looked at the line of text and was amused by his honesty: "So it's really you. What about now? Are you still going to refuse?"

He Xu looked up and turned his phone screen towards her, making sure she could see the words: "I've already done half of it, so I'll continue regardless—not just for money."

Emiko stared at the line of text for two seconds, then burst out laughing.

The laughter was loud, echoing slightly in the not-so-large conference room: "You are the most practical person I've ever met."