Amateur talent show? Top mentors are my students.

When the students from Class F rushed into Class B's practice room, He Xu was already standing in front of the mirror.

"You guys are lucky." He Xu looked up, his voice hoarse as if sandpaper was scraping against glass. "The people in Class B all went to the recording studio to record the theme song, so this practice room is empty until the evening."

"Brother He Xu, don't you have to go record a song?"

My voice isn't good.

He paused.

"So, we'll practice here."

Yan Chen stood at the front, his eyes still red: "Brother He Xu, we—"

"Stop talking nonsense," He Xu interrupted him. "Show me the whole routine first. From the first eight beats to the end, without stopping. Whoever stops has to leave."

The atmosphere in the practice room suddenly became tense.

The twenty people dispersed and stood in front of the mirror.

The formation was loose and scattered, with everyone standing in their own place.

He Xu did not correct it.

The music is ringing.

Then, the disaster began.

In the first eight counts, three people moved in the wrong direction.

Some people turned left, some turned right, and some stood still for a moment before moving.

The second eight beats were even more chaotic.

For the floor exercises, most people couldn't get up at all—some supported themselves with their palms but their bodies were flat on the ground, some barely managed to get up but their legs couldn't straighten at all, and some collapsed halfway through.

No more than five people can complete the entire chorus.

The remaining people either forgot the moves and stood there in a daze, or jumped around randomly and completely out of rhythm, or stopped after jumping a couple of steps, panting and looking at others.

He Xu stood in front of the mirror, hands in his pockets, expressionless.

The music stopped.

Twenty people stood there, panting heavily.

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"Is this the result of your four days of practice?" He Xu asked, his voice not loud, but every word pierced the ears of everyone present like a knife.

No one dared to speak.

"The chorus, the one who can jump through it all—you, you, you, and you."

He reached out and pointed at them one by one.

"What about the rest? What have you been doing? You've been playing for four days, right?"

Yan Chen stood at the front, his lips pressed into a thin line, his fingers gripping his trouser leg so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

"Brother He Xu, we—"

"Don't call me brother," He Xu said. "We're not that close."

Yan Chen's voice caught in his throat, and his face turned bright red.

"Let's do it again." He Xu walked back to the mirror. "This time I'll guide you through it, breaking down each movement one by one. Anyone who makes a mistake has to start over until they get it right."

He didn't use the complicated methodologies of Class B, nor did he explain the principles of force application or the shifting of the center of gravity.

Because these people are simply not good enough to understand those things.

All he could do was use the most basic method—teaching one movement at a time and correcting his movements step by step.

"For the first eight counts, in the first three counts, step your right foot to the right, shifting your weight along with it, while simultaneously drawing an arc upwards with your right hand—"

He gave a demonstration, his movements so slow it was as if they were being sped up by 0.5x.

"Did you see it clearly?"

"I saw it clearly." A few scattered voices.

"Then you come here." He Xu pointed to the nearest boy.

The boy did as instructed.

He stepped out with his right foot, but his center of gravity didn't keep up, and he tilted to one side.

He Xu stared at him for two seconds.

"You just said you saw it clearly?"

The boy lowered his head, not daring to speak.

"Raise your hand." He Xu walked over, grabbed his wrist, and pulled his right hand into the correct position. "Relax your elbow, start the force from here, not from your shoulder—can you feel it?"

The boy was led around in a circle by the strength of his hand, nodded, and his eyes were red.

"Do it again."

The boy did it again.

Still not right.

The issue of center of gravity has been resolved, but the hand movements remain stiff.

He Xu took a deep breath.

"Again."

The third time.

Still not right.

Fourth time.

It's barely watchable, but still not up to standard.

He Xu opened his mouth, wanting to say, "Never mind, let's just leave it at that," but swallowed the words back.

"Next set of movements," he said, his voice even hoarser than before.

And so, they went through it one action at a time.

Time is stretched out in this repetition.

He Xu's voice became completely hoarse on the twentieth "Again".

It wasn't the usual deep, hoarse voice, but rather a state where he could barely utter a complete syllable.

With each word he spoke, his Adam's apple would bob up and down, as if he were swallowing something.

"Brother He Xu, your throat..." Yan Chen couldn't help but ask.

"Mind your own business." He almost spoke in a whisper.

Yan Chen shut his mouth.

Another half hour passed, and the progress had only reached the eighth set of eight beats. Of the twenty people, nearly half hadn't even gotten the first four sets of eight beats right.

Some people have already started sitting on the ground, not because they're lazy, but because they really can't do it anymore.

Their arms were trembling, their calves were cramping, and their training clothes were soaked through with sweat.

This afternoon, they probably exercised more than they had in the previous few days.

"I can't go on..." A boy collapsed to the ground, limbs outstretched, gasping for breath. "I really can't go on, I can't feel my hands anymore."

He Xu glanced at him.

"Then let's take a five-minute break."

This was the first time he had said the word "rest" today.

Everyone immediately felt a huge sense of relief and collapsed to the ground without any regard for their image.

He Xu walked to the corner, picked up his water bottle, unscrewed the cap, and took a sip.

The water was cold, and a dull pain shot through my throat when I swallowed it.

He frowned and took another sip.

"Brother He Xu".

Yan Chen walked over, squatted down next to him, and held a thermos in his hand.

"This is hot, honey water... I brought it from my dorm." His voice sounded a little nervous. "Your throat is sore, drinking this might help."

He Xu looked down at the thermos.

There's a cartoon sticker on the cup, a grinning Shiba Inu.

He paused for two seconds, then reached out and took it.

"Thanks," he said, his voice so hoarse it was almost inaudible.

The five-minute break passed in the blink of an eye.

He Xu placed the thermos on the windowsill, glanced at his watch, and then at the people sprawled haphazardly on the ground.

"Get up," he said. "Continue."

Some people moved, slowly getting up from the ground, while others remained lying still.

"I said, continue."

A boy with dyed blond hair turned over, his back to He Xu, and muttered, "It's only been a few minutes..."

He Xu heard it.

"Five minutes have passed," he said.

"What can you do in five minutes?" The blond-haired boy sat up from the ground, his face showing impatience. "We've been practicing for almost two hours, and you only gave us five minutes to rest? Are you even human?"

The air in the practice room suddenly turned cold.

Yan Chen had just stood up when he heard this and paused.

He Xu looked at him without saying a word.

Seeing that He Xu didn't respond, the blond-haired boy became even more enthusiastic: "You don't need to jump, you can just stand there and move your lips, of course you're not tired! What about us? Our legs are about to break!"

"You can't record songs because of your own bad voice, so you're taking it out on us, right?"

After those words were spoken, the practice room fell completely silent.

He Xu's expression didn't change much.

He didn't even want to speak.

Of course, he couldn't bring himself to speak.

He was tired, so tired that he didn't even want to argue with him.

Yan Chen couldn't hold back any longer.

"Zhao Pengfei, that's enough." He walked up to the blond-haired boy, his voice not loud but firm, "Brother He Xu is helping us, and you not only don't appreciate it, but you're also making sarcastic remarks."

Zhao Pengfei stood up from the ground, a head taller than Yan Chen, and looked down at him: "Help us? Is that helping us? He's just making fun of us! Look at him, does he seem like someone who genuinely wants to teach?"

"you--"

"Besides, if you're the class monitor, then do your job properly. Don't be someone else's dog here."

Yan Chen's face flushed red instantly, his fingers clenched into fists, and his knuckles cracked.

Several boys from Class F gathered around, some grabbing Yan Chen's arm, others standing between him and Zhao Pengfei.

"Zhao Pengfei, watch your words."

"Someone kindly taught you, and instead of being grateful, you even insulted them?"

The voices of the group grew louder and louder, escalating from mutual accusations to shouting insults at each other.

He Xu leaned against the mirror, closed his eyes, and listened for a while.

I don't want to talk about it, and I'm too lazy to look at it.

Teach my ass.

He slowly got up from the ground, picked up his half-finished bottle of mineral water, and turned to walk towards the door.

The noise was still going on behind me.

"You fucking try saying that again?"

"Fine, we're all trainees, aren't we? He's just an amateur, what gives him the right to be so arrogant!"

"you--"

He Xu's hand was already on the doorknob.

A muffled thud came from behind.

It was the sound of a fist hitting someone.