Amateur talent show? Top mentors are my students.

When Shen Yiheng found He Xu, he was stretching alone in the dance studio.

It was supposed to be a stretching exercise, but I didn't really stretch properly.

He Xu sat on the floor with his left leg straight and his right leg bent, slowly leaning his body to the left, his movements as lazy as a cat sunbathing.

The gauze on my right hand has been removed and replaced with less noticeable band-aids and tension-reducing patches.

The dance studio was stuffy and hot because the air conditioning wasn't on, and a small, semi-transparent sweat stain had seeped through the back of his white T-shirt.

Today's program includes a pool party.

It was called a party, but it was actually just a behind-the-scenes shoot—dozens of boys were playing around in the water in their swim trunks, while the production team set up seven or eight cameras to capture "youthful moments" from various angles.

It's used to create derivative content outside of the main show, for fans to enjoy.

He Xu did not go.

The reason is simple—my hand is being stitched, so it's not suitable for me to go into the water.

In fact, he wouldn't have gone even if his hand hadn't been injured.

He, a 24-year-old "old man," was having a water fight with a group of 17- or 18-year-old teenagers.

It's embarrassing just thinking about it.

So when the selection committee came to inform him, he waved his hand and said, "I have an injury on my hand and can't go," and went back to the dance studio.

He Xu changed direction and began to stretch his right leg.

Halfway through the dance routine, the door to the dance studio was suddenly pushed open.

He Xu turned his head and saw Shen Yiheng standing at the door.

He was still wearing the same dark gray shirt he had worn in the meeting, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, two buttons undone at the collar, and his hair slightly disheveled by the hot wind in the corridor.

His expression is off.

He Xu glanced at it only once before continuing to stretch.

"Weren't you in a meeting?" His voice came muffled from the floor. "Finished?"

Shen Yiheng didn't answer. He walked in, closed the door, leaned against it, put his hands in his pockets, and pursed his lips into a thin line.

He Xu waited for two eight-beat counts, but didn't get a reply, so he looked up at him.

"What's wrong?"

Shen Yiheng took a deep breath and then exhaled, as if he was organizing his thoughts.

"There's a copyright issue," he said, his voice lower than usual. "There's a song on the show, but the copyright holder suddenly backed out and won't let us use it anymore."

He Xu paused for a moment.

Which song?

"Burn It Up".

He Xu thought for a moment, but couldn't remember which song it was.

He's not very familiar with current pop songs.

"so what?"

"So now we're missing a song." Shen Yiheng plopped down next to him, anxiously scratching his hair. "If it were just a missing song, that would be fine; I can fill in with my own songs—"

"But the problem is, there's not enough time for choreography."

"On Teacher Zheng Zaiyuan's side, his team was originally doing the choreography for all eight songs, but now they suddenly want to change one song. The rhythm, emotion, and emphasis are all different." Shen Yiheng ran his fingers through his hair and tugged at it twice.

"Even if I gave him the song, he couldn't possibly choreograph the entire dance in a single day..."

"One day?" He Xu's voice was hoarse and low, with a hint of "Are you kidding me?" in it. "Isn't the first public performance still over a week away?"

"That's the day of the performance." Shen Yiheng gave a wry smile. "We're recording the first group performance tomorrow. I can't possibly give the trainees a song without choreography to choose from; that's not fair."

"...Can't it be postponed?"

"The filming schedule is fixed."

indeed.

The shooting schedule was fixed. The venue, lighting, camera, and post-production were all pushed forward according to the timeline, and a change in one part would affect the whole.

He Xu looked at him without saying a word.

"So," Shen Yiheng finally raised his voice, his tone carrying a sense of resignation, "I came to find you."

"What do you want from me?"

"choreographer."

He Xu raised an eyebrow.

"You've got the wrong person," he said, his voice hoarse. "I'm a contestant, not a choreographer."

"Don't give me that." Shen Yiheng sidled up to He Xu, pressing close to him. "How many people have you choreographed for? You've taught trainees from half the street, and now you're telling me you're not a choreographer?"

"That's two different things."

"How are they two different things?" Shen Yiheng's voice rose a little. "You can choreograph, you're good at it, and your efficiency is the highest I've ever seen among all choreographers!"

He Xu did not respond.

"Teacher." Shen Yiheng met his gaze, lowered his voice, and pleaded, "Help me this time."

He Xu looked at him.

The anxiety in his eyes was genuine; his hair was even more disheveled from being pulled so hard, his collar was open, and his collarbone was covered in sweat.

"You're a producer, and you're asking contestants for choreography?" He Xu's tone was disdainful. "Aren't you afraid of losing face if word gets out?"

"It's embarrassing, but it's even more embarrassing if the show is ruined," Shen Yiheng said.

He Xu was silent for a few seconds, then took his hands off his knees, supported himself on the ground to stand up, and moved his neck, his joints making a slight clicking sound.

"Let's go," he said.

Shen Yiheng was taken aback.

"You're not going to drive it anymore? Didn't you drive halfway and then leave?"

-

The atmosphere in the meeting room had been tense for almost half an hour.

The director's expression changed from embarrassment to anxiety, and then from anxiety to a suppressed anger.

I've made all the calls I could.

None of them had any real effect.

On the other end of the phone, Xu Shutong's voice came through intermittently: "...So what do we do now? Should I contact the choreographer I worked with before? Although time is a bit tight—"

"It's too late." Jung Jae-won took the unlit cigarette out of his mouth, his voice irritated. "Even if we find someone now, from communication, coordination, choreography, revisions to recording a complete demo, it will take at least three days—we only have one day."

"Can we change to another song?" Xu Shutong asked again.

"The copyright holders rejected more than just one song," the producer finally spoke, his voice deep. "'Burn It Up' is just one of them. I just got another call; another alternative was also rejected."

There was a moment of silence in the conference room.

"So," the director said in a low voice, "we only have seven songs at the moment?"

"Yes. The first public performance requires eight songs, and now we're one short."

"Then let's use the PD's songs to fill in the gaps," Jin Xian said calmly. "Didn't we discuss this plan before?"

"We've discussed it, but there's not enough time for choreography." The director rubbed his temples. "What about Mr. Jung Jae-won—"

"I know," Jin Xian interrupted him, "but there's no other way right now."

Another silence followed.

Zheng Zaiyuan put the cigarette back in his mouth, his voice muffled: "How about this—I'll stay up all night to build the framework first, and then refine it tomorrow. Although time is tight, at least—"

The meeting room door was pushed open.

Everyone turned their heads away.

Shen Yiheng stood at the door.

"PD, where have you been?" The director's voice was clearly filled with displeasure. "We're waiting for your proposal, and you—"

"I'm going to find someone." Shen Yiheng walked in, making room for the person behind him.

He Xu followed and stepped into the conference room.