Amateur talent show? Top mentors are my students.

Jung Jae-won always thought he had seen enough.

Unexpectedly, I saw how the word "efficiency" was written for the first time in a dance studio.

Late at night, they had already danced countless times in the practice room.

He Xu stood in front of the mirror, hands on his hips, sweat dripping down his chin.

"stop."

Everyone froze immediately.

He Xu didn't play any music, but tapped his own rhythm as he moved around, making an arc in the air with his right hand: "Ah Kun, take half a step to the left here, and avoid Yi Heng."

Akun nodded.

He Xu turned around, his gaze sweeping over everyone: "Chorus, start from the beat of 'Blade,' and repeat on the same beat. Da Zhou, you're too slow, Xiao Fei, you're too fast, let's start over."

No nonsense.

The music started again, and the six people began to move again.

Jung Jae-won sat in the corner, his coffee completely cold, without taking a sip.

He had seen fast-paced choreography before, but never anything like this—He Xu hardly needed complete sentences; a single word or gesture was enough for six people to adjust simultaneously.

"hand."

Da Zhou immediately raised his arm five degrees.

"head."

Xiao Fei tilted his head at a different angle.

"spacing."

All three of them moved half a step at the same time.

Jung Jae-won felt a chill run down his spine.

After playing the chorus once, He Xu didn't stop him; instead, he jumped right in, shouting as he danced: "Ah Kun, core! Da Zhou, don't look at the floor! Xiao Fei, relax your shoulders—Shen Yiheng!"

Shen Yiheng had just landed and regained his footing when He Xu was already standing in front of him.

"You've been doing too many spins." He Xu said expressionlessly, showing him no respect whatsoever. "How many times have I told you? I've been saying it since before your debut and you still haven't changed?!"

Shen Yiheng's lips moved slightly: "I didn't—"

"You have it," He Xu interrupted him. "Go again, keep jumping this part until I'm satisfied."

Shen Yiheng swallowed his words and stood back in his seat.

Da Zhou secretly glanced at Shen Yiheng—that top idol who once commanded respect on stage was now being scolded like a grandson, not daring to utter a single word in rebuttal.

Jung Jae-won put the cold coffee on the ground and couldn't say a word.

These people are too familiar with each other.

When He Xu cursed, no one felt offended.

He Xu only uttered the word "hand," and everyone knew which hand was being referred to in which action.

This kind of tacit understanding isn't something you can practice; it's something you develop through experience.

The music never stopped.

He Xu's voice was even hoarser, but he kept talking.

"Retake! Too early! Let's do it again! Positioning! Collision! Spacing! Hands! Legs! Shen Yiheng, you're the core!"

Shen Yiheng gritted his teeth, remained silent, and jumped over and over again.

When he jumped seventeen times, He Xu couldn't hold on any longer.

A violent cough surged up from his throat. He turned his head away, covered his mouth with the back of his hand, and coughed so hard that his whole body hunched over.

The music was still playing, but no one continued dancing.

Shen Yiheng was the first to rush over, but he pulled his hand back halfway through.

"Water," he called out as he turned his head.

Da Zhou had already handed the water bottle over from the corner.

Shen Yiheng took it, unscrewed the cap, and handed it to He Xu.

He Xu propped himself up on his knees, coughing uncontrollably for a while. After finally catching his breath, he took the water, coughed a few more times, and then calmed down.

His eyes were red-rimmed, and his voice was so hoarse it was almost a whisper: "I can't go on, I need to rest."

The six people dispersed on the spot.

Zheng Zaiyuan watched them drink water while gesturing, and saw He Xu leaning against the wall with his eyes closed, his fingers gently tapping a rhythm on his knees—

He suddenly felt old.

It's not about being old in age.

It's cognitive.

He's been in this practice room since 8 p.m.

I watched as He Xu lay on the ground, holding a pencil, scribbling and drawing, the paper covered with hastily drawn formations and movement diagrams.

It was drawn terribly, but every arrow, every number, and every dotted line was clearly visible.

"Yiheng, come here." He Xu spread the paper on the ground, squatted down, and said, "This is the positioning for the verse. You're in position one, Dawei is in position three, and Akun is in position five—"

He tapped a few lines on the paper with his pen, then looked up at Da Zhou and asked, "Can you understand this?"

Da Zhou leaned closer and looked at it for two seconds: "...I don't understand, what kind of scribbling is this?"

He Xu took a deep breath and shoved the pen into his hand: "Then I'll walk and show you. You can follow along and draw it once, and you'll remember it."

Then he stood up and walked to the center of the practice room.

"There's no demo yet. I'll walk through the empty spaces first. You watch and remember your positions and paths."

There was no music, no formation, and not even a complete movement.

He Xu walked around the empty practice room.

Left foot, right foot, turn, cross, step back, move to the side.

He tapped his mouth to keep time, his steps were so fast it looked like he was running.

But at each crucial juncture, he would stop, turn around, and glance at the teammate in the corresponding position: "Here, you cross over with me." "Here, you go around from behind." "Here, you pause for two beats before moving."

After completing the course, he returned to the starting point.

All five people nodded in unison.

"Okay, let's go through it. Teacher Zheng, could you please take a look and see if it's alright?"

Zheng Zaiyuan quickly nodded in agreement—even though he hadn't yet figured out the movement diagram.

effectiveness.

Absolute efficiency.

Every judgment was outrageously accurate, and every instruction was so brief that it consisted of only one word, yet everyone could understand it.

This efficiency is not a talent.

It is an instinct honed in a person through thousands of hours of training, countless trials and errors, and numerous real-world battles.

From the start until 1 a.m., everyone only rested twice.

The first time was when He Xu coughed so badly he couldn't stand up.

The second time was when Ah Kun's old ankle injury reacted a bit. He Xu glanced at it and said, "Ice for fifteen minutes." Then everyone sat down on the spot, drank water, and stretched.

Fifteen minutes later, He Xu stood up.

"continue."

No one complained.

Da Zhou leaned against the wall, chugging a sports drink while muttering to Xiao Fei, "Is Teacher He made of iron? His voice is like that, how can he still shout?"

Xiao Fei rolled her eyes at him: "Is this the first day you've met Teacher He?"

Da Zhou shut up.

By the sixth hour, the entire dance had been performed flawlessly.

The verse consists of six eight-beat sections, the chorus of eight eight-beat sections, the bridge of four eight-beat sections, and the ending.

Actions, positioning, formation changes, and interaction points are all determined.

He Xu called everyone to the mirror: "Dance through the whole thing from beginning to end. Don't stop, don't correct anyone, just finish dancing first."

The music is ringing.

Six people started moving at the same time.

As He Xu completed the movements, his eyes followed the trajectory of each person in the mirror.

The music ended.

The six people were panting heavily.

After catching his breath, He Xu gave the changes.

"Da Zhou, remove the turn in the second chorus."

Da Zhou nodded.

"Xiaofei, you were too slow on the bridge section." He Xu's voice was hoarse. "You increased the distance between you and Akun from three steps to four steps to give you time to react."

Finally, He Xu looked at Shen Yiheng.

"I know," Shen Yiheng said first, "the angle of the turn."

He Xu looked at him, remained silent for two seconds, and then nodded.

"It's okay," he said, his voice so hoarse it was almost a whisper. "You danced this part without any problems."

Shen Yiheng was stunned for a moment.

Having followed He Xu for so many years, he had heard "do it again" countless times, and heard "start over," "no," and "can't do it" countless times.

But He Xu never says the words "That's enough".

He Xu could only say "not bad", "so-so", "watchable".

Shen Yiheng took a deep breath and suppressed the emotions that were welling up inside him.

"How about recording a demo?" he asked.

"Record." He Xu turned to Zheng Zaiyuan, who had stood up in the corner. "Teacher Zheng, could you please watch the camera positions for us and go through the entire sequence?"

Jung Jae-won nodded, walked behind the camera, and adjusted the angle.

He Xu looked around the practice room and noticed that something was missing.

"Hats and masks," he said. "Who has any?"

Old Yuan pulled a black baseball cap out of his bag and tossed it over, while Xiao Fei handed him an unopened black face mask.

"Teacher He, why are you covering your face?" Da Zhou asked. "Your face isn't ugly."

"It's not a matter of being ugly or not." He Xu pulled his hat down over his head, the brim pulled low, then took off his mask and put it on, leaving only his eyes showing. "The trainees will recognize me when they see this face."

"So what if I recognized you?" Da Zhou didn't react.

He Xu glanced at him, her eyes filled with disdain even through her mask.

"I'm a contestant," he said. "A contestant choreographing for another contestant? Does that make any sense?"

Da Zhou opened his mouth, then closed it again.

Shen Yiheng stood to the side, the corners of his mouth curving slightly before he quickly suppressed it.

He Xu is right—the trainees don't know.

At least for now, they don't need to know.

He Xu stood in front of the mirror, his hat brim pulled low, his mask covering most of his face, revealing only a pair of upturned eyes.

"Let's begin," he said, his voice muffled through his mask.

The music is ringing.

At 2:38 AM, the new choreography demo for "Blade" was recorded.