Amateur talent show? Top mentors are my students.

Li Bufan's voice boomed through the corridor, carrying an almost instinctive rage of betrayal.

His grizzled orange hair stood out starkly under the corridor lights. His eyes were red, his lips were trembling, and his fingers were clenched into fists, his knuckles turning white.

He Xu leaned against the door frame, looking at him without saying a word.

"You knew it from the very beginning, didn't you?" Li Bufan's voice rose.

"You know who you are, you know how strong you are, you know we're all a joke in front of you—you watch us practice dancing so hard, try so hard to win, don't you find that hilarious?!"

His voice echoed in the corridor, hitting the walls and bouncing back, layer upon layer, like the echo of some kind of accusation.

He Xu's expression remained unchanged.

But his hand slipped off the doorknob and hung down at his side.

"Li Bufan," he said, his voice so hoarse it was almost a whisper, "I don't find it funny."

"Then what do you think?!" Li Bufan took a step forward, biting his lip tightly to stop the tears from falling.

"You see me calling you 'Brother He Xu,' you see me begging you to teach me to dance, you see me so nervous on stage that my legs are shaking—don't you think I'm incredibly stupid?!"

He Xu remained silent for a second.

"no."

"You do!" Li Bufan's voice finally trembled with tears. "You do! You know everything, you can do everything, and you watch us, who know nothing, jumping around in front of you!"

You're probably thinking to yourself—these people are ridiculous, they don't even know their own limitations—

"Li Bufan".

Li Bufan's voice choked in his throat.

"If you say so, then so be it." He Xu's voice was so hoarse it was almost a whisper. "You're making my ears hurt."

Li Bufan opened his mouth, but all the prepared words of questioning and accusation suddenly got stuck in his throat.

His gaze fell on He Xu's left ear—the gauze was very white, but it didn't stand out against his bloodless face.

He looks like a patient.

Li Bufan's anger seemed to have been punctured at that moment, leaking out in a rush.

"...Don't use your injury as a shield." His voice trailed off, but he still forced himself to stay calm.

He Xu didn't reply, but leaned against the door frame, tilting his head and turning his right ear slightly towards Li Bufan.

The angle startled Li Bufan—he was listening to himself with his right ear.

I really can't hear with my left ear anymore.

This realization was like a bucket of ice water, extinguishing the last bit of fire in Li Bufan's heart.

He Xu waited a moment, but didn't hear the next word, so he straightened up from the door frame.

"Are you done talking?" he asked. "If you're done, I'm closing the door."

"Wait, wait a minute—" Li Bufan reached out and braced himself against the door. "You... what happened to your ear?"

He Xu glanced at him.

"Mild hearing loss," he said. "It will get better."

"Then why did you withdraw from the competition?"

He Xu did not answer immediately.

He looked at Li Bufan's face, which was filled with resentment and grievance, and remained silent for a moment.

"Because I don't want to pretend anymore," he said.

Li Bufan's fingers slid off the door panel.

"You..." His voice was a little hoarse, "You lied to us before when you said you were an amateur. Were those things you said when you taught us to dance also lies?"

"no."

Li Bufan opened his mouth, as if he wanted to say something more, when a series of hurried footsteps came from the other end of the corridor.

Both of them turned their heads at the same time.

Shen Yiheng strode over, his face not looking too good, holding a folder in his hand.

He wasn't wearing a suit jacket, his shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and the top two buttons of his collar were undone, making him look like he had rushed over from somewhere.

His gaze lingered on Li Bufan for a moment before landing on He Xu.

"You didn't rest?" Shen Yiheng's tone carried a hint of impatience. "Everyone is waiting for you in the conference room. It's a high-level meeting about your withdrawal from the competition."

He Xu leaned against the door frame, not moving.

"Now?" he asked.

"Now," Shen Yiheng said, "the director, producer, publicity director, mentors, and several investors are all here."

He Xu remained silent for a moment, then straightened up from the door frame.

"Let's go," he said, his voice hoarse.

He took a step, then stopped and turned his head to look at Li Bufan.

"Go back now," He Xu said. "Go do what you need to do."

Li Bufan stood there, his fingers gripping his trouser leg, his knuckles turning white.

"Brother He Xu," his voice was muffled, "will you come back?"

He Xu did not answer.

"Liar..." Li Bufan said, watching his retreating figure.

-

The conference room was brightly lit, and the long table was full of people.

The director, producer, publicity director, legal counsel, four mentors, and a few other faces that He Xu didn't recognize—probably representatives sent by the investors.

Everyone's expression was different, but their eyes conveyed the same thing: utter distress.

The director stood in front of the projection screen, pressing the remote control in his hand repeatedly.

The screen displays a screenshot of public opinion monitoring, with red, orange, and purple blocks densely packed together, each block representing a topic that is gaining traction.

"From last night until now, 23 out of the top 50 trending topics are related to the show." The director's voice was hoarse, clearly indicating that he hadn't slept in a long time. "Negative public opinion accounts for more than 60%, and the comment section is out of control... Now there is only one problem to solve—how to put out this fire."

The PR director took over, pushing his laptop to the center of the table: "We've drafted a few plans. First, let's ignore it. The statement has already been issued; we won't respond to any more questions and will wait for the hype to die down naturally—of course, this plan has been basically rejected."

"Second, let Jiang Yang come out and make an explanation, explaining the ins and outs of the replacement, and try to win public sympathy—this is the most appropriate solution at present."

"I object," Shen Yiheng was the first to speak.

The director looked at him.

"Should we have Jiang Yang explain himself?" Shen Yiheng put down his pen, his voice low but firm. "He's only sixteen. Why should he be made to take the fall? The replacement spot wasn't his fault; it was the production team's decision. If anyone should speak out, it should be the production team!"

"The production team has already issued a statement," said the publicity director. "But the public isn't buying it. Now we need a more convincing voice—Jiang Yang is He Xu's student and a beneficiary of the replacement; his words carry more weight than the production team's."

"More weighty?" Shen Yiheng's voice rose slightly. "You want him to come out and say, 'I apologize on behalf of Teacher He Xu'? What is there for him to apologize for? He did nothing wrong!"

"PD, calm down." The director frowned. "No one said Jiang Yang did anything wrong. We just need an explanation that the public can accept."

"Then you tell us yourselves." Shen Yiheng leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. "Don't let a sixteen-year-old take the blame for you."

The atmosphere in the meeting room froze.

He Xu leaned back in his chair, listening to the back-and-forth arguments of these people, without saying a word.

It wasn't until the director turned his gaze to him for the third time—"He Xu, what do you think?"

He finally straightened up, took his hands out of his pockets, and placed them on the edge of the table.

His gaze swept over everyone present, finally settling on the PR director's face.

"Jiang Yang won't come out," He Xu said.

This isn't a discussion; it's a notification.

The PR director opened his mouth: "But—"

"I told you, Jiang Yang isn't coming out." He Xu's words were like nails hammered into the table. "He's only sixteen. The production team shouldn't be so inhumane."

The director was silent for a few seconds: "So what do you think we should do?"

"I'll handle it," he said.

There was a moment of silence in the conference room.

"You're going to intervene?" The PR director's voice rose slightly. "What are you going to say?"

"To tell the truth," He Xu said, "I will explain everything clearly, from beginning to end: my identity, the reason for my withdrawal, and the process of Jiang Yang's replacement."

"No way," Shen Yiheng blurted out.

Everyone looked at him.

"Even if you speak out now, those who are cursing you won't stop just because you tell the truth." Shen Yiheng's anxiety hadn't lessened at all. "They'll say you're playing the victim, that you're trying to gain sympathy, that you're only here to clear your name. Do you believe it?"

"I believe you," He Xu said.

"Then why don't you—"

"So what?" He Xu interrupted him. "Let them curse. Aren't they already cursing now?"

The arguing in the meeting room gradually subsided.

Everyone looked at He Xu, waiting for him to continue.

He Xu didn't keep them waiting too long.

"What are you worried about?" He enunciated each word clearly. "Are you worried I'll say something inappropriate? Are you worried I'll insult the production team? Are you worried I'll say something I shouldn't?"

No one responded.

"Since I've agreed to withdraw from the competition, I won't cause you any more trouble." He Xu leaned back in his chair, his gaze sweeping over everyone present.

"I'm here to clarify three things. First, my identity is real; concealing it was my decision and has nothing to do with the production team. Second, withdrawing from the competition was my decision and has nothing to do with the production team. Third, Jiang Yang's replacement was done according to the rules and has nothing to do with whether he is my student or not."

He paused.

"Now that I've said my three things, you can do whatever PR you want. I'm going back to my rented apartment, you can record your shows, and we'll be even."

The director's lips moved as if he wanted to say something, but he swallowed it back.

Shen Yiheng sat opposite He Xu, his fingers gripping the pen so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

He stared at He Xu for a long time before finally asking, "Have you thought it through?"

"I've made up my mind."

"You know that once you speak out, those who criticize you won't let you off the hook just because you're telling the truth."

"I know," He Xu said calmly. "Haven't I been scolded enough?"

Shen Yiheng shut his mouth.

The director glanced at the publicity director, the publicity director glanced at the legal counsel, and the legal counsel glanced at the investors.

The investors nodded.

"Okay," the director said. "Then we'll do it your way. We'll add a personal interview to today's recording."

"The production team will prepare questions, and you can answer them as much as you want, say whatever you want—but don't go beyond the scope we agreed upon."

He Xu stood up from his chair and pushed it back under the table.

"Don't worry," he said, "I'm not that free."