Amateur talent show? Top mentors are my students.

A week is neither a long nor a short time.

This is enough to bring a massive media storm down from its boiling point to normal.

Enough for the purple "hot" word on the trending topics list to be covered by new hot topics;

It's enough to make those who have cried, cursed, and felt sorry for their loved ones in the comments section turn around and pay attention to the next interesting thing.

Internet memory is short-lived.

This is its cruelty, and also its kindness.

"Absolute Debut" is still being recorded.

Without He Xu, Jiang Yang went back.

The stage is still turning, the lights are still on, and the cameras are still recording.

The group assignments for the second performance have been announced, and the contestants have started a new round of learning dance moves, rehearsing, and staying up all night, getting back up after a breakdown to continue practicing.

Yang Sheng was still in Class A, still the captain, and still leading his team members in the practice room, meticulously refining their movements over and over again.

Song Yingwen steadily remained in Class B, speaking little and not trying to steal the spotlight, but he improved with every performance.

Qi Xunan's popularity is still rising. His direct video has been viewed over 20 million times, and the comments section is full of "Mom, he's so handsome," "He didn't stand in the center position for nothing," and "Please let him debut."

Wang Yijun remained indifferent, but He Xu's words before leaving, "Smile more in the future," seemed to have an effect, at least she managed her expression a little better.

Lu Yiming cried for two whole days, then wiped away his tears and returned to the practice room, where he practiced the high notes of the chorus a hundred times.

Li Bufan's dirty orange hair had grown black roots, but he didn't have time to touch up the color.

His group advanced to the next round, and he didn't want to lose.

Yan Chen's stitches have been removed, and the scar on the back of his head is covered by his hair and cannot be seen.

He practiced until 2 a.m. every day and was the last to leave the practice room.

Some left, some stayed, some cried, and some laughed.

Life must go on.

Life in the rented room passed very slowly.

It was so slow that He Xu felt as if time had been sped up by 0.5x, with every minute stretched out.

On the third day after Han Yu moved in, He Xu's condition began to "improve".

—At least on the surface.

He no longer spends all day curled up in bed, lost in thought.

I can get up on time in the morning, wash up, and eat breakfast. Although I don't eat much at each meal, at least I won't be like the previous two days, when it took me forty minutes to finish a bowl of porridge and I still couldn't finish half of it.

When Han Yu is cooking, he will lean against the kitchen doorway and watch, occasionally offering a few comments.

"Too much salt." "The heat is too high." "You're cutting it the wrong way."

His tone was exactly the same as when he used to yell at people in the practice room.

Han Yu got annoyed by his nagging and handed him the spatula: "Here you go."

He Xu didn't answer, turned around and walked back to the living room, leaving behind the words: "My ears hurt, I can't stand the noise of the range hood."

Han Yu knew he was making excuses.

But the fact that He Xu is willing to make excuses is itself a kind of progress.

At least he's trying to get back on track to "normal".

At least he didn't remain stuck in that suffocating trough forever.

I returned the phone to him on the fourth day.

Han Yu took his phone out of his pocket, placed it on the dining table, and pushed it in front of He Xu.

"Your phone," he said. "I've charged it for you."

He Xu glanced at the phone but didn't pick it up immediately.

The screen was clean and clear, without a mountain of unread messages—Han Yu had obviously cleared them out for him, leaving only conversations with a few important contacts.

Shen Yiheng, Jiang Yang, Yang Sheng, Zhou Wei, Zheng Zaiyuan, Xu Shutong, and several other people from the studio.

Han Yu didn't delete the messages from others, but he also didn't let He Xu see them.

They simply folded up those conversations and hid them in a secondary menu.

He Xu can always find a way to flip through it if he wants to.

But if you don't want to scroll through it, you won't see it.

He Xu picked up his phone and scrolled through the messages from those important contacts, his expression remaining unchanged.

Shen Yiheng sent five messages, all of them voice messages.

He Xu didn't listen, but replied with a single line: "Alive, don't ask anymore."

Jiang Yang sent more than a dozen messages, from "Teacher He, how are your ears?" to "I got scolded by the selection manager again during dance practice today", then "Teacher He, when are you coming back?", and finally a voice message, which, when opened, contained the sound of crying.

He Xu listened halfway through and then turned it off, replying with a single word: "Good boy/girl."

Yang Sheng's message was the shortest, consisting of only one: "Teacher, I will win."

He Xu stared at it for a long time, then typed: "Don't put too much pressure on yourself."

Zhou Wei's message was a long text, the gist of which was "The production team is already investigating the issue of the earpiece leaking electricity. Take good care of your ears and don't let them develop into a chronic condition."

He Xu replied with "I understand".

Jung Jae-won was even more direct, sending a voice message that roughly said, "I'll treat you to dinner when you're better, and we can talk about choreography."

Xu Shutong typed a lot of words like a nanny, and He Xu opened it, glanced at it, and then closed it again.

He then opened Weibo.

His name is no longer trending on social media.

He scrolled down a few pages and saw some familiar keywords—#AbsolutelyDebutSecondPublicPartyGrouping#, #YangShengDirectShot#, #QiXunan#.

He clicked on his own tag, and the first trending Weibo post was still Shen Yiheng's long article, which had already been forwarded more than two million times.

I scrolled for about ten minutes, then put my phone down.

"Finished watching?" Han Yu asked.

"Um."

"How does it feel?"

He Xu thought for a moment.

"I don't feel anything."

Han Yu stared at him for two seconds. There was indeed nothing to be seen on that face.

There was only emptiness, a stillness devoid of anything.

He opened his mouth, wanting to ask, "Are you alright?", but swallowed the words back.

Because he knew He Xu would say, "I'm fine."

And that's the word he least wants to hear right now.

-

The follow-up examination is scheduled for around 10:00 AM.

The hospital was the same one as before, the corridor was the same corridor, and the smell of disinfectant was still that unpleasant, bitter odor.

He Xu sat on a plastic chair at the entrance of the clinic, while Han Yu stood beside him, holding a cup of untouched coffee.

Neither of them spoke.

The door to the consultation room was ajar, and the rustling sound of the doctor flipping through medical records and the occasional crisp sound of typing could be heard from inside.

After waiting for about ten minutes, the nurse poked her head out and said, "He Xu, come in."

He Xu stood up, and Han Yu followed behind him.

"Family members, please wait outside." The nurse glanced at Han Yu.

Han Yu paused for a moment, and He Xu, without turning his head, said, "He's not a family member."

Han Yu's lips twitched, and he retreated to sit down on a chair in the corridor.

One of the light bulbs in the consultation room was broken, leaving only the other one working.

The light was much dimmer than last time, and the whole room was shrouded in a grayish-white, unreal light.

The doctor was the same man in his fifties as last time, with silver-rimmed glasses perched on his nose, and his expression was more relaxed than before.

Two reports were laid out in front of him—one from a week ago, and the other just released.

"Sit down," the doctor said, pointing to a chair.

He Xu sat down and placed his hands on his knees.

The doctor didn't speak immediately, but instead opened the two reports in front of him and gestured with his finger on the waveform.

"He Xu," the doctor began, "during last week's follow-up examination, we were worried that the damage in the high-frequency bands was irreversible. But this report shows that the situation is better than expected."

He pointed to a segment on the waveform: "The hearing threshold above 4000 Hz has dropped from 40 dB to 25 dB. Although it has not fully recovered to normal levels, it is indeed moving in a positive direction."

He Xu's expression didn't change much, but the fingers resting on his knees loosened slightly.

"So," he said, his voice still hoarse, "can it get better?"

The doctor nodded: "The recovery period for sensory nerve damage is indeed longer than we imagined."

"But your current trend indicates that the inner ear concussions and damage to the ossicles are slowly repairing."

He placed the two reports side by side on the table: "The difference between a week ago and now is obvious—if given another one to two months, it should be able to recover to near normal levels."

He Xu leaned back in his chair, paused for two seconds, and then asked, "What about the hearing aid?"

"There's no rush to get it right now," the doctor said. "If your recovery goes smoothly, you might not even need it. But I suggest you observe for a while longer and come back for a check-up in three months. We'll see how things go then."

He Xu nodded and stood up from his chair: "Should I continue taking my medication as usual?"

"As usual," the doctor said. "The hyperbaric oxygen therapy can continue; it's helpful for nerve repair. Also—"

He paused, took off his glasses and wiped them: "You still need to be careful to protect your left ear during the recovery period—avoid prolonged exposure to high-intensity noise environments, avoid wearing in-ear headphones, and avoid severe head impacts—these are the same as before, nothing new."

"Okay," He Xu said. "Thank you, doctor."

He turned to leave, and as his hand touched the doorknob, the doctor added from behind, "He Xu."

He turned his head away.

"Good recovery, keep it up."

He Xu looked at him, and the corners of her mouth curved slightly: "Mm."

As I pushed open the door and walked out, the motion-activated lights in the hallway came on.

Han Yu sat on a plastic chair in the corridor, his coffee already cold, untouched.

He looked up and saw He Xu come out of the consultation room, his expression slightly different from when he went in.

Relaxed.

"He Xu".

"Um."

"What did the doctor say?"

He Xu remained silent for a second.

"It will get better," he said casually, but his voice rose slightly at the end. "The high-frequency range is starting to recover. The doctor said that if I give it another month or two, it should return to normal levels."

Han Yu stared at him for three seconds, then lowered his head and placed the now-cold cup of coffee on the chair next to him.

His fingers were still resting on the cup, his knuckles slightly white.

He didn't speak.

He Xu looked at him like that, but didn't say anything.

The two people were two steps apart.

Han Yu's shoulders relaxed.

It was very slight, but He Xu could see it.

"Let's go." He stood up, threw the coffee into the trash can, and said in a slightly calmer voice, "Let's go back."

On the way back, Han Yu didn't say a word.

The car was still driven steadily, but the knuckles of the fingers gripping the steering wheel were no longer white.

He Xu leaned against the passenger seat, tilting his head to look at him.

"Han Yu".

"Um."

"Are you unhappy?"

"……Happy."

"Why aren't you saying anything when you're happy?"

Han Yu paused for two seconds, then tapped his fingers lightly on the steering wheel: "I'm afraid if I say too much you'll think I'm being sentimental."

He Xu chuckled and didn't ask any more questions.