Amateur talent show? Top mentors are my students.

He Xu didn't expect that he was saying "wait" the day before, and "wait" for it the next day.

He never expected that the seemingly glamorous show "Absolute Debut" would have so many unexpected problems behind the scenes.

He Xu sat at one end of the conference table, looking somewhat embarrassed at the directors, assistant directors, and producers surrounding the table.

Of course, there are also those mentors I know very well.

He Xu's gaze swept across everyone's faces, finally landing on the director's face, which was filled with "please."

He Xu's voice was much better than when he withdrew from the competition: "So—your stage director was hospitalized with acute appendicitis. The second performance is to be recorded the day after tomorrow. You couldn't find anyone to replace him, so you thought of me."

The director opened his mouth: "He Xu, listen to me—"

"I'm listening," He Xu leaned back in his chair. "Go on, let's see how outrageous it can get."

The producer took over, his tone unusually sincere: "He Xu, I know you're still recovering, and I know you said you wouldn't be involved in the show anymore when you withdrew. But this time it really was—a last-minute issue, and we had no backup plan..."

"Such a big show of yours, no backup plan?" He Xu raised an eyebrow. "Even a makeshift crew wouldn't be as makeshift as you."

The director's lips twitched.

Zhou Wei picked up his coffee cup, took a sip, and didn't say anything, but the corners of his mouth curved slightly.

Jung Jae-won couldn't help but laugh out loud, then quickly covered his mouth with the back of his hand.

Shen Yiheng sat at the other end of the table and hadn't said a word since the meeting started.

His face was visibly haggard, looking like an overworked old mother.

He spoke noticeably less than usual, his gaze fixed on the table, as if afraid of meeting He Xu's gaze.

He Xu had noticed his appearance long ago.

But he didn't point it out, nor did he ask any further questions.

"He Xu, we really have no other choice." The producer shrugged. "At this point in time, all the well-known stage directors in the industry are available. There's simply no time to find someone on short notice to familiarize themselves with the process."

He Xu leaned back in his chair and tapped his fingers lightly twice on the table.

"You mean you want me, someone whose hearing isn't fully recovered, to be your stage director, in charge of the second performance recording that's in two days?"

Before the director could speak, He Xu raised his hand: "I'm not saying I'm quitting. I'm saying—is this show even going to work?"

"The headset's leaking electricity, there are copyright issues, and now even the stage manager has to be hospitalized temporarily. Are you guys hiding some other surprise? Tell me all at once, so I can be prepared."

There was a moment of silence in the conference room.

"He Xu, stop criticizing us." The producer rubbed his hands together. "You know what you're doing; only you can handle this job."

He Xu looked at him, snorted, but did not refute him.

Of course he knew.

The second performance is the day after tomorrow. Any new stage director would need at least two days just to familiarize themselves with the process.

The lighting positions, camera switching, movement coordination, and stage effects for each program all need to be rehearsed in advance; replacing someone at the last minute is like starting from scratch.

But He Xu is different.

The all-night choreography session for "Blade" allowed him to thoroughly understand the show's stage system.

Jung Jae-won spent the whole night showing him the camera positions, and his familiarity with the stage was even greater than that of the stage manager who was hospitalized.

"Okay," He Xu finally spoke, "I'll take it."

The director let out a long breath and leaned back in his chair as if his bones had been removed.

"But—" He Xu held up one finger, "I have conditions."

The director straightened his back again.

"First, I only manage stage setup and camera positions, not the contestants' rehearsals. Don't expect me to teach people like I did in the first performance."

"certainly."

"Secondly, I can't wear a headset because of my ear. Please provide me with a walkie-talkie during the on-site communication, and keep the volume low. Also, please prepare a pair of noise-canceling earplugs for me to wear during rehearsals."

"no problem."

"Third—" He Xu paused, his gaze finally turning to Shen Yiheng. This was the first time he had looked at Shen Yiheng properly since entering the room. "You, come out with me."

Shen Yiheng's body stiffened slightly.

All eyes were on the two of them at the same time.

The director opened his mouth as if to say something, but was stopped by a look from Jin Xian.

He Xu had already stood up from the chair, pushed it aside, and walked towards the door.

As he passed Shen Yiheng, he neither stopped nor turned around, only saying, "Keep up."

Shen Yiheng stood up and followed him out.

The lights in the corridor were blindingly white.

He Xu leaned against the windowsill, arms crossed, in a lazy posture, but tilted his head, pointing his right ear toward the direction Shen Yiheng was coming from.

Shen Yiheng stopped in front of him, with about a step between them.

"look up."

Shen Yiheng didn't move.

I said, look up.

Shen Yiheng finally raised his head.

There was a faint bluish-black ring around his eyes, and his lips were also pale.

He Xu stared at him for three seconds, his gaze sweeping across his face and stopping at his cheekbone.

"You've lost weight."

Shen Yiheng's lips moved slightly: "...No."

"Are you blind or am I?" He Xu's tone was flat. "You're almost unrecognizable, and you're telling me you haven't lost weight?"

Shen Yiheng remained silent.

"Han Yu told me that he wasn't sleeping or eating, and he was making phone calls every day, treating himself like a rubber man."

Shen Yiheng's fingers curled slightly: "He—"

"What do you mean 'him'? He lives at my place, what don't I know?" He Xu straightened up from the windowsill and took half a step forward. The distance between the two people shrank from a step to half an arm's length.

"Yiheng, you've really made something of yourself!"

Shen Yiheng's Adam's apple bobbed up and down.

"My ear is already recovering. The doctor said that as long as I take care of it and let it rest for a while, it will be fully healed—that's good enough, and I gladly accept it." He Xu lowered his voice a little, "But if you ruin yourself because of this little thing of mine—"

He paused for a moment.

"I will never forgive myself for the rest of my life."

Shen Yiheng's lips were pressed into a thin line, turning white.

"I'm not trying to comfort you," He Xu said. "I'm just telling you the facts."

"You are the most promising student I have ever taught. You got to where you are now by your own hard work, it has nothing to do with me."

"But if you don't cherish it, you're just wasting all the words I used to curse you back then."

Shen Yiheng sniffed, suppressing the sour feeling.

"...I understand." His voice was a little hoarse.

"If you know, then tidy up your face." He Xu reached out and patted him on the back of the head, the force not too light or too heavy. "The second performance is the day after tomorrow, don't let the audience think that the PD looks like he just crawled out of a grave."

Shen Yiheng's lips finally curved into a smile.

It was a very light smile, but it was the first smile He Xu showed after he came in.

"I understand," he said again, this time in a more steady voice.

-

He Xu arrived at the studio half an hour early for the rehearsal the day before the performance.

He didn't go through the main entrance; he entered through the side work passage, carrying the process sheet he had marked all over.

There was a small, light gray earplug in my left ear, almost invisible unless you looked closely—the doctor said that during the recovery period, I should try to avoid prolonged exposure to high-decibel environments, especially places like rehearsals and performance venues.

The studio was in complete chaos.

Staff members were pushing equipment around, and the lighting technician was shouting into a walkie-talkie in front of the mixing console.

The camera crew members were squatting on the ground tidying up the cables, grumbling and complaining that they were too messy.

The landmark stickers on the stage were just put up, new, in red, blue and green, marking the different positions for vocal, dance and rap.

He Xu stood in the shadows below the stage and looked up.

The spotlights on the lighting rig were being adjusted. A cold white beam of light swept across overhead, paused for a moment in the center of the stage, and then moved away.

He squinted, lowered his head, flipped to the second page of the flowchart, and drew a circle on it with a pen.

A staff member jogged past, glanced at him, then took two steps back, his eyes widening: "...He Xu?!"

He Xu didn't look up, but simply hummed in response.

"Why are you here? Aren't you—"

"Come on, let's get to work." He Xu capped his pen, glanced at him sideways, and said, "The stage director is in the hospital, so I'll cover for him for two days."

The staff member said this so casually that he said "Oh" and walked away in a daze. He took three steps before turning back suddenly, but He Xu had already turned away and was no longer looking at him.

The studio was still noisy, with the static from the walkie-talkies and the background noise from the speakers all mixed together.

He Xu stood in the shadows of the stage, flipping through the program schedule, his pen pausing slightly below a certain line of text.

Choreographers deal with lighting technicians just as often as they deal with dancers.

When a dance is moved from the practice room to the stage, the effect is often diminished if the choreographer is not involved in how the lighting is positioned and how the cameras are cut.

When He Xu was learning choreography in his early years, he consciously followed the lighting technician to learn lighting setup and followed the director to learn how to watch the camera positions.

After watching a lot of videos, you'll know where to highlight, where to darken, and where to give a close-up.

The director saw him arrive and jogged over to greet him: "Mr. He, the lighting crew has already rearranged the setup according to your plan from this morning. Would you like to take a look?"

"Hmm." He Xu took the monitoring earpiece and hung it around his neck, without putting it in his ears.

He walked to the monitoring station, bent down to look at the screen, and then looked up at the actual stage.

The surveillance camera was divided into four frames, corresponding to four angles. He paused for a moment in the bottom right frame, picked up the walkie-talkie, and said, "Camera number four, tilt it fifteen degrees to the left. You can't see the people standing on the left side of the stage right now."

An adjustment sound came from the walkie-talkie, and the image shifted slightly. "Alright, fixed."

The director paused for a moment.

He Xu had already switched to the lighting team's frequency: "Let's go through the first page of the flowchart and see the effect."

The stage lights came on one by one.

He Xu stared at the landing point of each spot of light, his pen tip quickly marking names on the flowchart: "The main light is shifted five degrees to the left. The dancer will be standing there during the third chorus. The light is now shining in front of the center position."

On the other end of the walkie-talkie, the lighting technician's voice was uncertain: "...The main light has already been adjusted three times; any further off-center dancers will be swallowed up—"

"No," He Xu interrupted him. "Shift the main light five degrees to the left, and adjust the side light two stops to the right. That will create depth. Try it."

The light positions have been readjusted.

He Xu glanced at the stage and then at the monitor, then picked up the walkie-talkie: "Alright, secure it."

The walkie-talkie remained silent for a long time this time.

Then the lighting technician's voice came back, with a tone that was hard to define as either admiration or disbelief: "...Mr. He, you really haven't studied lighting?"

"I haven't studied it," He Xu said calmly, as if he were just saying the weather was nice today, "but I've rehearsed too many shows."

You'll get the hang of it after you practice a lot.

The director frowned.

It sounds like something out of a fantasy novel.

Up to this point, everything was still relatively calm.

Staff members walked around the stage adjusting equipment, while He Xu stood behind the monitoring console, looking down at the flowchart and casually confirming details with the director.

Then the players arrived.