Amateur talent show? Top mentors are my students.

He Xu took half a step forward, raising his voice slightly: "You say I shouldn't have scolded him, but do you even know what kind of training he has?"

Shen Yiheng's lips moved slightly.

"He could only practice the floor moves of the chorus less than ten times a day; his positioning was still wrong even after three days; he could only sit in the practice room for half an hour and then rest for twenty minutes."

He Xu's voice didn't soften: "You think I'm insulting him? I'm pushing him! If I don't push him, not only will his third performance be over, but his entire group's third performance will be over!"

"I know you're pressuring him," Shen Yiheng's voice rose, "but you're verbally abusing him too harshly; he can't take it!"

"If you can't handle it, then withdraw from the competition."

"He Xu!" Shen Yiheng's voice finally reached its peak, "You can't expect everyone to be like you just because you can handle it! It's your business that you can go on stage injured, but he's not made of iron!"

He Xu was rooted to the spot by those words.

He stared at Shen Yiheng for a few seconds, his eyes shifting from anger to something else entirely.

disappointment.

This emotion came so quickly that he didn't even have time to suppress it before it was revealed in his eyes.

"Are you done talking?" He Xu's voice suddenly turned cold.

Shen Yiheng was taken aback by his tone: "He Xu, I'm not trying to argue with you, I just—"

"I know," He Xu interrupted him. "You're the PD. You have to take care of everyone's feelings, you have to ensure the show is recorded smoothly, and you have to be the good guy."

Shen Yiheng frowned: "What do you mean?"

"I didn't mean anything by it." He Xu took a half step back and put his hands in his pockets. "You're right, I scolded him too harshly, he couldn't take it—I won't scold him anymore."

"...He Xu, I'm not questioning you..." Shen Yiheng was silent for several seconds, trying to call him back.

He Xu turned around and glanced at him, his tone deliberately relaxed: "I know, you're concerned about him, not questioning me. You just think I should speak properly."

"Okay, I understand. I'll be more careful in the future."

"He Xu—"

"Is there anything else? I'm going to eat now, I'm starving."

After saying that, he pushed open the door and walked out, closing it behind him.

Shen Yiheng stood in the room, staring at the closed door. His lips moved, but in the end, he said nothing.

-

When He Xu entered the cafeteria, there wasn't much food left.

He carried his tray to a corner, sat down, picked up his chopsticks, and mechanically shoveled rice into his mouth.

The rice was warm, but the vegetables were cold.

But it doesn't matter.

He chewed twice and swallowed.

I don't feel anything in my stomach, probably because I'm too tired to even feel hungry.

Shen Yiheng's words were still echoing in his mind.

"You can't expect everyone to be like you just because you can handle it."

He wasn't actually angry.

To be more precise, the anger dissipated as soon as he left the lounge.

The remaining thing is unclear.

You might be a little disappointed.

He Xu stared at his reflection in the soup bowl and suddenly found it a little funny.

He has known Shen Yiheng for six years, from that seventeen-year-old boy who stumbled and struggled even when jumping on the floor, to watching him grow to where he is now.

How many times has he cursed him?

He scolded her until she cried, scolded her until she squatted in the corner of the practice room and refused to get up, scolded her until her eyes were swollen when she came to class the next day.

But back then, Shen Yiheng never said, "You're being too harsh."

At that time, Shen Yiheng just gritted his teeth and cried until he finished, then stood up and continued dancing.

He Xu always believed that there was an unspoken understanding between them.

Today, Shen Yiheng told him that he was wrong.

It turns out that in Shen Yiheng's eyes, he was just "insulting people".

He Xu ate a couple more mouthfuls of rice, put down his chopsticks, leaned back in his chair, and stared blankly at the ceiling.

Forget it.

He came back to work, not to argue with anyone. Since the PD said to be gentle, then let's be gentle.

Whether he curses or not makes no difference to him; it's just a matter of efficiency.

He Xu stuffed the last bite of rice into his mouth, picked up his plate, stood up, and walked towards the recycling area.

I had just put the tray on the shelf when I turned around and almost bumped into someone.

Qi Xunan stood two steps behind him, wearing a white training T-shirt, her hair a little wet, as if she had just taken a shower.

He didn't say anything, just stood there, staring intently at He Xu.

He Xu felt a little flustered under his gaze.

"what?"

"Teacher He," Qi Xunan said, his voice as usual, neither loud nor soft, but icy, "Are you free tonight?"

He Xu glanced at him: "I'm busy."

"I haven't said what it is yet."

"I'm busy no matter what." He Xu walked around him, then stopped after a couple of steps, turning to look at Qi Xunan. "What do you want from me?"

"...I'd like to ask you to take a look at my dance."

He Xu remained silent for a moment.

He didn't actually want to go.

His throat hurt, his stomach was upset, he was physically and mentally exhausted, and all he wanted to do was go back and lie down.

But Qi Xunan has one peculiar characteristic—he doesn't speak up easily.

He Xu has known him for so long, from the first stage to the third public performance, and the number of times Qi Xunan has taken the initiative to ask others for help can be counted on one hand.

"Isn't Teacher Zheng in your group teaching very well?"

"He's a good teacher," Qi Xunan said, "but he's not you."

This statement was made plainly and without any hint of flattery.

"You're not afraid of offending people," He Xu said.

"Teacher Zheng knows it himself." Qi Xunan's tone was flat. "He told me this afternoon that there were some details he couldn't explain, and asked me to come to you myself."

He Xu paused for a moment, then sighed.

"Let's go."

The practice room was at the far end of the third floor, and there was no one there at this hour.

An incandescent light was still on inside, casting a narrow beam of light across the floor through the crack in the door.

When He Xu pushed the door open, he paused for a moment—Qi Xunan had already prepared everything in advance—water, towels, speakers, and even a box of throat lozenges were placed on the table in front of the mirror.

"You've prepared quite thoroughly," He Xu said.

"Your voice is hoarse." Qi Xunan walked in, picked up the box of throat lozenges, and handed it to him.

He Xu glanced at him, took the package, opened it, poured out a pill, and put it in his mouth.

The cool taste melted down my throat, suppressing the burning sensation.

"Alright, enough talk, let's begin."

Qi Xunan didn't say anything, but stood directly in front of the mirror.

As the music started, He Xu leaned against the wall and watched his movements.

Clean.

Precise.

The timing was perfect.

He Xu leaned against the wall and finished reading the first chorus, with a throat lozenge in his mouth, without saying a word.

After Qi Xunan finished dancing, he stood still and waited for him to speak.

The reflection in the mirror was slightly out of breath, sweat trickling down her jawline, but her gaze remained calm.

He Xu switched the throat lozenge to the other cheek, slowly walked up to him, and made a gesture: "You're going too far."