Amateur talent show? Top mentors are my students.

He Xu never imagined that he would one day be blocked at the door.

That morning he got up ten minutes later than usual—he had stayed in the practice room until the early hours of the morning the night before, going over the stage movements for Xu Shutong's group again, and his voice was hoarse again. He went back to the dormitory and fell asleep without even setting an alarm.

By the time he finished washing up, changed into a clean T-shirt, and came out of the dormitory building with a piece of dry bread in his mouth, it was already 7:40 in the morning.

The morning at the base was no different from any other day.

The light hadn't fully penetrated yet, and a thin layer of mist hung in the air, mixed with the smell of grass and earth.

The night watchman in the security booth had just finished his shift and was yawning as he poured hot water into his cup.

He Xu walked towards the practice building with his head down, a piece of bread in his mouth, his hands in his pockets, his pace neither hurried nor slow.

Then he heard a sound.

It's not big, but it's very dense.

It means that many people are speaking in hushed tones at the same time.

He Xu raised his head and paused for a moment.

A small group of people had gathered outside the base gate.

Not many, maybe twenty or thirty.

They stood outside the wrought iron railing, some holding up their phones, some holding paper bags, and some clutching support banners—with his name printed on them, the lettering shimmering with sequins.

He Xu's steps froze for a moment.

fan.

Since the show started airing, there have been fans camping out at the entrance of the training base.

But those people were waiting for Shen Yiheng, Xu Shutong, and other contestants who already had a certain level of popularity.

He Xu never imagined that someone would be waiting for him at the door.

Moreover, these people saw him.

"He Xu!!!!"

A girl shouted first, her voice high-pitched and shrill, particularly loud in the morning mist.

Immediately afterward, others joined in the shouting. The voices rose and fell in chorus—some called out "Teacher He Xu," some called out "Brother He Xu," and some simply called out his name.

He Xu stood there, a piece of bread still in his mouth, his expression momentarily blank.

The security guard in the booth peeked out at him, then withdrew, his expression clearly indicating that he was used to it.

He Xu took the bread off his mouth, took a bite, chewed it twice and swallowed it, then slowly walked towards the gate.

He didn't get too close, maintaining a distance of about two meters from the wrought iron railing, but that was enough for the fans to see him clearly.

"Good morning," he said first, his voice neither loud nor soft, carrying the characteristic laziness of the morning.

The twenty or thirty people gasped at the same time.

"Teacher He Xu! Are you feeling any better?" The girl at the front spoke first, her voice filled with cautious concern. "We were all so worried about your headset..."

He Xu's gaze lingered for a moment on the banner she was clutching, then shifted to her eyes.

"Much better," he said calmly. "Recovering."

"We've prepared gifts—oh, not drinks, we know you won't accept those—" the girl said, glancing anxiously at the paper bag in her arms. "We brought letters! And throat lozenges! Throat lozenges should be okay, right? The packaging is still open!"

The people behind her nodded in agreement, chattering in unison.

"Yes, yes, they are all sealed in packaging."

"We've checked the program's rules; sealed candies are allowed!"

"There are also handwritten letters, which won't take up too much of your time!"

He Xu watched them chatting away, and the corners of his mouth twitched slightly, a very subtle curve that only the person standing closest to him could notice.

"...I can accept throat lozenges," he said.

The girl at the front suddenly brightened up and, as if afraid he would change his mind, quickly handed the paper bag over the railing.

He Xu did not answer immediately.

He first looked down at the opening of the paper bag—there were indeed no opened throat lozenges inside, just several boxes neatly stacked, a few folded letters, and nothing else.

He reached out and took it, weighed it in his hand, and then said, "Thanks."

A little more people surged up from behind, but none of them dared to get too close. They kept a distance of half a meter, as if there was an invisible boundary line between them.

"Professor He Xu! Don't take those insults online to heart!!" Another voice came from the side of the crowd, tinged with urgency. "You made absolutely the right decision to come back as a mentor! Those people don't understand you at all!"

He Xu turned his head and glanced in the direction of the sound.

The speaker was a young man wearing glasses, who looked quite young and was probably a college student.

He Xu remained silent for a moment.

"...I know," he said, his voice not loud, but loud enough for everyone outside the railing to hear. "If I took every curse to heart, I would have quit long ago."

A low chuckle rippled through the crowd; some breathed a sigh of relief, while others' eyes reddened slightly.

"Teacher He Xu, we're so happy you're back!" another girl spoke up, her voice slightly nasal. "We saw everything: your hand-held microphone dance during the first performance, the interview you recorded after withdrawing from the competition, and the video of you behind the monitor in the second performance. You're so amazing, you don't need to care what others say!"

He Xu's lips moved slightly, as if he wanted to say something, but in the end he only hummed in response.

His gaze swept over the young faces, looking at them one by one.

Some people clutched banners with his name on them, some held up their phones to record videos but their hands were shaking, and some just stood there quietly watching him, their eyes red but their lips curved into a smile.

He didn't know how to respond to this situation.

He is more used to being scolded, questioned, and criticized for being too nosy.

He felt a little unfamiliar with the feeling of being treated like a precious treasure, surrounded by people who were afraid he would break.

But the frequency with which they appeared even made He Xu feel that he should get used to it.

For the next few days, He Xu would see those twenty or thirty people at the entrance of the base every morning when he went out.

There weren't many people, and they didn't arrive very early; they all gradually arrived around seven o'clock.

They didn't make a fuss or shout slogans; they just stood quietly outside the wrought iron railing, waving to him as he passed by, or handing him a box of throat lozenges.

He Xu would stand at the door for a few seconds at first, but after being nagged twice by the security guard, who said, "You're standing there and delaying my shift change," he started waving from a distance and then quickened his pace to walk into the practice building.

He read those letters carefully.

That night, back in his dorm, he sat on the edge of his bed and opened the first envelope. The handwriting was neat and tidy, and the first sentence read, "Hello, Teacher He Xu, I've been following you since your first stage performance." The rest of the letter was long, basically saying that he had watched his first performance, his withdrawal interview, and the behind-the-scenes video of his second performance, and that he thought he was very talented, very regrettable, and also felt sorry for him.

The last two lines read: "I hope you can be kinder to yourself in the future and not carry everything on your own. We will always support you."

He Xu finished reading the letter, folded it, and put it back in the envelope.

After a moment of silence, I opened and read the other letters as well.

The content is largely the same, but the tone varies. Some people write long essays, while others only write a few sentences, but they all convey the same meaning—you are good, and you deserve it.

When he finished reading the last paragraph, he felt a tightness in his throat, then carefully put all the letters away and placed them in the inside pocket of his coat.

The next day, when he went out again, he stopped near the wrought iron railing, waved to them, and a smile involuntarily crept onto his lips.

The girl at the front reacted the fastest, covering her mouth and laughing, and the others next to her also laughed.

He Xu said nothing and turned to leave.

My pace was a little slower than usual.