Amateur talent show? Top mentors are my students.

When He Xu woke up, his first thought was—this wasn't his room.

The ceiling color is wrong.

It's neither a villa nor a dormitory.

The ceiling of this room is light gray and spotless, without a single crack.

The curtains were dark gray and drawn tightly, but the light shining through the gaps was bright, indicating that it was already daytime outside.

He Xu stared at the light gray ceiling for a few seconds, and then the memories of last night began to flood back little by little.

Practice room floor.

He coughed so hard he collapsed to the ground.

Zhuang Jun pulled him up from the floor.

The co-pilot.

underground garage.

They were helped into the elevator.

Then there's this bed.

He Xu closed his eyes briefly, trying to banish the memory from his mind.

Useless.

He remembered coughing, stomach aches, Zhuang Jun bringing in a bowl of pear soup, and after drinking it, he started talking, saying a lot, and then he started crying.

I remember holding onto Zhuang Jun's sleeve tightly and saying I wanted something sweet.

He Xu pulled the blanket over his head, covering his entire face.

A muffled, very soft sound came from under the covers: "...Fuck."

He felt his face burning; the fever might not have subsided, or it could be for some other reason.

At 25, she cried on her agent's bed, asking, "Am I no longer capable?" and grabbed his sleeve, refusing to let him leave.

He Xu lay in bed, going over the scene in his mind three times, each time wanting to disappear into a crack in the ground more than the last.

He remained silent for about two minutes, then slowly pulled the blanket down and looked back at the light gray ceiling.

Forget it.

Anyway, I've already said it all, and I've already cried, so I can't take it back.

He Xu took a deep breath and sat up.

The movements were smoother than expected.

My body doesn't hurt anymore, my joints don't ache, my throat is still a little stuffy but doesn't have that tearing feeling from last night, and my stuffy nose is clear.

He stretched his neck, and his joints cracked.

It feels like it's several orders of magnitude better than last night.

He threw back the covers, sat on the edge of the bed, and glanced down at his body—

He was still wearing the same clothes as yesterday; the T-shirt was wrinkled and stuck to his body, and he hadn't changed his pants either.

When Zhuang Jun got him onto the bed, he probably only took off his coat and shoes.

He Xu lowered his head and sniffed his collar.

Then he frowned.

It smelled of sweat mixed with the sticky body odor that comes with a cold; it wasn't exactly foul, but it was definitely unpleasant.

He stood up, walked to the bedroom door, opened it a crack, and peeked out.

There was no one in the corridor.

The door opposite was ajar, and you could see half of a sofa and the corner of a coffee table; the light was brighter than in the bedroom.

Zhuang Jun is probably outside.

He Xu closed the door, retreated into the bedroom, stood by the bed for two seconds, then went into the ensuite bathroom, closed the door, and turned on the water heater.

Let me take a shower first.

As the hot water poured down, he pressed his forehead against the tiled wall, closed his eyes, and let the hot water flow down the back of his neck for a long time.

After rinsing for about fifteen minutes, he turned off the tap, wiped the water off his face, and then reached out to touch the side—but found nothing.

The shelves were empty.

There were no bath towels, no hand towels, nothing at all.

He Xu stood in the shower, soaked to the bone. He looked down at himself, then at the empty shelf, and paused in silence.

When he came in, he was only thinking about "taking a shower first" and didn't consider how to get out after he finished showering.

"...Zhuang Jun." He called out tentatively, his voice carrying through the bathroom door, sounding a little muffled.

There was no sound outside.

He called out again, a little louder than before: "Zhuang Jun—"

A few seconds later, footsteps echoed in the hallway, followed by Zhuang Jun's voice from the bedroom doorway: "Awake?"

"Hmm." He Xu stood in the shower, his voice a little muffled. "Do you... have any towels here?"

It got quiet outside for a moment.

"Wait a moment."

The footsteps faded into the distance, then drew closer again; they were probably going to rummage through the cabinet.

He Xu waited in the shower room.

After the hot water was turned off, the temperature in the bathroom began to drop. He stood there with his arms crossed, barefoot on the tiles, feeling the chill creep up from his feet.

Less than a minute later, there were two knocks on the bathroom door.

"I'll leave the things by the door," Zhuang Jun's voice came through the door. "A change of clothes, including a towel and a coat."

"Um."

He Xu listened intently and heard the sound of a doorknob turning outside—but Zhuang Jun didn't push the door open. He just opened it a crack, reached in, put something on the low stool by the door, and then pulled it back in.

He Xu waited for the door to close again, then went over and picked up the things.

A dark gray bath towel and a matching towel.

Folded underneath was a change of clothes—a white T-shirt, a pair of dark gray sweatpants, and a brand new pair of underwear, probably spares that Zhuang Jun had temporarily found in his closet.

After wiping himself off, He Xu put on a T-shirt and then on sweatpants. The pants were a little too long, with a small fold at the ankle, but the waist was loose and he could barely wear them.

He draped a towel over his shoulder and pushed open the bathroom door.

Zhuang Jun stood by the bedroom window, holding a glass of warm water. He turned his head to look when he heard the door open.

His gaze swept from He Xu's face to his shoulders, then to the T-shirt and sweatpants, confirming the size, before handing him the water cup: "Drink this water. I just boiled it."

He Xu took it and drank a sip; it was warm.

"Has the fever gone down?" Zhuang Jun asked.

He Xu switched the water glass to his left hand and touched his forehead with his right: "It seems to have gone down. How high was your fever last night?"

"Thirty-eight and seven degrees."

He Xu paused for a moment, then asked, "...You measured it?"

"I took your temperature when you were coughing so hard you could barely breathe," Zhuang Jun said. "You had such a high fever you couldn't even open your eyes, so you probably don't remember."

He Xu genuinely didn't remember. He lowered his head, took a sip of water, and didn't reply.

Zhuang Jun didn't press further, but pointed to the bedside table: "Put the thermometer in there and double-check."

He Xu walked over, took the thermometer, tucked it under his arm, and sat down against the pillow at the head of the bed.

Zhuang Jun sat down in the chair opposite him.

The two of them stayed quietly in the bedroom for a few minutes, waiting for the thermometer to go off.

"About yesterday—" He Xu spoke first, his voice lower than before, "Just pretend you didn't hear what I said last night."

Zhuang Jun glanced at him while holding his water glass.

"No need to remember," He Xu added. "I'm just delirious from the fever."

Zhuang Jun didn't reply immediately. He put down his water glass before speaking, "A person who's delirious from a fever won't be thinking about drinking something sweet."

He Xu leaned against the headboard and did not respond immediately.

Zhuang Jun sat in the chair opposite him, holding a glass of water that was no longer steaming. He was silent for a while, then put the glass on the bedside table and spoke.

I apologize to you.

He Xu looked up at him, his expression unchanged, but his fingers paused for a moment on the edge of the blanket.

"What are you apologizing for?"

"I approved your schedule." Zhuang Jun's voice was flat. "Since you returned to China, you've had one announcement after another, rehearsals, variety show recordings, and magazine shoots, with almost no uninterrupted rest time in between. I heard you say you were tired a few times before, but I didn't stop."

He paused, his gaze fixed on He Xu's face, not looking away: "It's my fault. I'm responsible for your health problems."

He Xu looked at him and remained silent for a moment.