Amateur talent show? Top mentors are my students.

He Xu's fingers paused on the quilt for a moment.

Looking at Zhuang Jun's calm face and listening to his words, he felt that indescribable feeling welling up inside him again, even more painful than when he cried last night.

If Jiang Yanbai had said these words, he could have accepted them calmly.

Jiang Yanbai and he have known each other for six years. Neither of them owes the other anything. Whether they help each other or cause each other trouble, it is all a friendship that has been built up over the past six years.

If Jiang Yanbai says, "I didn't take good care of you," he can reply, "It's good that you know," and then eat and drink as usual without any psychological burden.

Needless to say, Shen Yiheng was an even bigger threat.

The people he trained were scolded and disciplined for six years.

Even if Shen Yiheng were to kneel before him with a fruit platter and say, "Teacher, I was wrong," he could still accept the fruit platter and eat it without any qualms.

But Zhuang Jun is the agent.

The person the company sent to manage him was the one who came after he signed the contract.

They are the kind of people who get paid, do their jobs, and follow procedures.

In He Xu's understanding, the relationship between him and his agent should be very clear—he does the work, Zhuang Jun makes the arrangements, and the two of them work together to get things done, with neither of them owing the other anything.

Zhuang Jun brought him breakfast, watched him drink his medicine, took him to see a traditional Chinese medicine doctor, cooked pear soup for him in the middle of the night, and gave him his bed to sleep in.

Those things could barely be categorized under "job responsibilities" in He Xu's mind.

But an apology is not.

Apologizing went beyond my job responsibilities.

An apology implies that Zhuang Jun has placed himself in a lower position, that he feels indebted to him, and that he has involved things beyond the scope of his work in this matter.

He Xu wasn't used to this.

What he found even more difficult to get used to was that Zhuang Jun was six years older than him.

When a 31-year-old tells a 25-year-old, "I didn't do a good job," or "I am responsible," the 25-year-old feels extremely uncomfortable.

That unease, even tinged with a familiar awkwardness, was somewhat similar to when he heard Fish Leong say "Mom is sorry" before.

It's as if the other person has put themselves in the position of an "adult" and is apologizing to a "child".

He Xu didn't want to be that child.

"Alright, alright." He Xu waved his hand, trying to keep his tone relaxed. "Don't give me that. I'm not dead yet. I don't need you to apologize here."

Zhuang Jun looked at him but didn't reply.

"I didn't take care of my own body, what's it to you?" He Xu pulled the thermometer out from under his arm, glanced at it, and saw it was 36.8 degrees Celsius. The fever had subsided. He then placed the thermometer on the bedside table with a swift and decisive gesture that said, "This matter is over."

"I approved all the jobs you assigned. You didn't drag me to the rehearsal room. I took the jobs myself, and if I couldn't handle them, it has nothing to do with you."

Zhuang Jun opened his mouth as if to say something: "He Xu—"

"Aunt Zhuang," He Xu interrupted him, turning his head to look at him with a deliberately smug tone, "If you apologize to me again, I'll move back to the villa today. I mean what I say."

Zhuang Jun opened his mouth, then closed it again.

Seeing his choked reaction, He Xu felt a little relieved.

He picked up the glass of water from the bedside table, took a sip, then stood up and stretched his shoulders: "I'll wash the clothes when I get back and return them to you."

"No need to return them," Zhuang Jun said. "You can keep them; those pants are too short for me."

He Xu glanced down at the crease in his trouser leg at his ankle: "...How long are your legs?"

"Longer than you." Zhuang Jun stood up, pushed the chair back to its original position, and his tone returned to its usual businesslike indifference. "Breakfast is on the table. Eat it and then drink your medicine. I've asked Da Zhou to oversee today's rehearsal for you. You can rest here until the afternoon."

He Xu followed him out of the bedroom and sat down at the dining table.

On the table were porridge, eggs, and a small dish of side dishes, next to his box of Chinese herbal medicine and an empty cup.

He Xu glanced down at the box of coffee powder, then looked up at the kitchen—Zhuang Jun was standing in front of the counter making coffee, his back straight, showing no particular emotion.

He brought the porridge over, stirred it with a spoon, and took a bite.

Then he spoke: "Zhuang Jun."

"Um."

Are you going to the company today?

"Go." Zhuang Jun turned around, holding his coffee. "I have a meeting this afternoon."

"That's perfect, I'll go with you," He Xu said. "I have to go to Banxing this afternoon. Da Zhou is keeping an eye on NOVA for me, so I can't postpone my classes at Banxing anymore."

Zhuang Jun held his coffee cup and looked at him, then fell silent for a moment.

"You had a fever of 38.7 degrees Celsius yesterday."

"I cancelled it today."

"Your throat isn't better yet."

"Much better, I'm not coughing anymore." He Xu put down the bowl of porridge, looked up at him, and said in a calm tone, "I know what you're worried about, but I know my own body best. Today I'm just going to class, I won't lift a finger, I'll just stand there and watch them practice, and maybe say a few words at most."

Zhuang Jun held his coffee cup and looked at him for a few seconds.

"If you get another fever—"

"Then I'll come back," He Xu said. "I'll take a taxi back myself; you don't need to pick me up."

Zhuang Jun did not nod immediately, but he did not stop him either.

He lowered his head, took a sip of coffee, and said, "Then I'll take you there. If you're not feeling well, I'll come pick you up."

"Need not--"

"Either I'll answer, or you don't go out today." Zhuang Jun's tone was flat, but there was no room for negotiation. "Choose one."

He Xu glanced at him and swallowed back the words that were about to come out.

"...Alright then." He lowered his head and continued drinking his porridge. "You deliver it."

Zhuang Jun sat down opposite him, holding a coffee cup, his expression indifferent, but He Xu noticed that his fingers holding the cup were a little looser than before.

Then, as He Xu was eating, he suddenly looked up and glanced at Zhuang Jun.

"Zhuang Jun".

"Um."

"Did you hear me when I said you didn't need to apologize for that?"

Zhuang Jun put down his coffee cup and looked at him: "I listened."

"That's fine then." He Xu lowered his head and continued drinking his porridge. "Don't try that on me again. You're my manager. Schedule work when you need to, and scold people when you need to. Don't apologize. Apologizing makes me uncomfortable."

Zhuang Jun looked at him for a while, then picked up his coffee cup and took a sip.

"I understand," he said.

He Xu didn't say anything more.

He finished his porridge, dissolved his medicine, frowned as he swallowed it, then went back to his room to change his clothes. He came out carrying the set of clothes Zhuang Jun had lent him: "I'll return this set to you tomorrow."

"I said you don't need to pay it back."

"I'll wash it clean and return it to you."

Zhuang Jun did not argue further.

As He Xu was changing his shoes in the entryway, he suddenly remembered something, turned around and glanced at Zhuang Jun: "Oh, right."

"Um."

"What I said last night, if you accidentally let it slip someday—"

"I won't say."

"Swear it."

"...He Xu, how old are you?"

"Anyway, I'm younger than you." He Xu tied his shoelaces, straightened up, looked at Zhuang Jun's helpless face, and finally smiled slightly. "Let's go, take me to Banxing."