Amateur talent show? Top mentors are my students.

The moment He Xu dialed the number, he didn't know why he was calling Han Yu.

Despite having so many people in my contacts—family, studio partners, and several choreographer friends I've worked with for years.

But then he stumbled upon Han Yu's name and stopped.

My finger hovered over the screen for two seconds, as if pulled by something, and then I pressed it down.

beep - beep - beep -

Each note was drawn out and echoed hollowly in the receiver.

He Xu leaned back in his chair, phone pressed against his ear, his gaze fixed on the fake plant on the table, his face expressionless.

He didn't know what he wanted to say.

They didn't even know if Han Yu would answer.

The call connected on the fifth beep.

No one spoke on the other end.

There was only a very light breathing sound, with a slightly unsteady rhythm, as if it had just run over from somewhere, or as if it was hesitating whether to speak.

He Xu didn't say anything either.

The two remained silent through the receiver, like two isolated islands facing each other across the sea.

In the end, Han Yu spoke first.

"...Teacher He?" His voice carried a hint of uncertainty, as if he hadn't expected the number to light up at this time.

"Mm," He Xu said.

Silence fell again.

Han Yu chuckled softly on the other end of the line, a chuckle that carried a hint of something indescribable.

"You actually called me?" he said, his tone as if stating a fact that seemed unbelievable. "Weren't you recording a show? Wasn't your phone confiscated?"

"It was released today."

"Oh." Han Yu paused. "So you did it during recess?"

He Xu did not respond to that.

"Your message," he said, his voice still hoarse, speaking at a measured pace, "is there still time for the choreography?"

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone.

Han Yu clearly hadn't expected He Xu to call for this reason.

"There's enough time," he said, his voice a little lower than before. "The song hasn't been released yet, and the music video hasn't been filmed, so there's no rush. When are you free?"

"I don't know," He Xu said. "Let's finish recording the show."

"...How long will that take?"

"have no idea."

Han Yu laughed again, but this time there was something else in his laughter.

"Why did you call me if you didn't know?"

He Xu did not respond.

He felt that Han Yu was acting strangely today—his tone of voice, the rhythm of his pauses, and even the frequency of his breathing were not quite right.

He seemed to have drunk too much, or perhaps he hadn't woken up properly.

"Where are you?" He Xu asked.

"At home."

"one person?"

"……Um."

He Xu remained silent for two seconds.

"Drink less," he said.

There was a longer silence on the other end of the phone.

He Xu thought the signal had dropped, so he looked down at the screen—the call was still going on, and the seconds were ticking up.

"How did you know I was drinking?" Han Yu's voice came through the receiver, carrying a half-helpless, half-self-deprecating smile after being exposed.

"Just a guess."

"Then guess what I drank?"

"Whiskey," He Xu said. "On the rocks."

Han Yu laughed out loud, and this time it was a genuine laugh.

"Teacher He," he said, "did you install surveillance cameras in my house?"

"You've always been like this," He Xu said calmly. "When I was in a bad mood, I'd drink whiskey on the rocks, nothing else. I'd drink until midnight, and then come to class the next day with a swollen face."

There was silence on the other end of the phone.

He Xu waited a few seconds before continuing, "You were only eighteen back then. How many times did I scold you? I told you not to drink, that you were underage and shouldn't be drinking. You agreed to my request, but then you drank it again."

"...You knew all this?" Han Yu's voice lowered, becoming almost a whisper.

"Is there anything about your petty squabbles that I don't know?" He Xu's tone carried a familiar, disdainful gentleness. "You're the one who's late for class, you're the one who's lazy and doesn't practice the core techniques, and you're the one who posts on social media in the middle of the night saying you don't want to practice anymore."

Han Yu didn't say anything.

He Xu didn't say anything either.

All that could be heard through the receiver were the sounds of two people breathing heavily and softly.

"Teacher He." Han Yu's voice came through the receiver, even softer than before.

"Um."

"Back then...did you also think I wasn't good enough?"

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

"What do you mean?" he asked, his voice flat.

"Debut," Han Yu said. "Did you think from the very beginning that I wasn't as good as Shen Yiheng?"

He Xu did not answer immediately.

He leaned back in his chair, his gaze fixed on the blindingly white light on the ceiling of the multi-purpose hall, and remained silent for a few seconds.

"No," he said.

"Then why—" Han Yu's voice rose slightly, then abruptly fell back down, "Why are all the resources given to him? Why is the debut song his, the endorsements his, the variety shows his—and I don't even get a chance to audition?"

He Xu closed his eyes.

Han Yu had asked him this question many times.

I asked in the practice room of the host, I asked on the phone, and I asked in that voice message that he never opened.

He Xu did not answer each time.

It's not that I don't want to answer.

Answering it won't help.

Because what Han Yu wanted to ask was never "why," but rather "by what right?"

Why can Shen Yiheng do it, but I can't?

"Han Yu," He Xu spoke, his voice hoarse but each word clearly enunciated, "where do you think you fall short compared to Shen Yiheng?"

There was silence on the other end of the phone.

"You're just as good-looking as him, you dance just as well, and you even sing better." He Xu's voice wasn't loud, and he spoke slowly. "Do you know where you fall short?"

Han Yu didn't say anything.

"You're lacking in—" He Xu paused, "you're too eager to win."

A very soft sound came through the receiver, like the sound of a glass being put down.

"You want to win too much, so you overdo it in every assessment. You want to be seen too much, so you deliberately perform in every shot."

"You're so eager to prove that you're no worse than Shen Yiheng that you've become his shadow."

"I am not his shadow!" Han Yu's voice finally rose, carrying an almost instinctive denial after being hit where it hurt. "I am stronger than him—I could have been stronger than him—it's you—"

He stopped.

It felt like something was stuck in my throat, unable to go up or down.

He Xu waited two seconds and finished speaking for him.

"It's my fault for being biased."

Han Yu was stunned for a moment, seemingly not expecting him to say it so directly.

"Han Yu," He Xu said, "I didn't show favoritism."

"...You have it." Han Yu's voice lowered, almost to the point of being a whisper. "You've always had it."

He Xu closed his eyes.

He wanted to say "I didn't," "You misunderstood," and "Back then, I slammed my fist on the table three times to help you get a debut spot."

But he didn't say it.

Because if you say it, it's like making an excuse.

"If you think I have it," he said, "then I do."

A very soft sound, like a laugh or a sigh, came from the other end of the phone.

"You're still the same," Han Yu said. "You always say, 'Whatever you say goes.'"

He Xu did not respond.

"Teacher He," Han Yu called again.

"Um."

"That new song..." He paused for a moment, "...you help me compose the lyrics."

"OK."

"Aren't you going to ask me what my style is?"

"Just send it to me."

"Okay," he said. "I'll send it to you."

He Xu grunted in response, about to say something, when he caught a glimpse of a staff member walking towards him, holding a sign that read "Five minutes left."

"I'm hanging up," He Xu said.

"Um."

"Drink less."

"……knew."

He Xu hung up the phone.

The moment the screen went dark, he saw the call duration—six minutes and eighteen seconds.

It was longer than any other phone call he'd ever made.

He Xu placed his phone face down on the table, tilted his head back, and stared at the blindingly white light on the ceiling.

-

His story with Han Yu began almost simultaneously with that of Shen Yiheng.

That year, Han Yu was seventeen years old and joined the ranks of companion stars in the same year as Shen Yiheng.

When the two stand together, they are like two knives just taken out of the furnace, their sharpness fully revealed, neither willing to give way to the other.

Shen Yiheng is the kind of naturally gifted athlete—she learns everything quickly, and everything she dances looks good; she was born to stand in the spotlight.

Han Yu is different.

Han Yu's efforts are evident.

He practices ten times when others practice once. He practices a hundred times when others practice ten times.

Every step he took was the result of hard work and time; there were no shortcuts.

But this world never rewards hard work.

This world only rewards results.

So when the company decided to promote Shen Yiheng, no one was surprised.

Shen Yiheng is talented, has audience appeal, and possesses a magic that makes people want to vote for him.

Han Yu also has talent, but it's talent that needs to be discovered.

In the brutal arena of talent shows, no one is obligated to discover your talent.

He Xu slammed his fist on the table three times for Han Yu's sake.

The first thing they did was try to get Han Yu on the company's debut variety show.

It was rejected.

The second attempt was to get Han Yu to release a solo single as a trial.

It was rejected again.

The third time, He Xu paid for it himself, wanting to record a demo for Han Yu and shoot a simple music video.

Han Yu refused.

"Teacher He," he said, his eyes red but not a single tear falling, "you don't need to pity me."

He Xu said, "I'm not pitying you."

"Then who are you? Didn't you cause all of this?"

He Xu did not answer.

He still doesn't know how to answer.

Not long after being rejected for the third time, Han Yu left Banxing.

There was no farewell, no message, and no one was told.

He seemed to have let go of the past, and eventually became an independent music producer with considerable fame.

But He Xu always felt that he owed him something—even though he owed him nothing.

—Bringing my thoughts back.

He Xu turned his phone over and saw a new message on WeChat.

Han Yu sent me an audio file.

He Xu stared at the document for a long time.

He didn't open it.

I handed the phone to the staff.

One by one, the lights in the multi-purpose hall went out.

The contestants left one after another, some with red eyes, others smiling and talking to their companions.

He Xu walked at the very back, hands in his pockets, his steps leisurely.

He paused for a moment as he turned the corner of the corridor.

The window at the end of the corridor was open, and the night breeze blew in, carrying the cool dampness of early autumn.

He leaned against the windowsill, looked up, and gazed at the not-so-round moon in the sky.

Han Yu's last words were still echoing in my mind—"You help me make this up."

Sure.

I'll help you with the editing.

After finishing this song, can we finally settle our score?

...or will it never be cleared?