Amateur talent show? Top mentors are my students.

The screams in the venue reached their peak the moment the performance ended.

More than a thousand people stood up at the same time, clapping, shouting, and waving cheering sticks. Waves of sound crashed against the dome, making the entire venue tremble slightly.

The final vote counts for the sixteen groups scrolled across the big screen, with red and blue numbers flashing alternately. Some won, some lost, some were crying, and some were laughing.

But Shen Yiheng could neither see nor hear any of this.

He doesn't even remember how he finished saying the last sentence, "Thank you everyone for coming to the first performance of 'Absolute Debut'."

All I remember is that the moment the spotlight went out, he turned and walked off the stage.

His pace quickened, so fast that even the assistant director behind him couldn't keep up, even when he was jogging.

"PD—PD! Wait a minute, there's a backup interview for the closing remarks—"

"Get out of the way."

His voice wasn't loud, but the undeniable authority in his tone made the assistant director freeze in place.

The surrounding staff looked at each other, and no one dared to follow.

Shen Yiheng practically rushed into the backstage corridor.

The light was blindingly white, casting a long shadow of him, and his leather shoes made a rapid, increasingly loud thud on the floor.

As he walked, he unbuttoned his collar—the button was so tight he could hardly breathe.

He had endured it for too long, for a whole night.

He had been enduring it ever since he heard the words, "He Xu can't hear in his left ear."

He endured until he finished reading all his lines on stage, until he managed a polite smile when the camera was pointed at the other mentors, and until the screams from the audience exploded one after another while his heart sank one wave after another.

It's finally over.

The performance was over, the red camera light went out, and he no longer needed to pretend.

At the end of the corridor, agent Sister Lin stood there, holding her phone, her expression a complex mix of "I know what you're trying to do, but I advise you to calm down."

"He's gone back to base," Sister Lin said before he rushed over. "It was arranged by Deputy Director Liu. He got a private room next to yours to rest in."

Shen Yiheng paused for a moment, then continued walking, tossing out a "Okay" as he passed Sister Lin.

"Shen Yiheng," Sister Lin called out to him, her voice very low, "He needs to rest now, don't—"

"I know." He didn't turn around. "I'll just take one look."

The dormitory buildings at the base were unusually quiet.

After the performance ended, the contestants were still waiting for the results and the bus at the venue. Only a sliver of light shone from under the door of the room at the end of the corridor.

Shen Yiheng walked to the door of the private room, placed his hand on the doorknob, took a deep breath, and then gently pushed the door open.

The main lights in the room were off; only the small, warm yellow nightlight by the bedside was on, enveloping the entire room in a hazy, soft glow.

The curtains were drawn tightly shut, and the air conditioner hummed very softly, almost inaudibly.

There was a faint smell of disinfectant in the air—it was brought back from the hospital and hadn't completely dissipated yet.

He Xu was lying in bed.

He was lying on his side, facing the wall, with the blanket only covering his waist. He had already changed into a short-sleeved shirt and shorts.

Shen Yiheng stood at the door for a few seconds, then gently closed the door and walked over.

They walked very lightly, their leather shoes making almost no sound on the carpet.

He stood by the bed, looking down at He Xu's back.

She was too thin; beneath her white clothes were the sharp outlines of her shoulder blades, and the blanket only covered her waist, revealing a section of her narrow waist.

It's good that she's asleep.

Shen Yiheng thought to himself.

Once I fall asleep, the pain and discomfort will subside, and I won't have to pretend anymore.

He bent down and reached out to pull the blanket up to He Xu's shoulder.

His movements froze the moment his fingers gripped the corner of the blanket.

He saw He Xu's shoulders shaking.

Shen Yiheng's fingers froze in mid-air.

He stared at the back of He Xu's head, at the messy head sticking out from under the blanket, his lips moved, but no sound came out.

The room was so quiet that you could hear the air conditioner whirring and He Xu's suppressed, very light breathing.

No, it's not breathing.

It was sobbing.

Shen Yiheng felt as if his heart had been gripped tightly.

He slowly squatted down beside the bed, his gaze level with the back of He Xu's head.

Then he heard it.

The sound was so faint that he wouldn't have been able to hear it at all if the only noise in the room wasn't the white noise from the air conditioner.

It is a kind of intermittent breathy sound that is tightly suppressed in the throat.

Each sound was very short, so very short, as if it had just been uttered and then abruptly cut off by its owner.

He Xu is crying.

Shen Yiheng had seen He Xu in many different ways—angry, impatient, sarcastic, swearing, arrogant…

But he had never seen He Xu cry.

there has never been.

In his heart, He Xu would never cry.

But at this moment, this person is curled up in bed, facing the wall, burying their face in the pillow, silently and desperately trying to hold back their tears.

Shen Yiheng squatted by the bed, his fingers gripping the corner of the blanket, his knuckles turning white.

He wanted to say something.

But these words, once on the tip of his tongue, were swallowed back down.

Because he felt that He Xu didn't need to say those things.

Shen Yiheng remained silent for a long time.

Then he gently pulled the blanket up to cover He Xu's shoulders.

The movement was very, very light, so light that it barely touched He Xu's body.

But He Xu's shoulder still stiffened slightly.

The slight tremor stopped at that moment.

Shen Yiheng neither let go nor spoke.

About ten seconds passed, maybe longer.

He Xu's voice came out muffledly from under the pillow, so hoarse that it was almost inaudible.

"...Get out."

Shen Yiheng didn't move.

"I told you," He Xu said again.

"...I'm not going out," Shen Yiheng said.

His voice was soft, but steady.

Like a stake driven in there, unmoved by wind or rain.

He Xu's shoulders started shaking again.

This time it was even more intense than before. He gripped the blanket so tightly that it was deeply wrinkled, his knuckles turned white, and he curled up into an even smaller ball.

"Get out..." His voice was barely a voice anymore, "Get out... I don't want you to see..."

"What did you see?" Shen Yiheng squatted down beside the bed, his voice low. "Did you cry?"

He Xu didn't say anything, but his shoulders trembled even more violently.

"He Xu." Shen Yiheng called him by his name, not "teacher."

The name came out of his mouth with a strange solemnity.

It's like calling an ordinary person, not that high and mighty, never-showing-weak, devilish coach.

Shen Yiheng said, "How many times did I cry when you used to scold me? Do you remember?"

He Xu didn't say anything.

"The first time you scolded me, I cried for a whole hour. You just stood there watching, without saying a word of comfort, just handing me a tissue."

Shen Yiheng's voice carried a hint of laughter, but his eyes were already red.

"Later you told me, 'It's not shameful to cry, what's shameful is not getting up after crying.'"

He paused.

"So... what exactly are you afraid of...?"

The room remained quiet for a long time.

Then He Xu made a move.

He turned around abruptly, looked up, lifted a corner of the blanket, and then—reached out and grabbed Shen Yiheng's collar.

He was incredibly strong, unlike someone who had just been in the hospital for several hours.

Shen Yiheng stumbled as he was pulled, his knee hitting the edge of the bed. He winced in pain, but he didn't struggle.

He leaned forward following the force and felt a pair of arms wrap around his neck.

He Xu buried her face in his shoulder.

The scalding, wet touch, accompanied by tears and a nasal tone, seeped through the thin shirt, making Shen Yiheng freeze completely.

He Xu cried.

A real, unreserved cry, like a dam bursting open, gushing from the throat.

He Xu buried his face in Shen Yiheng's shoulder, his hands gripping his clothes so tightly that his knuckles turned white, and his whole body was trembling.

"Why..." His voice came from Shen Yiheng's shoulder, tinged with tears and a nasal tone, "Why... is it always me..."

Shen Yiheng didn't speak. He reached out and slowly, gently placed his hand on He Xu's back.

"What did I do to deserve this..." He Xu's voice was broken and incoherent, each word trembling with tears, "I'm just a dancer... I just wanted to dance... Who did I bother..."

"My voice is ruined... my ears are ruined... will I go blind next? Are you just going to cripple me already?!"

Shen Yiheng's hand was still on He Xu's back, neither withdrawing it nor applying any force.

It was placed there so gently, as if afraid of breaking something.

"Didn't the doctor say it was a minor injury? Didn't he say it could recover?" He spoke very softly, as if he were soothing a child who had a nightmare.

"Recovery?" He Xu forced a smile, a smile more like a grimace. "The doctor said that high-frequency damage might leave permanent marks. Permanent—do you even know what permanent means?"

His fingers gripped Shen Yiheng's collar tightly, his knuckles so white they looked like they were about to break.

"It means I'll never be able to hear certain sounds clearly again, it means my left ear will always be a little worse than a normal person's, it means I won't even be able to keep a whole body!"

"I didn't ruin my voice myself; someone else did!"

"I didn't injure my ear myself; it was from an electrical malfunction in the equipment!"

"Why should I bear all the consequences when I did nothing wrong?!"

His voice finally went completely hoarse, and the last word was almost a breath, so light that it could be blown away by a gust of wind.

His face was still buried in Shen Yiheng's shoulder, his tears had all dried up, leaving only intermittent sobs and hot breaths, spraying onto Shen Yiheng's collarbone.

Shen Yiheng did not speak.

It's not that I don't want to talk, it's that I don't know what to say.

What should I say in this situation?

What does he want to hear next?

Do you still have me?

But He Xu doesn't need anyone.

I never need anyone.

He didn't know what to say.

So Shen Yiheng didn't say anything.

He simply moved his hand from He Xu's back to the back of his head, running his fingers through the messy hair, gently stroking it.

It's like comforting a wounded cat that has finally shown its belly.

He Xu did not push him away.

This in itself is a huge and incredible concession.

The two remained in that position for an unknown amount of time.