Amateur talent show? Top mentors are my students.

Inside the athletes' dormitory at the training base, a completely different, oppressive atmosphere prevailed.

The reason is simple—the first round is over, and out of the fifty members of the losing team, only twenty can remain.

The 30 people with the fewest votes will be eliminated.

This will be the last night these people stay here.

The lights in the corridor were still on.

The election official stood by the door, holding a list in his hand, the pages trembling slightly.

In the dormitory lobby, dozens of boys were either sitting or standing. Some leaned against the wall, some sat on the floor, and some huddled inside their beds, only half of their shoulders showing.

No one spoke.

Half an hour ago, the bus drove back to the base from the venue. No one laughed or joked along the way, no one reviewed the stage, and even Li Bufan, who is usually the most talkative, remained silent the whole way.

The man with the grizzled orange head leaned against the car window, his eyes fixed on the streetlights rushing past outside, lost in thought.

Then the selection process began.

"Those whose names I call, pack your things. Tomorrow morning at eight o'clock, there will be a bus at the base gate to take you to the station."

No one answered.

Even though they knew who would stay and who would leave during the first performance, most of them still felt reluctant to hear that these people were leaving the base and would miss out on the subsequent recordings.

The selection officer took a deep breath, unfolded the list, and began to read.

"Zhou Ziheng".

The first name I read was that boy from Class D in Yang Sheng's group, the one who made sarcastic remarks in the practice room about "someone from Class F".

Zhou Ziheng sat on the edge of the sofa. The moment he heard his name, he felt as if all his energy had been drained. He wanted to say something, but in the end, he said nothing.

He stood up and went back to his dormitory to pack his things.

"Zhao Pengfei".

The blond-haired boy who pushed He Xu, caused Yan Chen to smash the mirror, and was disqualified from recording the theme song was squatting in the corner.

When he heard the name, he didn't stand up; he just lowered his head even further.

Each name was read out like a dull knife, cutting into the nerves of everyone present.

Someone started to cry quietly.

Some people bit their lips, their eyes were red, but not a single tear fell.

Some people listened with blank expressions, but their fingers were twisted into a knot.

The rules of the first round are very harsh.

All members of the winning team stay, while the last-placed member of the losing team is eliminated.

Team A won in "Blade".

This was expected.

Li Bufan's team also won.

Their group has two students from Class F. If they win this match, it means those two won't have to leave.

Some people are happy, and some are crying.

Song Yingwen's group lost.

They were facing another group led by a member of Class A. Although the opposing team wasn't top-tier, their overall strength was indeed superior to theirs.

Song Yingwen sat on the sofa, his expression relatively calm.

His individual votes ranked fifth among the losing teams, which wasn't high, but enough to keep him in the team.

Jiang Yang's team also lost.

And they lost badly.

They were facing Qi Xunan's team.

Qi Xunan's center position wasn't for nothing. After the theme song aired, his popularity soared, and the voting at the performance was almost unanimous—his individual votes were higher than the entire Jiang Yang group combined.

The other five members of Jiang Yang's group all received the fewest votes.

Jiang Yang had the highest number of votes in the group, but it wasn't enough when compared to the other fifty people.

The last name.

When the selection officer read out the name "Jiang Yang," the entire dormitory hall fell silent for a full three seconds.

Jiang Yang, the boy whose debut stage performance was rated A and whose theme song was also rated A, will be leaving after the first public performance.

No one moved.

The selection officer read it again: "Jiang Yang."

The boy sitting in the corner of the sofa finally reacted.

He raised his head, revealing a face much paler than usual, with faint dark circles under his eyes and slightly chapped lips.

But his expression remained calm.

He was as calm as if he had known this outcome all along.

In fact, he already knew all along.

He knew the moment the votes were announced.

While the others in the group were crying and hugging each other, he stood to the side, expressionless, watching his vote count on the big screen.

Not too high, not too low.

It was right below the elimination line.

One spot is missing.

He remembered clearly that the contestant ranked one place higher than him only had seven more votes than him.

Seven votes.

A venue that can hold a thousand people, but only seven people.

If he had smiled more during his ending pose, if his high notes in the chorus had been a bit more stable, if—

No if.

"Jiang Yang," the selection officer's voice softened, "Are you listening?"

"Yes." Jiang Yang stood up, his voice not loud but steady. "I heard you."

He turned and walked towards the dormitory.

He paused for a moment as he passed Yang Sheng.

Yang Sheng sat on the sofa, his fingers gripping his trouser leg so tightly that his knuckles turned white, his lips pressed into a thin line, and his eyes red as if they had been burned by something.

"Brother Yang," Jiang Yang said.

Yang Sheng did not look up.

"Don't be like that." Jiang Yang's voice was very soft, so soft that only the two of them could hear it. "It's not like we'll never see each other again."

Yang Sheng's shoulders twitched.

Jiang Yang looked at him for two seconds, then reached out and patted him on the shoulder.

-

In the dormitory, Jiang Yang's bed was on the top bunk, by the window.

The blankets were folded neatly, and next to the pillow was a Shiba Inu plush toy about half the size of a person—he brought it from home the day he joined the crew, and the selection manager laughed at him for three days.

He climbed onto the top bunk, hugged the Shiba Inu plush toy to his chest, sat on the edge of the bed, and dangled his legs in mid-air, swinging them a couple of times.

Then I started packing my things.

not much.

A few changes of clothes, a pair of headphones used for practicing singing, a lyric book with frayed edges, and that Shiba Inu plush toy.

He folded his clothes and stuffed them into his backpack, rolled up his headphones and placed them on top, and after hesitating for a moment, he stuffed the lyric book in as well.

Then he jumped down from the top bunk, clutching his Shiba Inu plush toy.

The dormitory door was pushed open.

Yang Sheng stood at the door, followed by Song Yingwen.

Both of them had red eyes, and neither of them said a word.

Jiang Yang looked at them, and the corners of his mouth slowly curved up.

"What are you doing?" he said, his tone deliberately casual. "A funeral?"

Song Yingwen did not laugh.

Yang Sheng didn't laugh either.

Jiang Yang's smile froze for a moment, then vanished.

"...Alright." He tucked the Shiba Inu plush toy under his arm. "I'm not leaving until tomorrow, can you guys stop acting like it's a life-or-death situation?"

"What do you plan to do?" Song Yingwen asked, his voice slightly hoarse.

"What? What should we do?"

"After you're eliminated," Song Yingwen asked, "will you continue training?"

Jiang Yang paused for a moment.

"Practice," he said, with an air of entitlement. "Why wouldn't I practice? It's not like I've given up dancing."

"When you debut, I'll be your backup dancer."

Yang Sheng's lips moved as if he wanted to say something, but something seemed to be stuck in his throat, and he couldn't utter a single word.

Jiang Yang, seeing his expression, finally couldn't hold back anymore.

He walked over and stuffed the Shiba Inu plush toy into Yang Sheng's arms.

"Hold this for me," he said. "I'll go tell Teacher He."

Yang Sheng, holding the fluffy Shiba Inu, paused for a moment.

"Teacher He?"

"Hmm." Jiang Yang put down his backpack and stretched his neck. "His ear is injured. I wonder how he is now. I'll go see him and, while I'm at it, say goodbye."

-

He Xu is not in the dormitory.

Jiang Yang searched the contestants' dormitory building but couldn't find anyone.

I met a student affairs officer in the corridor and was told, "He Xu has been arranged to rest in a private room in the professor's building to recover from his injury."

Jiang Yang paused for a moment, then nodded.

The corridors of the mentors' building were much quieter and the lighting was softer than in the contestants' dormitories.

Jiang Yang walked to the door of the room the selection officer had told him about, raised his hand, and gently knocked twice on the door.

No one answered.

He knocked twice more, this time with more force.

"Teacher He, it's me, Jiang Yang."

A faint noise came from inside the door.

Then the door opened.

He Xu stood at the door.

He was wearing a short-sleeved shirt and shorts, his hair was messy, his face was deathly pale, and there was a small piece of gauze on his left ear.

But his eyes were red.

Jiang Yang was stunned for a moment.

He had never seen He Xu's eyes so red.

"Teacher He, is your ear alright?" Jiang Yang asked softly.

"It's nothing." He Xu's voice was still hoarse, terribly hoarse, but he didn't move aside from the doorway. "What are you doing here?"

Jiang Yang remained silent for a second.

"I've been eliminated," he said.

He Xu's expression remained unchanged.

But his hand slipped off the doorknob and hung down at his side.

"I know, Shen Yiheng said so," He Xu said.

Jiang Yang smiled.

That smile contained relief, resentment, and a strange sense of calm.

"I just came to tell you," he said. "I'm leaving tomorrow morning."

He Xu looked at him and remained silent for a long time.

Jiang Yang thought he would never speak again.

"Jiang Yang." He Xu finally spoke, his voice so hoarse it was almost a whisper.

"Um."

"Come in."

Jiang Yang was stunned for a moment.

He Xu had already turned and walked into the room.

Jiang Yang followed him inside.

The door closed very softly, but it could be heard clearly in the quiet corridor.

Only one bedside lamp was on in the room, casting a dim, yellowish light.

He Xu sat down on the edge of the bed and patted the spot next to him.

Jiang Yang sat down, placed his hands on his knees, and unconsciously picked at the seams of his pants.

Neither of them spoke.

There was silence for about half a minute.

Jiang Yang spoke first.

"Teacher He," his voice was muffled, as if squeezed from his throat, "Am I pretty useless?"

He Xu turned his head and glanced at him.

"Where did you get that conclusion?"

"Seven votes." Jiang Yang smiled, a smile more painful than a grimace. "Just seven votes short. If my high note in the chorus had been a little more stable, if my ending pose had been a little more dazzling, if—"

"There are no ifs," He Xu interrupted him.

Jiang Yang shut his mouth.

"What's the use of thinking about this now?" He Xu's voice was not loud. "The votes have already been cast, the results are already decided. Thinking about a hundred 'what ifs' won't change anything."

Jiang Yang lowered his head, his shoulders trembling slightly.

"I know..." his voice was soft, "but I can't help it."

He Xu looked at him and remained silent for a few seconds.

Then he reached out and patted Jiang Yang on the back of the head.

The force was neither too light nor too heavy.

"What are you crying about?" he said. "It's not the end of the world."

Jiang Yang raised his head, his eyes red-rimmed and glistening with tears.

"Teacher He, scold me," he said. "It will make me feel better if you scold me."

Why would I insult you?

"Because I lost. Because I disgraced my partner. Because I—"

"You didn't embarrass your partner," He Xu interrupted him. "You stood on that stage, danced the whole dance, sang the whole song, didn't forget the lyrics, didn't make any mistakes—you did your best."

"But I still lost."

"So what if you lost?" He Xu's voice rose slightly. "You're only sixteen. You'll have countless more chances in the future. Can the outcome of one performance determine your entire life?"

"Teacher He."

"Um."

"When your voice is sore, are you also very sad?"

He Xu's fingers paused for a moment.

"Your voice is ruined, you can't sing anymore—were you very sad then?" Jiang Yang's voice was very soft, as if he were afraid of breaking something. "Did you also think, 'If only I hadn't drunk that cup of coffee that day'?"

He Xu did not answer.

He looked into Jiang Yang's red, tearful eyes and remained silent for a long time.

"...What's it to you?" he finally said, his voice returning to its usual hoarse indifference.

Jiang Yang smiled.

"Teacher He, you're just too good at pretending," he said.

He Xu raised an eyebrow.

"You're clearly very sad, but you never say it. You're clearly in a lot of pain, but you never let anyone see it." Jiang Yang's voice was nasal.

He Xu opened his mouth, wanting to refute, but he found that he had nothing to say.

Because Jiang Yang is right.

"Alright." He Xu stood up, walked to the window, and said, "Are you done crying? If you are, go back."

Jiang Yang stood up from the bedside and wiped his eyes.

"Teacher He."

"Um."

"Then I'm leaving."

"Um."

Jiang Yang walked to the door, put his hand on the doorknob, and was about to open the door.

"Jiang Yang." He Xu's voice came from behind.

Jiang Yang turned around.

He Xu stood by the window, the curtains drawn, revealing only a crack. His face was half-lit and half-shadowed, making his expression impossible to discern.

"Don't put the things away yet," He Xu said.

Jiang Yang was stunned for a moment.

"What?"

"I said, don't pack the things yet," He Xu repeated. "I have a plan."

Jiang Yang's eyes slowly widened a little.

"What method?"

He Xu did not answer.

"You'll find out tomorrow," he said. "Now, go back to sleep."

Jiang Yang stood at the door, staring at He Xu for several seconds. His lips moved as if he wanted to ask something, but in the end he didn't ask anything.

"Okay," he said, his voice a little dry. "Then I'll wait for you."