The training room’s lights automatically brightened a few levels as evening fell, illuminating the empty space brightly, yet also casting a sense of solitude that lingers after practice.
The air still held faint traces of sweat mixed with the scent of floor wax.
The vast mirror wall faithfully recorded everything that had happened over the past several hours:
Spins, leaps, poses, countless repetitions of basic movements, and that silver-haired girl’s astonishingly rapid progression from awkwardness to mastery.
Bai Wanxue had just finished a set of stretches, fine beads of sweat glistening at her temples under the lights.
Her breathing was steady, as if the intense practice had been merely a warm-up.
She walked over to Su Yuqing, who was standing by the mirror wall looking down at her training notes, came to a stop, gave a slight bow, and reported in a tone that was calm yet carried a hint of relief at a task completed:
“Reporting to Sister Yuqing…”
She paused, seeming to remember the agreement about forms of address, and then very naturally corrected herself:
“Wanxue’s dance training course for today has been fully completed according to Teacher Lin’s requirements~ Meow.”
Su Yuqing looked up from her notes at her.
Bai Wanxue’s cheeks were flushed a healthy pink from the exercise.
Her pale red eyes, beneath sweat-dampened silver-gray lashes, looked exceptionally clear and bright, showing not much fatigue, only a sense of peace from having accomplished her task.
Su Yuqing felt a wave of relief inside and nodded, her tone unconsciously softening.
“Mm, good. You worked hard. Go ahead and take a shower in the changing room and change out of your training clothes. I’ve already booked a taxi home using the app; it should arrive downstairs in about fifteen minutes. Once you’re ready, we can head home right away.”
As she spoke, she put away her notebook, but her gaze inadvertently drifted to the other side of the training room, where a short-haired figure was bent over, tidying up sound equipment cables with her back to them—Teacher Lin Wei.
“However.”
Su Yuqing lowered her voice a bit as she continued speaking to Bai Wanxue:
“Before we leave, I have a few things… I’d like to discuss privately with Teacher Lin. It’s about your performance today and the follow-up plan. You go ahead and change first, no need to rush.”
Upon hearing this, Bai Wanxue’s gaze also lightly swept over Lin Wei’s upright back, following Su Yuqing’s line of sight, then she nodded obediently.
“Okay, understood. Then Wanxue will go to the changing room first. Meow.”
She turned and walked towards the side door with steps that were still light, her silver-gray high ponytail swaying gently with the movement, soon disappearing behind the door.
In the training room, only Su Yuqing and Lin Wei remained—Lin Wei, who had finally finished organizing the equipment, straightened up, and then habitually patted her hands as if brushing off nonexistent dust.
The atmosphere hung still for a moment.
The shockwaves from that afternoon’s astonishing statement about “winning against Zhi Ai” seemed not to have completely dissipated, leaving silent aftershocks in the quiet air.
Su Yuqing took a deep breath and walked towards Lin Wei.
Lin Wei also turned around, crossing her arms.
Her face showed little expression, just those sharp eyes watching Su Yuqing approach, as if waiting for her to speak first.
“Teacher Lin.”
Su Yuqing stopped about two steps away from her, her tone carrying a probing note and a concern she couldn’t quite hide.
“Today… you worked hard. That, since training is over, I’d like to… I’d like to hear your honest opinion.”
She weighed her words, her gaze locked tightly on Lin Wei’s eyes, not wanting to miss any subtle change in the other’s emotions.
“What do you think… about Wanxue’s performance today? What’s her foundation really like?”
She paused, then added another sentence, her voice unconsciously lowering, carrying a hint of tension she herself hadn’t noticed.
“I mean, putting aside all that… other stuff, purely from a professional perspective, is this material of hers… really suitable for making a living as an idol?”
This was the question she’d been holding in all afternoon.
She had seen Bai Wanxue’s performance with her own eyes.
After all, the speed of imitation, the body’s coordination, and even the grasp of rhythm far exceeded what should be expected from a “zero foundation” newcomer.
Some aspects even hinted at an inhuman precision and instinct.
But was this just a fleeting illusion on her part, or had she truly stumbled upon another treasure?
She desperately needed a professional’s appraisal now.
Lin Wei didn’t answer immediately.
She narrowed her eyes slightly, her gaze seeming to look past Su Yuqing’s shoulder towards the door Bai Wanxue had left through, or perhaps she was recalling every detail of the afternoon’s training.
Her expression was very serious, her brows slightly furrowed, which made Su Yuqing’s heart involuntarily tighten.
A few seconds of silence stretched out in the empty training room, each second feeling very long.
Finally, Lin Wei slowly spoke, her voice its usual hoarse self, yet carrying a complex, almost sighing tone:
“Very regrettably—”
Just these opening two words made Su Yuqing’s heart sink violently, her blood seeming to run cold in an instant.
Regrettably?
What’s regrettable?
Could it be… those astonishing performances were just an illusion?
Had she misjudged?
Was what Lin Wei about to say next, “Regrettably, she’s not suitable”?
Su Yuqing’s face instantly paled.
Her hands unconsciously clenched, her nails almost digging into her palms.
She opened her mouth, her voice tight.
“Regrettably? What’s wrong? Is she… is she really… not suitable for making a living as an idol?”
Her voice held disbelief and disappointment, and a deeper, hidden fear—
If even Lin Wei denied it, then the expectations from the Board of Directors and Manager Huang, the “standard” set by Zhi Ai over there, and even that secret hope in her own heart—the one she didn’t even want to admit to herself—that Bai Wanxue might be able to “handle” Zhi Ai… wouldn’t they all come to nothing?
However, Lin Wei suddenly let out a scoffing laugh, the sound breaking Su Yuqing’s tension that was on the verge of collapse.
She shook her head, her face revealing that familiar expression Su Yuqing knew—a mix of sarcasm, helplessness, and a hint of “what the hell is this.”
“What I mean is.”
Lin Wei rolled her eyes, her tone returning to its usual bluntness, even rudeness, but her gaze remained exceptionally sharp as she stared at Su Yuqing.
“Su Yuqing, if you keep ‘picking up’ a genius like this every day, ‘picking up’ a genius like that… this so-called all-around singing and dancing mentor of yours will sooner or later be put out of a job by you! Got it?”
“Ah…?”
Su Yuqing was completely dumbfounded, her brain momentarily failing to process the turn.
Out of a job?
What does that mean?
What does that have to do with whether Wanxue is suitable to become an idol…?
Seeing Su Yuqing’s utterly bewildered look, Lin Wei snorted with displeasure, took a step forward, almost pointing at Su Yuqing’s nose, and said in a decisive tone:
“What else could it mean? My point is—”
She took a deep breath, as if about to announce a major conclusion, enunciating each word heavily:
“Yes! That’s right! Just as you suspected, and just as I witnessed with my own eyes!”
“Bai, Wan, Xue—is, a, genius!”
“And.”
She paused, her gaze becoming extremely serious, even carrying the excitement and gravity of a seasoned educator who has spotted a rare, unpolished gem.
“I, who’ve been in this circle for over a decade, trained countless seedlings, have actually seen a few real geniuses, and later became a teacher, can guarantee it to you right here, right now, Su Yuqing—”
Her finger jabbed emphatically in the air, stressing the weight of her words:
“As long as! As long as you don’t mess around, don’t engage in any shady shortcuts, give her a sufficiently scientific training plan, ensure reasonable training intensity and duration, allowing her to continue with long-term, systematic, stable professional training…”
She slowed her speech, her eyes shining, as if already seeing a certain future:
“Then, Bai Wanxue, forget about how to ‘surpass’ that currently almost unstoppable, monstrously strong Kasahana Chiai—”
“After all, that itself is a monstrous proposition—”