When the bell rang, Ouyang Guang was so tired that he could hardly stand up. Jin Shengxian handed him a bottle of water and said, "How are you? Are you exhausted? You are like this on the first day."

"Not bad." Ouyangguang unscrewed the bottle cap and took a few gulps of water. The cold water slid down his throat, slightly relieving his fatigue.

"When I saw you stretching your legs just now, your ligaments were quite stiff. You need to practice more." Jin Shengxian wiped the sweat off his face. "But you learn quickly. You did all the movements correctly."

"Thank you." Ouyang Guang smiled. This was the first time he smiled that day. Although it was very shallow, there was a hint of warmth in his eyes.

Just then, Jin Minzhi appeared at the door of the classroom: "Guanxi, come on, I'll take you to the cafeteria."

"I'm coming." Ouyang Guang said goodbye to Kim Seung-hyun, picked up his schoolbag and followed Kim Min-ji out.

"You must be hungry. Eat something first." Kim Min-ji handed him two seaweed rice rolls.

When leaving the classroom, Ouyang Guang looked back and saw that the three boys in black were still practicing dancing. Their movements were fast and fierce, and their sweat made crackling sounds on the floor.

Kim Min-ji followed his gaze and said, "Most people know how to practice, so you don't have to try too hard since you just got here." He said nothing, but stuffed the remaining half piece of seaweed rice roll into his mouth. The meat floss in the rice roll was so salty that it tasted a little bitter.

The cafeteria is located on the first floor below ground level. It is very large and divided into several areas. Kim Min-ji handed him a meal card: "Just swipe this and choose what you want to eat. This side is the Korean food area, and there are Western food and noodles over there, as well as free soup and side dishes."

The cafeteria smelled of kimchi, and the long table was filled with students practicing. Kim Min-ji pointed to the window in the corner and said, "That's the window for foreign students. There are fried rice and soup."

After swiping the card, Ouyangguang picked up the food tray and followed Kim Minzhi to find a seat in the crowd.

Most of the trainees sat together in groups of three or four, chatting while eating, and only a few sat alone. When he found an empty seat, laughter suddenly broke out at the next table - two men with dyed yellow hair were pointing at his plate with chopsticks, and one of them imitated the way he moved his hands and feet when he was practicing dancing just now.

"Ignore them," Kim Min-ji pushed the spicy fried rice cake in front of him, "Class D is like this at the beginning, but when you jump to Class B, no one will dare to laugh at you." The red sauce on the rice cake was shiny, and Ouyang Guang suddenly thought of the ginseng chicken soup in his mother's thermos bucket. The way the chicken skin floated on the soup was inexplicably consistent with the reflective patterns of the spicy sauce at this moment.

Ouyang Guang poked at the dry rice in the bowl, and suddenly missed the steamed pork with rice flour made by his mother. Across the table, several Korean trainees were pointing at him, and he could vaguely hear words like "Z countryman" and "relying on his face to get a position".

"Ignore them."

"See the one wearing grey clothes over there?" Jin Minzhi whispered, "That's from Class A, the company's key training student, and he's not far from graduating."

Ouyang Guang looked in the direction she pointed and saw a man eating with his head down. His profile was smooth and his temperament was clean. He remembered the "highest practice room" that Xiao Xun had mentioned, and silently memorized the man's appearance.

"Don't put too much pressure on yourself," Jin Minzhi seemed to see what he was thinking, "First lay a good foundation, and take it step by step."

When we left the cafeteria, it was already dark. The students were walking towards the training building in twos and threes, some holding sheet music, some carrying dance shoes bags, their footsteps echoing in the empty corridor.

On the way to the dormitory, the street lights came on one after another. Jin Minzhi stuffed the class schedule into his schoolbag: "Formal training will start tomorrow. The class schedule will be posted on your desk."

"Don't be late for vocal music class at nine in the morning. Class D's morning class is at seven, so you don't have to go yet. Just catch up with your Korean and vocal music." Ouyang Guang nodded, and the spicy taste of the glutinous rice cake spread on his tongue, reminding him of the unpalatable ginseng chicken soup in the morning.

He remembered the strength with which his father patted his shoulder, the unfinished instructions from his mother, and the bowl of ginseng chicken soup that he forced himself to finish - it turns out that some things cannot be rejected just because you don't like them, just like this job of practicing sex, once you step into it, you can only follow the gears and move forward.

Jin Minzhi pointed in the direction of the dormitory building and said, "Go upstairs and have a rest. If you have any questions, call me." Ouyang Guang thanked her and turned around to hear someone behind her say softly, "Hey, everyone here is working very hard."

He was the only one in the elevator. The mirror reflected his tired face, and the red bloodshot at the corners of his eyes was particularly obvious under the light.

He pushed open the door of the dormitory. The room was empty. He put his schoolbag on the table, took out his Korean textbook and vocabulary list, and turned to the page he learned the day before. The light from the desk lamp shone on the paper, illuminating his neat handwriting and the lightly drawn circle next to it.

I put the schedule on the desk. The light from the desk lamp shone on it. The dense grids of time were like a net, dividing 24 hours into countless grids. At the bottom, there was a line of small words written in pencil: "Korean special training: 7pm every night, the innermost classroom on the third floor."

Ouyangguang found a sticky note and wrote down "bring dancing shoes tomorrow" and "memorize words". The tip of the pen paused on the six words "Korean communication level", leaving a deep ink spot.

He put the note on the headboard and bowed 90 degrees in front of the mirror, his back straight. There were beads of sweat on the little boy's forehead in front of the mirror, and the ends of his hair were shining light gold under the light. His eyes were as calm as a deep well, but in some imperceptible corner, a faint light flashed, like starlight shining through the clouds after a sudden rain.

He took out his phone and sent a text message to Chen Zheng: "Not bad, just like I expected."

Chen Zheng immediately asked: "How bad is it? Have you been abused? Do you need me to feed you remotely?"

Ouyangguang smiled and said no.

After taking a shower, he looked up at the sky. There were few stars in the night sky, only the neon lights of the tall buildings in the distance flickered. He thought of the sweat and hard work he saw in the practice room of Tian Tian, ​​the artist posters on the wall, and the "heavenly idols" mentioned by Xiao Xun.

Tomorrow, the formal training will begin. Three months of Korean crash course, vocal lessons for class C, dance lessons for class D, and the densely packed schedule are like a huge net, slowly unfolding.

But Ouyang Guang was not afraid. He knew that if he wanted to get to the highest practice room and stand on the stage, he had to pass through this net first, step by step, steadily and firmly.

Outside the window, the hustle and bustle of the city gradually faded away, leaving only the rustling sound of the pen tip scratching across the paper, which was particularly clear in the silent night.

The phone screen lit up, and it was a text message from my mother: "Son, mom and dad have arrived home. Are you tired after a day? Remember to go to bed early." Followed by a dozen unread weather forecasts and notes.

After the bedside lamp went out, the moonlight shone through the gaps in the curtains and cast a thin strip of light on the floor. Ouyang stared at the ceiling, and Teacher Cui's words echoed in his ears: "Artists must always remember that there are millions of eyes watching you."

He turned over and touched the white jade Guanyin hanging around his neck. The jade pressed against his palm, and its cool temperature reminded him of his mother's red eyes in the ginseng chicken soup restaurant.

Ouyangguang lay on the bed and took out his phone to send a text message to his mother. He turned on the recording function and read the Korean sentence he learned the day before. When he played it back, he heard his voice with a strong Z accent.

Before deleting the recording, he suddenly remembered the fruit candy that Teacher Minzhu had given him. He touched the pocket of his schoolbag, but only felt a wrinkled candy wrapper. The sweet orange fragrance had almost dissipated.

He stood up and walked to the desk, spreading out the word list that Minzhu had given him during the day. The rough edges of the corners were curled up even more by his rubbing. He took out a pen and drew a horizontal line under the two Korean letters for "出䦤". The tip of the pen paused on the paper for a long time before he slowly wrote down the word he had learned that day: "열심히 (Effort)"