Withdrawal
The air conditioner in the director's office was broken, and the stifling heat was thick with tiny dust particles, swirling in the rays of the setting sun. Yun Heng stood at her desk, her training suit soaked with sweat and clinging to her skin like a sticky spiderweb.
"Director, I must withdraw from the competition." His voice was soft, but filled with unquestionable determination. His fingertips turned white from the force. "The number of votes for the third public performance... I can't afford it."
The director looked up from the pile of documents, a hint of fatigue and a hint of expected understanding flashing in his eyes behind his gold-rimmed glasses. "Yunheng," he sighed, opened a drawer, pulled out a bottle of ice water, and handed it to her. "Have some water first. This matter... I know you feel wronged."
"It's not a grievance." Yun Heng didn't take the water, staring straight at the other person, "This is cheating. I don't want to stay on the stage this way."
He thought of the trophy he'd smashed last night, his reddened eyes in the mirror, and his grandmother's proud smile in the video—those images pierced his heart like needles. If even dreams depended on capital, then what was the point of staying up late writing songs and practicing dances until the early hours?
The director was silent for a few seconds, then suddenly opened a drawer, pulled out a document, and pushed it in front of him. "Take a look for yourself."
At the top of the document was a bank transfer receipt. The "20,000,000" in the amount column was like a glaring light, burning Yun Heng's eyes. The payee column was clearly printed with "Yu Group."
"This is..." Yun Heng's voice trembled, and her fingertips suddenly retracted as soon as they touched the paper, as if they were burned.
"Yu Xiao's additional investment." The director leaned back in his chair, a hint of helplessness in his tone. "There's only one condition—you must stay until the finals."
Yun Heng's brain buzzed, as if struck by a heavy hammer. He looked up suddenly, staring at the director in disbelief: "How could you...how could you do this?"
"That's just how things are in this industry." The director's voice lowered, carrying the weariness of someone who's experienced it. "Investors need something interesting, and programs need buzz. And you and Yu Xiao... just happen to be the hottest attraction right now." He paused, looking at Yun Heng's pale face, and added, "It's clearly written in the contract. If you unilaterally withdraw from the competition, you'll not only have to pay liquidated damages, but you'll also have to bear the investment losses. Given your current situation..."
He didn't finish the rest of the sentence, but the meaning was clear. He couldn't afford the compensation. Not to mention the liquidated damages, even the cost of Grandma's subsequent medical expenses was still hanging in the balance.
Yun Heng stumbled back half a step, bumping into the filing cabinet behind him with a dull thud. A photo frame on the top shelf of the cabinet swung, revealing a photo of the director and his family, each smiling warmly. It turned out that beneath this warm facade lay so much dirty dealing.
"I know you want to rely on yourself." The director stood up and patted him on the shoulder. "But sometimes, you have to bow your head. Think about your grandmother, think about the wheat in your hometown..."
At the mention of wheat, Yunheng's heart skipped a beat. He clenched his fists, his nails digging deep into his palms, unaware of the blood oozing out.
Just then, the office door opened. Yu Xiao stood in the doorway, his expression obscured by the backlight. He walked over to Yun Heng, holding a tablet computer. The screen lit up, revealing a lush green wheat field.
Aerial footage showed waist-high wheat undulating in the wind like a rolling green sea. A few scarecrows, made before he left, could be seen standing crookedly on the ridges of the fields.
"Do you know him?" Yu Xiao's voice was calm, and no emotion could be heard. "The land in your hometown. I asked someone to hire an agricultural technician. This year, they planted improved varieties. The harvest can be doubled."
Yunheng's breath caught in his throat, and he stared intently at the wheat field on the screen. It was the wheat field he had cared about since childhood, the fruit of his grandmother's labor, the last piece of pure land he wanted to protect.
"What do you want to do?" His voice was tense, like a string stretched to the limit, ready to break at any moment.
Yu Xiao slid his finger across the screen, and the picture suddenly switched - it was still the same piece of land, but it had turned into bare yellow soil. A few dry wheat straws were scattered on the cracked ground, like an abandoned grave.
"If you don't want it to end like this, then stay." Yu Xiao put away the tablet, his tone unyielding and firm, "Don't mention the word 'withdrawal' again before the finals."
Yun Heng's lips trembled, unable to speak. He looked at Yu Xiao's calm profile and suddenly felt that the person in front of him was terrifyingly unfamiliar. This person always found his weak spot accurately, and in the most gentle way, handed him the sharpest knife.
"You win." After a long time, Yun Heng finally found his voice, which was as hoarse as sandpaper. "I'll stay."
Yu Xiao's eyes moved, as if he wanted to say something, but in the end he just nodded: "We have a joint practice tonight, don't be late."
When he turned to leave, the corner of his white shirt brushed Yunheng's arm, carrying the familiar scent of cedar, but making Yunheng feel a biting chill.
Yun Heng was the only one left in the office, the stifling heat making it hard to breathe. He walked to the window and looked out at the training grounds. Several trainees were running, their backs soaked with sweat, yet they ran with extraordinary effort.
The light in their eyes is very similar to my own when I first entered the base - I thought that my efforts would be seen and that my dreams would become reality.
Yunheng pulled out his phone and found his grandmother's number. His fingertips hovered over the dial button, but he hesitated to press it. What should he say? Should he say he was like a puppet, trapped in this glamorous cage of capital? Should he say that the wheat field he cherished so much had become a bargaining chip for others to blackmail him?
My cell phone suddenly vibrated. It was a text message from an unfamiliar number. There was only a photo on it - in the wheat field under the setting sun, my grandmother was bending over to pick up wheat ears. Her back was hunched, but she exuded a stubborn vitality.
The sender then sent another message: "The agricultural technician said that grandma comes to the fields every day and says she is waiting for you to come back to harvest the wheat."
Yun Heng stared at the photo, tears falling without warning, splashing onto the screen, creating a blur of water stains. He suddenly realized that Yu Xiao's bargaining chip had never been the wheat field, but his weak spot—the person he wanted to protect.
The atmosphere in the evening practice room was as eerie as frozen ice. Yun Heng stood in the corner, silently memorizing the dance steps, not once looking at Yu Xiao. He stood diagonally in front of him, his black T-shirt cuffs rolled up to his elbows, revealing his sleek forearms. But he didn't approach to speak as usual.
When the music started, Yun Heng mechanically followed the rhythm, like a programmed robot. His movements were impeccable, but he lacked his former spirit. Even his dance teacher frowned and reminded him, "Yun Heng, put some emotion into it. This is the theme song for the finals, you have to impress the audience."
Emotion? He was now numb.
During the break, Yu Xiao came over and put a bottle of strawberry milk on the floor in front of him, and said softly: "Afternoon... Sorry."
Yun Heng didn't look at him, nor did she touch the bottle of milk. She just stood up and walked to the bathroom. When she passed by Yu Xiao, he suddenly whispered, "I just wanted to help you with the wheat field matter. Your grandma is old and shouldn't work so hard anymore."
Yun Heng paused, but didn't turn back. Help? In this way?
The bathroom mirror reflected a pale, exhausted face. Yun Heng turned on the tap and splashed cold water on her face, trying to sober herself up. The cold water slid down her cheeks and dripped onto her collar, but it couldn't quench the restlessness in her heart.
He didn't know how long this would last, nor did he know if he could make it to the finals. He only knew that from the moment he agreed to stay, he was no longer fighting for himself.
Moonlight streamed in through the window, falling on the floor like shattered silver frost. Yun Heng looked at herself in the mirror and suddenly felt unfamiliar. The young man who had been so nervous on stage during his debut, his hands and feet trembling with fear, yet his eyes gleamed with light, seemed to have been swept away by the whirlpool of capitalism.
The music in the practice room started playing again. It was an uplifting song with the lyrics "Towards the light, never looking back." Yun Heng took a deep breath, opened the door, and walked out.
No matter what, he had to make it to the finals. Not for anything else, but to personally take back his own wheat field and the dignity that had been trampled upon by capital.
But he didn't see that the moment he turned around, Yu Xiao picked up the untouched bottle of strawberry milk, his fingertips trembling slightly. The tablet screen was still lit, showing the weather forecast for Yunheng's hometown: sunny weather for the next week, followed by a message from the agricultural technician: "Young Master Yu, the wheat is growing well, but the old lady keeps talking about missing her grandson."
Yu Xiao's Adam's apple rolled as he read the news. He suddenly felt that the 20 million investment was like a red-hot iron, burning his palms. He thought he had made the right choice, but he had never imagined that this so-called "protection" would cause the other party so much pain.
The lights in the practice room stayed on all night. The shadows of the two young men intertwined in the mirror, one dancing silently, the other clumsily approaching, like a tug-of-war without the smoke of gunpowder. And no one knew where this war would end.
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