Chapter 16: A Late-Night Visit to the Mentor's Door

The trainees’ reactions were so amusing that even Cheng Xiao, who rarely smiled on the show, found herself grinning warmly. She habitually glanced at Gu Jingyi, pretending not to notice him. Just as she was about to speak, the bathroom door handle suddenly turned.

Gu Jingyi, dressed in his Class A uniform, emerged hurriedly, likely anxious from the noise outside. His face was still damp, water dripping in a thin line from his jaw to his chest. The loose Class A uniform clung to him, almost transparent, outlining every muscle that seemed to hold explosive power.

Cheng Xiao was thoroughly enjoying the view—not just watching but vividly recalling the feeling. Gu Jingyi had once playfully held her against his abs, letting her experience firsthand the strength within. She glanced away sheepishly, but beside her, Zhou Jieqiong’s eyes gleamed with delight as she stared unabashedly.

Cheng Xiao frowned and stepped forward to block her view. “If it’s yours, you can watch,” she said coldly, her displeasure showing on her face.

“Gu Jingyi, put your clothes on. In fifteen minutes, all Class A members will gather in the practice room for a progress inspection on the theme song,” Cheng Xiao ordered with a stern expression before walking out.

The cameramen followed, leaving only a few trainees behind in the vast dormitory. Justin looked at Gu Jingyi with concern and whispered, “Jingyi, do you and Teacher Cheng Xiao not get along well?”

“Why do you say that?” Gu Jingyi asked, puzzled.

“It just feels like Teacher Cheng Xiao is a bit harsh on you…”

***

Around four or five in the morning, all Class A trainees assembled in their classroom for a surprise evaluation by the mentors.

In the corridor outside the recording hall, Gu Jingyi stood with his roommates Cai Xukun and Justin, waiting for the mentors to arrive and begin the spot checks.

Interestingly, the other Class A trainees deliberately avoided the front row, letting Gu Jingyi and his friends take the lead in facing the two dance mentors’ assessments.

“Good evening, Class A trainees,” two slender figures entered the room one after the other and stood at the center.

“Hello, mentors,” the Class A trainees responded firmly.

“The theme song ‘Ei Ei’ for ‘Idol Trainee’ was uploaded to your tablets right after the initial stage recording. Now, two hours have passed,” Cheng Xiao said seriously, briefly explaining the situation.

Zhou Jieqiong nodded, her smile fading as she scanned the faces of the trainees. Then she spoke earnestly, “‘Idol Trainee’ is a talent show where only nine out of a hundred trainees debut. Being in Class A now doesn’t guarantee permanence. We will now check your progress to see if you’ve practiced after returning to your dorms.”

As soon as she finished speaking, the theme song “Ei Ei” played in the practice room.

“Now, everyone dance it for us.”

The Class A trainees looked like withered eggplants. The difficulty of “Ei Ei” was not due to flashy moves like splits, backbends, or backflips, but the choreography was packed with detailed jumps, spins, and inward turns. The entire song lasted three and a half minutes without a moment to rest, challenging their lung capacity—especially during the chorus lines:

“Fortunate perspectives all focus on me.”

“Every decision you make is the pride I long for; let hesitation fade.”

“Choose me, and please scream for my efforts!”

The word “scream” demanded a powerful high note, which drained even more breath.

While hitting the high notes, trainees had to perform mid-air spins, tug their ties with their left hand, and strike big waves toward the camera. The numerous small details forced them to sing and dance simultaneously, testing their learning speed and foundational skills.

All Class A trainees unconsciously allowed Gu Jingyi to take center stage while they copied his moves from behind. Even if their dancing was mediocre, they dared to sing loudly. The nine voices combined were passable, though some details sounded messy. As for the dance, it was truly a mixed bag.

The opening section was manageable, and even Chen Linong and You Changjing—both more vocally focused—could roughly follow along. But in the latter half, as the chorus approached, the complexity increased and the moves became intricate. Few trainees kept pace with Gu Jingyi.

By the end of the chorus, Gu Jingyi stood alone at the front, while the others scrambled awkwardly behind him.

The scene was chaotic, and the two dance mentors’ expressions darkened.

After the song ended, Cheng Xiao turned to the production team and asked, “Is it necessary to continue with individual assessments? Their group performance was this poor.”

Upon receiving confirmation, she reluctantly proceeded.

Not only the trainees weak in some areas, even Cai Xukun, who was more well-rounded, cracked several notes. His face was embarrassed, but he kept singing and dancing through. Although he forgot parts of the choreography badly in the latter half, he finished the performance with determination.

Compared to the other Class A trainees’ performances, Cai Xukun’s was barely passable.

When Gu Jingyi performed, however, he flawlessly sang through the parts where Cai Xukun had cracked, effortlessly hitting the high notes in the chorus. He executed the aerial spin and tie tug smoothly, slid his right hand down his chest in a shooting gesture, performed two large waves, and finished with a signature move he designed to target the camera.

At that moment, Cai Xukun’s pride vanished.

He watched Gu Jingyi with a complex expression.

This spot check was initially just a whim by the two dance mentors, but seeing even the highest-level Class A trainees perform so poorly, Cheng Xiao and Zhou Jieqiong’s faces grew colder.

“To be honest, I don’t know what you’ve been doing in your dorms after receiving your Class A rating. I understand some of you were unhappy about being tested soon after getting the theme song task,” Zhou Jieqiong said, her gaze sweeping over everyone and lingering briefly on Wang Linkai’s face.

“We mentors, including Cheng Xiao and Gu Jingyi, trained overseas where frequent spot checks were common. Failure meant reprimands or even losing your debut chance.”

“Opportunities are fleeting, so you must seize every one,” Cheng Xiao concluded, ending the segment’s filming.

The two mentors didn’t rush away but instead gave the trainees some guidance on their moves.

“Gu Jingyi, when you exert force in this move, try to pull in a bit more. Let me keep the beat for you,” Cheng Xiao said from behind him, clapping rhythmically.

In that moment of distraction, a room card quietly appeared in Gu Jingyi’s hand. He flipped his sleeve and swiftly pocketed it.

Returning to the dorm nearly at six a.m., Gu Jingyi took a shower, changed into casual clothes, and left.

He took two days off from the production team. The show “A Little Happiness” had been airing for a month, and he had gained some endorsements from advertisers.

But now, the most important thing was to respond to Mentor Cheng Xiao’s summons.

Gu Jingyi got into the van and soon arrived at the hotel. Wearing a mask and clutching the room card, he moved through without hindrance.

At the door, he knocked three times.

“Who is it?” came a soft, sweet voice, like cotton candy soaked in maple syrup.

“Student Gu Jingyi, here to seek guidance!” he said boldly.

There was a loud thud from behind the door, as if someone had stumbled.

Two minutes later, the door opened.

Cheng Xiao, clad in a bathrobe and with a flushed face, pulled Gu Jingyi inside.

“You’re not shy at all now, are you?” she teased.

The beautiful girl, standing still, was like a living painting—especially with her exquisite features and elegant charm. Her presence was as refreshing as a winter peony, and her eyes held a youthful coyness that contrasted yet enhanced her refined aura.

At a single glance, Gu Jingyi surrendered completely, becoming the man behind Mentor Cheng Xiao, rowing the boat together with her.

Their brief encounter quickly turned into an intense embrace.

In the spacious suite, only muffled sounds could be heard—the flow of water and their breaths.

Half an hour later, the battle ended.

“Gu Jingyi, I’m starting to dislike you being on the show,” Cheng Xiao said, resting against his strong chest, slightly displeased.

“Why?” Gu Jingyi asked gently, soothing her by patting her back.

She pouted like a child, sulking, “I don’t like the way Zhou Jieqiong looked at you. You didn’t notice, but after seeing your abs today, her eyes almost popped out!”

“Really? I don’t remember that,” Gu Jingyi feigned ignorance, cupping her face tenderly.

“At that moment, my heart was focused on you; I didn’t have time to notice irrelevant people,” he whispered.

The unexpected sweet words delighted Cheng Xiao.

A victorious smile spread across her face as she stretched lazily in his arms.

People with such perfect figures make even the simplest movements alluring.

Cheng Xiao was outstanding in this regard.

Her stretch caught Gu Jingyi’s attention instantly—men are strange; they might get dizzy playing 3D games but never from a 36D figure.

He held her face again and kissed her.

They both ignored the sunlight creeping through the heavy curtains, shamelessly continuing their aerobic exercise together.