The dormitory floor shared by 120 trainees was suddenly reduced to only fifty people.
The rooms became much more spacious, but for ease of management, they were still randomly assigned with four people per room.
Most of the young men were wealthy and idle, as generally only those from well-off families could afford the five to six years of instrumental and street dance training.
When they truly bunched up together, the entire floor resembled a high school dormitory, with several individuals not even knowing how to use a washing machine, forced to learn how to press buttons by following others.
Zhu Xizhi was at the forefront, a young master completely helpless in taking care of himself.
His first laundry attempt involved using detergent, washing powder, and scent beads all at once, essentially treating the washing machine like a big pot for stewing, filling the entire laundry room with the scent of lemons.
Then, Fu Mingnian took him aside to teach him the basics of daily life.
Room 1101 housed four people.
Gu Shaochu, Fang Chengran, Fu Mingnian, Zhu Xizhi.
Gu Shaochu didn’t like communal living much, spending most of his day in the practice room, and only returning at night before bed.
Fang Chengran and Zhu Xizhi were extremely popular, so whenever they returned to their room, friends would come over to chat and share some hidden snacks.
Top students had to practice from six in the afternoon to ten at night, while those ranked lower would spend even more time.
Because of this, there was always a long line for showers and water at lights out, with voices and songs mixing with the sound of running water.
Suddenly, someone screamed.
“There’s a cockroach in the locker!”
This shout caused an automatic reflex in all the dorms to check their own lockers.
“I have one here too!”
“It’s common when moving to a new place, relax…”
“Cockroaches, ah ah ah—”
A group of men, usually proud to present themselves as tough, were now panicking.
Especially since the cockroaches in the north were small and agile, surviving several hits from a slipper on the floor, running around swiftly.
Zhu Xizhi, who was originally peering from the upper bunk, watching Fu Mingnian write something with musical notation.
The hallway was a mess of laughter, and suddenly, the room filled with tiny rustling sounds.
A dark creature silently slid from the corner of the desk.
The young snow leopard instantly became alert, jumped down from the bed, and dragged Fu Mingnian to the side: “Mingnian! There’s a bug!”
“Isn’t it normal to have bugs.” Fu Mingnian tried to pull away: “Let go—”
Before he could finish, he too saw the unusually large cockroach at the corner of the desk.
“Hiss—” he swallowed hard, trying to stay calm: “Zhu Xizhi, kill it!”
Zhu Xizhi was stunned for a few seconds, then reflexively grabbed a slipper and threw it.
It hit Gu Shaochu’s tennis bag in the corner instead.
The cockroach, the size of an eraser, moved its antennae and suddenly started crawling towards them.
“Zhu Zhu Zhu Zhu Xizhi!”
“Fu, let’s just run, this thing is too big—”
The two boys simultaneously pulled the door open to seek help, and upon turning the doorknob, Bo Huan stood at the entrance.
In his left hand was a black plastic bag, and in his right, a long bottle of insecticide.
“Hi. Do you also have a cockroach in your room?”
They froze, noticing Bo Huan was followed by a long line of other dormitory boys, all looking at him with a mix of awe and respect, as if he were a mafia boss.
“Yes—there!” Zhu Xizhi pointed reflexively: “On the desk!”
“I see it.” The long-haired boy nodded, sprayed the insecticide, picked up the cockroach with a tissue in one swift motion, and effortlessly held the corpse.
Then, he tied the plastic bag full of dead cockroaches, waved, and said: “Let’s go, call me if you need anything.”
Fu Mingnian and Zhu Xizhi stood dumbfounded at the door, watching him leave.
“Thank… Thank you.”
Once Bo Huan left, other dormitory boys surrounded him again.
“Bo, Bo—there’s a gecko in my room!”
“Our dorm’s bathroom has a spider, woo woo woo Huan, save me—”
Fu Mingnian watched his back for a long time, wondering if this was a hereditary trait of the Bo family.
Bo Jue, his brother, also had a classical beauty, fair and tall with an elegant demeanor.
Upon joining the show, he was proficient in firearms and ammunition, able to twirl a tri-edged dagger in the palm of his hand.
Bo Huan seemed slightly delicate and gentle among the boys on this floor, but…
Suddenly, Zhu Xizhi slapped his forehead: “I forgot to add his WeChat!”
Bo Huan nonchalantly dealt with the unidentified creatures in four or five dormitories and even received a long chocolate bar from the dormitory supervisor who heard the news and came to feed him. He tossed the trash bag, turned around, and went back to his dorm to read.
Just as he opened the door, a young man was waiting for him against the wall.
“Back?”
“Mm,” Bo Huan nodded with a smile: “A small matter.”
“Don’t move.”
Shi Jianian stepped aside, took a sterilizing wet wipe, and held his wrist to help him disinfect.
Bo Huan was momentarily taken aback but obediently let him hold his hand.
“I did wash my hands.”
“Did you clean under your fingernails?”
“Um…”
Shi Jianian bowed his head and meticulously wiped every crevice of his fingertips, his grey-blue pupils like cold water.
Bo Huan looked up at him for a while and suddenly said, “If I were an audience member, I’d want to give all my votes to you.”
The young man focused on wiping his wrist clean and chuckled softly, “Why?”
…Because you’re really good-looking.
Bo Huan’s cheeks reddened slightly, and he fell silent.
“Nightfire” lasts four minutes, requiring twelve people to re-choreograph and distribute the lyrics, making coordination and cooperation particularly troublesome.
The shock of the knife group dance lies in the uniform and sharp movements of several people.
Practicing it demands that at every beat, every fixed point, everyone’s elbows, knees, wrists, and other visual points are all on the same horizontal line.
Initially, Corona managed this through the concerted effort of six people gradually syncing up. The current makeshift boy bands, being temporarily formed, lack strong cohesion.
Practicing fifty to sixty times on the first day wasn’t much, but by the second and third day, gradually, some people couldn’t keep up.
—This is even more terrifying than military training!!
Dancing itself consumes a lot of energy, and maintaining facial expressions and coordination between singing and dancing exhausts one to the point of snoring loudly after a day’s turmoil.
It was said that after Fang Chengran’s side was dubbed the training of death, his snoring was so loud at night that the next dorm wanted to call the police.
Huo Ren routinely went to observe and offer guidance, noticing several details.
Fu Mingnian was undoubtedly well-trained.
His self-demands were visibly stringent, even when dancing without looking at the screen, the arc and force of his wrist lift were remarkably precise.
“Mingnian dances very well,” he said gently. “But sometimes you don’t have to replicate the exact height and arc from the video.”
“Everyone’s body has different balance and flexibility. Sometimes, you need to look in the mirror repeatedly to find the most suitable style of body language for yourself.”
Fu Mingnian brightened when praised by someone he cared about.
“Thank you, teacher, I’ll adjust.”
Huo Ren smiled and nodded, continuing to observe other students.
Han Yang had a weaker dance foundation but would stay very late in the rehearsal hall every night, practicing alongside Bo Huan.
It was said that several students would take turns dancing with them, all in a rather good state.
He turned to Gu Shaochu, using a newspaper tube to help adjust the position of his elbow and waist.
The young man wasn’t used to this kind of touch and would glance at his eyes.
“Spatial positioning is very important.”
Once Gu Shaochu was in a group, his individual advantages weren’t as prominent, causing a subtle frustration within him.
He silently followed Huo Ren’s instructions and finally spoke up.
“Teacher…” The usually proud individual awkwardly voiced his trouble: “I’m not very good at this part.”
The little snow leopard quickly approached: “I know it! I’ll teach you!”
Gu Shaochu hesitated for a few seconds, looking to Huo Ren for help.
“It’s okay, I’ll take him.” Huo Ren efficiently sent Zhu Xizhi back to his place, signaled Fu Mingnian to watch him, and led Gu Shaochu through the high-frequency tremor movements again.
“First, get familiar with the individual movements, then gradually increase the speed.”
The other students, too embarrassed to ask for help, eagerly followed along.
At times like this, the gap between teachers and students became immediately apparent.
In reality, most of these students had a background in street dance and could easily become the cool and unique focus in any high school or university.
But Huo Ren was a top artist with six years of professional experience.
Every inch of his body was sculpted to perfection, not just with smooth lines and fair skin that naturally drew attention, but his control over nerves and muscles was also extraordinarily precise and relaxed.
Even without background music, any demonstration seemed to instantly fill one’s mind with rhythm and beats, as if his rhythm followed him like a shadow.
With a single lift of his hand or a turn, he seemed naturally to capture everyone’s gaze, as if he was born to be in the spotlight.
Leaping back, crouching low then rising sharply, even after vanishing from the public eye for a year, there was an incredible perfection to it.
Watching Huo Ren dance was a treat.
Even if it was just a demonstration of a few seconds, one glance at his silhouette could bring back memories of Corona’s glorious five years and countless legendary tales about him personally.
At that moment, the young trainees experienced a devout silence.
They had the chance to stand so close to him, close enough to witness the exhilarating original performance of “Nightfire,” and what a widely revered idol truly looked like.
Gu Shaochu watched intently, and after the session, silently practiced alone for four to five hours.
Standing beside someone so outstanding could be incredibly pressuring.
Yet, it also made one feel vividly alive.
In contrast, the atmosphere was much lighter in the practice room led by Pei Ruye.
Busy with work, Pei Ruye only visited every other day, leaving Wei Jie to lead the dance practice in his absence.
But whenever he came to teach, he would stay for at least an hour.
—For someone of his stature, that was an extremely generous gift.
“Cold Light” was a well-known song from his second album, with a lively rhythm and a strong style, featuring classic URBAN choreography.
URBAN isn’t a specific dance genre but rather a form of dance expression.
It blends the essence of various dances, focusing more on control and extension.
Once fully presented, the dancer ‘comes to life.’
Every joint and tendon seems to automatically find the most appropriate interaction, with movements both self-controlled and spontaneous, representing a different kind of freedom under absolute order.
Pei Ruye was generous with the trainees, exuding charm as he danced, even a casual sway could dry the throats of the young onlookers.
Many lamented not being born a few years earlier in their sleepless nights.
If I had joined that recruitment in ’09!! Wouldn’t I be dancing with God Pei and God Huo year after year!!!
Darn!! So jealous!!!
An hour’s lesson was tight, with three to four key techniques requiring simultaneous physical and mental response.
Pei Ruye’s once-over made the students more tired than a whole day of regular practice.
By the end of the class, everyone was too exhausted to move but still reluctant to see the teacher leave.
Amidst their chatter, Bo Huan leaned on Chen Yuanqing’s shoulder and suddenly raised his hand to ask.
“Grandmaster, did you also teach Teacher Huo like this?”