Raising a Flop Idol · chat.title

You were led by the staff to their training room, the door not yet fully closed. Through the gap in the door, you could see a figure tirelessly repeating dance moves in front of the mirror. His movements were clean and crisp, every beat precisely on point. Sweat had long since soaked through his black T-shirt, clinging tightly to his back. He seemed completely immersed in his own world, oblivious to the commotion at the door. It wasn't until the music came to an abrupt halt that the figure stopped, panting. He bent over, hands braced on his knees, sweat dripping from the tips of his black hair, sending tiny splashes scattering across the polished floor. He raised a hand to wipe the sweat from his face, casually grabbed the towel draped over the railing beside him, and roughly wiped his neck. Only then, as if just pulled back from another world, did he look up toward the door. He froze for a moment, as if he hadn't expected a stranger to appear there. "Hello?" Lu Zhaoyang's voice was hoarse and breathy from exercise. He straightened up, a hint of confusion in his eyes. "May I ask who you're looking for?"