Thank You, Teacher Gu

“Whew…”

Gu Yi was panting by the time he finally finished tidying up the apartment. The original owner hadn’t earned much, but that hadn’t stopped him from buying things. Shopping bags were scattered everywhere—there hadn’t even been a place to step.

Gu Yi didn’t know the first thing about skincare, so he kept the unopened products and threw out the expired ones. Just taking out the trash required three or four trips downstairs.

A messy space could easily drag your mood down. The room had been chaotic, airless, and suffocating—it was no wonder the original Gu Yi had filled his social media feed with melancholic quotes and poetic sorrow.

He scrubbed the windows, mopped the floor twice, and polished the kitchen sink until it gleamed. Then he made a trip to the supermarket and stuffed the fridge to the brim. On his way back, he picked up two potted plants from the market and set them by the window.

This body was still too weak. One round of cleaning and he was already wiped out.

But Gu Yi had always been like this—he couldn’t focus until his surroundings were clean.

Flipping through the original Gu Yi’s notebooks, he found pages filled with handwritten plans for how to become a good idol. At first, Gu Yi didn’t think much of it, but the more he read, the more he realized—this guy had really loved being an idol.

Even his single laptop was packed with iconic stage performances from overseas boy groups. Every video had been watched dozens of times. And even if Gu Yi himself hadn’t seen them, the moment the music played, his body instinctively remembered the choreography.

Unfortunately, the original Gu Yi had lacked talent. In Vic’s J team, he had never once gotten a chance to perform onstage.

Whether he meant to or not, Gu Yi had inherited the life this body had left behind. He probably couldn’t love the idol industry the same way the original Gu Yi had, but he wouldn’t discard it lightly either.

---

His health was still poor, and eating well alone wouldn’t cut it. In the mornings, Gu Yi practiced Baduanjin—a traditional Chinese qigong exercise. In the afternoons, he watched videos on the computer and practiced Vic’s choreography. Come evening, he joined the neighbourhood square dance team and blended right in with the uncles and aunties.

“Little Gu is here! You’re leading again today.”

When they saw him, the aunties greeted him warmly. “Have you eaten? Look at you, still so skinny—must not be eating properly.”

Even after two weeks of rest, with some flesh finally showing on his face and arms, he still looked thinner than most. When he’d first shown up at the square dance, the elders had found it strange that such a young man was joining them. But the original Gu Yi had trained in dance before, and Gu Yi himself had a great memory—he picked up moves fast. Within a few days, he stood out and was voted as lead dancer.

“Are we dancing the same routine as before?”

Gu Yi didn’t turn them down. Most of the dancers were retirees, with their children living far away. When someone like him showed up, they couldn’t help but want to talk.

After getting to know them, Gu Yi joined the neighbourhood group chat. That’s how he found out where to buy groceries for cheap and even signed up for a community dance class at the lowest price. The teacher—trained in classical Chinese dance—was the son of one of the aunties. Normally, his classes had a long waitlist. Gu Yi had gotten in through the backdoor.

Once his health improved, he planned to start formal training again.

“The routine from two days ago. The city’s holding a square dance competition soon, and our team signed up. We’re going with Good Luck Comes. Little Gu, want to join us?”

“You’re a celebrity! With your image, the judges will score us higher for sure!”

Gu Yi gave a helpless smile. “Auntie Wang, I’m the kind of celebrity no one knows about. I won’t help.”

“Don’t give the poor kid a hard time,” another auntie chimed in. “The rules clearly say participants must be over 50.”

Auntie Wang had to give up.

Gu Yi naturally stepped into the lead dancer position. The music to Good Luck Comes started playing, and he jumped into the choreography with precision. He was tall, with long legs, and even dressed in just a T-shirt and jeans, he moved more gracefully than anyone else.

He didn’t come to square dance to slack off. Without putting in real effort, he wouldn’t even break a sweat. So his moves were clean and sharp, every motion from his arms to his legs purposeful and strong. Even if the song itself was cheerful and light, the crowd’s focus remained on him.

“Little Gu, shall we do another round?”

Gu Yi wiped the sweat from his forehead. “Sure.”

After one round, warmth flushed through his limbs and a light blush bloomed on his cheeks, softening his features and making him look even more refined.

He had entered Vic on his looks alone. When he was emaciated, he’d lost all charm. But now that he was putting on weight, his face was slowly returning to what it looked like when he first joined—though now, with a touch more maturity.

“Little Gu is so handsome.”

“Isn’t he better looking than that other one? I saw that guy at the mall—barely 170 cm tall even with platform shoes, and nowhere near as good-looking. I tried to get a closer look and his bodyguard pushed me!”

After dancing through Good Luck Comes twice, Gu Yi was pulled aside to help correct an auntie’s movements. He took the task seriously, patient even when she struggled. Move by move, he guided her through until she caught on. Then, leading the group again, he danced a third round.

Gu Yi had the kind of face that could stop people in their tracks. Usually, his expression was gentle when speaking to others. But once he immersed himself in something, an edge would emerge from within him—sharp, focused, and commanding.

Gu Yi himself wasn’t aware of this.

He also didn’t notice that, as he danced Good Luck Comes again and again, more and more people gathered in the square. A few phones had already started recording him.

After the session, it was no surprise that the aunties showered him with food. Since they all lived in the same complex, every time the elevator stopped on a new floor, someone would hand him something—fried lotus root cakes from lunch, fresh wild fish, even a whole watermelon from one auntie.

Gu Yi sighed, “You really don’t have to give me all this…”

Another auntie handed him a whole pack of White Rabbit milk candy.

Gu Yi: “……”

Well then.

Good thing he had lived on his own for years—he could cook pretty well.

---

The next morning, Gu Yi was jolted awake by a WeChat notification. Life had been so peaceful lately, no one had bothered him. If it weren’t for the group message, he might’ve completely forgotten he still had work to do.

“Zheng Huanran from Team G and Gu Yi from Team J have not completed their monthly livestream tasks. Please finish them by the end of the month.”

All 200-plus members of Vic were in the same group chat. Since over half of them were tasked with livestreams, the group gradually morphed into nothing more than a job reminder board. Hardly anyone ever spoke.

The only time it ever came alive was when Team A released a new song—then everyone had to chip in and buy a copy for support.

With only a few days left in the month, Gu Yi opened the streaming app at a leisurely pace, recalling the original owner’s usual streaming style.

It was just a task to be checked off. Gu Yi didn’t aim to outdo his predecessor.

The original Gu Yi had been shy by nature. Even when he did go live, he basically just followed whatever the few fans in chat asked him to do. This time, because it had been quite a while since his last stream, ten whole minutes passed before anyone even popped into the room.

Gu Yi wasn’t in a rush. He turned off all the tacky special effects and just waited. Finally, a comment floated by.

[Has Little Yi been eating well lately? That’s great.]

It was likely from a longtime fan—marked as a diamond-tier supporter.

Gu Yi smiled gently. “I’ve actually been eating quite well lately. Health is the most important thing.”

Hearing that, the diamond fan “Orange Peel” sent a little cloud emoji gift without hesitation.

Just like Gu Yi himself, his fans were quiet types. They didn’t demand constant tricks or challenges. Since he brought up food, he shared pictures of the meals he’d made recently.

[That food looks amazing!]

The compliment made Gu Yi beam. His eyes crinkled into crescents, and his entire face relaxed. The lifeless gloom from his past streams was gone, replaced with a fresh and vibrant look—one that reminded fans of how he had looked when he first joined Vic.

---

“How can someone look this good?”

“Orange Peel” had been with Gu Yi from the very beginning—struck down by his looks the moment he entered Vic. From that point on, she’d been hopelessly smitten. Even when he faded into total obscurity, even when his appearance deteriorated from extreme dieting, “Orange Peel” never jumped ship.

She’d always been a chill fan—not the type to stan every hot face that came along. Whenever Gu Yi went live, she’d drop in to watch and chat a bit.

It had been a while since his last stream. After he fainted during his last one, she had genuinely worried about him. So the moment she saw him go live again, she immediately clicked in.

And then, she froze at the sight of his face on screen.

It felt like seeing the Gu Yi from his debut days again—impossibly handsome, his eyes clear, and his smile radiant like the sun.

She remembered how she used to try recommending Gu Yi to her friends, but all the internet had were ugly screenshots of him during his “skeletal” phase. They’d laughed at her, even accused her of having a “crush on the grotesque.”

But “Orange Peel” had always felt that, in terms of personality, no idol could compare.

She took a few screenshots of the stream but hesitated before sharing them.

She used to dream of Gu Yi becoming wildly popular, but after seeing how badly he’d hurt himself chasing that dream, she realized something else—she’d be content if he could just live a healthy life.

He was her little secret idol.

Gu Yi chatted with “Orange Peel” for a bit longer, but the viewer count didn’t increase. The few fans he had before were only sticking around thanks to his frequent live streams. Now that he’d been silent for half a month, most of them had drifted away.

“If there aren’t any other questions, I’ll end the stream now,” Gu Yi said.

Just as he finished speaking, a new viewer entered the room. Gu Yi watched as the newcomer dropped an unusually long comment:

[Students A, B, C, and D decide to conduct research in the villages of Green Mountain, Red Leaf, Yellow Stone, and Clear Water. Each chooses two villages… The conditions are:
(1) If A chooses Clear Water, then C must also choose Clear Water.
(2)…] (Note 1)

Gu Yi had no idea why someone was asking this during a livestream, but his policy had always been: if you ask, I’ll answer.

[Did the person above post in the wrong stream?]
[Ah, didn’t notice—sorry—]

Before the newcomer could leave, Gu Yi responded confidently: “It’s A. A chose Red Leaf.”

The answer was correct.

[How did you figure that out?]

“‘If A chooses Clear Water, then C must too.’ Likewise, ‘If B chooses Green Mountain, then D does as well.’ Since A didn’t choose Green Mountain, then D didn’t, which means B didn’t either. But two people have to choose Green Mountain, so…”

[Got it. Thank you, Teacher Gu!]

Gu Yi chuckled. “You’re welcome.”

“Orange Peel”: “……”

What the heck? He turned into Teacher Gu in one second flat?

And to make it even more ridiculous, the newcomer didn’t leave.
[I’ve got another problem I’d like to ask, Teacher Gu.]

“Orange Peel”: “……”

Please.
There is no “Teacher Gu” here…
He’s an idol, damn it!!