Minghao was a Chinese student with a dream stitched into every step he took—to become an actor. Not just any actor, but one that could move people without needing words. He had the looks: sharp jawline, striking eyes, a presence that filled a room effortlessly. He had talent too, undeniable on stage, natural in front of a camera, and an uncanny ability to form chemistry with anyone he performed with.

But the one thing that chipped at his confidence was language.

His voice was strong in Mandarin, expressive and fluid. But in a foreign tongue? Every word felt like a hurdle, every sentence a mountain. That’s why they sent him abroad. To challenge him, to help him grow beyond borders and scripts written in comfort.

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On his first day at the new school, the classroom buzzed until the teacher’s voice cut through it.

“Hello everyone, we have a new student today,” she announced, standing beside him. Minghao towered over her, and the moment he stepped into view, the room fell quiet. His face was a perfect ten—like he walked straight out of a drama series, yet there was a softness to him. Like he wasn’t quite aware of the way people looked at him.

“Please introduce yourself,” the teacher smiled, her voice gentle.

He stood still, shoulders tense, eyes scanning the sea of unfamiliar faces. For a moment, it looked like he might not speak at all.

Then, in a quiet, slightly hesitant voice, he finally said, “…Minghao.” He paused. Then straightened a bit. “Xu Minghao.”

His accent curled around the words, slightly thick, but his voice was clear. And though it was brief, it was honest. A start.