"Alright, alright, we'll have plenty of time to dig into the gossip later, but for now, we'd better let Renly get some rest." Stanley emerged from backstage, clapping his hands to gather everyone's attention, and began dispersing the crowd.
Village Vanguard had closed an hour ago, yet after shutting the doors, everyone decided to keep Renly around. They animatedly discussed everything that had happened in the past half year, completely forgetting the passage of time.
"But Renly is about to become a big star next, and we won't have a chance anymore." Neil led the chorus of incoherent shouts, inciting laughter from the crowd.
However, Stanley wasn't buying it. He gave the back of Neil's head a smack. "Even now, you don't stand a chance." The same words, different interpretations. Everyone was momentarily stunned before bursting into collective laughter. Neil wore an expression of reluctance, standing up and waving his hands. "Who knows? Renly, right?"
Before Renly could answer, several people rushed forward and dragged Neil away. "Don't give the poor guy a hard time here."
Seeing Neil being hauled away in such an awkward manner, Renly called out, "Alicia is hiding in the bathroom, crying while hugging the toilet." Alicia was Neil's girlfriend, a kindergarten teacher who often came to Village Vanguard to hang out. Everyone was quite familiar with her.
Renly's teasing provoked uproarious laughter, and jests and taunts filled the air.
"You should head back and rest." Stanley patted Renly's shoulder. "Long flights are always tormenting."
"I slept the whole way here." Renly replied with a smile, not appearing overly exhausted.
"Ha. I should have expected that." Stanley was in a particularly cheerful mood tonight. "But I should head home now; my heart is protesting." Normally, Stanley would have left around midnight, but today, because of Renly's return, he had stayed at the bar. They had enjoyed a couple rounds of beer.
After ensuring all the bar windows were in good condition, locking both the back and front doors, Renly was the last to leave Village Vanguard.
Returning to his residence, the chilly air in the room caused Renly to shiver involuntarily. The room was dimly lit, devoid of any vitality. The temperature seemed even lower than outside. Upon turning on the lights, he could see a thin layer of dust on the coffee table and sofa. It seemed that Chris Hemsworth hadn't been home for quite a while.
Approaching the center of the living room, next to the coffee table, he found a sheet of paper. Written boldly in charcoal pencil were the words, "Haha! Call me the male lead!" Every letter was capitalized, and even just looking at the note, one could sense Chris's ecstatic inner state.
It seemed that he had finally realized his dream, securing that role and soon to lead his first Hollywood production.
Beneath those words was a footnote: "Note: Sean Bean."
British actor Sean Bean was undoubtedly a household name, known for his rugged masculinity and nuanced acting style, which had earned him an unshakable place in Hollywood. His presence could be seen in works like "Patriot Games", "GoldenEye", "National Treasure", "Troy", "Silent Hill", "The Lord of the Rings" series, and, of course, the renowned "Game of Thrones".
To collaborate with Sean Bean and become the male lead—no wonder Chris was so ecstatic.
Renly couldn't help but chuckle, genuinely happy for Chris. He placed the note back on the table and picked up a nearby charcoal pencil. Beneath the original message, he wrote his own comment, "Hot"—a playful way to congratulate Chris. Then, Renly chose to take a bath first, washing away the dust and weariness, truly relishing the sense of coming home.
Despite having slept throughout the flight, Renly now felt tired again. He intended to lie down in bed and heed the call of Morpheus, but his gaze fell upon the wooden guitar in the corner of the room. His footsteps involuntarily halted.
Though his days at Village Vanguard had been carefree and joyous, this feeling was particularly strong tonight. In the easy and comfortable atmosphere among his friends, the dimensions of time and space lost their original significance. Their bonds with each other hadn't weakened; if anything, they had grown stronger.
Renly knew what Stanley meant by "gift". It wasn't about performing on stage; it was about recording music for real.
Stanley was a connoisseur of talent. His approach to operating Village Vanguard and selecting performing guests revealed as much. When Renly had first gone on stage to fill in, Stanley had been incredibly surprised. He had excitedly offered Renly a chance to perform, to truly step onto the stage and have his own thirty minutes. But Renly had declined.
The reason was simple: music was just leisure, diversion, relaxation to him. His passion had always been acting, and that hadn't changed, at least not yet.
Stanley was deeply regretful. He was someone who genuinely loved music. In his eyes, nothing in the world could compare to it. So, whenever he saw someone talented or driven by dreams, Stanley was always a staunch supporter. Despite Renly's refusal, Stanley understood but didn't easily give up. Afterwards, he half-jokingly and half-seriously brought up the matter with Renly multiple times. His tenacity, while somewhat frustrating for Renly, also touched him.
Renly knew that Stanley's enthusiasm was just a reflection of his sincere passion for music, just like his enthusiasm for acting.
After considering it, Renly walked to the bedside and picked up the guitar from the corner. He brushed off the dust and then opened his laptop. He decided to record "Cleopatra" as a gift for Stanley. After all, he still owed Stanley a Christmas present, and besides, St. Patrick's Day was approaching, wasn't it?
In the new century, with the rise of social networks like YouTube, Facebook, Twitter, the gradual improvement of online digital music sales platforms like iTunes, Amazon, Spotify, and advancements in electronic recording equipment led by Apple computers, even smartphones could record music. More and more grassroots and independent musicians began to rise in prominence. This trend was an inevitable result of the entertainment culture, a development following the maturity of music reality shows like "American Idol".
For independent musicians, not having high-end professional recording equipment wasn't a problem. Modern technology had solved all those issues. What they truly needed to face was the soundproofing quality of the recording room. Many independent musicians chose garages as their recording spaces. They would stick egg cartons, acting as soundproofing panels, onto the walls to create a simple recording soundproofing effect.
Renly faced the same challenge.
He pounded the wall with force, causing the entire surface to shiver like a bedsheet fluttering in a strong wind. "Shut up!" The whispered romantic words from next door abruptly ceased. After about half a second of pause, a man's voice erupted in a stream of profanities. However, Renly paid no heed. He raised his voice and shouted, "Keep making noise, and I'll tell Kingston exactly what you're up to!"
A single sentence silenced the voice next door. The man next door had been secretly cheating on his girlfriend, and he was indiscreet about it. Annoyed, Renly had finally had enough. The man's girlfriend's brother was named Kingston, and he owned a butcher shop specializing in pork, beef, lamb, and more, three blocks away, with close ties to the Italian mafia.
Finally, peace settled in. Rare was the moment of tranquility in New York at four in the morning.
Renly opened his computer, cradling the guitar in his arms, but his mind seemed lost. When he had originally composed "Cleopatra", it had been a burst of inspiration. He hadn't truly recorded the melody and lyrics. In the past six months, he hadn't played it again, and now, his mind had somehow blanked out.
He released his thoughts and let his fingertips find the strings, tracing their path casually. The story of Cleopatra and Mark Antony emerged once more.
When later generations stood at the contemporary crossroads to examine history, reassigning special significance to historical events due to changes in life views, worldviews, values, as well as the progression of time and society, it always proved intriguing. It was like the time when heliocentrism was considered heretical, or when the internet was seen as the harbinger of doomsday. As time passed, things inevitably departed from their original appearances, and yet, no one could precisely reconstruct the truth of those specific historical junctures.
Countless individuals, including Shakespeare, believed Cleopatra to be an ambitious woman who almost single-handedly dictated the rise and fall of the Roman Empire. But did anyone in history truly understand Cleopatra's emotions? Just like Wu Zetian, people saw her achievements, her ruthless methods, her dominion over the world, and her iron-fisted rule, yet they never saw her tenderness as a woman, her hardships as a historical creator, and the thorns she faced as a destiny-shifter.
[
But I was late for this, late for that, late for the love of my life
And when I die alone, when I die alone, when I die I'll be on time
]
That familiar melody flowed once again from his fingertips. It wasn't just about Cleopatra. In reality, how many people missed the love of their lives? How many bore the shackles of fate in the dilemma between love and career? How many stumbled through misunderstandings and hardships to reach the end of life?
How many people, like him, could win a second chance at life?
Full of both joy and sorrow, exhilaration and loss, pleasure and confusion... the bitterness hidden within the cheerful melody twirled gracefully on the tip of his tongue. A smile curved at the corners of his mouth, but it couldn't conceal the loneliness beneath the night. Notes shimmered with a captivating halo under the clear moonlight.
"Wait, how does this recording work again?" Renly looked at the recording software on his computer, his head full of question marks.