In the not-so-distant vicinity stood a man, his figure robust and imposing, embodying the wildness and ruggedness of a Viking. His solid, brawny frame exuded an untamed aura, while his lightly tanned curls danced with an air of recklessness. His profound facial features bore the weight of unpolished experiences, and his unruly stubble obscured much of his cheeks, yet couldn't hide the boldness between his brows.
At this moment, much like Renly, he too had a chalk bag hanging at his waist and a thick red rope trailing behind him. Their barehanded ascent of the rocky crags had only just commenced, his position slightly below that of Renly's. Despite this, the orange hue of his t-shirt had already succumbed to the dampness of sweat.
"Hamilton?"
Having discerned the identity of the figure, Renly's voice echoed surprise. He rifled through every corner of his mind, imagining every possible encounter within these surroundings. Yet, beyond his expectations, he found himself face-to-face with this character. And what's more, they were both engaged in the same endeavor of rock climbing. Truly, the unfolding scenario was a curious twist of fate.
Andrew Hamilton, the younger son of the Duke of Hamilton, was Renly's contemporary, sharing two elder brothers above him in the family hierarchy. He had been Renly's roommate during their days at Eton College. Due to his status as the youngest in the family, inheritance and establishing a career were matters that scarcely concerned him. He lived life on his own terms, the embodiment of the legendary "prodigal son". Reality mirrored the legend.
Renly had never been one to adhere to conventions. During his time at Eton, he had ostentatiously competed for the position of dormitory leader, only to brazenly flout the rules. For instance, he would switch on the dormitory lights at midnight, ousting everyone from their slumber. Or he might send emails declaring changes in class schedules, leaving the teachers facing an empty classroom.
One of his most notorious escapades at Eton involved herding three adult boars into the dormitory, resulting in an uproar that took eighteen staff members an entire night to quell.
At that time, Matthew Dunlop and the present Andrew Hamilton were Renly's accomplices—or perhaps it was more fitting to call them his followers.
Despite such audacious challenges to Eton's authority, Renly managed to avoid expulsion. His destitute baronial father and Matthew's baronial father held little sway. The true reason was Andrew's lineage: a duke for a father and a significant background from his mother's side.
After graduation, Andrew adhered to the family plan and entered Oxford. It was widely known that Oxford served as a stepping stone into the political realm, whereas Cambridge was more a hotbed of academia. Thus, the roots of the Hamilton family, akin to the Halls having their origins at Cambridge, were evident.
Gradually, the connection between the two friends waned. Renly later took a leave of absence to attend the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art in London, and their interactions dwindled. Their previous encounter had been at the New Year's celebration in 2007, adorned in intricate, handcrafted suits. Amidst fragrant scents and the clinking of glasses, they exchanged pleasantries with the decorum of gentlemen. Almost three years had elapsed since that time. Their paths converged once more, this time on a desolate cliff face. Clad in shorts and t-shirts, they were drenched in sweat, their appearance disheveled and far from the formality of their last meeting.
Renly's right hand seized the protrusion, which dropped slightly in mid-air. As a breeze brushed by, it swayed gently. Nevertheless, he placed his left hand over his chest and gave a nod, executing a gentleman's greeting. "Lord Andrew Hamilton."
This salutation brought a slight smile to Andrew's lips, prompting him to free his right hand and adopt the same posture. "Your Grace Renly," Andrew replied, a delighted expression dancing within his brows. "How did you end up here? I heard you embarked on a fresh challenge in the United States. I admit, I was envious at the start."
"I'm certain the rumors are far from reality," Renly retorted, eliciting hearty laughter from Andrew.
According to hearsay, Renly had fallen into dire straits in Hollywood. His situation was precarious, compounded by the freezing of his bank accounts by George and Elizabeth. Consequently, Renly had reached the point of pawning watches and jewelry, struggling to make ends meet.
The life of nobility often grew monotonous, necessitating a constant infusion of sensationalism to alleviate the tedium.
Nonetheless, Renly was unperturbed. "I've just finished a job and needed a short vacation to unwind. So…" Renly gestured toward himself, displaying his choice of relaxation: barehanded rock climbing. "And what about you? With your current appearance…" Renly paused momentarily before continuing, "Alexander wouldn't let Charles catch sight of you." Charles was Andrew's father, while Alexander was Andrew's elder brother. Evidently, Andrew stood out even in the Hamilton family.
"Remaining in London all day isn't a wise choice. Those folks there are either hypocrites or masks. I'm only twenty this year, not sixty," Andrew's disdainful tone revived memories for Renly, and a resounding laughter echoed through the canyon. "I still remember when we went skiing in Switzerland all those years ago. Your impressive downhill skiing opened up a whole new world for me. That's why I'm here now."
"Clearly, I remain the trailblazer of innovation," Andrew responded, brimming with confidence beneath Renly's casual words. Andrew shrugged, conceding, "I can't argue with that." Both of them couldn't help but smile.
"Are you planning to return to London next?" Andrew inquired curiously.
"Oh, no. If even you are escaping from there, how could I willingly step into the trap?" The playful tone left Andrew chuckling as well. Renly pulled the rope once again, offering a smile. "I'm preparing to descend. You'll have to continue ascending. We'll catch up next time." Barehanded rock climbing was an energy-draining activity. No one could linger at a single spot for too long—it was simply inviting disaster.
Andrew nodded, securing his grip on the fixed point. Then, he regulated his breathing and started climbing upward once more. He resembled an agile leopard, toes pushing off lightly. Using his right hand as support, he leaped into the air, left hand stretching to its limits, clutching an upward jut. With a swift retraction of his feet, he landed precisely on the support point. Releasing his right hand, he then grabbed onto an adjacent cliff crevice.
On the other hand, Renly descended with a calm and deliberate pace. The shadow that had clouded his heart for over a month had finally dissipated. While his internal struggle between the "method" and "expression" schools of acting still awaited resolution, the specter of being buried alive was left behind.
Lifting his head, he gazed at the not-so-distant cliff top. It seemed close yet so far away. Today, he hadn't managed to conquer it. Just like his life, the path toward his acting dreams, the realm of acting challenges, was destined to be anything but smooth. This was merely his first obstacle. Renly couldn't help but feel a surge of passion, eager to embrace the next challenge, to embark on the next attempt.
Such a life was well worth the journey.
A relaxed smile curved his lips as his feet landed smoothly. Renly began to unstrap his gear. In his ears, he caught the bustling sounds of voices. Turning his head, he saw a group of about five or six individuals arriving at a relatively flat boulder. They appeared to be the next batch of challengers.
Glancing downward, Renly noticed their intricate equipment. It seemed more like top-rope climbing.
Redirecting his focus, he continued to pack his gear. A friendly voice sounded nearby. "The climb just now was quite thrilling. Though it's regrettable you didn't succeed, your performance was truly spectacular." This was customary during extreme sports challenges—strangers often engaged in conversation. The same had been true for the middle-aged man earlier and Andrew. "What a pity."
Renly smiled. "Nature's unpredictability is part of the allure of climbing, isn't it?"
"Of course, of course." The other person chuckled, slightly awkwardly scratching his head. "Free solo is incredibly challenging. I was quite nervous just watching. So, the unexpected mishap at the last moment only adds to the regret." With neat, white teeth revealed in his grin, he paused before extending his right hand and taking a step forward. "Paul Walker."
Golden short hair, azure eyes, a radiant smile—his gaze radiated enthusiasm and warmth, as if stars had fallen into the sea-like depths of his eyes.
Paul, the Paul from the "Fast & Furious" series, a Hollywood figure now firmly established, yet he carried not a trace of arrogance, remaining sincere and unassuming.
Renly extended his right hand. "Renly Hall."
"Is this your first attempt at free solo?" Paul spoke while shaking his head, his smile tinged with shyness. "Doesn't seem so. This is my first time trying outdoor top-rope climbing. I'm a bit nervous. I used to do surfing, but I want to try something new now."
"This is my first time attempting free solo," Renly's lips couldn't help but curl upward slightly. "To be precise, I started training two weeks ago, had my first practical experience three days ago, and today marks my third attempt." Paul's eyes widened, an expression of astonishment plain on his face, his surprise unconcealed. Renly shrugged. "So, you definitely can do it."
Paul realized then that Renly was offering him encouragement. He scratched his head again. "Whew, always need to try something new, right? Nature is more than just the ocean. There's mountains, forests, deserts—we know so little."
"That's the truth," Renly pursed his lips. "But I certainly wouldn't consider surfing a simple matter. Last summer, on the Gold Coast, I nearly became one with the ocean forever. I'd love to show you the scars on my legs, but that seems a bit too girly, so I'll just keep quiet."
"Hahaha!" Paul burst into hearty laughter. "Well, I guess I better not show you the scar on my rear end, then."
"Next time, next time there'll definitely be a chance," Renly playfully added. After packing his equipment, he slung his backpack over his shoulder. "Well then, good luck today!" As he spoke, he bid his farewell, turning and leaving the now somewhat crowded area.
"Wishing you a pleasant day!" Paul waved, his voice carrying as he called out.