The brisk rhythm danced like sunlight leaping beneath the cerulean sky, the mournful lyrics akin to the swaying aquatic grasses beneath the depths of the ocean. These contradictory emotions harmoniously fused together, the tears of sorrow and bitterness within laughter gently unfurling upon the palate.
Through teary eyes, Hope gazed at the haloed figure of Renly, whose countenance gradually blurred, much like the fading beauty of a dream's distant horizon. Yet, a smile tugged at the corner of Renly's lips, rippling like a pebble cast into the depths of her heart's pond.
Involuntarily, Hope's lips mimicked Renly's visage, tracing a similar curve. Tears glided down her cheeks, and then… she began to dance with lightness. She didn't understand what was happening; she simply yearned to dance. The jubilant melody reached her ears, and her body swayed in tandem with its rhythm, as if every cell naturally responded to the call of the tune.
[
Oh, Ophelia
You've been on my mind, girl, since the flood
Oh, Ophelia
Heaven help the fool who falls in love
]
Oh, Ophelia, can you hear it? Someone has discovered your beauty, someone remembers your existence, someone recalls your story. It's not just Hamlet, nor only Laertes, but you too, Ophelia.
Hope spread her arms wide, twirling with exuberance. The warm night breeze seemed to sprout wings beneath her arms; a gentle push and she could soar high. She was so joyful, so blissful, so jubilant, yet her tears couldn't be contained. Like pearls escaping a broken string, they fell one by one.
Missed, ultimately missed. Just as Cleopatra missed Antony, Hamlet missed Ophelia. In another world, could there still be someone who would wholeheartedly, unconditionally love Hamlet like Ophelia did? In the real world, could there still be someone who would, like Ophelia, abandon everything and love someone so purely?
[
Oh, Ophelia
You've been on my mind, girl, since the flood
Oh, Ophelia
Heaven help the fool who falls in love
]
Happiness is a journey, not a destination. So, work as if you don't need money; love as if you've never been hurt; sing as if no one is listening; dance as if no one is watching; live as if today is the end of the world.
Hope danced with abandon, spun in circles, letting herself go, immersed in the melody. Her unleashed emotions galloped like untamed stallions, charging recklessly. The warm tears slid from her eyes, landing at the corners of her mouth, transforming into a smile that outshone even the stars, illuminating the night sky.
The night was just right.
William raised his hands high, following Ed's beat, clapping and stomping in rhythm with the tap dance steps, joyfully leaping into motion. Since he was nine years old and had been ridiculed by older members of the rugby team after a school performance of tap dance, he had never performed it again. The long passage of time had almost made him believe he had forgotten those steps entirely, but in this very moment, they seemed to have remained dormant within his blood, never truly fading away, and now they reawakened, allowing him to dance freely and exuberantly.
The heart soared with the upward arc of the corner of his mouth, soaring high. He had almost forgotten how wonderful dancing could be, how deeply he could immerse himself. Why did he give it up in the first place? The memories seemed to blur, the unfamiliar faces had long become passing figures in his life. So, why should he care about their opinions?
He shouldn't change himself for others; he didn't want to change himself for others. Just like Ophelia, he held onto the purest corner of his heart, running as wild as if today were his last day on Earth.
Graham had just gone into the bar and witnessed this scene as he exited, frozen in place.
Looking at the smile on William's face, he could hardly recall when William had last been this joyful. Thus, he clumsily started to dance as well, moving in tune with the melody, swaying limbs in uncoordinated twists. Those comical moves didn't elicit any shame; rather, they reveled in it, for everyone around was dancing, turning the place into an ocean of joy.
Renly's eyes glistened with the glimmer of tears. The subtle sadness intertwined and meandered through the lyrics, silently sliding beneath the endless night sky. Like a footless bird, one had to flap their wings with all their might. Once stopped, it would be the end of life. But gazing at those dancing figures before him, his smile bloomed. Ophelia, that was the undying purity and beauty, eternally illuminating the path ahead.
The melody ceased, the singing ended, the dance steps also stopped.
Everyone turned to look at the two performers who had just finished their act. Unsure of who it was, the first person whistled, and then enthusiastic applause followed. "Well done! Mate! Absolutely splendid! Brother! Another one, another one!"... Applause and admiration resounded, the claps growing more concentrated. Everyone released their pent-up emotions and complexity through these actions.
Only now did people notice that the group that was originally just six or seven individuals had grown to more than thirty. Scattered at the street corner, they transformed this place into a small performance stage.
Elliot Cort widened his eyes, astonished by the spectacle unfolding before him. He glanced down at the footage he had captured on his camera, and his emotions involuntarily soared.
He had arrived a bit late. After taking photos of Jim and Todd, he had abandoned the bustling scene of the "Joyful Chorus" and had roamed the streets searching for Renly's figure. He had a lingering feeling that he shouldn't miss this. By the time he arrived, the song had already entered its latter half. Everyone was singing and dancing freely. Renly, sitting cross-legged on the ground, appeared somewhat disheveled but oddly fitting. In this street environment, he seemed the most authentic. The suit he wore, on the other hand, appeared a bit out of place.
Elliot hardly had time to comprehend the sequence of events. Renly was just at the Emmy Awards, accepting an award. How did he suddenly end up performing on the street? In the midst of a swarm of journalists around each award winner, why would Renly be here?
None of this mattered. What did matter was that Elliot promptly opened his camera and began recording in video mode. Regrettably, he hadn't been able to start recording from the beginning.
"Renly, what was the name of the song you just sang? Did you compose it on the spot?" Elliot's shout, amidst the cacophony, didn't appear abrupt; on the contrary, it gained support from other spectators. They all chimed in, "What song is that?"
"'Ophelia,'" Renly said, the song title almost instinctively escaping his lips.
In reality, the melody of this song was relatively simple. Normally, a song would last around three to four minutes, but the song that had just played was only two and a half minutes, including the intro, which could have been extended a bit more. This was just a burst of inspiration from tonight's mood, a melody found on a whim. However, the audience seemed to disagree.
"This song is amazing! Spectacular, absolutely splendid! I'm in love with it! When will it be on iTunes? I'll be the first to purchase it. Yes, yes, put it up for sale quickly, it's still reverberating in my mind. Do the lyrics have any meaning? It's like Shakespeare's poetry, somewhat hard to understand. Ophelia is a character from Hamlet, so it must be meaningful."...
The discussions flowed, and Renly didn't need to answer. Everyone's thoughts were already racing ahead, and this made Renly smile.
"Renly, will this song be released?" Hope took a small step forward, her eyes brimming with anticipation. The cacophonous murmurs beside them momentarily subsided.
Renly had thought that the discussion was settled, that his answer wasn't necessary. Now the question was thrown at him once again. He shrugged, "Why not? I think my rent could use the extra income." His joking remark elicited laughter from the crowd.
"I'll definitely purchase it! The sooner it's available, the better. I can't wait any longer! I'm going to tell my friends when I get back. I've gained another great song tonight."
Renly could feel their genuine excitement and joy. He suddenly understood why Stanley Charlson was so enthusiastic about sharing music. Whether it was happiness or sadness, regret or contentment, it was all shareable. Just like performing, what each person derived from the melody was unique. It wasn't just a bridge of communication between the audience, performers, and creators; it was a bridge connecting people to people.
It was a deeply personal matter because the melody touched the most intimate emotions within, the secrets only one knew. Therefore, when discovering that a stranger liked the same melody, the blend of nerves, excitement, unease, and elation was exquisitely subtle.
It seemed that he should indeed share "Ophelia" with these strangers who had formed a bond in passing.
"Hey, Renly, are you Renly? The wealthy young man from "The Pacific"?" At this moment, the onlookers finally realized, their exaggerated expressions showing it. "But weren't you supposed to attend the Emmy Awards tonight... Oh!" The question hadn't been fully asked before the realization struck that the Nokia Theatre was just a street away.
"Look, isn't that the Emmy Award trophy? Ah-ha, congratulations!" The passersby noticed the award in the case and began congratulating him, digging coins and bills out of their pockets one by one and tossing them into the case. "Mate, thanks, thank you for giving us a wonderful night." "Bro, remember to release the single; I plan to let my girlfriend listen to it." "We're so lucky tonight, congratulations!"...
The continual praise made Renly feel a bit awkward. He wasn't the main performer here.