Boom!
With a sudden tightening of his lower abdomen and his upper body lunging forward, Ronan's forehead collided with Ollie's with a crisp impact, resembling ripe watermelons colliding.
Immediately after, the recoil forced both of them to fall backward. Ronan once again encountered the unwelcome resistance of the hard wooden floor. The collision between his lower back and shoulder blades caused his body to curl up reflexively, and he couldn't help but let out a painful cry.
"Ah!"
The exclamation came from the other side. As Ronan sat up, he saw his friend opposite him, who was scratching his head, raising his hands and rubbing his forehead as if peeling chestnuts. His expressions were all over the place, lacking any dignity.
Huffing and panting.
Ronan quickly noticed the embarrassment in his friend's demeanor. He continued to rub his forehead as if it had been split open, and his gritted teeth were plainly visible. He even danced on the spot as if the floor were scorching hot, executing a spontaneous disco dance step, with a mischievous glint in his eyes.
Then, his friend also caught sight of Ronan's awkward appearance. Ronan's drenched hair resembled a drowned rat in the desert, his face all scrunched up like a bun. He hadn't paid any attention to his forehead, palm, or buttocks, all dripping wet. Water droplets continued to cascade down his T-shirt, clinging to his body stickily.
"Ha ha ha ha!"
Completely disregarding his own embarrassment, his friend pointed at Ronan's comical appearance and burst into laughter. It seemed like he had instantly forgotten about Ronan fainting and was utterly heartless. Ronan couldn't help but join in the laughter.
Pain.
Weightlessness.
Panting.
And... Ollie.
Ronan found himself bewildered by a series of instinctual bodily reactions and brain responses—it was all so real. Everything happening around him was overwhelmingly real. It wasn't just the images his eyes captured after regaining sight or his physical sensations, but the bizarre information flooding his brain.
Him, Ronan Cooper.
The person standing in front of him, Ollie Love, stood at 185 centimeters tall but had a baby face.
They were arguing behind them. Cliff Baron, with his conspicuous beard, and Maxim Pfening, whose deep-set facial features resembled ancient Greek sculptures.
They were spectators at the High Noon bar in New Orleans, where the four of them formed a band called "King-For-A-Day" and were performing tonight.
Clearly, they weren't a famous band, and the bar wasn't a crowded venue. There were only 20 or 30 people in the audience, not specifically there to watch the performance, more like guests who had come to enjoy the show while having a drink.
Details like these were real and intricate.
Most importantly, they were specific and substantial, rich and complex, inundating Ronan's entire mind with a massive amount of information, setting off a mental Big Bang. It felt as if... another person's entire 25-year life had been crammed into his mind all at once, causing his brain to suffer from indigestion.
Even the dream team from "Inception" couldn't pull off something like this.
Ronan, take a moment.
"Are you feeling better now? Are you sure you're okay? Do you need to go backstage and rest? But... the dressing room back there feels like an oven. If you stay in there, you'll probably get dehydrated soon. However, there's no place to rest out here, and it's not a circus. The bar patrons initially came to enjoy the band's performance.
Now, they're watching a circus."
"Or... you could hide under the bar table?"
Ollie's incessant chatter drew Ronan's attention once again. At this moment, Ronan had finally managed to temporarily break free from the intricate chaos of regaining vision, recovering hearing, and waking from a dream. He began to notice more details:
English.
The person in front of him, Ollie, was speaking fluent and pure English, not Chinese. Moreover, Ollie was undeniably a natural blonde, unlike the familiar black eyes, black hair, and yellow skin. Additionally, this was the first time Ronan had encountered this stranger, yet there was an unsettling sense of familiarity.
So, what was happening?
In one moment, he had been asleep, lying on a wooden bed in his rented home, immersed in a dreamy slumber. Now, he was wide awake, transitioning from Ronan, a native of Jiangnan Water Town, to... he didn't even know what Ronan Cooper looked like yet.
Things seemed... off, to say the least.
Take a deep breath.
Take another deep breath.
Ronan temporarily pushed the overwhelming information in his mind aside. He would sort it out slowly once he had calmed down. The immediate priority was to grasp the current situation. "Ollie!"
"...You should see a doctor. I think you should. Even a minor cold can turn into a major disaster. Besides, you're our lead singer, and if we don't have a lead singer, how can the band perform? We absolutely can't break the contract!"
Observing Ollie's relentless nagging, Ronan was forced to interject, "I had a dream last night, a very, very long dream. It was like going back to when the band was just starting out, getting our first chance to perform. Before going on stage, we were so nervous, our hearts were about to leap out of our chests."
Of course, these were lies—clichéd ones at that, lacking any substance. However, they served the purpose of getting Ollie into the right frame of mind.
"Remember! Of course, I remember! How could I forget?" Ollie responded, a nostalgic smile on his face. "It was so beautiful back then. We didn't know a thing. We just believed we could shake the world with the instruments in our hands. We'd run around, burning the midnight oil without sleep, and forging relationships. Unexpectedly, seven years have flown by in the blink of an eye."
At this point, Ollie let out a soft sigh, and when he looked at Ronan again, his eyes were filled with understanding.
"Who would've thought it's already 2012? Hehe, tell me, is the end of the world predicted by the Mayan civilization really coming?"
2012?
So, he had gone from 2020 in Shanghai to 2012 in New Orleans?
Ronan felt like he needed a moment to catch his breath.