The Best Actor in the Vase of Meiyu

Chapter 1189 Waiting Quietly

Quiet, soothing, and ethereal, it was as if countless fireflies were flying up and down in the pitch-black night, with the twinkling lights outlining the shape of the night. All the hustle and bustle, all the noise, all the restlessness blended silently into the darkness, and thoughts slowly spread out in the fluorescent halo.

The sound of the guitar strings, so clear, so clean, so bright, vibrates slowly in the slender and broad palms, humming the melody.

On the streets of New York, cars are coming and going, and the noise is overwhelming. The sound of engines coming and going, the whizzing subway makes an angry roar under your feet, the sound of people rushing past inadvertently scattering phone conversations, and the homeless people at the intersection are swearing and arguing with passers-by.

Amidst such clamor, even everyday conversations on the street need to be raised octaves and carried out in a quarreling posture in order to express themselves clearly, as is the case in "Phone Booth" and "Uncut Gems".

However, it is precisely because of this that the clear stream stands out even more.

It is like a ray of golden sunshine, breaking through the noise, breaking through the fog and falling down, illuminating a small corner of the city lonely and desolately.

Involuntarily, sparse gazes gathered together.

From what I saw, the figure seemed unaware of the surging noise, and just sat quietly in his corner, concentrating fully.

There is no singing or performance, only the melody of the guitar. The gentle sunlight shines on the surface of the quiet Mediterranean Sea, creating halos of light.

That melody catches the ears, and the complex and turbulent emotions slowly sink to the bottom of the sea.

Although there are no lyrics and no singing, just pure guitar playing, one can still taste the sadness and loneliness hidden in it. The world has quietly quieted down, the hustle and bustle and roar are still surging, but the soul seems to have found a place to rest in the bustling city.

Gently, gently, let your thoughts sway slowly in the waves.

In a trance, I seemed to be back in the movie "Elephant", following "Anson's" footsteps and wandering around the campus aimlessly. The confusion and perplexity of youth, the repression and depression of life made people depressed. I inadvertently revealed a bit of fragility but hurriedly concealed it.

Like a bird without feet, flying in the wind, sleeping in the wind, never and dare not stop, because the moment of landing is the end of life.

Then, the breeze brings soft singing, humming softly to the sound of the gurgling brook.

"When the nightmare comes, remember to stay awake, baby close your eyes, I will bear the weight, if you are ready to speak, I will restrain myself and turn into a song (Be-The-Song), just a song." (Note 1)

So light and so gentle, the breeze caresses my face, just like the sunshine in the early summer morning, slowly pouring down. I cannot help but slightly raise my chin, close my eyes, and wander in it; yet it still stings my wound inadvertently, and that thin, sharp, shallow pain makes my eyes slightly moist.

But why?

It took me a beat to realize that it wasn't tearing, but healing.

It turns out that wounds also hurt when they heal.

In an instant, his breathing stopped and he just stood there in a daze, unable to move.

"The scars deep in my heart show on my face, the darkness hides quietly, the senses are hidden in the corners. I won't speak, I will restrain myself and turn into a song, just a song."

There are times that are so heavy and dark, full of scars and exhaustion. At this time, even just a sentence of "come on", even just a sentence of "everything will be fine", even just a sentence of "just keep hanging on", may become a burden, because real life is not a movie, we cannot be like the protagonist in the movie, who can turn the predicament around as long as we cheer up.

In the endless darkness, just to keep persisting requires all your energy and sheer sheer force.

So, he won't say "come on", he won't say "hold on", he won't say any inspirational words or any great truths, and he won't even let the other party know that he has been silently guarding and accompanying them. It doesn't matter if the other party doesn't know. He will always stand behind them, praying silently, turning it into a melody, flowing quietly. Until one day, when they finally get through the most difficult and darkest time, and finally find the strength to look up again, he will appear in front.

Continue to protect with smiles and hugs.

Then, walk side by side.

Actions are always more powerful than words; melody has the power to break down barriers and infect the soul.

There are thousands of words, a lot of troubles, and the chaotic and surging thoughts can't find an accurate way to express them. Even the comforting chicken soup for the soul seems pale and powerless.

So, Anson composed music with his heart and wrote lyrics with his soul. He sat quietly in the corner, humming softly and praying silently that those who heard some fragments of the melody could get a moment of peace.

There is no surging passion, no boiling blood, no high notes and no peaks, but in the implicitness of the story, it has gone through thousands of hardships and returned to the basics.

"The turbulent water flows between the peaks of my heart, and my dear, you have occupied every corner of the valley."

"The turbulent water flows between the peaks of my heart, and my dear, you have occupied every corner of the valley."

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, filled with pain.

Lucas was in a state of great distress.

He didn't believe that Anson's childhood memories had all disappeared. Even if Anson was telling the truth and he remembered nothing, the scars were always there, like a nightmare, deeply rooted in the depths of his soul.

He couldn't imagine how much pain Anson had gone through, to the point that he refused to touch that memory and completely erased it from his subconscious, as if it had never happened; but the cruelty of reality was that things happened, the damage was done, and then, his brother was no longer the same as before.

The world is so peaceful, yet so turbulent. The scarred self deep in the soul is running as fast as possible, trying to escape from the darkness. The clear and gentle melody turns into a powerful force, pushing the body forward, running faster and faster, and it seems that he can finally touch the dawn.

The singing did not continue, only the guitar strings were gently plucked, like waves, gently lapping and healing the wounds.

Unconsciously, the entrance to the Angelica Cinema Center became completely quiet. All the standing and sitting figures paused, looking in the direction of the melody, finding a moment of rest amid the hustle and bustle of Manhattan's traffic, allowing their chaotic and messy thoughts to get some breathing space.

Inexplicably, his eyes felt slightly warm, but he looked extremely embarrassed. He wiped his eyes hastily and put on a big smile, trying to cover himself up.

The point is, even I don’t know where these tears come from.

After hurriedly wiping it clean, he continued to look at the sound of the guitar playing. The wound deep in his heart was gently pulled, and the slight pain dragged his soul away from the numbness and stiffness, and he felt the pulse of life again, just like finally surfacing after a long breath-holding dive.

The desire for life is awakening in the blood.

Then, her eyes became warm again, but this time, she did not raise her hand to wipe them. Instead, she stared at the scene through her tears, with the corners of her mouth fully blossoming.

Note 1: Be-The-Song (Foy-Vance)

(End of this chapter)