135 Ophelia
Hope slowed her steps, as graceful as a cat, afraid of startling the Renly before her. She stood by the guitar case, taking out a ten-dollar bill from her pocket and tossing it into the case. Then, she meekly clasped her hands behind her back, nervously keeping her gaze on Renly. She felt shy and couldn't bring herself to look directly into his eyes, so she stole glances at his well-defined, large and slender hands.
Suddenly, from the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of Renly's smile. She raised her head and collided with Renly's bright gaze, his moonlit smile gently rippling. Her heart suddenly stopped beating, and Hope averted her eyes in a fluster, even her breath held still.
"Ha." A soft chuckle escaped her, and Hope glanced over to see Renly's smile extending to his lips. The soft curve of his lips formed a carefree arc, and the world brightened up.
The melody abruptly ceased, and William and Graham also stopped in their tracks. They looked at Renly, then at Hope, and finally at the golden trophy in the guitar case. They glanced back at Renly, their eyes filled with disbelief. They couldn't even tell whether this was a dream or reality.
"It seems we have some onlookers," Ed Sheeran bent over slightly, expressing gratitude to everyone. He raised his voice and said, "Thank you for your accompaniment for that song just now. How about showing us your skills next? Any ideas?"
Indeed, Renly had many songs in his mind, but none seemed quite suitable for the atmosphere tonight. Suddenly, the face of the girl from the food truck flashed through his mind—Ophelia. He remembered that name, because it was the name of the female lead in Shakespeare's most famous tragedy, "Hamlet." It seemed that the girl's parents must really like Shakespeare.
Tonight's liveliness, brilliance, extravagance, complexity, moving moments, and lack of regrets... all of it converged into a melody that danced lightly at his fingertips. Renly looked up and said, "Do you have handbells?"
Ed bent down, rummaged around, and pulled out a colorful handbell. "Would an African tribal one work?"
Renly broke into a big smile. "No problem. Come on, give me a rhythm!"
Ed was a bit surprised but didn't ask further. "Sure." They hadn't exchanged names or even communicated, yet there was a tacit understanding established through music. He began striking the handbell, finding a rhythm at random. Soon, Renly's voice came from the side, "Very good, keep that rhythm and follow my keyboard sounds!"
Boom! Boom!
The neat and steady handbell beats were like a military march, powerful and profound. The exuberant enthusiasm overflowed within the measured beats. William couldn't help but follow along, adding the rhythm of his palms.
"Excellent!" Renly's big smile appeared, giving his approval. This encouraged William, and the applause grew louder. Seeing this, Graham and Hope also joined in, striking the rhythm. A satisfied expression flashed in Renly's eyes. He nodded repeatedly and raised his hands high. "Anyone else? Let's all join in!"
At this point, the people who had been observing at the bar couldn't hold back any longer. Four or five people stepped forward one after another. Someone asked, "Hey, how do we play?"
Ed simply stepped forward, lifting the handbell high and striking it forcefully. He called out, "Everyone, follow the beat!"
Boom! Boom! Boom!
The well-structured rhythm gained momentum, even without any melody, it stirred a faint sense of fervor within, as if igniting a fire in the blood. At this very moment, the keyboard beneath Renly's fingertips struck heavily. A simple note, merely a starting pitch, and Renly began to sing, "Ah, ah, when I was younger..."
His warm voice carried a subtle huskiness, fermenting and diffusing under the neon lights, gently plucking at heartstrings.
"I, I should've known better. And I can't feel no remorse. And you don't feel nothing back..." The keyboard, seemingly without much variation, ignited a rising force within the beats. Inadvertently, Ed's rhythm accelerated by half a beat, a surge of excitement like hastened bloodstream rippled through the air.
Suddenly, the keyboard rhythm under Renly's fingertips picked up speed. The melody flowed down like sparkling springs, his long fingers creating a dazzling display. Within a mere eight beats, emotions surged and then came to a sudden halt, a beauty too profound for words to express.
Ed couldn't even react in time; the eight beats ended, and he gaped at Renly. Then Renly burst into hearty laughter, and Ed couldn't help but smile in return, giving Renly a look that said, "I'm ready now. I won't be fumbling next time."
[
I, I got a new girlfriend here
Feels like he's on top
And I don't feel no remorse
And you can't see past my blindness
]
The enigmatic lyrics were baffling, yet subtly profound. It was like... it was like Shakespeare's poetry. This naturally led one to think of "Cleopatra", following the same thematic style.
Within these simple verses, a faint sorrow and regret could be sensed. He hurt her deeply, he knew it was wrong, but he refused to repent. She was hurt deeply, she knew he no longer belonged to her, yet she didn't reproach him. In love, the one who gives always ends up vulnerable. They lay down their own guard, let go of themselves, and lay down their weapons. As long as the other is willing, they can be hurt without reservation. And she, she remains without complaints or regrets.
Tragic and poignant, grand like an epic.
The piano keys became deep and weighty. Renly's voice spread its wings and soared freely: [
Oh, Ophelia
You've been on my mind, girl, since the flood
Oh, Ophelia
Heaven help the fool who falls in love
]
His enchanting voice and the straightforward lyrics unexpectedly struck at Hope's heart. Ophelia, that Ophelia from "Hamlet", the innocent and kind-hearted Ophelia, the naively romantic Ophelia, the Ophelia who risked all for love... the Ophelia that was both heartrending and aspiring.
Even though Hamlet had "gone mad" due to his father's death and his mother's remarriage, and he railed at Ophelia, she innocently thought it was only because he had gone mad, and thus, she grieved for him. But Hamlet didn't realize his outburst would cause such pain and even despair in the young girl.
Blinded by hatred, Hamlet killed Ophelia's father. Unable to bear this news, she took her own life.
Tears welled up in Hope's eyes in an instant. In Renly's singing, was it Hamlet's regret and sorrow? Was it Hamlet's sincere confession?
The rushing waves of piano keys surged forth, and the swift melody unleashed the inner tangles, melancholy, regrets, and pain with a cathartic outpouring. Ed didn't hasten his drum beats; instead, he naturally ceased them and stood still, silently observing Renly immersed in the melody. An eight-beat melody, crystal clear as spring water, transparent as moonlight, a faint sorrow merged into the pinnacle of exuberant rhythm, prompting tears to well uncontrollably.
This time, there was no abrupt halt. The song burst forth with vivacity and gradually ascended, all emotions erupting in this moment.
[
I, I got a little paycheck
You got big plans and you gotta move (Whoo!)
And I don't feel nothing at all
And you can't feel nothing small
]
Beneath the utmost high notes, the hoarse voice traced an exquisite arc, like a lightning flash across the night sky. In an instant, the whole world turned translucent, the tumultuous emotions lost all control within the rushing melody.
He was so small, doggedly pursuing his supposed justice and dreams, not hesitating to hurt a noble soul. At the cost of bloodied hands, he succeeded in reaching the other side of revenge. But was it truly worth it? What had he missed, what had he lost?
Was this about Hamlet and Ophelia, or Hollywood trophies and dreams?
How many lose themselves while chasing dreams, even turning their dreams into chips, all for the sake of achieving supreme glory. Yet when success truly arrives, they start to feel disoriented, unable to find their dream, freedom, or their former selves.
Everything was so ironic; the grandeur of the Emmy Awards was within arm's reach, the glittering golden trophy still in the guitar case. Yet he sat on the street, singing loudly, like a minstrel, even more like a wanderer. Hamlet missed his Ophelia. So, when he reached the pinnacle of Hollywood, what would be sacrificed?
The voice, reaching its zenith; the melody, reaching its zenith; the lyrics, reaching their zenith of sorrow; the notes, reaching their zenith of desolation... suddenly eased into a tranquil state, all complexities reverting to simplicity. From within Renly's voice came a touch of huskiness, softly humming,
[
"Honey, I love you"
That's all she wrote
]
Warm tears burst forth, unable to discern whether they were weeping for Ophelia or grieving for Hamlet.
As an enduring masterpiece, "Hamlet" has been analyzed from countless angles, yet all agree that Hamlet ultimately died for justice, his death noble and evoking both lament and admiration. But now, Renly's singing narrated a different story, a story belonging to Ophelia.
Hamlet missed his chance, inevitably missing it. Just like Cleopatra.
The rhythm resounded once again, the melody starting anew, from tranquility to climax, from desolation to exuberance. Renly's singing repeated:
[
Oh, Ophelia
You've been on my mind, girl, like a drug
Oh, Ophelia
Heaven help the fool who falls in love
Oh, Ophelia
You've been on my mind, girl, since the flood
Oh, Ophelia
Heaven help the fool who falls in love
Oh, Ophelia
You've been on my mind, girl, like a drug
Oh, Ophelia
Heaven help the fool who falls in love
]
Happiness and sorrow suddenly embraced each other.
