87 Monster of vanity fair
Beneath the tangerine-hued sky, the azure butterfly kite spread its wings and soared, its long tail fluttering in the wind, a symphony of exhilaration and abandon echoing in its wake.
Renly's eyes brightened slightly, and he followed the kite string downward.
A middle-aged man encircled a young girl with his arms, his right hand holding the kite string as he controlled the rhythm, carefully protecting her as they both enjoyed the moment. The girl stood on the grass, clutching the kite reel with her feet, tilting her chin upward. Her gaze was fixed on the kite soaring higher into the sky, her smile blooming slowly on her lips, even overshadowing the setting sun.
Not far away, a middle-aged woman's hands were clasped in front of her chest, her gaze unwavering as she watched this scene unfold. A smile of happiness graced her lips, yet her eyes never strayed from the sight, betraying her inner nervousness as she unconsciously played with the pendant of her necklace.
It was Hazel, along with her father and mother.
An involuntary smile spread across Renly's face, an unrestrained expression of joy. Although Renly had left the kite in anticipation of this very moment, seeing Hazel leave her hospital bed and stand on her own feet once again, the overwhelming sense of joy was impossible to suppress.
Gathering his guitar, Renly walked to a nearby bench and sat down. He silently gazed at the skyline composed of towering buildings, savoring the New York sunset, a sight uniquely its own.
The vast expanse of the setting sun blazed fiercely, the sky's colors reaching an unparalleled vibrancy, as if releasing the final chapter of life's vitality. But in the blink of an eye, the orange hues began to dim, and a deep blue night curtain cascaded down like a waterfall, rapidly engulfing every hue in the sky. Before one could even blink, even the deep blue lost its radiance, and the world plunged into darkness.
Everything happened so swiftly, leaving no room for reaction.
"Snap!" The first streetlight flickered to life, followed by a string of sounds as countless lights illuminated. The darkness receded like a retreating tide, the amber halo forming a unified whole, creating a protective barrier that separated the human world from the natural darkness. Tranquility and clamor, serenity and cacophony, two sides of the same coin, blurred at the edges of the halo, where limits melted away.
In silence, he beheld the splendid nocturnal view before him. The whistling wind seemed to grow louder, yet also more serene. A melody flowed from the guitar strings beneath his fingers.
[
So we were up
Throwin' dice in the dark
I saw you late, last night, come to harm
I saw you dance in the devil's arms
]
The tranquil and ethereal notes seemed to vanish into the night, gently plucking at the heartstrings, evoking the whispering of souls. The path to chasing dreams was tumultuous, navigating through darkness with courage. The sea of lights at the horizon held endless unknowns, uncertain which path was right and which destination was the true essence. Even with countless wounds, paying a price did not guarantee returns. Thus, some ventured to sell their souls, dancing their most beautiful steps within the devil's embrace.
The heart was filled with poignant sentiments, yet it was difficult to discern what was right and what was wrong.
[
The night kept coming
Really nothing I could do
Eyes with a fire, unquenched, by peace
Curse the beauty, curse the queen
]
Should they give up now? Abandon their dreams, return to the ordinary path of life, seeking a hint of tranquility and stability deep within. But can the reality of life truly provide answers? Should they persevere instead? Forge ahead along a path strewn with thorns, every step a struggle, all in the pursuit of an unknown: perhaps an oasis, perhaps an abyss, perhaps a quagmire, perhaps a desert.
Should they choose compromise? Abandoning themselves, relinquishing their determination, surrendering their pride to accommodate the demands of society. Only by fully adhering to the industry's rules does the dream stand a chance of realization. Otherwise, the so-called "dream" remains an unrealistic slogan, and success requires payment, even if it means the soul.
[
So we come
To a place of no return
Yours is the face, that makes my body burn
And here is the name that our sons will learn
Curse the beauty, curse the queen
Curse the beauty, leave me
]
Continuing forward with their dreams, they've trapped themselves in an irrevocable place, with an abyss behind and no choice but to move forward. The blood-stained steps, agonizing and harsh, even if their bodies crumble, even if they turn to ashes, it's a sacrifice they're willing to make. Each step defines their own choices.
[
So when you're weak
When you are on your knees
I'll do my best, with the time, that's left
Sworn with your spirit, you're fully fleshed
]
The pressures of reality ultimately prove too brutal, crushing their shoulders, their knees, and the very last ounce of their souls that sustains their steps. Companions on the journey, one by one, are left behind, and only oneself continues on alone. When they suddenly turn around, they realize they possess nothing, standing in a desolate place, with no road ahead and no way back. Their desperate cries yield no response, their pain and suffering find no refuge.
[
So f*ck your dreams
And don't you pick at our seams
I'll turn into a monster for you, If you pay me enough
None of this counts, if you do, cloud up
]
In the midst of this desolation, they finally realize they can never go back. Without a future, without a past, they can't remember the reasons they started, the origins of it all, the reasons they've clung to in their arduous journey. All that remains is the survival instinct, akin to a beast. Standing under the spotlight of fame and wealth, they willingly forsake dignity for the sake of profit.
Dreams? They linger only in memory, adorned with beautiful wreaths, radiating a divine halo. People rush forward, yet feel lost at the same time.
[
So we come
To a place of no return
Yours is the face, which makes my body burn
And here is the name, that our sons will learn
Curse the beauty, curse the queen
]
The path of dreams is unfathomably long, with no end in sight. Their only thread of faith is the reason to persist. But on this path, countless temptations and dangers abound. They've entered a deal with the devil, and once the first step is taken, there's no turning back. The land of darkness is an irreversible shore. Every step costs a piece of their soul, and once lost, it's gone forever.
How should they know whether they've made the right choice? Are they not trading with the devil? How can they remain clear-minded and persist on this lonely path?
That bewilderment and powerlessness leave them utterly lost. "Curse the beauty, leave me."
His fingers came to a halt, the melody abruptly ceasing, and Renly sat on the bench, lost in thought. A gust of chilly wind blew by, causing his body to shiver uncontrollably.
He remembered Chris Hemsworth, Scarlett Johansson, and Ryan Reynolds. He recalled Rami Malek and James Badge Dale, even the guy from the boot camp of "The Pacific" whose name he couldn't remember.
Embracing the dream of being an actor, he had charged headlong into Hollywood, defying familial opposition and pressure. He was uncertain of his talents, uncertain about how much his second chance would truly yield, uncertain if acting was the right path. Yet, he had still embarked on this journey.
So, what lay at the end of the road? What truly defined the pinnacle of a dream? Amidst the tumultuous world of fame and fortune, how long could he endure his dream, or rather, how long could he remain pure? Would he, like Chris, become lost in the chase of the spotlight, forgetting the original intention, forgetting the initial meaning of the dream?
Would he, too, become a creature of fame and fortune, stripped of reason, only left with instinct?
He had never truly pondered this question, or perhaps he believed he had but never fully understood its essence.
The constraints from his past life were far too heavy, the first half of his life imprisoned his soul, the latter half his body. When rebirth arrived, he had rushed into that halo of light like a moth to a flame, clutching at the straw of his dream, and began to run wild. The intoxicating air of freedom made him forget everything. He had been running ever since, without pause.
Now, slamming on the brakes, he suddenly felt lost. Chris's distorted face and manic gaze flickered in his mind. Would one day in the future, Chris's face replace his own expression? But no one could answer this question.
Renly sat quietly on the bench, his fingertips tracing the ebb and flow of his thoughts. Amid the melody's reverie, broken fragments of language assembled like a beautiful yet enigmatic poem. The sorrow between the lines was like a wounded bird struggling to fly in a rain curtain, flapping its wings with all its might, yet finding it increasingly difficult.
Hazel stood still, watching Renly's back, an indescribable sadness welling up within her.
In the night, those broad shoulders were like the eaves on a rainy day, dividing the world into two halves: one ferocious, the other tranquil; one tempestuous, the other serene. The faint halo faintly sketched the curve of his profile, rendering all emotions vague. Yet, the crisp sound of the guitar strings was unmistakably clear and vivid.
Within the tranquil melody, a hint of desolation and sorrow seeped through, the lyrics reminiscent of a wandering troubadour's song, perplexing to hear. Hazel even began to wonder if this was English. Or perhaps an alien script, she understood every word but assembling them left her perplexed.
Yet, when she heard the line "So f*ck your dreams", a surge of emotion unexpectedly overwhelmed her. Hazel was caught off guard as tears welled up in her eyes. In that moment, she understood Renly's voice: the inner turmoil and confusion of a solitary dreamer.
