Sunny Surfing

The turbulent sea stretched out endlessly before his eyes, the deep blue waters gradually darkening as they raced towards the horizon. 

Above, the azure sky was almost devoid of clouds, and golden sunlight cascaded down without obstruction, shimmering on the rippling waves. Each crest was bathed in a delicate hue, turning the roaring ocean into a kaleidoscope of peaceful brilliance, as if it were cradling the very origins of life.

But suddenly, a voice broke the tranquil stillness, filled with excitement, "It's coming!"

A small figure lay flat on a long surfboard, spotting the approaching jelly-like wave in the distance. Quickly, he paddled towards it. Against the backdrop of the vast ocean, the wave seemed only finger-high, but compared to the small figure, it towered nearly three times his height—a massive five- or six-meter wave, powerful enough to annihilate anything fragile in its path.

However, the figure on the ivory-white surfboard showed no fear. On the contrary, he was exhilarated. He focused entirely on the towering wave ahead, and when the board's nose sensed the wave's upward thrust, he swiftly stood up, knees bent, finding his center of gravity. Then, he began to ascend the wave, riding its crest.

He soared through the mint-blue waves, arms outstretched like an eagle gliding on the wind. The cool spray scattered through the air, blending with golden and blue glimmers. It splashed lightly on his cheeks, and in that fleeting moment, it felt as if he had merged completely with the ocean.

The wave rose to its highest point, and so did he, piercing through the thin veil of sea foam. It was as if he was riding on the very peak of the wave, his body balanced and steady. The perfect equilibrium and precise control made the vast ocean submit beneath the surfboard, turning the ride into a beautiful symphony of movement.

The wave gradually subsided, and the surfboard returned to the sea's surface. Finally, the man standing on the board raised his arms high, straightening his knees as he cheered, his laughter blending with the roaring waves.

Paul raised his hands in applause, a wide smile on his face. Without a word, his gestures conveyed the sincerity of his emotions. He turned to his surfing companion and shouted, "Was that really only his second time surfing?"

Andre Hamilton clapped as well, then responded with a grin, "You shouldn't be asking me. I'm not the one who started calling Renly 'the madman.'" Andre shrugged, as if completely unsurprised by the nickname. "But my advice? Never try to predict his actions. He'll only leave you baffled."

There was a hint of humor in Andre's voice, but it was sincere. This made Paul burst into laughter, nodding in agreement. "I couldn't agree more."

"Fast Five" had wrapped shooting just a week ago, without a hitch. Everything progressed smoothly. Paul had been there throughout the entire filming process, and he couldn't agree more with Andre's assessment. Having worked on four of the five films in the series, he had never experienced a shoot quite like this—it was truly eye-opening.

Paul was sure Vin would share his opinion.

After filming, Paul did what he always did: sought out a quiet coastline to enjoy some surfing and unwind. Coincidentally, he had come during the best surfing season of the year.

Every December, the waves on Oahu, Hawaii, are at their peak. At least three international surfing competitions are held on the island during this time.

For Hollywood, this was also the start of awards season, with the bustling and glamorous Los Angeles in full swing. But for Paul, that noise had nothing to do with him, so he never missed Hawaii's festive surf.

This time, Paul had invited Renly to join him. Early in the "Fast Five" shoot, they had discussed surfing on Oahu, and Renly had seemed keen. However, as the awards season approached, "Buried" was gaining momentum, and it would have made more sense for Renly to return to Los Angeles for Oscar campaigning.

Paul had thought Renly would decline, but out of courtesy, he extended the invitation anyway. To his surprise, Renly accepted! And so, Paul had the chance to witness that spectacular moment.

After finishing the surf, Renly lay back down on the board and slowly paddled towards Paul and Andre.

In December, Hawaii remained comfortably warm at around 20°C, free from the oppressive heat of summer yet far removed from the harshness of winter. Occasionally, there were thunderstorms, but the misty air only added a sense of warmth, making it easy to relax and indulge.

Renly was glad he had chosen Hawaii over Los Angeles. He needed this break. Filming "Like Crazy" and "Fast Five" back to back for nearly four months had been exhausting, mentally for one and physically for the other. He had been running on empty fumes and desperately needed a breather before diving back into work.

More importantly, he needed to slow down and enjoy the view.

Surfing was a peculiar thing—it felt both like becoming one with the ocean and mastering the waves. The wind in his ears, the spray on his face, the flow of the water, the tug of gravity—it was all so surreal. Only by sensing the rhythm of the waves could you experience the freedom of surfing.

For the first time, Renly had ridden a full wave from start to finish without mistakes, errors, or hesitation. And it was a nearly six-meter-high wave.

It was unlike rock climbing—a different kind of thrill—but the sense of freedom and exhilaration was the same. Renly now understood why so many people were so passionate about surfing, coming back to it day after day. He was starting to love it too.

'Clap, clap, clap.' Not just Paul and Andre, but others out on the waves began clapping for Renly as well.

This was the east shore of Oahu, a more private surfing spot known to enthusiasts. While Oahu's north shore was famous for pros, the east was a haven for skilled amateurs.

The waves here were huge and powerful, but not as dangerous as the tubular waves of the north shore. Occasionally, five- or six-meter waves rolled in—just the right challenge for intermediate and advanced surfers.

Renly and his group were not alone. Closer to the shore, around a dozen surfboards floated in the water, each with surfers of varying ages. When not riding waves, they would paddle out to deeper waters to rest, waiting for their turn to ride again.

Renly wasn't shy, either. He gave a theatrical bow as if he were on stage, then paddled back to Paul and Andre.

Andre gave a mock applause, his right hand tapping lightly against his left palm. "As expected, Renly is still Renly."

Time had passed—they were no longer the boys of Eton College. But seeing Renly again, Andre was once more impressed and in awe.