Unintentional

Take a look at Neil's excited face, look at Stanley's smiling face, and then look at the others welcoming with raised hands.

Reality grabbed Renly's ankle, pulled down hard, and then slammed to the ground, causing a shake. After a pause, trying to find the right words, but finding that the brain had a momentary glitch, even though he had lived two lives, all of this was still too unbelievable.

An indie folk song with a completely different style? And it's a song without any promotion on radio stations or music videos? Or even a newcomer's single without any fan base? Don't forget, this is also a single released only through online distributors without signing with a record company or distribution company?

With hundreds or even thousands of such singles released every day, the chances of making it onto the Billboard singles chart are almost as rare as winning the lottery. The ranking doesn't matter; appearing in the top one hundred positions is a miraculous feat; even if it falls off the chart next week, it's still a miracle—a miracle of indie folk.

Accidentally planting willows to create shade, it was just a gift at first, but unconsciously it has reached its current position. Life is really interesting, isn't it?

Opening his mouth, Renly first discovered that words were actually quite pale and couldn't express his current mood at all, so he couldn't help but smile silently, watching Neil gently retract his jaw, unable to find a suitable way to describe his complex feelings. So he simply skipped it all, everything was understood without words, "...the two numbers on the cake, do they represent the ranking of the single?"

Obviously, that carefully prepared cake was not for a proposal, but for celebration. The surfing statue should imply Renly's previous experience of learning to surf on the Gold Coast. In other words, it hinted at the true object of the surprise party; then, the special significance of those two numbers is not hard to guess.

"Yes!" Neil straightened his chest proudly, as if singing, he raised his voice and said, "Ninety-seven! This week, 'Cleopatra' ranked ninety-seventh!"

Only ninety-seventh, almost nobody paid attention to anything below fifty, and it was at the bottom; but it was still the craziest thing since 2010. Even "The Pacific" and "Buried" couldn't compare.

"Ninety-seven!" Renly also raised his right hand high, revealing a big smile. Life is always full of surprises, and no one would refuse surprises, right?

"Roar!" Everyone in the room raised their right hands and joined the cheering.

"Drinks tonight are all on me!" Renly shouted again, igniting the enthusiasm of everyone present. They all raised their beers and shouted loudly, "Renly! Renly! Renly!"

Turning back, Renly saw Stanley's hesitant expression. He knew that this party was organized by Stanley for him, so the drinks naturally didn't need to be paid for by him, but, "Stanley, this is my party after all. I missed the preparation part earlier, but at least let me show the demeanor of a host." Renly's words made Stanley pause for a moment, but eventually he smiled.

Stanley took a step forward, leaned close to Renly's ear, and said loudly, "Don't worry, I won't open that bottle of rare whiskey."

Stanley had a bottle of precious whiskey, Dalmore distilled in 1942, a blend of four single malt whiskeys distilled in different years, with only twelve bottles in the world, each with a unique name. Stanley's bottle was called Alexander's Voyage, and its exact value was unreliable. As a reference, what could be found on the market was the Scottish Voyage, valued at fifty-eight thousand dollars, and it was said that the value of Alexander's Voyage was at least doubled.

This bottle of Alexander's Voyage had never been seen by anyone, it was just something Stanley had mentioned. It was said that Stanley had kept it to be opened on a special occasion, and everyone in Pioneer Village always liked to joke about this bottle of Alexander's Voyage whiskey.

"Haha." Renly deliberately pulled the corners of his mouth, showing a disappointed expression, "That really breaks my heart." This made Stanley burst into laughter as well.

A glass of beer was passed over from behind. Renly stepped forward, took it, and then raised it high, joining the others, then raised his head and drank it all in one gulp. The ice-cold beer slid down his throat, making him couldn't help but exclaim in admiration. Renly raised the glass high and turned it upside down on his head.

Everyone in the room started banging on the table, and the atmosphere reached its climax at this moment.

In Renly's apartment, a party that didn't belong to him was underway; in Pioneer Village, a party specifically for Renly was also underway.

"Guys, guys!" Janice's voice came from the speakers, and the boiling crowd finally calmed down a bit, "Who wants to hear the protagonist sing the Billboard-conquering single today?"

With that, the whole crowd shouted again, "Renly! Renly! Renly!"

Seeing Renly's helpless expression, Janice continued teasing, "Neil's singing just now was terrible, I don't want that to be my only impression of 'Cleopatra'. You have to help me cleanse my ears."

Neil, standing nearby, didn't mind at all. He even nodded repeatedly, "Yeah, yeah, I was horribly off-pitch just now. You need to clarify the facts, otherwise this single will end up in the gutter."

"Haha," the whole crowd burst into laughter.

Renly didn't hesitate either. He put down the beer glass, looked around, and asked, "Where's the guitar?" Immediately, someone handed him the guitar, and everyone else stepped aside, leaving the stage to Renly.

The party was just getting started.

It was a crazy night; Pioneer Village closed for business for one night and held a private party. Only guests with private invitations could enter. Leave all burdens behind and simply enjoy alcohol, music, friends, and the night on a Tuesday night.

"Renly, come here." Stanley interrupted Renly, who was arguing with an old man about whether Nirvana or Pearl Jam was better, "There's a special guest I want to introduce to you."

Renly said seriously, "Believe me, Kurt Cobain is a genius, but the greatness of Pearl Jam is collective!" Seeing the other party still wanting to argue, Renly ignored him and followed Stanley's steps and left. There came the indomitable shouts from behind, "Foo Fighters! So are you saying Foo Fighters aren't outstanding enough?"

After Kurt ended his own life, the remaining members of Nirvana formed the Foo Fighters, becoming one of the most important rock bands in the past fifteen years.

However, these disputes were left behind. Renly and Stanley came to a small table next to the bar, a typical Parisian-style round table, only big enough for two people to sit facing each other, knees touching, but this small and crowded style was the true flavor of Paris.

A white-haired old man was curled up in the corner, his frail frame almost engulfed by darkness, only the faint light reflected from his glasses could be seen.

"Hey, Woody," Stanley greeted the old man familiarly, "This is Renly, plays a mean piano. Not the textbook competition type, but the piano that really blends into the music." Stanley never hesitated to praise himself, and this time was no exception.

"I can tell. His guitar also has a taste." The old man muttered, his New York accent making him particularly familiar.

"Maybe someday, you two can take the stage together and perform." Stanley said cheerfully, without flattery, more like teasing between friends, with a hint of expectation.

The old man shrugged, noncommittal, seeming uninterested in the proposal. He looked up for the first time and directed his gaze at Renly, but he didn't rudely stare; his gaze lingered on Renly's face, seemingly pondering Renly's expression.

Renly finally saw the old man's face, his wrinkled cheeks carrying a scholarly air, and the black-framed glasses enhanced this quality. His silver-white hair was casually and messily combed to one side, revealing a full and smooth forehead. The slightly listless eyes revealed a sense of aloofness and pride, with an unapproachable distance.

"Renly Hall, is it?" The old man asked aloud.

Renly pursed his lips, then chuckled lightly, "Who's asking?"

Such a counter-attack also carried an undeniable pride, but unlike the old man's slightly critical and sharp questioning style, Renly's standard London accent had the politeness and coldness accumulated from aristocratic life, maintaining etiquette while clearly defining boundaries.

The former is a scholar, the latter is a noble. The essence is different.

The old man chuckled softly, his faint breath revealing his disdain and rejection, completely indifferent to Renly's gentlemanly and noble posture. Apparently, nobility had no influence on him. However, his eyes sparkled slightly, seemingly surprised to encounter such pure London accent here. "You, kid, are interesting."

Then, the old man stood up, nodded at Renly, "Let me know if there's a performance next time." Then he patted Stanley's arm, "I'll leave now; it's time for me to go to bed."

"Have a good night's sleep." Stanley didn't mind either, casually patting the old man's arm and watching him leave. Then he turned around and looked at Renly, "Looks like you've gained another listener."

"Yeah, a big-name listener." Renly nodded meaningfully. Woody Allen, even in Hollywood, was the top and most famous figure, let alone in Greenwich Village?

Taking back his gaze, Renly shouted to Stanley again, "How about a round of tequila? And, Neil! Neil? Bring a round of tequila!"

Walking to the bar, Neil had already arranged a row of tequilas, ready with lemons and salt. Renly took a lemon, raised it high, and Neil also picked up his own glass of tequila, loudly shouting, "Next step, top fifty." His eyes gleamed with anticipation.

Renly also showed a big smile, "Let's wait and see! For the Hudson Wind Tour!" Then, he raised his head and drank it all in one go!