From Flower Vase to Film Emperor in Hollywood

His stomach churned, his reason derailed, and his body seemed to be faintly heating up.

Anson felt like throwing up.

A frantic urge to vomit kept pounding, seemingly on the verge of breaking free. A half-dreaming, lightheaded, floating sensation disrupted his center of gravity and balance, and the world began to spin upside down in his mind.

Reason wandered between reality and illusion. An impulse, a desire, a possessiveness was breaking free from its constraints, charging wildly into the chaos.

At this moment, Johnny was insane—

An intense possessiveness and aggression surged to the fore, recklessly and fearlessly pushing forward.

Likewise, Anson was also insane—

He seemed to be invading Johnny's soul, seizing that intense desire.

Had Johnny forgotten Vivian? Had Johnny forgotten his faith? In the church, divorce and adultery were both sins?

No, he hadn't.

He knew, he always remembered, but standing before the darkness, that loneliness, that bewilderment, that pain, completely shattered him, exposing his insignificance.

Humble and fragile.

Heh, he once thought he was strong enough, he once believed he was steadfast enough, that he could hold onto his original intentions in the face of the erosion of loneliness and the temptation of desire, that no matter what happened, he would remain as firm as a rock.

However, what about reality?

He succumbed to the darkness as easily as an ant, prostrating himself to beg for the devil's pity and sympathy. Beneath his glamorous exterior, he was already rotten.

Standing before June Carter, he yearned for her to save him, to take his hand and lead him away from the darkness; yet, at the same time, he longed to drag her into the darkness, so that he would no longer be alone; and yet, he was also frightened by his own twisted and filthy thoughts, even afraid to look June Carter in the eye, fearing that he would expose his true nature in front of her.

Confusion, contradiction, struggle.

Just like Anson back then.

He also thought he was different, he also thought he could change the world, he also thought he was a superhero; but after his father's affair was exposed, he fell from the peak to the bottom overnight, without any ability to fight back.

Even more terrifying was that he was tired, he didn't want to continue to persevere and struggle. He blamed all his mistakes on others, believing that condemning others could win him a brief respite, allowing him to survive in the mud and darkness.

His insignificance, his baseness, his ugliness. He dared not face himself, nor dared he face others, even attempting to cruelly drag everyone around him down, to excuse himself. This was his way of escaping the true appearance of his soul.

He hated that kind of self, yet he still huddled pathetically in the darkness, rotting and stinking.

Originally, his soul was so insignificant, not worth mentioning.

However.

The cruelest and most ridiculous thing about reality is that if he doesn't face himself, then he will never be saved. No one can save him, whether it's family, friendship, or love, unless he dares to face his ugliness and ferocity, otherwise the final result will only be universal betrayal and isolation.

After arriving in this space-time, Anson tried to let go of the past, to completely get rid of the entanglement of darkness, so that the past would forever remain in the mud of the past; but in the last "Cat and Mouse Game" and this "Walk the Line", Anson had to return to the past again,遁入 darkness, and face that self.

A base and fragile soul.

Anson noticed the panic and fear in June Carter's eyes.

Although he couldn't understand June Carter's mood, he knew that he had grasped her weakness. He needed June Carter to face herself, to face the spark between them. He needed June Carter to become the only piece of driftwood he could rely on in his drowning predicament.

No longer escaping.

Thus, amidst the dizziness and lightheadedness, a naked cruelty flowed from his eyes, as if watching June Carter struggle desperately under his claws.

He leaned closer to the microphone, "'The River' is not a duet. Let's sing 'Time's A-Wastin'' instead."

This was not a question, but a decision.

"John! I don't want to sing that song. It's not appropriate. It's what my ex-husband and I recorded together. I won't sing it."

So that was it—

June Carter didn't want to add fuel to the fire, to put herself in an even worse predicament. Imagine, she had just gotten divorced, and then she would sing this song with another man?

What would she become in other people's eyes?

However, Johnny had finally seized an opportunity, how could he let June Carter get away? He closed the distance and lowered his voice, "There's no better choice."

A hint of triumph flowed from his eyes. Cold and cruel.

But Reese frowned tightly because of the strong smell of alcohol that was coming at her.

She raised her eyes in disbelief to look at the man in front of her, so familiar, still handsome, still dashing, but the soul in his eyes was so unfamiliar. That domineering and forceful possessiveness distorted his face.

Reese was slightly stunned.

A struggle and pull that was difficult to describe in words dragged her into an ice cellar.

She was about to speak, but she never expected that the band had already started playing—

Luther. Marshall. They were all birds of a feather, all standing behind Johnny, not giving her a chance to refute or struggle, forcing her to do it.

Reese couldn't believe it, just like when she saw Anson's nonchalant and carefree appearance before the filming started. In a trance, Anson's face morphed into Johnny's, the real and the fake, the virtual and the real, completely intertwined.

June Carter's breath was instantly cut off.

She stared intently at the man in front of her, "I won't sing it."

Johnny's pupils vibrated, and he looked away from June Carter's gaze with a slight hint of panic, moving it slightly upwards, looking at June Carter's eyebrows, with a hint of pleading inadvertently revealed in his voice.

"June, just sing it."

Then, without giving June Carter a chance to refute, he turned his head, leaned closer to the microphone, and started singing directly.

"…I got a pair of arms."

Reese stared at Anson in disbelief. In 0.01 seconds, that is, a brief moment, she didn't recognize the man in front of her at all. That kind of anger and despair set off a tsunami in the depths of her heart, and a deep sense of powerlessness grabbed her ankles and dragged her down.

But she didn't have time to react.

In a flash, she showed her smile again, forcibly pulling the corners of her mouth upwards, facing the audience, hurriedly putting on that impenetrable mask.

Smile, June, smile, this is just a shell, it's nothing big—

Like a walking corpse.

At this moment, in that second, June Carter could feel a chill running from the soles of her feet to the top of her head, and a despair instantly froze her heart.

Anger. Fear. Sorrow. Bitterness.

It exploded all at once, but it was far more than that, there was also a kind of bewilderment, a kind of loss.

People always say that there is no sincerity in the world of fame and fortune, and only fools will entrust their sincerity unreservedly in the world of spotlights and give all their trust.

Now it seems that she is a fool.