From Flower Vase to Film Emperor in Hollywood

Surrounded, with no way out.

June Carter stood barefoot, rooted to the spot. The dirt and cold of the wooden floor seeped into her body through the soles of her feet, but she was completely unable to move.

Not even a finger.

There wasn't a trace of light in June Carter's eyes, but a smile habitually turned up at the corners of her mouth, like a Barbie doll, revealing a delicate and perfect curve.

Then, she leaned close to the microphone, absentmindedly following Johnny, matching the melody.

"I got a sweetie."

Despite her best efforts to hide it, the song... lacked warmth. The coldness, the alienation, were impossible to conceal.

The truly absurd and laughable thing was that, even so, the pitch and rhythm were still perfect.

And, without pausing, entering the chorus, June Carter and Johnny's collaboration was flawless, "We'll use our arms together."

After that, June Carter let her voice soar, "Come on..."

A hint of self-deprecating bitterness flowed from the curve of her lips.

Absurd, desolate, laughable.

She felt that she was hopeless, bathed in the spotlight, her face and soul gradually blurring.

But Johnny didn't notice. He gazed at June Carter affectionately and intently, his smile fully blooming, his eyes fixed on the face before him, joining June Carter again, singing heartfelt harmony, "Time's a wasting."

Clap. Clap. Clap.

The entire audience in the theater was immersed in the melody, clapping to the beat, becoming members of the band, adding to the performance with a light and joyful spirit.

This made Johnny's heart tremble.

Gently, subtly, a happiness and excitement that was difficult to describe in words passed through his heart like an electric current, his low voice revealing a rare joy, and it seemed that an eagerness and passion could be captured between the words.

"I got a sweetie."

Johnny sang, staring intently at June Carter's lips.

June Carter, "I got a sweetie."

The next line was the chorus. Johnny was clearly already next to the microphone, but he still couldn't wait to get closer, his lips almost touching June Carter's, the breath and the exhaled air intertwined, and the light hum of syllables and syllables also entangled, adding to the ambiguity.

"We'll use our lips together."

June Carter noticed Johnny's gaze, staring at her like a wolf, the burning gaze almost scorching her lips.

"Come on..." June Carter glanced at Johnny.

Annoyance. Frustration. Suffocation.

However, in Johnny's pure, innocent, and joyful gaze, June Carter could also feel that kind of unadulterated happiness.

She wasn't made of stone.

Briefly, very, very briefly, June Carter didn't know whether to laugh or cry, looking at Johnny like this, she couldn't continue to be angry, but instead found it a little funny.

Absurd.

For a moment, June Carter couldn't tell whether she felt she was absurd, or whether she felt Johnny was absurd.

But no matter who it was, the smile on her lips still turned up gently, this time sincerely, a touch of lightness could be seen in the corners of her mouth and eyes.

Quietly blooming under the spotlight.

Johnny leaned close to the microphone again, joining June Carter's voice, "Time's a wasting."

The collision of eyes and eyes, the reflection of smiles and smiles, was only a brief moment, but the warmth conveyed by the song made the notes lighter.

Maybe... a performance is just a performance, just a song, no big deal, no need to think too much; what's more, the audience is innocent, they bought tickets to enter, they should enjoy a happy performance, she shouldn't give a song more meaning, there's no need.

What's more, the performance was already halfway over, there was really no need to continue to wear a straight face, right?

June Carter's tense heartstrings relaxed, loosening little by little, and in the light, upbeat double bass rhythm, her skirt began to sway.

Not just a smile, but her singing also became a little lighter.

"If you don't stir the batter before you bake, the cake won't be delicious..."

June Carter said with a bit of playfulness, and the drawn-out ending captured a teasing meaning, which the audience felt, and many people burst into laughter and cheers.

June Carter turned to look at Johnny, and Johnny directly felt June Carter's softening even more, his eyes shining brightly as he looked at the face before him.

Those eyes were filled with stars and the sea.

Carelessly, Johnny looked directly into June Carter's eyes, and in an instant, his cheeks turned red, like a young man just beginning to experience love, and his eyes also became flustered.

Johnny concealed his shyness with a smile, "If you dislike trouble and refuse to act, love is just a bubble..."

Then, their eyes collided again.

You looked at me, I looked at you, and between the intertwined gazes, a tacit understanding surged.

Involuntarily, uncontrollably, her heartbeat began to speed up, intoxicated in the collision of notes—

Without a doubt, this was a love song, a love song specially written for a duet.

The sweetness and happiness of being in love, so strong that it couldn't be melted away, gradually fermented in Johnny and June Carter's duet, one low and one high, one deep and one bright.

Single-mindedly, wholeheartedly.

Suddenly, it crashed hard into June Carter's heart, and the sound of the chorus was also permeated with a sweetness and happiness, and the corners of both people's mouths turned up in similar arcs, "Time's a wasting!"

Roar, roar, roar!

The audience in the theater booed, each one was heated up by the performance, whistles and applause rising and falling.

June Carter was briefly intoxicated in this moment, no longer restrained, no longer worried, her smile blooming without reservation, and the world became brighter.

She seemed to be able to enjoy the performance again.

Her gaze, clear and bright, looked towards the audience, interacting with the audience with her eyes, but upon touching a cold gaze, she instantly cooled down.

A woman.

A woman dressed up in finery, obviously, June Carter didn't know her; but at this time, she had her arms crossed in front of her chest, without expression, and there was no warmth in her eyes, looking her up and down, judging her up and down with a critical and disdainful attitude, and the disdain and contempt in her eyes were not concealed at all.

In an instant, a bucket of cold water was poured down.

As if falling into an ice cellar, June Carter froze in place, her scalp tingling.

In the eyes of others, she was a woman who betrayed her marriage, she was a woman who was restless, she was a woman who showed her face outside and abandoned her husband and children, she was a woman who was abandoned by God and could not enter heaven, she was a woman who destroyed tradition.

One look, just one look was enough.

She not only needed to face the gazes of men, but also the gazes of women, like a rat crossing the street, everyone shouting to kill, with no place to escape.

She tried to calm herself down, not to be shaken by the eyes and words of the outside world, but the outside world was not like that.

A look, carrying judgment, dragged her back from the joy and sweetness of music to reality.