From Flower Vase to Film Emperor in Hollywood

Roar, roar roar!

Cheers, applause, whistles, the whole place was surging.

"Thank you, thank you everyone."

June Carter had just finished her performance and was taking a bow with a smile. Out of the corner of her eye, she glanced at the side of the stage. Johnny Cash, who was supposed to seamlessly follow her, was nowhere to be seen. The staff was in complete chaos.

However, the audience could no longer contain themselves, and someone shouted loudly.

"Where's Johnny?"

"Johnny, ah ah ah!"

One call triggered a chain reaction, and many voices rang out from every corner.

June Carter remained calm. "Johnny Cash will be on stage soon. He's been held up a bit. In the meantime, we'll continue to perform."

"Next, we will perform a moving song…"

Before she could finish speaking, a shout came from behind her.

"Wait…"

"Wait!"

Without a microphone, relying solely on shouting at the top of his lungs, he seemed particularly small and ethereal in the vast space. But a figure appeared from behind, pushing aside the curtain, pushing aside the speakers, pushing aside the stage decorations, like he was crossing mountains and ridges, his clumsy and chaotic steps like a mime performance in progress.

"Johnny's here!"

June Carter: ? ? ?

June Carter looked left and right but couldn't find Johnny's figure at all. Instead, the audience was the first to see the juggling figure in the back—

Bang.

Johnny's knee hit a speaker, and he grimaced in pain, hugging his knee and hopping around in a three hundred and sixty degree circle, which caused a burst of laughter from the audience.

Hahaha.

Amidst the laughter, Johnny turned forward again, hobbling and enduring the pain as he continued forward, forcing a smile and waving to the audience.

At this time, June Carter finally found the figure of the protagonist, but she had no time to be stunned or surprised, quickly showing a smile and hurriedly getting to the point.

"Ladies and gentlemen, he's here, Johnny Cash!"

Roar roar roar, roar roar roar.

Amidst applause and whistles, Johnny came to the microphone, panting, and took the microphone from June Carter's hand; but June Carter didn't even look at Johnny, giving up her position and walking to the back row, setting up another microphone, preparing to harmonize with Johnny.

Professionalism, they needed to maintain professionalism.

Johnny stood in front of the microphone, his heart pounding like a drum. You could hear a slight panting in his voice. The embarrassment and distress of running all the way here were still impossible to hide. He even needed to straighten his suit to avoid looking so disheveled.

"Hey, folks, I'm Johnny Cash."

Barely controlling himself, Johnny flashed a smile.

"How about June Carter? Isn't she a sweetheart?"

Sweating profusely, with bloodshot eyes, and faltering steps, the whole person couldn't stabilize at all, just like a classic sobriety test. He was now one hundred percent unable to walk in a straight line.

Staggering, standing on tiptoes, as if feeling the gale with his body.

That handsome face appeared dazed and manic, the hazy eyes unable to capture any brilliance at all, only a mass of chaos, as if you could see with your own eyes the blur of light being swallowed by darkness, the focus of his gaze flying around, his body on the stage, but it seemed like only a shell was here.

"How are you guys doing?"

The excited and elated but garbled words didn't even know who he was talking to?

Staggering steps circled around the microphone, he seemed to be enjoying playing a drop-the-handkerchief game all by himself, looking at the audience but not waiting for the audience to answer and then turning to look behind—

June Carter completely ignored him, turning her back to the audience and adjusting the microphone; the band members looked surprised and bewildered, unable to communicate because they couldn't see Johnny's focus. No one knew who Johnny was talking to.

As a result, only Johnny's slightly tense voice surged, short and cheerful.

"How are you guys doing?"

Anson only felt the world spinning, unable to stop, constantly turning. He took two steps clockwise and then two steps counterclockwise. He always felt that he had grasped the center of gravity, but his steps were still bumpy.

June.

He saw her, a silly smile rising up, but she didn't turn around, only a back view, unable to see her current expression at all.

Turn left a little, turn right a little, upside down, he tried to examine her expression.

Finally!

She turned around, but she still refused to have any eye contact with him, unable to find any expression on her face, as if wearing a mask.

Then, she prepared to perform.

Yes, perform.

He seemed to finally come back to his senses, his erratic eyes giving the drummer a signal.

Clap. Clap. Clap.

He raised his guitar high, like an anti-aircraft gun, striking a posture ready to go, the smile at the corner of his mouth widening, with a hint of mischievous innocence, his fingertips quickly sweeping wildly across the strings, taking advantage of the situation to strike a diving posture, showing the appearance of a jet plane diving, the guitar strings flying between the drumbeats.

Cheerful, elated, wanton, naturally revealing a kind of crazy uninhibitedness.

For no reason, a smile bloomed.

With a turn, he found that figure in the crowd behind the stage.

June Carter.

Staggering, he approached, the guitar propped up like a submachine gun, aggressively closing the distance, the lights in front of the stage shining on his broad shoulders, his tall figure completely covering her.

June Carter, who had been avoiding and resisting, finally had no way out at this time, looking up at Johnny, her eyebrows slightly furrowed, revealing a hint of annoyance.

Like a cat showing its claws.

In the shadows, unable to see Johnny's expression clearly, but able to capture the stubbornness in those eyes, refusing to compromise, refusing to surrender, staring intently at June Carter.

June Carter: … …

In front of everyone, both ashamed and annoyed, both depressed and irritable.

She didn't want to pay attention to him, but under that gaze, she still glared back fiercely, and then turned her head to look to the other side, completely ignoring him.

Johnny stood there blankly, the eyes in the shadows revealing a hint of desolation and loneliness, sparsely burning in the bright light.

In a short moment, cutting off his breath.

His persistence, his stubbornness, his aggressiveness, all failed.

The corner of his mouth, rising up, outlining an arc, but unable to distinguish the emotion:

Was it anger or sadness, was it pain or indulgence?

Ha.

A smile bloomed at the corner of his mouth, no longer nostalgic, with a turn facing the audience again, the dazzling light shining on his face, he slightly raised his chin, as if exposing his wound, the pain and fragility in the depths of his pupils disappearing, replaced by a kind of reckless wantonness and madness.

Even bursting out a stream of poison gas.

It's hard to imagine that in a short period of time, Johnny's emotions had already completed several changes, twisting and turning like a roller coaster, the ups and downs of emotions difficult to fathom and difficult to describe, but behind the unpredictable behavior, he deeply felt the loosening of the reins of reason, everything was out of control.

No need for lines, no need for actions, eyes, expressions, postures, gestures, inadvertently quietly brewing a storm on the stage.

Then, without warning, suddenly, he began to sing loudly.

More exciting than a roller coaster.