From Flower Vase to Film Emperor in Hollywood

This isn't an end, but a brand new beginning—a brand new beginning that should be joyful and happy. But why can't the tears stop?

Jack is him, and he is Jack.

Clearly, it's just saying goodbye to himself, clearly just reconciling with himself, but why is he sinking into such a grand and immense sorrow and bitterness?

Deep down, in the depths of his soul, it seems a part of him has disappeared forever. That part of him, covered in wounds and dripping blood, imprisoned in shadows and darkness, eroded and hurt, is finally free. This is a good thing, but even knowing this, the heart-wrenching tearing and pulling still surges uncontrollably, crashing down like a storm, cutting off his breath, instantly drowning him in emotion.

Then, Anson slid down into the bathtub, shoulders drooping, hugging his knees, just letting all emotions burst and collapse, unable to distinguish between sadness and joy.

As if lost.

"Send out your dreams, to the place where no one hides.

Send out your tears, to the place where the tides surge.

Time fades… Time fades…" (Note 1)

Quiet, yet grand.

Sad, yet healing.

Brilliant notes fly and travel between the silent stars and the sea, gently rippling the heartstrings, awakening the most delicate and secret emotions in the depths of the soul.

His fragility, his fear, his timidity, and his brokenness are all without exception. Those emotions hidden in the corners of his memory, long forgotten and covered up, slowly emerge, following dreams to the surging tides of no man's land, gradually unfolding in the moonlight and waves.

Finally, reaching the end of time.

"There is no end here, there is no farewell here."

"Vanish completely,遁入黑暗."

"Time fades… Time fades…"

The melody surges and spirals in the depths of his soul, like a vast and magnificent meteor shower, overwhelmingly submerging him, destroying all his strength, exposing his most real, most insignificant, most fragile side, and in the notes and melodies, he opens his arms to embrace the sea of light before him.

There, all is silent, no one is there, only him and his shattered soul, with past lives and present lives, with forgotten memories and twisted pain, with endless darkness and the fire of hell, but at this moment, all turn into fragments and smoke, dissolving without a trace in the torrential rain of notes filling the sky and the earth.

"Ah… Oh, oh, oh… Hmm…"

Lightly and gently, healing wounds.

They will eventually get through it, they will eventually get better, they will eventually be different.

"Time fades."

Standing before the river of time, everything becomes insignificant.

That night, he had no dreams all night, sleeping soundly until dawn, all the burdens that had been hidden deep in his soul but never discovered disappeared, and his whole body relaxed, completely entering a state of deep sleep.

Waking up in the morning, he felt refreshed.

After washing up, Anson shuffled to the first-floor hall in slippers, lay down again on the hall sofa facing the Pacific Ocean, bathed in the sunlight, his whole body's muscles stretched out, as if he was about to melt into this endless expanse of gold. Such a morning is happiness itself.

However, Anson noticed that there had been rustling footsteps all around—

Not noisy. In fact, quite the opposite; the light, tiptoeing steps were almost silent; but the careful footsteps were particularly noticeable in the silent space, the excessive deliberation causing people to pay attention.

"…You don't need to act like thieves. But I'm sure if thieves really acted like this, their efforts would be exposed very quickly."

Anson said lazily with his eyes closed.

Charles's slightly ingratiating voice came, "Didn't you rest well last night? Do you need a massage today? It would be a good way to relax after finishing work."

Anson chuckled speechlessly, "The sleep quality was very good. In fact, it's been a long time since I've slept so soundly."

Charles, "…Then what's with your eyes? They look swollen."

Anson still didn't open his eyes, "Well, I had a good cry before going to bed."

In an instant, the sounds of breathing and footsteps were cut off, and the air became frighteningly quiet.

This made Anson laugh helplessly, "Catharsis, just a kind of emotional catharsis. In fact, it's precisely because I was tired from crying that I slept so well last night."

Charles and Nora exchanged glances, and finally Nora spoke.

"Anson, are you sure you don't need to sit down and talk with a psychologist?"

Anson, "My second personality refuses."

The air, quiet again.

Anson shook his head helplessly, "Just kidding, I was just joking. Dad, Mom, I'm not a fragile porcelain doll, you don't need to handle me with kid gloves."

"No, no, no."

"Of course not, how could we."

"Yes, yes, yes, we're acting normal."

"We're just ordinary worried, ordinary, not exceeding the warning line."

Charles and Nora repeatedly denied, and after a burst of noise, Nora still looked at Anson, considering her words, "So are you planning to rest for a while next?"

Anson finally couldn't help it, straightened up, rubbed his swollen eyes, and turned to look at his parents, only then realizing that Lucas had been sitting next to them, concentrating on flipping through the documents in his hand, but remaining silent throughout.

"Yes, I plan to rest for a while, but I've come up with a brand new idea. I want to record a brand new album, inspired by Jack."

"It's just an idea for now, but I think it's very interesting, and I'm going to study it further."

"Just like Johnny Cash, turning his struggles and darkness into artistic creation, presenting it through music, evolving into a brand new work."

"However, you don't need to worry about my work; you should worry about your own work. Are you planning to move to Los Angeles? What about your jobs? Are you planning to hover around me all the time like Lucas?"

Although Anson's attention was completely on filming, he also noticed that Charles and Nora's work had been completely suspended for more than three weeks, accompanying him all the way to complete the entire filming of the movie, and he was also worried about them.

Nora waved her hand, "Don't worry about work or anything like that. There's always new work, but you're different. You're my child, a unique existence."

"Come on, you just said you're planning to create? I think that's a good idea. Maybe you can continue to draw and vent the emotions in your mind."

Anson noticed the worry in Nora's eyes, not knowing whether to laugh or cry, and chuckled speechlessly.

"I'm fine, Mom. You sound like I'm a nine-year-old child right now. I'm not the nine-year-old Anson anymore; you don't need to be so careful."

The air, completely silent.

Anson grinned and gasped, looking at Lucas, "Is it too early to joke now?"

Lucas nodded seriously, "Indeed, too early, far too early."

Note 1: Wait — M83