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Chapter 1465: Sounds of Indulgence 

Amid the buzzing crowd of onlookers, Anson and his two companions stepped back into the elevator. Those eager, lingering gazes followed them until the doors slid shut. 

But even before the doors fully closed, leaving just a sliver of a gap, the attention of the entire floor shifted back toward Mike Donovan’s office. 

The assistant reappeared at the doorway, looking dazed, like he’d just weathered a storm. His soul seemed stuck in the chaos, not quite back yet, leaving only a shell of a man stumbling instinctively toward his desk. Before he could even sit down, the whispers and rustling surrounded him. 

“Hey, hey! What’s going on?” 

“Anson? Was that really Anson?” 

“I’ve never seen Anson in person before.” 

“What just happened?” 

“Did we lock down Anson’s contract?” 

“A solo album—what does that mean? Is Anson about to drop a solo record?” 

Chatter erupted, chaotic and relentless. 

It wasn’t just the 37th floor—word was spreading through Warner Records, inside and out. It didn’t take long for Universal Music to catch wind of it too. 

One small ripple had sparked a tidal wave. 

You could tell from this little detail alone: Anson wasn’t the same guy he used to be. Even in the music industry, his influence was undeniable. 

Even Anson himself hadn’t expected that a random move this morning would ignite a storm with New York as its epicenter, rippling across North America. In no time, eyes from Los Angeles were turning his way too. Things had already veered way off track— 

Anson Wood renewing with Warner Records and prepping a solo album? 

So, what about August 31st? What went down between Anson and the band? Was he planning to go full steam ahead with a solo music career? 

And his acting gigs? The founding of Forest Films didn’t mean he was ditching movies entirely—so was this a sign he was expanding into every corner of the industry? 

It was a lot to process—too much to digest all at once. 

The buzz wouldn’t die down. 

The outside world was abuzz, and inside the cozy little vocal studio, it was no different. Shockwaves hit hard. 

Truth be told, Mike and Dustin had braced themselves— 

Anson might switch up his musical style. 

The logic wasn’t complicated. 

If Anson stuck to his original sound, he could’ve kept rolling with August 31st. 

Miles and the crew were set to carry on the band’s vibe—blending classical instruments into rock. Swapping out a lead singer or songwriter would shake things up massively for August 31st, sure, but there was no need to mess with it, especially since they hadn’t fallen out. 

The split? Purely a clash of musical visions. They were each heading off to explore their own paths. 

In the music world, bands parting ways often came with the catch-all excuse of “creative differences” in the press release. The real reasons stayed locked up with the members—sometimes even the label didn’t know the full story. 

But with August 31st, that was genuinely the case. 

Mike and Dustin had already agreed on one thing: the focus wasn’t that Anson was changing—it was how and where he was headed. 

To be precise, Dustin wasn’t worried. Not even a little. If anything, he was quietly excited. 

Through Anson’s work with Miles and the band, gems like “Wake Me Up,” “Viva la Vida,” and “Another Ray of Light” were born. It wasn’t just about tossing a cello into the mix—it was about showcasing the instrument’s charm, making it the star of the rock show. 

Retro yet fresh. 

The impact hit hard, layer after layer, right in your face. 

Dustin had faith in Anson. He was brimming with anticipation. 

But it wasn’t that simple. Mike and Dustin thought they were ready, but reality threw them a curveball. 

This? This was next-level. 

Two songs—“All I Want” and “Be the Song”—played through. When Anson’s hands lifted off the piano keys and he turned to face Mike and Dustin, their faces screamed panic and disbelief. 

Anson? Not surprised. 

Going from the rock of August 31st to this new sound wasn’t just a sharp 90-degree turn—it was a full 180-degree drift. You didn’t need to think hard to imagine the shock hitting Mike and Dustin. 

In 2002, Norah Jones burst onto the scene with Come Away with Me, sweeping the Grammys’ Big Four and sparking a phenomenon. She rekindled a love for jazz that people didn’t even know they’d lost. 

Then, in 2004, her second album, Feels Like Home, took a country turn. The market lost its mind—total uproar. 

Sure, Feels Like Home wasn’t pure country—it blended jazz and pop into the mix—but it still floored everyone. 

In an interview, Norah said jazz was a fluke, a happy accident. 

She never saw herself as a jazz singer. Come Away with Me’s success blew past anything she’d imagined, but she was still figuring out her sound. She felt closer to pop and wanted to keep exploring, refusing to let the “jazz” label box her in. 

It wasn’t just Norah. Years later, when Taylor Swift shifted from country to pop, the industry erupted in mockery and backlash. Same deal. 

Anson was ready for this. It was like acting—a pretty face suddenly chasing serious roles, or an indie darling jumping into a popcorn flick. Breaking out of a mold always brought unfamiliarity, and with it, controversy. 

So, he didn’t rush to explain himself. He let the music do the talking. After playing, he stepped back, giving Mike and Dustin space to spill their real thoughts. 

Because once this music hit the world, the reaction would be way tougher than just two guys in a room. 

Mike caught Anson’s gaze and glanced at Dustin, nudging him to speak first. But Dustin was frozen, totally checked out. Mike’s head started throbbing, a dull ache pulsing at his temples. He forced himself to say something, opening his mouth—but his mind went blank. 

What was he supposed to say? 

Words swirled in his throat, but they wouldn’t come out. He couldn’t string a sentence together. 

Finally, Dustin snapped out of his daze first. Without thinking, words just tumbled out on reflex. 

“…Folk?” 

The shock in his voice was undeniable, his tone pitching up at the end. 

Anson didn’t see it as straight-up folk, but he didn’t confirm or deny it. He just looked at Dustin, encouraging him to keep going. 

Dustin took a deep breath. “Anson, are you seriously about to sing this… indulgent stuff?” 

Chapter 1466: Unlocking Possibilities 

Sorrow, gloom, indifference, disappointment, dullness, softness—  

If this isn’t melancholic music, then what is it?  

Sure, the music of the August 31st Band isn’t always full of fiery passion or blood-pumping energy. You can feel traces of sadness and bitterness woven into the lyrics, and the cello’s presence amplifies that sense of dazed loss perfectly. But in the end, the melody builds into a stirring resonance that gets your heart racing—enough to make the audience leap from their seats, feel the ground beneath their feet, and jump, cheer, and lose themselves in it. It’s the kind of music that pulls you in completely, making you a part of it.  

Without a doubt, that is the essence of the August 31st Band.  

But now?  

Dustin was reeling, hit hard by what he’d just heard. A million thoughts surged through his mind, but he worried one impulsive move could lead to a huge mistake. Taking a deep breath, he barely managed to rein himself in. He stared at Anson, dazed, all his racing thoughts boiling down to a single, restrained question:  

“But… why?”  

Anson chuckled. “Why did I write ‘Another Ray of Light’ live at the Staples Center? Because that’s what I felt—it’s the inspiration life handed me.”  

Dustin blinked a couple of times. “So you mean…”  

Anson nodded firmly. “Exactly what you’re thinking. Over the past six months, I’ve gained a lot, but I’ve also faced plenty of challenges.”  

“I think that’s a good thing. Art often comes from hardship, and what you just heard is a gift from life itself.”  

“But judging by the looks on your faces, it seems my struggles still aren’t enough.”  

It was a light jab, but Mike couldn’t muster a laugh. He quickly tried to explain, “No, Anson…”  

Before Mike could finish, Dustin cut in. “But folk music? Why folk, of all things?”  

“Anson, North America hasn’t had a noteworthy folk piece in a solid decade. Even Bob Dylan’s albums barely get any attention anymore.”  

“I get it, I get it—I know what I’m saying. The August 31st Band got where it is today because you guys dared to carve your own path.”  

“But the band’s music is innovative, groundbreaking. What you just played… sorry, it’s just folk. Nothing more.”  

Anson let out a soft laugh. “Nah, I don’t see it that way.”  

“I’m not about to box myself into some framework—folk, pop, R&B, whatever. I’ve never done that before, and I’m not starting now.”  

“You know I’m not a professional singer. For me, making music is an extension of life. The last thing I want is to tie myself up with a label or a set of rules.”  

“Those two songs I just played? Technically, they’re a mix of folk and pop. The main instrument isn’t even the piano. Once they’re arranged, they won’t feel so bare. The vibe is what matters—it’s the heart of the melody.”  

Oh, that makes sense!  

Dustin had to admit it: in today’s music, arrangement and production play a bigger role than the raw creation itself. How you package it, how you present it—that’s what builds depth. Of course, it all starts with a melody that’s catchy and flows naturally.  

And those two songs Anson just played? The melodies were good—striking, even.  

But still…  

Even so, Dustin couldn’t shake his unease.  

With Midsummer Midnight setting such a high bar, whether it was Miles and the band’s next move or Anson’s own album, the spotlight was brighter than ever. Comparisons were inevitable. And now, Anson had gone and flipped everything upside down.  

The future looked uncertain.  

Anson noticed it—the worry and hesitation creasing Dustin’s brow didn’t lie. Half-joking, he said, “Looks like things are pretty dire, huh?”  

He said it lightly, but there wasn’t a trace of concern on Anson’s face.  

Mike, who’d been watching Anson closely, caught that calm confidence. Slowly, his own tension and anxiety started to ease.  

Seeing Dustin lost in thought and not pressing further, Mike seized his chance. “If you’re thinking about jumping to another label, I’d say drop that idea now.”  

Anson burst out laughing.  

Mike pressed on. “I believe in you—I can hear it in the melodies. But this can’t be all of it, right?”  

“If this were your third or fifth album, it’d be fine. By then, you’d have built enough trust. People would buy it because it’s you, not just the music. The whole marketing game changes.”  

“But this is your second album—and your first solo one. It’s different. You need to show people this is your music, your style—something bold and unmistakably you, like ‘Roar Hey.’”  

“And yet…”  

“Those two songs you just played? That soft, mellow vibe—they’re missing some punch. Forget comparing them to ‘Wake Me Up’ or ‘Hero.’”  

Same situation, different angle.  

Mike’s take was distinct from Dustin’s, but his point was sharper, more vivid.  

Anson got it. “So you’re saying the deal’s still on, but Warner’s gonna lowball me?”  

“I thought we already went through this dance with the August 31st Band.”  

Mike, caught out, waved it off with a grin. “It’s collaboration! We’re just swapping opinions.”  

Anson shot him a skeptical look. “Mike, you guys are really letting me down here. I thought this time, with this album, you’d trust me fully. Guess not…”  

“But I get it. Let’s explore some other options then.”  

Mike opened his mouth to explain, but Anson had already turned back to the piano. Whatever he’d been about to say got swallowed back down.  

Dustin looked ready to jump in, but Mike shot him a quick glance—shut it—and they both waited to see what came next.  

Anson rested his hands on the black-and-white keys, like he was sifting through melodies in his mind.  

“Something with impact… with edges, with backbone…”  

“Alright, how about this…”  

As his words trailed off, his fingers followed. The strike wasn’t forceful—no full-on power—but the short, crisp energy from his fingertips hit the keys cleanly. It was like he was defining the rhythm with his playing. The melody flowed out smoothly, like a gentle stream.  

Soft, yet tough.  

Calm, yet surging.  

Everything—every emotion—was tucked away, restrained but resolute, within the melody.  

In an instant, it hooked Mike and Dustin’s ears. This tune tied back to the last two, carrying the same hidden emotions. But this time, Anson shifted how he played, and the strength came through differently.  

It felt the same, yet totally distinct.  

Mike and Dustin exchanged a quick look—  

Of course. Anson was still Anson, still the guy who could stun you. Even if it wasn’t the jaw-dropping debut of “Wake Me Up,” it grabbed you just the same.  

They realized then: maybe their own biases had blinded them. Had Anson’s earlier playing been a setup—a trap?  

Wait… was Anson playing them?  

Before their thoughts could spiral further, the melody swept them up like a rushing current.