1266-1270

*Chapter 1266: Entertaining Oneself*

Nashville. Atlanta. New Orleans. Memphis.

These southern cities are legendary musical hubs, each fostering melodies through distinct cultural and historical influences, giving rise to countless classics.

It’s no surprise that the music industry continues to thrive here.

In Memphis, the recording studio where Johnny Cash began his career still stands.

The studio is neither luxurious nor highly professional—just basic recording equipment in a semi-soundproof room that could launch a music career.

This speaks volumes about the flourishing music industry of the 1950s and 60s. Simple, modest personal studios were everywhere. In a city like Memphis, you could toss a brick on the street and likely hit two or three singers.

As a result, the studio where Johnny Cash began his career, with its outdated equipment and bare-bones setup, is now considered a historical relic, far from operational. It’s unlike Los Angeles’ Sound City Studios, which continues to produce classics half a century later.

This time in Memphis, Anson wasn’t planning to visit the museum. They had work to do and headed straight to a professional recording studio.

Without delay, they got to work.

Reese looked surprised. “Already?”

After last night’s awards ceremony, the travel today left no time to rest or adjust—they dove straight into the studio. Was the schedule really this packed?

“Are you sure?” Reese hesitated but finally voiced her concern.

Anson looked puzzled.

Reese explained, and only then did Anson understand. He chuckled. “Back in the day, singers chasing their musical dreams often gathered in New York. That’s where most record companies were, along with top-tier media outlets like The New York Times and The New Yorker, creating countless opportunities.”

Reese nodded. “It’s the same in cities like Memphis and Nashville, which is why they became havens for musicians.”

Anson nodded in agreement. “But occasionally—very occasionally—opportunities would arise in other cities. After all, with everyone flocking to New York, the competition there was overwhelming.”

“Then suddenly, word comes from Chicago about an audition. What do you think these struggling musicians would do?”

Reese didn’t hesitate. “Get in the car and go.”

“Exactly,” Anson said. “They’d drive ten, twelve hours to Chicago for an audition—whether it’s in a studio, a bar, or a shabby office. Exhausted, they’d have to perform immediately.”

“Now imagine that under such conditions—fatigued and mentally drained—they didn’t perform well. The opportunity they traveled so far for is dismissed in just three minutes. How would that feel?”

Reese’s mouth fell open slightly.

Actors face similar challenges.

For example, when Ben Affleck and Matt Damon were still students living in Boston, they couldn’t afford to move to Los Angeles or New York to pursue acting full-time.

Once, Ben Affleck got a call for an audition in Los Angeles. Matt Damon became the driver, taking his friend across the country to LA. Not only did Damon accompany Affleck to the audition, but he also drove so that Affleck could rest and ensure he’d be at his best during the audition.

After the audition, they drove straight back to Boston, driving through the night.

That’s how it was.

Reese grew up in a middle-class family in New Orleans, a southern city. At seven, she was scouted to model. With her parents’ support, she never experienced such grueling journeys firsthand.

She had heard about them, of course, but it’s different from living through them.

Suddenly, Reese realized that despite months of vocal training and character research, immersing herself in the role of June Carter, she was still full of blind spots compared to Anson.

How did Anson do it? If Reese remembered correctly, Anson also came from a middle-class background. How did he genuinely connect with Johnny Cash’s life and uncover the raw truths beneath the glamorous facade?

The answer was obvious—

Professionalism.

Such details were proof that Anson was a professional actor.

No wonder Kate Winslet had nothing but praise after working with him.

These thoughts raced through Reese’s mind like lightning.

Unaware, Anson offered her a faint smile.

“Of course, I’m not auditioning now, so we can afford to cut corners a bit.”

Reese snapped out of her thoughts, looking at Anson. Despite lingering questions, she didn’t voice them. Instead, she watched with anticipation.

Anson entered the recording booth and pulled up a high stool, seating himself in front of the microphone.

Then he began tuning his guitar.

Reese: ???

That’s it?

The rest of the August 31st band members weren’t here yet. Were they starting without them? Or were the band members recording separately in Los Angeles?

Reese looked at the recording engineer, who was too busy to respond, quickly diving into work.

“Anson? Uh, Anson?” the recording engineer called out.

“Don’t worry,” Anson replied. “I’m just getting into the zone.”

After less than 24 hours packed with performances, parties, and travel, Anson’s voice wasn’t in its best condition. Whether acting or singing, he couldn’t perform at his peak.

Plus, the mental exhaustion was real. He wasn’t a superhero. He needed time to relax and refocus.

Like Spider-Man grappling with growing pains.

So, with the band absent, Anson seized the solitude to recalibrate.

Sitting on the stool, he focused entirely on his guitar, carefully tuning the strings and listening intently as he immersed himself in his world.

Reese… felt a bit bored.

Initially, Reese had expected some miracle—a repeat of last night’s Grammys, where Anson pulled another surprise out of his hat.

But no.

Reese stood there, watching Anson engrossed in his guitar, strumming aimlessly without forming a coherent melody. The whole process was… tedious.

Essentially, Anson was entertaining himself.

Standing there, Reese grew tired.

Or rather, bored.

She felt like a fool, standing idly and waiting for a miracle, like someone staring at the night sky hoping to see an aurora that wasn’t forecasted—until her limbs went numb.

Should she find a seat?

Thinking it over, Reese decided not to move.

For some reason, watching Anson made her feel she should try harder. She realized she hadn’t truly grasped the musical essence of June Carter.

Maybe Anson’s focus and serenity were what she was missing?

(End of Chapter)

*Chapter 1267: Immersed in the Notes*

Caught in a whirl of scattered thoughts, Reese stood there absentmindedly, her mind already drifting off into outer space.

She stood motionless, lost in her chaotic musings, unable to find a reason for staying put, yet an indescribable impulse kept her rooted in place, immersed in her own disarray.

Her calves soon began to ache, her knees growing weak.

Tired.  

Reese adjusted her posture and glanced at her watch—

Two minutes?  

What?! She had only been standing there for less than two minutes?

Reese couldn’t believe her eyes. No, no, no, it couldn’t be two minutes—it had to have been twenty! How could it possibly be just two?

God, she thought, it felt like two hours…  

The realization hit Reese hard, making her feel uneasy. She awkwardly rubbed her neck, trying to mask her embarrassment.

However, she quickly noticed that no one was paying attention to her—her embarrassment was hers alone. Letting out a long sigh of relief, she finally calmed down.

At that moment, the sound of a guitar string broke the silence—

Clear, tranquil, and faintly luminous.

Reese lifted her head and saw Anson plucking the strings.

His slender fingers danced across the guitar, and notes began to flow, gentle and soothing. The melody moved without haste, exuding a magical serenity.

Music, usually perceived through sound, seemed tangible to Reese. She felt as though she could touch the delicate, fragile notes, which might dissolve at the slightest disturbance. They shimmered faintly, whispering in the infinite darkness, sending gentle vibrations that landed on her skin like ripples on still water.

Was this... touch?

The darkness enveloped the notes, thick and profound, with no end or escape in sight. The faint light flickered, wavering as if it could vanish at any moment.

Yet it was stubbornly resilient.

Time and again, the collision of fingertips and strings sent ripples through the air, tenderly touching Reese’s heart. The light persisted, its faint glow waging a relentless battle against the weighty darkness.

It wasn’t a cry for help; it was a quiet defiance—a determined effort to dispel the shadows and illuminate a small corner of the world. In the boundless silence and solitude, it kindled a glimmer of hope.

It seemed to whisper, “I’m here. I’ve always been here.”  

Suddenly, Reese’s heart clenched, a sharp pang tugging at her chest.

She startled.

When had her heart become riddled with tiny, invisible scars?

The voices that once mocked her as a useless, plastic Barbie, the jeers that called her ugly and repulsive, the scorn that deemed her unworthy of being a true actress…

She had stopped hearing them. But she hadn’t given up.

Because Reese knew they wanted to see her hurt, broken, and lost in the darkness. She refused to let them win.

So she smiled brighter, lifted her chin higher, and faced the insults and attacks with dazzling confidence. She climbed the ladder of her career, standing tall above the envy and malice of others. She didn’t even care to seek revenge—they were no longer in her league.

It wasn’t necessary.

And yet, those words, those looks, those prejudices had quietly left countless wounds on her heart—wounds she had never noticed until now.

Just like... June Carter.

Her smiles, her warmth, her brilliance—all were like sunshine chasing away Johnny Cash’s darkness, saving his soul from the abyss.

But what about her?

She bore her own struggles and pain.

Yet every time she stepped onto the stage, she showed her brightest, most passionate side, using joy and devotion to redeem herself and fight the darkness.

Reese froze in place, unable to move, quietly staring at Anson.

It was just a guitar.

Anson didn’t sing; he simply poured his soul into playing. His exhaustion and confusion, his resilience and determination—all his emotions, both positive and negative, collided at his fingertips, transforming into flowing notes that silently merged with the air.

“Notes are meaningless until they meet a kindred spirit,” he once said.

But what happens after they meet?

Starlight—tiny specks of light—illuminated the endless darkness, stubbornly flickering and burning with the power of the soul.

The notes became stars, scattering across the studio, filling the space with their soft glow.

Without warning, Reese found herself in tears.

She didn’t understand why. It felt inexplicable. The wounds on her heart tugged gently, the dull, aching pain turning into tears that welled up uncontrollably. She stood there, filled with emotion, tears streaming down her face like a fool.

In that moment, time lost all meaning.

Ten minutes, twenty, thirty—Reese didn’t notice. She simply stood there quietly, letting her heart and thoughts drift in the melody.

At that moment, she was Reese Witherspoon, she was June Carter, and she was also just a girl—a girl with dreams of becoming an actress, standing under the vast starry sky, envisioning the brilliance and splendor of her aspirations. Not just spotlights, but countless audiences.

Why did she want to become an actress? Why did June Carter want to become a singer?

For the attention, the lights, the fame? Perhaps. But it was more than that. They wanted to pour their emotions into their art, to connect with their audience, to share a moment of shared resonance through a film or a song.

Actors exist because of their audience. Singers exist because of their listeners. Without them, they are nothing.

Now, Reese finally understood what Anson meant.

In this moment, the music became a bridge, connecting Reese and Anson, from performer to listener and back again. The performance gained meaning.

Bang!  

The studio door swung open, startling Reese.

She turned to see Connor stumble in, sweating profusely. He glanced around cautiously, then gave a sheepish grin.

“Sorry, we’re late.”

Next came Lily.

Then Miles.

They filed in one after another, hurriedly greeting Reese before spotting Anson in the recording room. Without hesitation, they dropped their bags and instruments and joined him.

Reese stood there, dumbfounded, her brain unable to keep up. She watched as they seamlessly entered the studio, one after another.

Anson’s guitar playing never faltered. They found their instruments naturally, taking their time to get accustomed to them. There wasn’t even time for a sip of water; one by one, they immersed themselves in the world of music.

Reese: ...What is going on here? Is this a dream? Did she just stumble into Wonderland like Alice?

Time? How long had Anson been playing? And now, what were they about to do? Were they about to start performing?

Who am I? Where am I? What am I doing?

Questions piled up with no answers.

And yet, strangely enough, none of it seemed to matter. Not one bit.

(End of Chapter)  

Chapter 1268: Simple and Pure

Connor. Miles. Lily.

One by one, they arrived, weary from their travels, but without taking a moment to rest or catch their breath. There was no small talk, no hesitation. A glance at Anson in the recording booth was all they needed to silently connect, each seamlessly moving into their positions as if by instinct.

The recording booth became crowded in an instant.

Not only crowded but chaotic—visually and aurally flooded with complex signals.

It was disorienting, leaving one completely lost.

Yet, the band members remained at ease, unaffected by the chaos and noise. Each immersed themselves in their tasks with single-minded focus.

At the forefront, Anson continued strumming the guitar strings, wholly absorbed in crafting the melody.

Miles, the first to prepare, glanced at Anson, patiently listening and waiting for the right moment before gently plucking the cello strings to join the performance.

Unconventionally, Miles used his fingers instead of the bow to play the cello.

The cello's notes were deep and resonant, akin to a steady drumbeat supporting the guitar's ethereal and agile melody. The airy notes seemed to dance around the "drumbeat," sprouting branches that sharpened the emotional impact. Scattered thoughts quietly coalesced into the ebb and flow of the performance.

Next came Connor.

When Connor joined, Miles switched techniques, bringing the bow into play. The cello returned to its stringed essence, its rich, lingering notes weaving through the crystalline guitar melody. Meanwhile, the bass provided a contrasting depth, creating a harmonic resonance between distinct sound layers.

Instrument after instrument asserted its individuality and showcased its hues. Despite their differences, they complemented one another, colliding in harmonious, weightless sparks.

Gentle yet sorrowful, bright yet fragile, the notes resembled fireflies dancing across the night sky, flickering and fading, at times vanishing entirely, and at others piercing the darkness. Together, they painted the night in a hazy peacock blue.

Finally, Lily.

She didn't rush into the melody. Instead, she struck clear, singular notes that rippled outward in waves. Like a beginner employing a simplistic one-finger technique, her playing lacked complete phrases. Yet, those individual notes added a magical chemistry to the otherwise harmonious melody.

The layers became distinct.

The noise and chaos gradually receded, and the world returned to stillness.

Everything felt serene yet grand.

Reese calmed down again.

She had always known that music was born from the resonance of different instruments. Unfortunately, modern pop music relied increasingly on synthesizers, making it harder to discern the instruments' unique tones.

Yet, what unfolded before her now highlighted each instrument’s individuality and timbre with unprecedented clarity. The resonance between notes intertwined like a trickling stream, stirring up tempestuous waves deep within her soul.

It dawned on her: a singer must resonate not only with the lyrics and melody but also with the audience and the instruments. Only by truly understanding the resonance behind the notes could they breathe life into their performance.

The concept seemed simple enough, but transforming theoretical musings into genuine understanding and application was never easy.

In her line of sight, Anson was wholly engrossed and elated. His focus was so intense that it seemed to summon glowing sparks from the collision of his fingertips and guitar strings. These sparks pooled at his feet, forming a sea of stars that shimmered, swayed, and lingered before cascading gently down like a free-falling river of light.

Not just Anson—the others shared that same unyielding passion.

So, this was "Another Ray of Light"?

Reese hadn’t watched the Grammy Awards last night. To be honest, she wasn’t interested.

But the aftermath of the ceremony reverberated through Hollywood and even reached Memphis. Rumors swirled incessantly.

Still, Reese had paid little attention.

That was the music world’s business; she was an actress, and she needed to remain focused.

Yet now... Reese felt uncertain.

Anson still hadn’t sung. There were no lyrics, no vocals—just melody. Yet, through the instruments alone, she could feel the power of emotions and the layers within the song. The music stripped away the excess, revealing the raw allure of the melody.

Fragile yet resilient, sorrowful yet radiant, slow yet surging—these contradictory qualities blended seamlessly into something majestic and immersive.

Utterly captivating.

When people talk about music, they often assume it must include singing. But even now, symphonies achieve awe-inspiring effects without vocals.

Music transcends language and culture, forging connections among people. Its essence lies not in lyrics or vocals but in the genuine emotions embedded within the melody.

So, what role should a singer play in all this?

“Reese...”

Lost in her thoughts, Reese had entirely forgotten the passage of time. A voice startled her, drawing her gaze back to reality.

It was the sound engineer, who gestured toward the front.

Anson was looking at her, calling for her attention with his eyes.

Her?

Why was Anson calling her? Did he need help with something?

Reese glanced around in confusion, completely unsure of what Anson wanted.

In movies, a single glance can convey everything; but clearly, that wasn’t the case in real life. Reese spread her hands in bewilderment as she looked at Anson.

Anson laughed.

Still, he didn’t explain. Instead, he turned to the band members.

The performance transitioned seamlessly, starting with Miles on the cello.

Miles seemed slightly exhilarated as he stood, set aside the bow, and propped the cello on his shoulder. Like a harpist, he began plucking the strings with both hands.

Light, joyful, and tinged with a swing rhythm, the music invited the audience to dance. The performance exuded its own rhythm, as if invisible red shoes had taken control, compelling movement.

Tap, step, jump, spin.

The notes themselves seemed to dance joyfully.

Then, Anson and Lily exchanged a glance, and guitar and keyboard burst into sound simultaneously. Their fingers moved so swiftly it was mesmerizing, producing a melody that danced vibrantly on the heartbeat.

And of course, there was Connor.

Connor appeared particularly delighted, stepping forward with his bass like a rock star in full sway. The bass’s booming richness dominated, taking center stage and stirring the listeners’ hearts.

Reese was stunned—completely frozen, unable to process it for a moment:

This... this was June Carter’s classic "Juke-Box Blues"!

A country-swing fusion with a crisp, vibrant rhythm as its hallmark.

June Carter’s original version emphasized the guitar’s liveliness to highlight the swing style. Anson’s rendition, however, used the bass’s depth to infuse a rock-inspired rhythm while maintaining the lighthearted essence of the original. The result was irresistibly dance-inducing.

Her inner rhythm was stirring, eager to move.

Anson beamed as he extended an invitation to Reese.

(End of Chapter)

*Chapter 1269: Killing Two Birds with One Stone*

Reese Witherspoon : Me? The recording studio? This must be a joke, right?

However, Anson smiled brightly, without a hint of joking. His eyes sparkled as he looked at Reese Witherspoon , extending an invitation—

This was Anson's real reason for visiting the recording studio today.

To be honest, Anson's voice was not in top form right now. He hadn’t fully recovered from yesterday's whirlwind of excitement and euphoria. The Grammy Awards ceremony had been utterly exhausting.

Not just for him; Myles and the rest of the crew were likely in the same boat.

In this state, recording was clearly out of the question.

Yet, the moment he got off the plane, Anson headed straight to the studio.

On one hand, it was to help the band find their rhythm. Anson refrained from singing to protect his voice, but both the single’s recording and the upcoming film shoot would require him to perform—a critical aspect he needed to start preparing for.

Let’s not forget: in Walk the Line, live singing was a major focus.

On the other hand, it was to help Reese Witherspoon find her groove.

Reese Witherspoon had mentioned before that she’d been exploring and experimenting but always felt something was missing. She couldn’t pinpoint what needed improvement, like being separated from clarity by a veil—visible, tangible, but unreachable.

It was frustrating.

Since Anson and the band needed to visit the recording studio anyway, and since the filming of Walk the Line was inevitably delayed a bit, why not take this opportunity to help Reese Witherspoon find her footing—

Killing two birds with one stone.

Anson took Walk the Line very seriously. A hundred percent.

Even though unforeseen circumstances had delayed filming by a few days, Anson made full use of the downtime, seamlessly transitioning between tasks.

This was preparation for Reese Witherspoon , and also for himself.

Which brought them to the current moment.

Looking up, Anson met Reese Witherspoongaze, his eyes extending an invitation.

Reese Witherspoon : Shocked, surprised, resistant, shy, self-conscious, attempting to avoid it.

Anson chuckled.

This was the natural reaction. Most people needed a moment to adjust when caught off guard. Few were as adaptable and composed as Anson.

But even Lily, Myles, and Connor turned their attention to Reese Witherspoon .

Their warmth and happiness were unmistakable.

Reese Witherspoon froze.

Instinctively, she resisted—she didn’t want to embarrass herself in the studio. But as she hesitated, Reese Witherspoon realized she hadn’t fully stepped into the role of June Carter yet.

The movie was about to start filming.

When the time came, she would have to sing—not only perform live in front of an audience but also embody and interpret June Carter through her acting.

If she wasn’t ready in the recording studio, what would be different on set?

Taking a deep breath, Reese Witherspoon mustered her courage, clenched her fists in silent encouragement, and stood tall as she stepped forward and pushed open the recording room door.

Music immediately enveloped her, brimming with joy and happiness.

It felt entirely different from listening outside. The vibrations on her eardrums, the sensations on her skin, even the faint tremor in her heart—it was all unique, awakening every pore in her body.

Unconsciously, Reese Witherspoon lips curled into a smile.

Instinctively, she tapped her foot to the rhythm, her eyes alight with both excitement and a hint of confusion as she searched for direction.

Live band performances are a world apart from pre-recorded accompaniment. A live performance demands synchronization, accommodates errors, and is prepared for mishaps—whether rushing or lagging behind the beat. Everything happens in real-time, often sparking spontaneous chemistry among the performers, infusing the music with a unique texture.

Reese Witherspoon had experience with pre-recorded accompaniment; she knew June Carter’s songs by heart. She had also practiced with live instruments, accompanying herself on guitar alongside a pianist—but only with two instruments, everything remained under control.

Now, stepping into a studio with a full live band, Reese Witherspoon needed to adapt.

Seeing her uncertainty, Anson signaled the others to pause, leaving only his guitar as a guide.

Unfortunately, Reese Witherspoon missed the cue.

But Anson wasn’t worried. He continued playing, circling back after eight beats. His bright eyes encouraged Reese Witherspoon to truly listen to the music.

And then—

“That day, I walked into a bar…”

Reese Witherspoon began singing. Her voice was cautious and restrained, but perfectly in sync with the rhythm. The smile on her face blossomed uncontrollably.

“I dropped a coin into the jukebox to hear it play. I didn’t know which song to pick, didn’t wait to choose, just dropped a coin and let the jukebox blues play.”

Joyful, happy, lively.

June Carter’s singing style was vividly expressive, each enunciation carrying a pulse of life. Her vibrant interpretation danced freely within the melody, more than just presenting lyrics.

In this moment, Reese Witherspoon achieved the same.

It was clear Reese Witherspoon had studied June Carter’s style meticulously—her articulation, nasal resonance, and final note techniques—all infused with June’s unmistakable signature traits, instantly recognizable.

The amount of time and effort she had invested in studying these details was unimaginable.

However, mere imitation—even if flawless—lacks vitality. It’s hard to imagine how an actor can bring a character to life through performance if they only mimic without imbuing their portrayal with personal interpretation. It ends up being a poor copy at best.

This is the foundational challenge of acting.

Striking a balance between rigid imitation and deep interpretation, finding harmony between a character’s essence and the actor's understanding—these are the true difficulties of biographical films.

Actors must comprehend the "character" and, in discovering authenticity, craft an artistic representation through their interpretation.

Biography, to some extent, reflects the director’s, writer’s, and actor’s perspective of “truth.” It is not the idealized 100% factual truth, but rather one facet of the real person—or an imagined one.

After all, film is an art form. It inherently involves embellishment and creation, distinguishing it from documentaries and raw reality.

Most biographical films remain at a shallow level of mimicry and presentation, avoiding or failing to capture the vitality beneath the surface. This is the root cause of their dullness.

Was Reese Witherspoonfalling into the same trap?

At least, in the opening verse, she was.

In the first stanza, Reese Witherspoonappeared tense and reserved, her gaze uncertain as she worried about missing a beat or singing off-key.

While she flawlessly mirrored June Carter’s characteristics, the soul of the song was missing.

Then, seeing Anson’s encouraging eyes, Reese Witherspoongradually found her rhythm. By the second stanza, her confidence grew, and her spirit began to shine.

(End of Chapter)

Chapter 1270: Singing and Dancing

Thump-thump-thump, thump-thump-thump—

The guitar cradled in Anson's arms came alive under his slender fingers, producing a light, crisp rhythm. The sharp plucking of strings and the precise control made the notes bounce like glass marbles.

“Jukebox Blues” was undoubtedly one of June Carter’s most iconic classics, rich with her personal flair.

But classics often carry an air of untouchability.

Of course, Reese wasn’t performing a cover; her goal wasn’t to surpass the original. She was portraying June Carter, recreating the scene where June performed this song.

Even so, Reese didn’t need to outdo June Carter’s version. She simply needed to inject the same vibrancy into the music, bringing it to life as June once did.

Reese noticed the smile in Anson's eyes. Their chemistry was limited, making communication through mere glances difficult—but now, it wasn’t just about eye contact anymore.

It was about the melody.

Listening closely, Reese realized that Anson’s strumming was speeding up. The liveliness of the tune brimmed with energy—not the gentle budding of spring but the audacious bloom of summer, where flowers painted the hillsides in vivid waves of color.

That radiance, that boldness, that wild freedom—

It was exhilarating.

Reese had a tomboyish streak—subtle but undeniably present. She carried a carefree, mischievous spirit, bold and defiant, occasionally even reckless.

In this moment, seeing Anson’s expression, with his bright eyes flashing a playful challenge, that mischievous gene began to stir within her.

Reese thought: This isn’t a film set; this is just us messing around in the studio. I’m already here putting myself out there—why not let loose?

“There’s a guy with an old tuba, and another playing the banjo…”

Her delivery grew more buoyant, freer, and more uninhibited.

Reese began straying from June Carter’s version, adding her own personal twist.

“And the fiddle player…” She suddenly let out a guttural growl. “He’s not slacking—he’s playing really well.”

The growl had barely escaped her lips before Reese broke into a sheepish grin, quickly looking away and glancing upward.

But from the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of their faces—

Connor was clearly in the zone, animatedly expressing his joy, his smile bright and unrestrained.

Listening closely, Reese noticed that the piano keys and cello strings had subtly shifted, trading continuous notes for clean, staccato bursts.

It wasn’t that the notes were completely disconnected, but the gaps between them created a sense of bounce. The shift in playing style transformed the seamless flow of melody into a rhythm that mimicked a drumbeat.

It was almost unbelievable—none of the four players were using drums.

Despite the lack of actual drumbeats, they had created the illusion of percussion. The interplay of instruments, combined with their techniques and performance dynamics, gave the music wings, making it dance rhythmically in the air.

Reese paused.

A smile crept onto her lips, and she couldn’t hold it back—it blossomed fully.

Grabbing her skirt, Reese began to dance instinctively, using simple, basic steps. Her feet followed the rhythm; her body moved to the melody.

Yet, miraculously, Reese felt as though she had become part of the music itself.

At that moment, Reese finally understood what Anson meant.

Her performance—her dance, her smile, her presence—melded with the melody, lyrics, instruments, and their playing, becoming a singular entity. Together, they transformed this performance into something entirely unique.

This version of “Jukebox Blues” truly came to life.

It didn’t belong to June Carter, nor to Reese Witherspoon—it belonged to Reese and the August 31st band.

A performance stamped with a one-of-a-kind mark.

“The fiddle player must’ve gotten tired—I didn’t hear him speak. He was too busy letting loose on the strings, and the jukebox started to escape.”

Tap-tap-tap.

Reese truly let her inhibitions go. Her nimble steps mimicked tap dance, her smile fluttering like a butterfly at the corners of her lips.

But Reese wasn’t satisfied. She felt like Rose from Titanic, sneaking into the third-class party. After a brief hesitation, she fully embraced the moment, grabbing her skirt and stepping onto the stage to showcase her ballet moves, stubbornly challenging others to a dance-off.

Reese waved her hands energetically, demanding a stronger rhythm, wilder waves of sound. Her laughter, free and dazzling, soared with the vibrant melody.

“And then I heard the melody grow louder—that must be the drumbeat! Adding a unique rhythm to the song. Man, this sounds amazing!”

She tugged on her skirt.

In a move reminiscent of flamenco, Reese twirled around and looked at Anson with a bright smile, a hint of mischief in her eyes, as if to say:

Drums. Hey, buddy, drums!

Nearby, Connor saw this and burst into laughter, his hearty chuckles echoing unabashedly.

Lily joined in, but her approach was more refined: the notes from her piano surged like crashing waves, rich and vibrant, adding a brilliant flourish to Reese’s performance.

And Anson?

Anson widened his eyes, raised his shoulders dramatically, and wore an exaggeratedly innocent expression: What did I do to deserve this? Why are you all ganging up on me?  

But the look lasted only a second.

Anson set his guitar aside, placing his hands on the body of the instrument to tap out a beat.

Tap-tap, tap-tap-tap.

Measured yet dynamic, his rhythm shifted between the patter of rain on sand and the whisper of a gentle breeze, creating a flamenco-like cadence that stirred the blood.

With just the beat, he conveyed a captivating tension, both tender and electrifying.

This was vitality.

A vibrant, colorful vitality that highlighted the character of the instruments and the musicians, infusing the music with distinct souls.

Reese looked at Anson, her eyes sparkling with admiration. She lifted her skirt again and, following his rhythm, began to dance flamenco-style.

The two hadn’t rehearsed or collaborated beforehand, yet in this moment, their coordination was effortless.

Anson watched Reese; Reese watched Anson. Their gaze connected, their interplay of rhythm and movement creating a playful tug-of-war. The music’s grace and their physicality brought the song’s structure to life, making its vibrancy shine even brighter.

Though still June Carter’s song, it now took on an entirely fresh form.

Outside, the recording engineer sat frozen in shock, his mouth slowly dropping open. Even when his jaw unhinged, he forgot to close it, staring at the scene with wide eyes:

His brain short-circuited.

From rhythm to dance, and dance back to rhythm, their interplay formed a seamless partnership. The juxtaposition of two vastly different performance styles gave the impression of a mesmerizing duet.

Then Anson turned toward Miles.

Miles: ???

Glancing at Connor, then at Lily, Miles seemed the most out of place amidst the unfolding scene. But when his gaze returned to Anson, trust won out, and he decided to follow his instincts.

At this point, the cello joined in.

(End of Chapter)