1261-1265

Chapter 1261: Returning to Work

The truly complicated part of the Vanity Fair lies in human nature.

Human emotions are unpredictable. Every action can trigger different reactions and thoughts, yet no one can truly control the human heart.

And right now, this is exactly the case.

The Grammy Awards unexpectedly opened new doors for Anson, offering a rare opportunity to break the stalemate, one that even the Academy coveted.

But seizing this opportunity and controlling the situation posed a significant challenge. A slight misstep, and Anson might enrage the Academy, causing more harm than good.

Everything hinged on balance.

Lucas's mind raced, quickly grasping the key points.

What he didn't expect was Anson’s composed demeanor. The calm expression on Anson's face left Lucas slightly puzzled. Anson noticed and chuckled.

"When it comes to numbers and strategy, you’re great; but when it comes to understanding people, not so much."

Lucas caught the teasing in Anson’s words but didn’t mind at all. He nodded, “That’s why we need you.”

Anson grinned with satisfaction. “We promised the director we’d head to the set as soon as the awards ceremony ended. The entire crew is waiting for me. How could I break my word?”

“I’m serious—if I miss the Oscars for the sake of the film, I won’t regret it.”

Lucas wasn’t in a rush. He quietly waited for Anson to continue.

“We’ll stick to the plan and head straight to the filming location.”

“As for the recording… there’s no rush.”

“Warner Records and Apple still need time to hash things out.”

Lucas shook his head. “Not necessarily. Timing is crucial for this opportunity. Both Apple and Warner know how important timing is. The negotiations should move quickly.”

Anson replied, “I know. That’s exactly what I’m counting on. We’ll keep negotiations with Warner Records as simple as possible. If necessary, we can even concede some benefits.”

Lucas caught on immediately. “To prepare for future negotiations?”

Anson nodded. “Miles and his new band are gearing up. They’ll need a fresh record deal, and I’m worried Warner Records will drag their feet.”

As a former collaborator, Anson sincerely hoped Miles and his team could continue pursuing their musical dreams and achieve great success—

Even though it wouldn’t be easy.

Most bands that start fresh after breaking up struggle to make an impact. Perhaps only Nirvana’s drummer, David Grohl, is an exception.

After the legendary band’s lead singer Kurt Cobain passed away, Grohl formed Foo Fighters, achieving success that rivaled Nirvana’s.

It would indeed be a challenge, but Anson still wanted to lend a helping hand.

Lucas asked, “What about your own record deal?”

Anson replied casually, “Do I need to worry about that?”

Lucas gave it some thought and nodded in agreement.

Anson added, “Besides, who’s to say I’ll even release a second album? Making movies is so much fun. There’s so much more I want to try.”

Lucas wasn’t surprised. “Your happiness is what matters most. But if everything is on a tight schedule, what about the recording?”

Anson laughed heartily. “Did you forget our destination?”

Lucas raised an eyebrow. “Memphis?”

Anson nodded. “Exactly, Memphis—a city with music flowing through its veins. I’ve got a plan. We can kill two birds with one stone, ensure smooth cooperation with Apple, and keep those Academy folks none the wiser.”

“Well… at least nothing they can criticize.”

Lucas glanced at Anson’s eager smile and relaxed slightly, saying no more. Instead, he surveyed the lobby.

“…Wasn’t this where we just entertained Matt?”

He didn’t need to wait for a response—he already knew Anson’s answer.

“Let’s pack up. Or maybe Noah should—no, I’ll do it myself.”

Without further ado, Lucas got to work quickly and efficiently.

Catching Anson out of the corner of his eye as he stood to help, Lucas waved him off. “You sit. Sitting still is help enough.”

---

Memphis, the ancient city resting quietly on the banks of the Mississippi River, felt the warm southern breeze of North America brushing through. The timeless mystery of its history gently rippled over the river’s surface.

Bustling yet tranquil.

This city has borne witness to historical wounds and legendary greatness. At dusk, the sunset glows like orange flames, casting its light upon the river. In this serene moment, one can almost hear the bricks underfoot whispering stories of grandeur and loss.

Undoubtedly, music has been woven into the city's very soul.

Blues and rock melodies drift from corner bars like ancient chants preserved in time. On Beale Street, blues musicians strum guitar strings, their soft, haunting voices lingering under the night sky, telling tales of dreams and scars.

At the same time, Memphis is a city of striking contrasts, ripe for exploration.

Poor neighborhoods coexist alongside bustling main streets. The noisy urban center inexplicably neighbors impoverished, rundown areas. The aura of the old South intertwines with the brilliance of modern civilization, birthing both contradictions and sparks.

In its shadowed, crumbling alleys, one might still hear the whispers of the cotton plantation era, recounting the hardships and pain this city once endured.

Yet, this deep historical resonance grants Memphis a unique romanticism. Its residents are accustomed to reflecting, exploring, and using music to confront, heal, and narrate their stories.

The city’s sky often carries an indescribable poetry. The humid air seems imbued with the river’s memory, flowing gently. Lights on either side flicker like stars, illuminating echoes of the past and drawing people into their memories.

Words can’t quite capture it.

In Memphis, time feels like an enchanting illusion, slowly chronicling its tales of pain while giving birth to vibrant, dazzling music. Through melodies, the city reimagines its past and future, laying bare its desires, struggles, and fractures.

Close your eyes, and you can hear it.

The question is: Do you have the courage to interpret it and the strength to embrace it?

---

This was Anson’s third visit to Memphis in three months. Each time, the city revealed a new face, yet all of its facets flowed into the same river, meandering and endless.

In the airport lobby, a sign was held high—

“Anson Wood, Universe’s Number One Hottie.”

Reese Witherspoon stood grinning ear to ear, waving the sign. She spotted Anson’s group instantly, hopping excitedly like a cheerleader.

“Hey! Over here!”

It was impossible to miss her. Even other departing passengers glanced her way:

Anson? Which Anson?

Anson couldn’t help but rub his forehead but still smiled as he approached and gave Reese a hug. “Universe’s number one? My God, we’re venturing beyond the galaxy now.”

“Ha!” Reese laughed heartily and whispered in his ear, “You said we needed to make some noise. So, how’s this for noise?”

Anson chuckled. “I’m sure Los Angeles has already heard about it.”

(End of Chapter)  

Chapter 1262: The Star’s Stage Presence

Recording was imperative.

The waves and impact generated by the song "Another Light" and the Grammy performance far exceeded expectations. Anson understood that the significance of this single transcended its ordinary definition—there was no reason for him to miss such an opportunity.

Yet, the film crew couldn’t be delayed either.

On one hand, Anson didn’t want the crew to wait indefinitely. On the other hand, they couldn't leave loose ends that might provoke the Academy and give them a pretext to criticize.

The scheduling conflict between the two commitments was genuinely tricky to navigate.

However, it was in such predicaments that Anson’s experience and ability to handle complex matters from his previous life shone through.

He decided to travel to Memphis to record "Another Light," inviting Reese Witherspoon to the studio to observe and get a feel for her role as June Carter.

On the surface, it seemed Anson was simply heading to Memphis to work on Walk the Line, following the production schedule as planned. Meanwhile, Miles and the team discreetly completed the recording in Memphis.

Two parallel operations, killing multiple birds with one stone.

Secrecy was paramount.

Both the studio and the crew consisted solely of trusted personnel to ensure no leaks.

Still, Anson was realistic; he didn’t expect the operation to remain completely airtight. From start to finish, it would be impossible to keep the Academy entirely in the dark—it was simply not feasible.

The "Academy" wasn’t just one person but a collective concept, an omnipresent force throughout Hollywood. There were no impenetrable walls in the world, and sooner or later, the events in Memphis would reach Hollywood. It couldn’t remain in the shadows forever.

Moreover, even if the secrecy held until "Another Light" was officially released, the truth would inevitably surface.

The key lay in being above reproach. As long as Anson publicly and ceremoniously entered the film set with journalists as witnesses, fulfilling his promises, the narrative would be his to shape.

They could easily claim that "Another Light" had been recorded and completed long before the Grammys.

Even if the Academy’s higher-ups knew the truth, the convoluted timeline and lack of evidence would be enough to create internal divisions.

This way, Anson could come out unscathed.

Thus, Reese made her grand entrance.

“Anson! Anson! Anson!”

Reese loudly encouraged the crew around her to cheer like rabid fans, determined to make sure every traveler passing through the airport noticed.

The crew, wearing expressions that screamed "overworked and underpaid," let out half-hearted cheers, creating a hilarious scene.

Reese, however, was having the time of her life.

Anson couldn’t help but chuckle. “Reese, aren’t you a bit too excited?”

“Excited? Me? No, no, no. That’s all in your head,” Reese said, though her mischievous eyes betrayed her true thoughts:

How could I resist teasing those old Academy fuddy-duddies? They called me Barbie because of Legally Blonde. Let’s see who’s laughing now—Barbie, is it?  

Clearly, Reese was seizing the opportunity for some light-hearted revenge.

“Anson, you’re the most handsome man in the universe!” Reese squealed, mimicking an overzealous fan.

She even rose onto her tiptoes and made a mockingly shy expression, the stark contrast with the weary crew members around her providing maximum comedic effect.

Travelers passing through the airport remained unfazed, watching the scene as if it were part of a circus performance. The stark disparity between yesterday and today was not lost on Anson—he had stood on the Staples Center stage in Los Angeles just last night, basking in applause and adoration. Now, in Memphis, he felt like part of a traveling circus.

Anson laughed dryly and spread his hands. “I finally understand why psychologists are so popular in Hollywood.”

Reese widened her eyes. “Why?”

Anson replied, “Because one moment, you’re surrounded by applause, feeling like you own the world. The next, you’re reduced to a clown in someone’s eyes. That whiplash is hard enough, but facing the quiet of night alone? That’s true torture.”

He added with mock solemnity, “I think I might need a psychologist to bandage my heart.”

“Ha!” Reese burst into laughter. “Admitting that means you don’t need one. People who do usually refuse to admit it. Take me, for example!”

She stuck out her tongue and tilted her head, making a silly face that drew more laughs.

With Reese’s vibrant welcome, Anson smoothly arrived in Memphis. A group of people eagerly stepped up to help him, only to find he had brought only a single suitcase—Reese’s entourage of over thirty people ended up with nothing to do.

Even Noah, Anson’s assistant, was left bewildered as his sole task was taken from him.

“Wait—that’s my… uh, my job!” Noah stammered before sprinting forward to reclaim the suitcase.

Anson and Reese trailed behind, chatting.

Reese teased him for traveling light, saying a superstar like him should have at least ten suitcases to flaunt his status. Luckily, she’d brought her entourage to uphold appearances.

Then, from a distance, someone shouted excitedly.

“Anson! Anson! Ahhhh!”

Anson turned toward the voice and waved.

The person jumped and shouted with unrestrained joy, drawing amused glances from nearby travelers.

Nearby, a man stood pushing a wheelchair, with an elderly woman, likely in her seventies, sitting in it. The man’s open suitcase lay on the ground, its contents scattered everywhere as he frantically searched through it.

Seeing Anson approach, the man abandoned the suitcase and called out, “Anson, wait! Please wait!”

Anson gestured for his entourage to make way.

“Last night’s performance,” the man stammered. “It was… incredible. My mom and I—we were stuck in Denver, but we watched the whole thing. She could hear it—she really could.”

Though flustered, the man’s sincerity was clear.

Anson smiled warmly. “Thank you. I’m sure Miles and the team will be thrilled to hear that.”

Finally, his gaze shifted to the elderly woman. He knelt down and gently met her downcast eyes.

“Ma’am, I’m the lead singer of August 31st. Thank you for enjoying our performance—it’s truly our honor.”

(End of Chapter)

*Chapter 1263: Equally Important*

The woman in front of him slumped her head, her eyelids drooping and her gaze unfocused. It was hard to tell whether she was asleep or simply unwell.

Even though Anson crouched down to maintain eye-level contact and attempted to communicate face-to-face, the white-haired woman remained unresponsive, as if unaware of his presence.

The man standing beside her grew anxious, gently tapping her shoulder.

“Mom. Mom!”

He called out twice but received no response.

Embarrassed, he looked up at Anson, his cheeks flushing red.

“Sorry, Anson. Our flight was delayed, and we had a rough night in Denver…”

Anson waved his hand with a warm smile. “Don’t worry, I understand. I just wanted to take a moment to express my gratitude.”

“Just like last night’s performance, we believe that everyone’s presence matters. It is because of you that our music has meaning. Otherwise, it’s nothing but a jumble of meaningless notes and syllables.”

The man was visibly moved.

Meanwhile, standing to the side, Reese gave Anson a thoughtful look.

After getting the man’s consent, Anson held the white-haired woman’s hands gently and thanked her again, “Thank you for listening to our music.”

Just as he was about to stand, the white-haired woman slowly straightened up, causing Anson to pause. Her lips moved slightly as if she were trying to say something. Anson leaned closer to listen.

It wasn’t words that came out—it was a melody.

The woman, still in a dreamlike state with her eyes half-closed, wore an expression of tranquility and joy. Immersed in bliss, she softly hummed a tune. It was unmistakably the song “Another Light.”

Although her humming was fragmented and faint, there was no doubt it was “Another Light,” delicate yet resolute.

Anson’s smile widened as he began to hum along with her.

Patiently, attentively, and sincerely, he followed her humming until the song was complete. Then, he broke into a wide grin. “May I ask what song that was? It’s beautiful.”

The woman chuckled softly, lifted her head slightly, and winked at Anson.

Anson, understanding her gesture, winked back before standing upright. He turned to the man, whose hands trembled with excitement, and glanced at the nearby suitcase. “Are you looking for something? Can I help?”

“The band’s album… It’s in the suitcase. I was looking for it but couldn’t find it…” the man said, scratching his head in frustration.

Anson immediately understood and pointed to an open pocket on the suitcase. “Is it that one?”

The man’s face lit up. “Ah, yes! That’s it!”

In a flurry of movement, the man retrieved the album from the pocket. Holding it with both hands, his cheeks reddened further as he fidgeted, unable to find the words. Finally, he placed the album in front of Anson.

Anson’s eyes curved into crescents as he smiled. “Would I have the honor of signing this album as a keepsake? Or would you prefer to keep it pristine?”

The man shook his head vigorously. “No, no, no! Please, I’d be honored. Could you sign it? It would mean so much to me.”

“Of course,” Anson replied.

Taking the album, Anson waited as the man fished a pen from his pocket. Before handing it over, the man wiped it clean with his shirt, nervously smiling as he offered it to Anson.

Anson quickly signed the album. “May I ask who this album is for?”

“For Anna. A-N-N-A,” the man said. “Anna is my mother.”

“Oh, the lovely Anna with the beautiful voice,” Anson remarked.

The white-haired woman let out a muffled laugh, seemingly delighted.

After finishing the autograph, Anson crouched down once more and placed the album gently in the woman’s lap. “It’s been such a pleasure meeting you today. Wishing you a wonderful day ahead.”

Standing up, Anson bid the man a polite farewell before joining Reese and the others to leave the airport.

The man watched Anson’s group disappear, then took the album from his mother’s lap to examine it closely.

“To the lovely Anna with the beautiful voice,

You matter.

Yours,

Anson Wood.”

The man froze, then turned to look toward the airport exit again. The vehicle carrying Anson was already driving away, and his heart pounded uncontrollably, as though it might burst.

Only now, in this moment, did he truly feel the soul of August 31st Band’s music. It wasn’t just “Another Light”—it was also “Awaken Me,” “Roar,” “Long Live Life,” “Hero,” and countless other songs, including the Midnight in Summer album.

Each light mattered, no matter how small. These countless beams of light came together to form the brilliance of August 31st Band’s Midnight in Summer.  

Inside the car, Reese, who had been silently observing, seemed lost in her own thoughts.

Anson offered an apology. “Sorry, I should’ve introduced you to them earlier.”

Reese snapped out of her daze and smiled. “No, they didn’t recognize your acting career anyway, did they? But are you sure this is okay? After all, we’re supposed to emphasize your role as an actor, not a singer. Those Hollywood sharks might not like this.”

Anson waved it off. “It’s fine. They won’t catch anything substantial.”

“No matter what I do, they won’t like me. I’m just making sure they remain frustrated. They can’t stand me, yet they can’t do anything about it. And to save face, they have to play nice on the surface.”

“You know, if it were me, I’d probably just curse them out. But they can’t. Even when it hurts, they have to protect their pride. I’m simply exploiting that, letting them know exactly what I’m doing while leaving them no room to lash out.”

Reese was stunned for a moment before bursting into laughter. “Anson, I’ve always known you were fearless, but I never expected you to be this bold. I think I might need to keep my distance from you in the future—I don’t want to get caught up in your games.”

Anson replied nonchalantly, “My dear, we still have a movie to shoot together. Are you sure you want to start keeping your distance now?”

Reese nodded with mock seriousness. “Let’s wait a little longer. Just a little longer.”

This time, it was Anson’s turn to laugh heartily.

Reese’s eyes sparkled with amusement as she thought for a moment. “Anson, can I ask you a question?”

Anson turned to her.

After a brief hesitation, Reese voiced her curiosity. “You said earlier that music gains its power from the people who listen to it. Is that really true? I always thought it was the performer who gave music its strength.”

“Of course,” Anson nodded gently. “The same song, interpreted by different performers, can carry entirely different energies. Each person’s understanding, perception, and feelings breathe life into the music.”

“Performers are very important, incredibly important.”

“But I’ve always believed that a performance without an audience is incomplete.”

“The most beautiful and moving part of music comes from the resonance and interaction between the performer and the listener. That’s what makes music truly unique.”

(End of Chapter)  

Chapter 1264: Personal Lessons

Flowing seamlessly, yet neither rushed nor dragged, the sound of car tires rolling over the asphalt provided a gentle backdrop as Anson's voice floated like a soft breeze through a forest.

“The most beautiful and moving part of music lies in the resonance and connection between the performer and the listener. This is what makes music unique.”

“Indeed, different performers bring unique interpretations, and similarly, different listeners experience varying emotions,” came the reply.

“When listeners feel the rich and intense emotions in music—whether sorrow, joy, happiness, or loss—allowing those feelings to be released, that’s when music becomes complete.”

“Otherwise, a performance is just that—a solitary indulgence.”

Reese listened quietly, understanding yet not entirely grasping the full meaning. It left her unsure whether she truly understood or merely thought she did. That ambiguous feeling defied precise description.

Someone once said that when a person immerses themselves fully in their craft, they shine.

Before her, Anson was the embodiment of this.

Though Anson’s good looks were a universally acknowledged fact, at this moment, he seemed different—radiating a unique charm.

Unconsciously, Reese found herself lost in his words. Thoughts churned in her mind, yet none answered her questions. Instead, they spawned more questions, a cascade of "why’s" that echoed in her ears.

Reese turned to Anson with a puzzled smile.

Anson laughed heartily.

He understood the subtle difference between the art of acting and singing. Particularly in movies and television, actors don’t perform for a visible audience. They can’t imagine the expressions or emotions of a cinema audience in the dark; they can only rely on their interpretation to breathe life into their characters.

But music is different. Performances are simultaneous, face-to-face, and visceral. The atmosphere of the venue not only affects the audience but also the performer. This interaction is an integral part of the performance.

That’s why some concerts thrive on the energy of an engaged audience, elevating the artist’s performance. Conversely, a lifeless crowd can render even the most skillful performance uninspired.

This interaction is the soul of music. True artistry serves as a bridge between the performer and the listener, and their emotional connection completes the puzzle that gives music its soul.

But how to explain this?

Anson thought for a moment.

“Have you seen Michael Jackson’s 1993 Super Bowl halftime show?”

In 1993, Michael Jackson performed at the Super Bowl halftime show, an iconic performance that remains unmatched to this day.

The setlist and the execution were extraordinary, but what truly stunned the world was the opening.

After a clever play with decoy appearances, Jackson finally emerged on the main stage, standing tall at its center.

Completely still.

For a full ninety seconds, he stood motionless—no music, no singing, no movement.

And yet, the crowd erupted into a frenzy. The cheering and screaming escalated, with no lull in those ninety seconds. Instead, the energy surged, growing more passionate and unrestrained, a roaring wave of enthusiasm.

This scene stands as a wonder in the history of live performances.

“Of course, in that instance, Michael Jackson didn’t sing, so it wasn’t technically a performance. My point is, the relationship between performer and listener carries a unique soul. Those connections and resonances create the chemistry of a live show, infusing music with life.”

“The same song can evoke happiness for one listener and sadness for another because the emotions and memories it carries vary.”

“It’s like Michael Jackson’s performance.”

“For ninety seconds, he didn’t move, but because of the audience’s response, it became legendary. Though we heard no melody, the rhythm pulsed deep within our souls.”

“Otherwise, imagine him standing there for ninety seconds without any reaction—total silence. Picture that scene.”

A second passed. Then two.

Reese burst into laughter.

“That would be a disaster! Ha-ha, Anson, your description is… ha-ha… vivid.”

She couldn’t stop laughing.

After a moment, Reese looked at Anson thoughtfully. “Can I interpret this as Johnny Cash’s performances also being deeply connected to his audience?”

Anson nodded. “Exactly. Without that connection, he wouldn’t have become the ‘Man in Black’ representing justice. He always hoped his music would carry power, believing that the resonance between music and listeners could create something greater.”

“Do you remember?”

“In 1960, on New Year’s Day, Johnny Cash performed a concert at a prison.”

“He believed in humanity and redemption. Everyone makes mistakes and gets lost, but we deserve chances to correct those mistakes.”

“Some people rely on faith, others on the bonds of family or love. For some, music is their salvation. He believed music had the superpower to break chains and touch the soul.”

“He didn’t see himself as Mother Teresa but believed in the magic of music.”

Reese tilted her chin slightly. “And June Carter?”

Anson smiled. “That’s your homework, Reese.”

Reese chuckled, slightly embarrassed, her cheeks flushed with a shy smile.

This was the real reason Reese brought up the topic. She was trying to understand June Carter’s music, her performance style, and her love story with Johnny Cash. These seemingly unrelated elements intertwined to form the complex character of June Carter.

She wasn’t perfect. She didn’t exist solely to save Johnny Cash. She had her own struggles, pain, darkness, and shadows.

But this wasn’t easy to portray.

On the surface, the script seemed to suggest that June Carter was an easy role to play. Even Reese’s husband, Ryan Phillippe, thought it couldn’t be simpler.

Yet Reese remained doubtful.

She spent a lot of time studying the role, identifying some acting nuances. But when it came to the musical performances, she repeatedly hit a wall.

Director James Mangold envisioned the musical performances as crucial to the film—not just actors mimicking the motions with pre-recorded tracks but genuine, live performances. The actors needed to merge the character with the music, allowing the audience to feel the character’s life force through the music.

This was incredibly challenging.

Reese hadn’t yet found her breakthrough. All she could do was take it one step at a time, hoping inspiration would strike on set.

Unexpectedly, this casual trip to pick someone up turned out to be surprisingly fruitful.

An absolute surprise.

(End of Chapter)

*Chapter 1265: Immersed in the Scene*

Everything happened so quickly, crammed into just a few hours. In the context of 2003, it felt like life was playing at ten times the normal speed.

Just a few hours ago, Anson suggested that before officially joining the film crew, the August 31st Band should head to the recording studio to complete a song. The fastest they could finish was in an afternoon; at most, it would take three days. Meanwhile, Reese could join them in the studio to get a feel for the band's recording atmosphere and the creative process behind their music.

On the surface, Reese readily agreed and offered Anson her full support—

Of course, she was somewhat intrigued by the idea.

But in reality, Reese thought this was merely an excuse for Anson to prioritize the band’s recording work. At the end of the day, Anson still placed the band's interests above those of the film crew.

Anson had only informed the crew a few hours in advance. It wasn’t a discussion; it was an announcement. He had no intention of consulting Mangold or Reese for their opinions. He simply informed them:

This is how it’s going to be. And with only a few hours' notice, the crew was left with no time to propose alternatives or objections.

However, given Anson’s reputation and status as a producer, Reese decided not to call him out and chose to play along instead.

After all, that’s how social situations work—you give a little, I give a little, and in the end, everyone walks away happy.

But now, Reese’s perspective had subtly shifted. She couldn’t help but wonder:

Was Anson coming to Memphis to record truly just for the band?

Looking at Anson again, Reese gave him a bittersweet smile. “I’m trying.”

Anson returned her smile. “I’m trying too, so maybe we can help each other. I think observing the recording process might be helpful. Too bad you didn’t get a chance to watch a live bar performance—that would’ve been even more insightful.”

“Oh, by the way, I ran into Ryan last time I performed at a bar.”

Reese froze for a moment. “When was this?”

Anson replied, “Late last year. I was trying to immerse myself in Johnny Cash’s life, so I performed anonymously at a bar for a while. Ryan and a group of young actors had just finished auditioning for a movie and came to the bar…”

As he spoke, Anson noticed Reese’s expression revealed complete unfamiliarity with the story.

“Wait, did I just say something I shouldn’t have?” Anson winced in embarrassment.

Reese laughed outright. “Ha! You have moments like this too?”

“You mean Ang Lee’s project, right? I know he auditioned in New York, but I didn’t know he ran into you. He never mentioned it.” Reese was candid, her demeanor open and forthright.

Anson raised an eyebrow slightly. Ang Lee’s project?  

At the time, Ang Lee was at a low point in his career. The box office and critical failure of Hulk had shattered the acclaim he’d earned with Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, leaving him disheartened and uncertain. The project he was preparing during that period…

It seemed like it was already gaining traction.

Anson was surprised to learn Ryan Phillippe had been a contender for a role.

But Anson didn’t press further. “So, Ryan deliberately didn’t mention it—probably not because I offended him, right?”

Reese waved her hand dismissively, looking completely unbothered. “No, he’s just jealous.”

“You know how it is in Hollywood. There aren’t many guys more handsome than him. And unfortunately, those who are, tend to be out of my league, so I don’t have the chance to work with them.”

“And now, he finally runs into one.”

“Ha-ha!” Anson burst out laughing, watching Reese’s exasperated yet humorous expression. “So, I should consider this an honor?”

Reese neither confirmed nor denied it.

Anson grew curious. “But what if Ryan works with an actress? Would you care?”

Reese shook her head decisively. “No, of course not. We’re actors—it’s our job, right? If we can’t separate work from life, we’d only end up exhausting ourselves. I mean, this is Hollywood. We all know what we’re doing.”

A faint smile flickered in Anson’s eyes. “Dear Reese, that’s the ideal scenario. But the harsh reality is, even if we think we know, we often don’t—until we truly face it and experience it firsthand. Only then do we find out if we can handle the realities of fame and the industry.”

His words were somewhat convoluted yet thought-provoking.

Reese paused, her gaze fixed on Anson, her expression carrying a hint of contemplation.

Anson blinked and broke the silence. “Hey, sorry, I didn’t mean to stir things up. I was just saying…”

Reese smiled back. “I know, don’t worry. I didn’t take it the wrong way. I was just…”

Exhaling deeply, Reese said, “I was just reflecting on myself. When you said the band needed to head to the recording studio, I didn’t say much, but deep down, I was criticizing you. I thought you were putting the band’s interests above the film crew. I guess I’m not as open-minded as I thought.”

“Sorry,” Reese said sincerely, looking at Anson.

But Anson didn’t mind at all. “Reese, thank you for being honest with me.”

“But honestly, I don’t mind. I mean it.”

“To be frank, I already guessed how you guys felt—not just you, but also Mangold and the two producers, James and James. I’m sure they’re secretly cursing me behind my back.”

Reese burst into laughter.

Anson shrugged lightly. “I won’t argue about it. Facts are facts. We’re recording first, which did force the crew to adjust its schedule. I did put the band’s interests ahead of the crew.”

“But to make up for my selfishness, I’m doing my best. Even though I can’t please everyone, at least we’re striving for perfection in our work. How’s that?”

His attitude was candid, straightforward, and genuine.

Reese hadn’t expected to share her true thoughts so openly, nor had she anticipated Anson’s response—honest and transparent, sparking an open exchange.

Indeed, as Anson said, the problem remained: the crew had to postpone filming. But at least, after clearing the air, they were working toward the same goal, and everything suddenly felt different.

Unconsciously, Reese began to feel a faint sense of anticipation—

Was Anson hiding something in the recording studio?

“Wait, wasn’t the main point that you performed anonymously at a bar in New York? I can’t believe you didn’t invite me. So, how was it?”

“Performing live does feel different. But more than the performance itself, I wanted to experience what it’s like to rely on music for survival—just like Johnny did.”

The conversation continued to flow naturally. Though they hadn’t seen each other for some time, the two actors showed no signs of awkwardness. Their banter was lively and endless, with laughter echoing throughout the car.

The vehicle stopped first at the recording studio. Noah would handle Anson’s luggage and take it to the hotel, while Anson and Reese headed straight inside—they were racing against time.

Reese was brimming with curiosity and anticipation. She could have entered the recording studio at any time if she wanted. But the key point was that, throughout her preparation for the role of June Carter, she had never realized the importance of this experience, so she hadn’t bothered to go before.

Now, Reese found herself looking forward to it. What exactly was Anson up to?

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(End of Chapter)