861-865

*Chapter 861: Like Poetry and Song*

Roar, roar, roar!

Ah, ah, ah!

The crowd was boiling.

Pauline looked at Camila, her eyes showing a hint of surprise. "Aha, this handsome guy clearly knows how to control the atmosphere."

Camila was also beaming with joy. "It's a surprise for me too."

The performance began as abruptly as it started—

After all, this was a street performance. There was no start time and no end time. Held in an open space, people could join or leave freely at any moment.

Everything was out in the open.

Not only did they have to deal with noise, disturbances, and unforeseen events, but the audience was constantly joining and leaving, providing immediate and often harsh feedback.

But at the same time, this allowed the performance to return to its most original, simple, and fundamental state, subjecting itself to the test and evaluation of strangers.

The scene before them, however, was unusual—

The crowd was layered three or four rows deep, a sea of people, shoulder to shoulder, packed into a corner. The east-west street was completely blocked.

People had been gathering quietly, and the crowd had already exceeded a thousand and was still growing like waves.

It could no longer be called a street performance. It was more like a small guerrilla concert.

So, strictly speaking, Anson's joke wasn't really a joke. With the road blocked, traffic would soon be paralyzed. It was only a matter of time before the traffic police arrived to maintain order. No one knew how much longer the band could perform before the police intervened.

There was no time for idle chatter. It was time to get to the point—

The music.

That was the only thing that mattered.

Anson turned to look at the other three, their gazes intersecting in the air. They were eager, their eyes shining brightly, their hearts pounding without needing words to express it.

Not just because of the spectacle before them, but because they had seemingly rediscovered the joy of music yesterday. Now, they couldn't wait to return to the world of music.

"Lily?"

"OK."

"Connor?"

"Roar, roar, roar, I can't wait."

"Miles?"

"Ready."

One by one, Anson confirmed with each of them. The three band members exchanged glances, then all eyes fell on Anson, their excitement palpable.

Then.

Anson held his guitar, his fingertips dancing lightly across the strings—

Lively, joyful, and clear.

Not loud, even a bit faint. It started without warning, completely drowned out by the cacophony of the crowd.

You couldn't hear it at all!

But Anson didn't care. His eyes were full of tenderness as he watched the strings, as if the whole world had quieted down, leaving just the four members of the August 31st band.

Everything else was dust.

Strum, strum, strum. The bright sound of the strings fluttered in the golden sunlight of the Parisian afternoon, almost miraculously tracing the sunbeams and transparent notes that soared and interwove, weaving a magnificent tapestry that slowly unfolded.

The noise, the clamor, gradually turned to dust, settling sparsely in the golden glow.

And so, eyes began to gather.

One eight-count, two eight-counts.

Anson turned to look at Miles—

Miles didn't use the bow. He simply used his fingers, plucking the strings with the skill of a master, like playing a large harp. The deep, rich sound of the cello filled the melody, instantly lifting Anson's guitar sound, making it even clearer and lighter.

Next was Connor.

And lastly, Lily.

Light, nimble, even a bit cautious. She didn't play the full melody, just a simple four-beat rhythm, repeated over and over. Yet, as each instrument joined in, the layers and framework became richer and fuller, and the unfolding picture grew more magnificent.

Heartbeat, slowly speeding up.

Amazing, astonishing, awe-inspiring—

It was just pure melody, blending the inherent charm of the instruments. Emotions were poured into the performance, relying on notes to awaken resonance.

Like a symphony orchestra.

In today's music market, it's been a long time since any band dared to try this: to truly let the music return to music, to let the band rediscover the essence of being a band. Not relying on looks, not relying on gimmicks, but truly showcasing the band's charm, using instruments and voices to bring out new allure.

Pauline was amazed, barely able to believe her ears. She looked at Camila, dumbfounded: "Is this a band?"

Camila wore a proud smile, puffing her chest a little. Her expression clearly said, "Praise me. Go on, praise me. Praise me to your heart's content."

"Hmm, mm-mm-mm... mm-mm-mm..."

Anson's voice flowed from the microphone, not loud, just a soft hum.

But that clear voice, with a hint of weariness and sorrow, made the music even more layered.

Then, finally, someone moved. It was no longer just simple chords or light playing, but truly embracing the main melody—

Miles.

It was actually Miles.

Pauline's eyes nearly popped out. She choked on her own saliva. Who would have thought the cello would be the core of the entire performance?

But thinking about it, the cello appearing on the street and in a band was already remarkable. So why be surprised if it set the tone for the band?

Pauline finally understood Camila's earlier mysterious smile.

Pauline didn't have time to chat with Camila. She took a deep breath and fixed her eyes on Miles, as if expecting the cello to bloom like a flower.

Her mind gradually sank into the music.

Mellow, rich, grand. So gentle, yet so majestic. Miles was one with his instrument. The bow glided slowly across the strings.

Meanwhile, the guitar, bass, and keyboard all stopped playing, leaving just Miles.

One cello.

Even in a symphony orchestra, such moments are rare, as the cello is a bass instrument, making it challenging to carry the entire structure of a piece.

But this band did just that. In a way that was astonishing, almost magical.

Even more incredible, from the composition to the performance, the stirring melody awakened passion within the listeners, their hearts beating faster. A surge of emotion, indescribable with words, rose within them. It was as if they could feel time and space slowing down in this tiny corner.

Like a black hole, pulling souls into its center.

Anson's voice drifted from the depths of the universe.

"The vast world was once under my control. The giant waves surged at my command. Now, I appear alone at dawn, wandering the road that once belonged to me." (Note 1)

Loneliness, bitterness, weariness, sorrow.

Conflicting emotions collided and burned between the words. The golden notes clanged and jumped between the syllables, so light yet so heavy, so indifferent yet so free. The grandeur and majesty in every gesture poured out effortlessly, instantly stirring up—

A storm deep within each mind.

The simplest phrases, like poetry, like a song, yet vividly portrayed the weight of history and the passing of time.

In Paris, in France, the power of music dragged listeners through time and space. The vast history sped by in front of their eyes.

No one was exempt. No one.

---

*Chapter 862: Long Live Life*

Camila shuddered involuntarily: it was "Long Live Life"! Unbelievable!

She never expected that for their first performance in front of a thousand-person audience, on August 31st, the band's opening song would be "Long Live Life."

However, on second thought, Camila had a different perspective. Of course, it had to be "Long Live Life." Why wouldn’t it be?

Since last night, after Camila heard the song, the melody and lyrics had been swirling in her mind, impossible to shake off. As she lay in bed, quietly imagining the band’s live performance, she couldn’t stop thinking about how Anson would interpret the song. Countless thoughts kept running through her head.

And now, the band was performing that very song—

*Perfect.*

From the first four beats, the band had chosen a version different from the studio recording.

Camila had no idea how many times the band had played this song on their European street tour or how many versions there were; but without a doubt, every step the band took showcased their own distinctive style, fully utilizing their instruments and showing off their musical charm.

The revised version before her was lighter yet more grand, simpler yet richer. From the first note, it had completely captivated Camila’s ears, maximizing the allure of the live performance.

"Live" is all about spontaneity, adding personal flair based on the mood and circumstances of the day, making every performance unique.

It’s the unique charm of live performances that makes each show different. That's why there's a special group of fans who follow the band to experience the distinct magic of each live show.

And today was no exception.

Though Camila had just heard the band's performance yesterday, today felt entirely different.

She didn’t know what others thought, but for her, Anson had conquered her from the very first four beats.

Now, Camila finally understood that line from Jerry Maguire where Tom Cruise says, "You had me at hello."

A glance, an appearance, a performance.

That was enough.

Surprise!

Surrender!

Heartfelt!

And this was only the beginning.

*"I once ruled life and death among mortals, savoring the terror reflected in the eyes of my foes, while joyfully listening to the people's cheers: 'The old king is dead! Long live the new king!'”* (Note 1)

The bass, heavy.

The guitar, light.

The keyboard, melodious.

Accompanied by Anson's voice, the layers of the melody gradually filled out, still led by the cello, but different parts and layers depicted the cycles of life, illness, death, and the rise and fall of dynasties across time.

He had once possessed glory, led armies, and stood atop the world; yet, in a single turn, he was alone, wandering in solitude.

He said,

*"At this moment, I hold authority in my veins, only to realize that the palace walls are as deep as the sea. Suddenly, I discover that my grand ambitions are nothing but an illusory mirage."*

In a snap, everything turned to dust.

Fame, glory, status, wealth... with one blink, it all became ashes, dissolving into nothingness.

He had tried to conquer the world, but in the end, could not escape death; he had sought to accomplish great deeds, only to find it was all just a dream; he had once ridden high, full of vigor, only to realize he couldn’t grasp anything.

The clamor, the light, the cheers—all vanished, sinking into dust overnight. Reaching out, there was only endless emptiness and void.

A lifetime of pursuit, but in the end, it was all in vain.

So, what is life? What’s its meaning?

The melody surged.

The thoughts resonated.

The entire venue was silent.

Countless eyes were fixed on Anson. They hadn’t expected the band to perform such a song, let alone perform it so grandly.

Standing at the end of life, reflecting on the meaning of existence; standing at the end of time, reflecting on the meaning of history—

And humanity was but a speck of dust.

Involuntarily, everyone held their breath; even their hearts seemed to stop beating momentarily.

Then—

Anson strummed his guitar, the melody surged, and the notes exploded.

*Boom!*

Lily's hands fell heavily on the keyboard. She lifted her head, exchanging glances with Connor and Miles, their brilliant smiles reflected in each other's eyes.

The performance erupted with passion, pouring into the notes, instantly igniting the crowd.

It was clearly 3 p.m., with the sun shining brightly, high in the sky, yet it felt as if a sea of stars had lit up, turning night into day with a roar, like a tidal wave sweeping through the entire venue.

In that instant, goosebumps rose all over, and hearts raced to their throats, almost about to burst.

The energy was unleashed without holding back.

*"Hear the bells of Jerusalem ring..."*

*Clap, clap, clap.*

At that moment, Anson raised his hands high, clapping to the rhythm.

The sound was thin, easily disrupted by a passing breeze.

But Camila understood—

Her first reaction was to raise her hands high and clap along to the beat.

*Clap, clap. Clap, clap.*

The applause, the collision of hands, surged, and her heartbeat followed, pounding wildly. Camila could almost hear the sound of her blood boiling.

A smile crept onto her lips.

After just an eight-count, Anson continued playing the guitar, unconcerned whether the audience had picked up on his cue, as his passionate singing climbed to new heights.

*"...The Roman cavalry choirs are singing, be my mirror, my sword, and shield. My missionaries are out on the front lines."*

Pauline was utterly stunned—

She looked at Miles, then at Anson, then at Camila, and then at the other audience members.

Her gaze couldn’t keep up, completely overwhelmed by the grandeur before her... and she surrendered.

The notes, the melodies, weaving through words and songs, unfolded an unfathomable river of time before her eyes.

It was like a cosmic painting.

Standing before time, she only felt her insignificance, yet she couldn’t help but be drawn in, swept up in the roaring tide.

Her heart raced uncontrollably, as if her chest would burst.

Pauline: What should she do? Could someone tell her how to respond?

Dazed and confused, Pauline clapped along too, but clumsily, lost in bewilderment. Her gaze once again fell on Anson.

To listen, to feel, to enjoy.

*"For reasons I can't explain, once you’re gone, there'll be no more honest words, and this will be my time to rule."*

Loneliness, extreme loneliness.

Standing atop the peak, surveying all, it was cold at the heights.

He, she, they, had spent their lives chasing glory, money, fame, power, status. Some failed, some succeeded, some lost themselves on the long road; yet when they finally reached the end of time, what did they see?

Endless void.

The meaning of life could have more. It could transcend time and space, awaken the soul even in the depths of the universe's black hole—

Everyone should have their own answer.

The world's eyes were all on Anson.

Sighing and carefree, bold and unrestrained, bathed in golden sunlight, it was as if he was the ruler of this world.

Not because of the crowd, not because of fame, but because, at that moment, he was standing there, singing freely, enjoying it fully.

That was enough.

*Chapter 863: Creating a World*

Ding ding ding, ding ding ding.

The sound of church bells echoed with the wind, as if the entire city of Paris bowed at the feet of the band, joining in the grand performance that soared to the heavens.

Sunlight. A breeze. Noise. Heat.

Everything was like a spotlight, focused entirely on Anson.

Time pressed pause.

The crowd stopped in its tracks; cars turned off their engines; and in apartments, cafes, bakeries, and fruit shops, bustling figures appeared and stood still, all eyes instinctively drawn in the same direction. The entire world seemed to revolve around Anson, spinning rapidly.

“A fierce and bitter wind sweeps through, scattering the heavy clouds that trapped me in darkness. Crumbling ruins mark the fall of tradition, the world can hardly believe I’m no longer who I once was.”

“The rebel army waits eagerly for the day I ascend the guillotine, like a puppet hanging limp and lonely. Ah. Who ever longed to be worshiped by the masses?” (Note 1)

Pauline shuddered.

“Who-Would-Ever-Want-To-Be-King?”

Wait, isn’t this Louis XVI?

The last king before the restoration of the French Bourbon dynasty, before he became just another speck of dust swept away by the relentless wheels of history. He once had it all. He once stood at the peak. He was once a real, vivid soul who had to suppress his true self, but in the end, he could not.

Bang.

The melody surged.

The singing burst forth.

It was clear that Anson’s voice was stronger, more powerful, with an energy that exploded amid the grandeur of the instruments.

“Hear the bells of Jerusalem ringing, the Roman cavalry’s song echoes across the mountains and seas. My mirror, my sword, and shield—my missionaries stand beyond the borders.”

“For reasons I can’t let go, once you leave here, you’ll never hear harsh truths again. And this will be the era of my reign.”

With just one look, Camilla could see Anson’s smile bloom—a radiant, stunning smile that dimmed the entire world.

Thump.

Camilla’s heart skipped a beat. She didn’t even notice, holding her breath as she gazed—

Anson’s fingers pressed the guitar strings, stopping the music, and he turned to look at Miles.

It wasn’t just Anson; Lily and Connor did the same.

Pauline was completely frozen, her body stiff. Instinctively, she followed the band members’ gaze towards Miles.

The spotlight fell on Miles.

Miles remained focused, his expression unchanged.

But if you looked closely, you could see that his eyes were filled with stars and seas, burning with passion and excitement, as if his very soul had poured into the bow of his violin.

Thump, thump, thump. Thump, thump, thump.

Miles’s bow struck the violin strings with restraint yet force, capturing the beat’s rhythm as clearly as if it were drums.

Tension and release, light and agile.

The haunting melody flowed through the air, mysterious in its stillness, sending shivers up the arms of those present.

With just an eight-count, Anson’s voice returned through the microphone.

“Oh, oh, oh, oh…”

Softly humming, as gentle as water, like a whisper in the quiet of the night.

It was hard to imagine that such a grand, majestic song could have such a fragile and moving moment, as if one could see a bard walking through dense fog, humming through the valleys, quietly telling the vast and lonely story of history.

Then, Anson lightly tapped the guitar’s body with his left hand, the sharp sound of palm against wood, like a drumbeat, awakening the rhythm hidden in the cello’s melody.

“Oh, oh, oh, oh…”

Next came Connor, with a deep and magnetic bass line that immediately caught the ear. The song’s layers grew richer, grounding the floating soul—

Falling freely, the fierce wind roared in their ears.

Then Lily joined in, her keyboard playing sharp and rhythmic, striking out a cadence with her body. Even without a drum set, you could still feel the structure of the melody, the rhythm always present—

The world became richer, more three-dimensional, unfolding in the mind’s eye.

As if God was creating a world.

There were mountains and seas, forests and streams, animals and life.

From nothing to something, a universe was born in the mind, and deep within the soul, a feeling began to stir, ready to break free.

Yet, something was still missing.

But it was impossible to say what exactly.

That elusive feeling, just out of reach, lodged in the throat, itching.

In her sight, Lily, Connor, and Miles exchanged glances, their expressions brimming with joy and freedom. Even if their lips didn’t smile, the happiness in their eyes and brows overflowed, pouring into the music.

Finally, the three looked toward Anson.

Ha.

Anson’s smile bloomed fully, and he suddenly propped up his right leg, resting the guitar on it, using the base of his right palm to—

Strike forcefully.

The sound of "pa pa pa" transformed into "boom boom boom."

A powerful force.

The drums appeared, as if by magic, awakening the rhythm hidden within the melodies of the cello, keyboard, and bass. All the rhythms came to life.

Thus, the sleeping dragon had a spine, slowly rising to its feet, towering above the bustling ants below.

The music came alive.

Singing filled the air, “Oh, oh, oh! Oh, oh, oh!”

Not just Anson, but Lily, Connor, and Miles joined in too, “Oh, oh, oh! Oh, oh, oh!”

Blood surged, passion roared.

The dragon not only had bones but now flesh, as it let out a mighty roar toward the sky.

Shockwaves poured down from above.

Pauline stared in disbelief, her brain completely short-circuited, utterly incapable of thought:

Who am I, where am I, what am I doing?

But none of that mattered anymore, because a voice deep within her soul called out, stirring.

Pauline turned to her friend, Camilla, who was laughing—laughing so brightly, as if she had never been hurt. She raised both hands high, clapping to the rhythm while jumping in place, letting her whole body and soul resonate with Anson’s performance, making her beats part of the show.

And she sang out loud, “Oh, oh, oh! Oh, oh, oh!”

She wasn’t just watching the show; she had become part of it.

And Camilla wasn’t the only one.

Looking around, the entire bustling street corner—one, two, three, four, five people—everyone had merged into the melody.

Jumping. Clapping. Singing.

Boom boom boom! Boom boom boom!

The rhythm, though a little chaotic at first, soon synced after just two eight-counts, merging into one solid force, bursting forth with a power that blotted out the sun.

The entire world dimmed.

Listen, that was the cry and roar from the depths of the soul.

“Oh, oh, oh! Oh, oh, oh!”

The whole scene vibrated, resonating under the vast sky.

Pauline was stunned—utterly stunned. She felt an indescribable thrill, her scalp tingling, and before she realized it, she too was jumping and singing along.

As she sang, a smile naturally spread across her lips.

So this was what happiness felt like—pure and intense, exploding in her chest, and in the blink of an eye, it was like electricity surging through her entire body.

*Chapter 864: Soul Stirring*

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

Those are the sounds of feet hitting the ground. What started as a street performance is evolving into a full-blown concert. One by one, people are jumping freely, letting their blood boil and sweat pour, feeling the pulse of the melody with their bodies, and igniting the energy of the notes with their souls. You can clearly hear the pounding of your heart through your eardrums—

Gradually, the heartbeat seems to sync with the rhythm of the steps, sparking a never-ending stream of energy.

Oh oh oh! Oh oh oh!

Those are the shouts from the lungs, roaring and howling with reckless abandon and passion, feeling the blood boil and the soul tremble. For a moment, all thoughts and worries are thrown aside, letting yourself be lost in the world of music, immersed in the freedom that makes you lose yourself.

Listen, that's your own voice, letting out all the emotions—good and bad—releasing and burning them all away without restraint.

Boom boom boom! Boom boom boom!

That's the sound of the entire world spinning.

One after another.

No one can escape it, staring in awe at the sea of people in front of them. Before they can even think about what is happening, they've been swept into the storm, their hearts feeling the trembling and shock coming from beneath their feet.

And then, surrender.

Jumping, singing, shouting, swaying—the happiness and joy radiating from their faces, the laughter roaring in their chests, as if they could feel the gusty wind raging in their ears. No wings are needed to fly.

Camila hadn’t felt this happy in a long, long time.

Work was heavy and tedious. She hated it to her core, but for the sake of living, she had to work the 9-to-5 grind day in and day out. Only when the workday was over did she feel alive again. She thought no one in the world liked working, and even if they said they did, they were lying to themselves.

As for love, she thought they had a mutual understanding that a simple, uneventful life was enough. But she was wrong. Worse than betrayal was her self-doubt. She questioned her judgment about people and things.

Life had one surprise after another, with no moment to catch her breath. Her father’s tumor was just one of many defeats.

She had many confusions but no answers. Exhausted, angry, bitter, she didn’t even have the strength to vent her anger loudly.

Growing up, she realized that anger and hatred took energy—more than love or happiness. The daily exhaustion made even being angry hard. Eventually, she lost the ability to react, living like a zombie, numb and stiff.

It seemed that even breathing was consuming her life.

But.

Yesterday and today were different.

Since yesterday afternoon's rock bottom, things had taken a completely different turn.

Life could still offer more.

There was a wide world beyond the comfort zone.

Before reaching the end, there were countless unknowns to explore.

Now, at this moment.

Forget everything for a while, even yourself. Give your body to the beat, your soul and heart to the melody, and embrace freedom.

"Oh oh oh! Oh oh oh!"

The whole world, roaring.

Camila could see Pauline beside her. They were both laughing joyfully, bumping shoulders, nodding heads, just—

Singing out loud.

When they looked forward again, they could finally feel the happiness of the band members, truly becoming part of the performance.

"Oh oh oh! Oh oh oh!"

The singing continued, and Anson sang again, turning the grandeur and brilliance into background music, standing at the end of time and the edge of the world, singing with all his might.

"Hear Jerusalem's bells a-ringin', Roman cavalry choirs a-singin', be my mirror, my sword and shield, my missionaries in a foreign field." (Note 1)

Anson looked around, catching the eyes of the audience, conveying emotions in a flash, as if there was a tacit understanding—

Climbing an octave, the voice soared, the aura fully unleashed.

"For some reason I can't explain, once you go there was never, never an honest word, and that was when I ruled the world."

High notes exploded, emotions fully released at the peak.

Like a gale, like a storm.

Pouring down, trembling from the soles of your feet like an electric current rushing to the top of your head, a roar in your mind.

In that moment, there was an impulse—

To kneel, to worship.

Not just because of the band, but more for the humility and insignificance in the face of the flow of time, shivering amidst the surging emotions.

But Anson didn’t continue with the high notes. Instead, he turned around, and the accompaniment abruptly stopped. But at the same time, the band's singing continued.

"Oh oh oh. Oh oh oh."

The whole audience, too.

From the peak of noise, it fell without accompaniment, instruments, or melody, only a cappella. Over a thousand people humming in unison.

Oh oh oh...

Oh oh oh!

Everything returned to its original state, back to the simplest and purest form. Relying only on a voice, they created the most natural and touching melody.

But that's not all.

The heart, pounding; blood, burning.

The vibration and agitation within the body were transmitting from the inside out, transforming into waves of singing. The unified voices outside were surging toward her, surrounding her, every pore feeling the energy.

She, too, became part of the music.

"Oh oh oh... Oh oh oh..."

Anson approached the microphone again, singing gently and lightly, with only the a cappella as accompaniment, softly narrating, peeling away the glamour. All the noise disappeared, standing alone at the end of the world.

"For some reason I can't explain, once you go there was never..."

"Never an honest word, and that was when I ruled the world..."

Sighing, bitter, desolate, but without regret, turning and leaving.

Finally, the curtain fell.

Anson raised his right hand high, like a conductor drawing a rest.

Stop!

Slowly, the singing on-site stopped, some earlier, some later, but eventually, the voices ceased one after another.

Yet, no one moved.

They stood quietly in place, gasping for breath, chests heaving like bellows, feeling the adrenaline surging, ears attentive—

Silence, complete silence.

In the quiet, those breaths, those heartbeats, that hot blood were all audible, quietly narrating the passion and emotion in their hearts, echoing, as if they could still hear Anson's singing in the depths of their souls.

Oh oh oh, oh oh oh.

Again and again, hovering in their minds.

Caught off guard, Camila couldn't control herself anymore, tears streaming down her face, unable to stop. But it wasn't sadness or bitterness; it was happiness and joy, a smile blossoming amidst the tears. She shouted with all her might.

Ah! Ah ah ah!

*Chapter 865: Waving Goodbye*

Happiness. Joy. Elation. Exhilaration. Excitement.

An all-encompassing explosion.

Passion surging, blood boiling, every cell in the body trembling uncontrollably, surrendering completely to the moment.

Words couldn't describe even a fraction of what Camilla felt right now. Then, like a madwoman, she threw all reason to the wind.

Screaming, just screaming with abandon, losing herself in the moment.

Ah, ah, ah. Ah, ah, ah.

It was as if she could feel the energy of her soul burning. She screamed and screamed, and tears fell like rain. As she screamed, her smile grew wider. Camilla knew she had completely lost her mind, emotions derailing like a runaway train—but she didn't care.

At this moment, at least this very moment, she was happy. That was enough. Tears and smiles alike were all forms of happiness.

This was the power of music, the strength of a performance. The band's emotions poured into the music, those carefree, unrestrained, joyous, and free-spirited feelings transformed into melody, awakening a deep resonance.

No one could resist it.

Turning her head, Camilla could see Pauline, eyes brimming with tears but overjoyed.

You look at me, I look at you.

Both looked at their friend’s crazed expressions and burst into laughter, not hiding or wiping away anything, allowing their disheveled state to be on full display.

Then, they fully enjoyed it.

Ah, ah, ah, ah!

Again and again.

The energy swept across the venue, rising with each moment.

In the center of the crowd, Anson looked at the sea of people before him, the waves of excitement, his emotions surging, a warm current fiercely rushing through his chest.

Caught off guard, his eyes welled up slightly.

Stepping forward, Anson shouted into the microphone.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we are August 31st Band!”

Boom!

Instantly, energy exploded, the entire place erupted.

Anson turned to look; Lily was smiling, Connor was smiling, Miles was smiling too.

A quick glance exchanged between each of them revealed similar expressions of happiness, even down to the curvature of their smiles.

Ha!

Laughter resonated in their chests—

This wasn't the first time.

During their street performances across Europe, they had introduced themselves more than once. The journey of August 31st Band was already halfway through. But today was different, completely different. They had truly let go of their burdens, showing the world their music and earning applause.

More than applause, those smiles, that joy, that happiness. Those cheers, jumps, and enjoyment were the most precious responses.

This was the charm of music.

Then.

Anson turned to the crowd once more.

“Hey! Let’s keep this going and have a blast!”

With his words, the crowd went wild. No pleasantries, no small talk, diving straight into the performance, everything was about the music—

Given the heated atmosphere, this was the perfect moment to perform this song.

Camilla froze for a moment before realizing, grabbing Pauline and shaking her madly. “‘Wake Me Up,’ ‘Wake Me Up,’ they're about to play it!”

This was a party, a full-blown party, like a music festival.

Vroom, vroom.

As Bertrand-Scali rode his motorcycle to the street corner, he could see the crowd and the chaos from afar.

He had just received a report about a traffic jam needing a traffic cop on the scene to maintain order. Bertrand thought it was a joke—

Because the report said there were more than a thousand people gathered.

Bertrand: ??? How is that possible?

Even a major chain traffic accident wouldn't attract that many people.

If it was a Hollywood movie shoot? Unlikely, and they would have received a notice if a crew was filming on the street.

Honestly, Bertrand couldn't imagine what would draw such a crowd, no matter how he thought about it. Was this some delayed April Fool’s prank?

However.

When he arrived on site, Bertrand’s steps involuntarily slowed down. Seeing the spectacle before him, Bertrand felt the report was inaccurate.

A thousand people?

More like!

At least over fifteen hundred, maybe even two thousand.

Bertrand was dumbfounded: What now?

He couldn't possibly control this with just himself. A slight mishap could lead to an unnecessary disaster.

Immediately, Bertrand called for backup, quickly reporting the scene.

The response was that they would send additional support; meanwhile, Bertrand was tasked with temporarily controlling the situation to avoid any incidents.

Phew.

Exhaling deeply, Bertrand looked at the dense crowd ahead—

Control the situation? How? He was just one person!

Amid his confusion, a deafening, passionate live performance echoed from the front. Bertrand couldn't help but look over, and soon found himself humming along.

This is... kind of interesting.

Then... well, it just kept going—

The performance continued.

By the time the full backup of traffic cops arrived on the scene, an hour had passed. Wave after wave, request after request for support, they finally managed to gather enough personnel to cover three different directions of the area.

Bertrand had long gotten used to Paris' pace of handling matters, and he wasn't planning to complain; he just suggested that since the street performance was nearing its end, instead of abruptly disrupting and causing chaos, it might be better to wait patiently. They could prepare in advance and guide the crowd after the performance, like at a music festival.

His suggestion was adopted.

And so, an unusual scene unfolded near the Luxembourg Gardens—

The police were maintaining order at the scene, resembling a music festival. People kept arriving, filling up the surrounding three blocks.

Moreover, new spectators arriving at the scene saw the police maintaining order and assumed it was an official event.

Word spread quickly.

More and more people flocked to the site.

By the time the mayor of Paris heard about it, TV stations and media reporters had already arrived, capturing this extraordinary moment.

Things seemed to be slipping off track.

Especially when a helicopter arrived above Luxembourg Gardens for a live broadcast, the crowd raised their arms high, cheering toward the helicopter.

Even Anson and the others were bewildered—

How did it get to this point?

And then, when the Paris police arrived, things peaked.

Not just traffic cops, but actual police officers maintaining order.

They crossed the Luxembourg Gardens, appearing behind the band members. A group of media reporters was already there, ready to rush forward upon realizing Anson was in the band, but they were stopped by the police.

The police stated, for safety reasons, that the band should leave via the Luxembourg Gardens; they needed to go to the police station for questioning.

Wait, were they planning to arrest the band members?