546-550

Chapter 546: Sparks of Inspiration

As a child, I loved summer because it was summer vacation, no school, no homework, just playing freely and enjoying every moment.

As I grew up, I loved summer because of the celebrations, carnivals, and holidays. Watermelons, fireworks, the ocean, and afternoons where even the air conditioning couldn't stop the sweat.

Even if I spent the entire summer doing nothing and wasting time, I still missed it.

However.

The Columbine High School massacre happened on April 22nd. The lives of those children abruptly ended and disappeared forever before summer even arrived.

The story of "Elephant" takes place at the end of August, when summer is about to end. The lives in the story also forever remain in that last summer.

They, those vibrant and youthful souls, those young and innocent lives, were buried forever under the summer sun and its splendor.

Honestly, Anson couldn't imagine, even with all his imagination, how those parents felt when they learned that their children's ordinary day at school ended in such a way.

Without experiencing it firsthand, relying solely on imagination was still too shallow.

People always said that death was painful, and of course, that was true. But what was more painful than death was continuing to live because they had to carry those wounds and quietly wait for spring to arrive.

Some could wait, say goodbye to the past, open their arms, and embrace a new life. But some would forever remain in that summer, unable to leave.

It was just a thought, but it grew and spread in their blood, long and real, making them feel the torment in every breath, day and night.

Summertime, so short yet so long, carrying the warmth and power of life. When summer ended, youth seemed to come to a full stop.

Graduated, they scattered across the world, embarking on new journeys in life.

Saying goodbye to summer seemed to mean they could no longer play and had to slowly learn to grow up.

For a long time, seasons were just seasons, the changing of the four seasons merely marking the passage of time. But from a certain moment, it became different. Seasons were no longer just seasons. They represented memories, life, and also the way we lived.

A melody flowed through his mind.

"Summer has come and passed. The innocent can never last. Wake me up when September ends." (Note 1)

The lyrics naturally surfaced in his heart.

The bright yet melancholic guitar chords danced amidst the somber and melodious cello strings, like the heartbeat and pulse they felt as they chased the sunset, holding onto the tail of summer.

So powerful, so real.

Anson thought, maybe they could make an album about summer and youth. The concept of the entire album would be like "Elephant," capturing a summer in their youth, blooming brilliantly and unrestrainedly for a short time, and when summer ended, they would go their separate ways, scattered across the world.

In fact, it wasn't just about graduation season.

Life was the same.

The summer when his family suddenly faced a crisis was also when he was 25 years old.

For a long, long time, he refused to accept the cruel reality, refused to accept the fact that his father had run away alone without a trace, refused to accept the fact that they had nothing and were plunged into困境, refused to accept the fact that they went from heaven to hell overnight. The memories of that time had become blurry, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't recall the details.

All that remained in his mind was the pain, the struggle and tearing that burned his internal organs, using all his strength to deny reality.

That summer was so long and so sweltering, it seemed endless.

On the one hand, he tried his best to run, trying to escape that summer that wouldn't end. On the other hand, he hesitated and lingered, because the end of summer meant growing up and also meant facing reality.

He couldn't help but close his eyes, temporarily escaping reality, hiding in his own world, listening to the sound of summer burning, waiting for that moment.

Waiting for the moment of growing up, waiting for the moment of facing the pain calmly, waiting for the moment when time healed the wounds, waiting for the moment when summer came again, waiting for the moment when the wounds healed and life revived.

Then.

Unconsciously, they grew up just like that.

Quietly, looking at Eric's disappointed face, at the students tidying up, at the crew members hugging and celebrating the wrap, an inspiration took root, sprouted, and then grew and spread uncontrollably.

"As the memories fade, and I'm no longer afraid. The seasons change and fall away. Yeah, wake me up when September ends."

Just like the inspiration he got when he helped Jack during the filming of "Catch Me If You Can," those scars, that pain, that torment, were agonizing when experienced firsthand. But looking back on those years as an adult, what came to mind weren't the happy and beautiful memories, but the hardships and setbacks that tempered and shaped him.

Those were the moments that made him who he was.

That's why people always said that pain was the source of artistic creation.

Of course, artists also created when they were happy, but those creations were often wrapped in a colorful candy coating, unable to truly touch the soul.

But it was different when in pain. The anger, sadness, anxiety, struggle, torment, and scars could always give birth to countless tensions and sparks.

Indeed.

His decision to leave Los Angeles for a temporary break and adjustment was the right one.

Leaving the monotonous recording studio, changing his routine, and going out to feel, experience, and live again, allowed his thoughts to become active, and inspiration would rekindle at the right time.

"... Anson?"

A voice called out, and Anson finally snapped out of his thoughts. He saw the worried faces of Alex and Eric.

A smile spread across his face.

"Sorry, my thoughts just took a short trip to the Land of Oz."

Anson made a little joke.

Alex was confused, his eyes filled with bewilderment.

But Eric raised his chin thoughtfully, his eyes looking at Anson once again filled with excitement.

Anson didn't explain. "Did I miss something?"

Alex shook his head innocently. "No, we just..." He paused, a bit shy, and glanced at Eric, trying to muster up his courage. "We just wanted to ask if we could take a photo with you. You know, opportunities like this don't come often."

"Maybe this is the only evidence that we made a movie."

Anson was taken aback.

"Haha." A bright smile bloomed on his face. "Of course, no problem."

At least they didn't interrupt the filming and waited patiently until the wrap to ask. Just this awareness alone surpassed many professional actors.

But what Anson didn't expect was that when other crew members saw him taking photos with Alex and Eric, they also came over one by one. When Anson came to his senses, he turned around and saw a long, winding line behind him.

Anson: "Excuse me, is this some kind of tourist attraction in Portland?"

Haha, a burst of laughter erupted.

Note 1: "Wake Me Up When September Ends" - Green Day

Chapter 547: Enjoy Your Meal

City of Sound, Los Angeles.

The sun was still shining brightly, the air was still dry and hot, and this corner of the world remained as forgotten as ever, unnoticed by anyone as time seemed to pass it by.

The summer box office frenzy had come and gone several times, yet it never reached this place. The City of Sound appeared to be left behind, as the rest of the world moved forward, expanding its horizons, but forgot to bring this corner along.

However, the constant presence of paparazzi was an unusual sight, like flies on a garbage heap or vultures circling a carcass. Even when everyone else steered clear, they couldn't be stopped.

The reason? There was only one, and only one was needed—

Anson.

With the waves of summer blockbusters coming one after another, the excitement seemed never-ending. Even though the pace wasn't as frantic as a new hot topic every hour, switching to a new buzz every three or five days was still part of Hollywood's charm.

Naturally, the paparazzi were overwhelmed.

They didn't need to fixate on just one story. If they couldn't dig up an exclusive here, they'd switch to another. After all, this was Hollywood, where there was never a shortage of scandals, just a lack of eyes to find them.

Anson, a rising star just emerging, should have been low on their list.

However, the reality was slightly different—

"Spider-Man" continued its unstoppable momentum, with its massive success showing no signs of slowing down. Its box office trajectory became increasingly astonishing, completely overshadowing "Star Wars: Episode II" in a way no one had expected.

To say that "Spider-Man" single-handedly rewrote the rules of the summer box office would not be an exaggeration. Nearly every record was claimed by Peter Parker, thoroughly overturning the market's norms.

Moreover, it elevated the status of superhero movies in one fell swoop.

Naturally, each week when the North American weekend box office numbers were released, it dominated the conversation, with the endless buzz never fading away.

"Spider-Man." "Spider-Man." And still "Spider-Man."

In this context, it was odd that the red-hot Anson had suddenly gone silent. Was that normal? Was that even possible?

The answer was no.

The media being unable to track Anson's whereabouts was understandable, but for the paparazzi to be equally clueless? That made them look incompetent.

And so, this scene unfolded.

Flies or vultures, no matter what you called them, the paparazzi would regularly visit the City of Sound, hoping to dig up some news.

Unfortunately—

They came back empty-handed.

Gradually, the paparazzi's pride was hurt.

They might not be kings without crowns, but they were not to be trifled with. Having roamed Hollywood for decades, when had they ever been so frustrated and embarrassed? When the paparazzi targeted someone, they wouldn't stop until they'd dug up everything. So how could a mere Anson remain so unperturbed in the face of their siege?

And so—

The paparazzi, each using their unique skills, did manage to uncover some scoops.

For example, Hayden Christensen.

He and Anson were once roommates, and the blockbuster films they starred in were released one after the other this summer, competing head-to-head. Yet, neither had publicly or privately mentioned the other, raising suspicions.

However—

Both Hayden's and Anson's managers expressed similar views:

They avoided mentioning each other to prevent confusion and keep the promotional focus clear. They were just roommates, not friends, but there was no conflict.

Paparazzi: Yeah, right, we totally believe that.

The problem, though, was a lack of evidence.

Paparazzi could speculate, stir the pot, and make wild claims, but once a manager made their stance clear, it was hard to push the story further. Recklessly releasing a scoop could end up wasting a good piece of material. In the end, they could only wait.

Then there was Brad Renfro.

Given the situation with Hayden, even though there seemed to be no conflict between Brad and Anson, the sharp-nosed paparazzi immediately sensed something was up when they saw Brad moving alone to Santa Monica.

But!

Brad firmly insisted that nothing had happened.

Once again, the paparazzi came back empty-handed.

Sifting through a heap of suspicious clues, they found few that were actually useful. Even the room to create stories out of thin air was limited, leaving the paparazzi with a deep sense of frustration.

And so, every now and then, the paparazzi would detour to the City of Sound—

According to TMZ's photos and information, Anson was still recording here.

"…Is Anson still inside?"

"That's what TMZ says."

"I've never staked out a recording studio before. The Backstreet Boys going into a studio isn't news, but is it normal for them to lock themselves in there day and night like this?"

"It's normal. Singers do that."

"For that long? How long has it been now? Two weeks? Three?"

"Haha, you can tell you're new to this. Two or three weeks is just the start. Last year, *NSYNC stayed in the studio for three or four months. Now that was a disaster."

"Oh, damn it!"

The paparazzi chatted noisily, exchanging information as they tried to dig up something exclusive on Anson. But clearly, it wasn't easy. Not easy at all.

"So, Harry Percy is just sitting here like an idiot?"

"Don't call him an idiot. TMZ's click-through rate depends on Anson right now."

"But it's easy like this. Not having to run around, it's like being a regular nine-to-five worker. I never expected the paparazzi gig to feel like that."

"If you don't run around, how are you going to get exclusives? I bet Harry Percy won't last much longer with TMZ..."

Their gaze drifted over to Harry—

He was holding a newspaper, wearing a bib, and taking a big bite out of a burger.

To many of his colleagues, he looked like a fool.

Harry noticed the stares but didn't mind. He even waved in greeting, and the other paparazzi waved back, though they couldn't help but keep grumbling.

Until—

"Hey! Wait, did you guys see TMZ's latest scoop?"

"What scoop? That Anson is still recording in the City of Sound? Haha."

"No, no, no. The scoop that Anson just finished working on an indie project in Portland with director Gus Van Sant."

Suddenly, there was dead silence.

The paparazzi exchanged looks, some shocked, some confused, but none could find their voice.

"Wait, hold on. TMZ said Anson's been in the City of Sound this whole time..."

"Right, but in the scoop, they said Anson had fooled everyone, including TMZ, into thinking he was recording in the City of Sound, but he was actually in Portland working on this project with Gus."

"A project? How long did they shoot?"

"Don't know. The scoop didn't say. Just mentioned it's an experimental project that Anson is personally very fond of."

One second, two seconds...

After the silence, the paparazzi couldn't hold back anymore and started swearing, their gaze turning toward Harry Percy.

Harry was still eating his burger. Noticing the looks, he waved again and even shouted, "Have you had lunch yet?"

Paparazzi: Damn it.

If they still didn't realize they'd been completely played by Harry, then they might as well quit the paparazzi business for good.

Immediately, they all pulled out their phones and started making calls. In the blink of an eye, the noisy crowd scattered.

Harry smiled broadly. "Enjoy your lunch!"

*Chapter 548: Seeing Through at a Glance*

Bang.

Hollywood is blown away—

Wait, what? What just happened? Suddenly, the ground shook, and what’s going on with Anson? Did TMZ just drop another bombshell?

An independent film?

Directed by Gus Van Sant, and it’s already finished filming?

…Wow.

The shock was universal. This was something Hollywood clearly didn’t see coming.

Just a moment ago, everyone in Hollywood knew that Anson was recording in Sound City. This rising superstar, who had skyrocketed to the top, was reportedly dabbling in the music industry.

Then, in the blink of an eye, Anson had completed filming an independent movie, making fools of the paparazzi across Los Angeles, performing a classic bait-and-switch right under their noses.

In no time, from Century City to Hollywood, there was only one name on everyone’s lips:

Anson Wood.

People couldn’t stop talking. Is Anson the first person ever to pull off such a high-stakes, high-visibility deception on the paparazzi?

Whether it was a grand deception or a clever misdirection, one thing was clear:

On one hand, the paparazzi were fuming, launching an investigation into how Anson managed to slip away right under their noses.

What a humiliation!

It’s one thing if they weren’t paying attention, but they had been watching him day and night. Yet, Anson still managed to give them the slip.

This is just...

On the other hand, the hunt to uncover details about Anson’s latest film began in earnest. Having missed the scoop, at least they wanted to follow up with the news.

But they found nothing.

Gus refused to be interviewed—

He went into complete lockdown, cutting off his phone, closing his doors, and disconnecting his landline, fully immersing himself in the editing room, ignoring the outside world. The paparazzi were left running around like headless chickens, to no avail.

Thus, a rare and remarkable scene unfolded in Century City:

The paparazzi themselves became the talk of the town.

On the surface, people were talking about Anson, the hot new superstar, whose every move seemed to generate buzz. But in Hollywood and Century City, insiders knew where the real story lay.

The paparazzi had been outsmarted by Anson.

It’s rare to see the paparazzi so flustered and helpless. Whether they were directors, actors, agents, or producers, whether they had past grievances with the paparazzi or not, everyone found this turn of events quite satisfying.

"This time, they really took a hard fall."

"How did Anson pull it off?"

"Who would have thought that Anson completed something so significant right under their noses?"

"A bunch of fools were hanging around Sound City, while Anson was living it up in Portland. Ha, ha ha, this is just too funny."

"Just when I thought the Sound City news would fade away, this plot twist hit."

"Hahaha, you should’ve seen how frantic those paparazzi were. Won’t this give them PTSD?"

For once, the paparazzi, who usually provide the gossip, found themselves thrust into the spotlight, experiencing what it’s like to be the talk of the town, not as pariahs, but still facing ridicule.

TMZ was in the spotlight again.

The paparazzi aren’t fools, and Hollywood isn’t short of smart people. More than a few suspected that Harry Percy might have struck a deal with Anson, but they had no proof. No one could confirm anything.

And even if they had proof, what could they do?

The exclusive was already in hand, the deed was done, and TMZ was enjoying record traffic.

Apparently, even TMZ wasn’t ready for this, as their servers crashed, leading to website downtime and blank pages for a while.

Harry: So this is what Anson’s traffic looks like?

This event truly put TMZ on the map, sparking widespread discussion in Century City.

The usually disorganized and undisciplined paparazzi were starting to show signs of forming an actual team, catching the attention of Wall Street.

With the potential for financial backing, TMZ could evolve from a loose collective into a formal organization with its own voice.

Without a doubt, this could become one of the major entertainment stories of 2002.

Of course, not everyone saw the big picture, and not everyone was interested in industry developments. Their focus was slightly different from Century City’s.

While mocking the paparazzi, the real focus was still on Anson.

—An independent film? Is this for real?

An obvious move, as clear as day.

Anyone with a passing interest in movies could see that after the massive success of “Spider-Man,” Anson would be more cautious and selective with his next project, as it would define his place in Hollywood.

But then again...

Anson didn’t choose another commercial film; he opted for an independent film to broaden his acting range, revealing his ambition.

Industry experts weren’t optimistic, with Sandra Bullock’s failed attempt as a clear precedent. Pay attention, will you?

A pretty face is just that, a pretty face. Stick to what you’re good at, and keep shining on the big screen. Even if you want to diversify, there’s no need to rush. You can wait until the audience starts to tire of you. There’s no need to be in such a hurry to prove you’re more than just a pretty face. Come on—

No one cares.

Right now, audiences are fawning over Spider-Man. Anson should be content with playing Spider-Man, going with the flow and fulfilling people’s fantasies on the big screen, seizing the opportunity to become the next big sex symbol.

No one cares if a pretty face has a soul, and no one cares if a pretty face can act.

Reality is that cruel.

What’s more, the experts are seasoned pros who can see the truth at a glance—

One moment, Anson is recording an album.

The next, he’s off to shoot an independent film.

To them, the answer couldn’t be clearer:

On one hand, Anson is trying to ride the “Spider-Man” wave for as long as possible to generate buzz.

On the other hand, Anson is trying to shake off the pretty-boy image and prove his versatility.

But in Hollywood, such a strategy often backfires. Rushing things only leads to losing both the big and small gains, leaving you with nothing.

"…He should stay grounded."

"His agent should have advised him, ‘Hey, young man, enjoy the applause and cheers while you can. There’s no need to rush to prove you’re an actor. After all, this is Hollywood, where there are countless stars but not many real actors.’"

"I’m not dismissing his attempts, but based on what we’ve seen so far, an album? No! An independent film? A big, bold NO! These projects could ruin his career just as it’s beginning."

"God help us, we really don’t need another pretty face who thinks they’re an actor but ends up with nothing. Haven’t we seen enough tragedies like that?"

The criticism was overwhelming.

Compared to the paparazzi’s embarrassment, Hollywood was more concerned about the “foolish choices” of the new Spider-Man—

Having just won his shining moment in Hollywood, he’s now in a rush to prove himself, too eager, and this could ruin everything.

"Wake up, Anson, wake up! You’re not the real Peter Parker with superpowers."

### Chapter 549: Backstabbing

“Alright, this one’s tough: Anson Wood or Brad Pitt?”

“Oh, my God, this question is impossible. Ugh, it’s killing me!”

“Hurry, you’ve got to pick one.”

“I mean, Brad is so sexy, but Anson has the most beautiful eyes in the world. I’d sleep with Brad and then date Anson.”

“You’re so greedy!”

Giggling and playful banter.

The girls waiting in line to order couldn’t help but excitedly chat away, completely unaware that one of the subjects of their conversation was standing right behind them.

To be honest, Anson didn’t expect this situation.

Him? Being compared to Brad Pitt in the same question? Is this the kind of buzz that “Spider-Man” has in North America right now?

More importantly, he was now absolutely certain that he had returned to Los Angeles—

Conversations like this just wouldn’t happen in Portland.

In just ten days, while Portland remained the same, Los Angeles had transformed into a whole new city, with even daily life showing subtle changes.

At that moment, Anson was glad he was wearing a Kansas City Chiefs baseball cap.

Blonde hair, still the same blonde hair. Anson hadn’t rushed to dye it back, but what worked in Portland might not work in Los Angeles, so Anson wore a cap just to be safe. And now, in the coffee shop, his choice was validated.

“So, what about you? Same question: Brad or Anson?”

“I’d pick Brad.”

“Oh, you didn’t even hesitate! I thought Anson was your type. You’ve changed!”

“In terms of looks, yes; but personality-wise, I think he might just be another typical Hollywood guy, you know, ‘ambition bigger than his talent,’ or ‘thinks he’s the center of the universe.’ That kind of personality, I can’t handle.”

“Why? Because of the indie film?”

“Sort of. I feel like he’s gotten carried away with the success of ‘Spider-Man.’ Everyone’s praising him, and now he really thinks he can do anything.”

“But it’s just an indie film…”

“Who knows? Maybe he thinks he can win an Oscar too.”

A voice interjected, “No, he doesn’t think that.”

“Ha, guys like that are a dime a dozen in Hollywood. Not just an Oscar, he probably thinks he can conquer all the major European film festivals too.”

The voice responded again, “Ha, maybe he should start with Sundance first?”

“See, ambition!” the girl remarked sarcastically. It was only then that she realized the last two lines weren’t part of her conversation with her friend but came from a man—a stranger.

Something felt off.

The girl abruptly stopped talking, turned around, and looked behind her. “Hey, mister, eavesdropping on people’s conversations is very rude.”

“Sorry,” the man didn’t argue, instead offering a straightforward apology. “The discussion was right in front of me, and I thought I should defend myself.”

The girl turned to find a tall, imposing figure behind her. As she slowly looked up, she finally saw the face hidden under the baseball cap—

Stunned.

Mouth agape in an “O” shape, she stood there, wide-eyed and frozen.

Question: What do you do when you’re caught bad-mouthing someone behind their back? And what if that person happens to be the very one you’ve been fantasizing about? Asking for a friend. Urgently.

Anson stifled a laugh but didn’t say anything more. “It’s your turn to order.”

The two girls were completely paralyzed, clinging to each other for support, and quickly stepped aside, awkwardly and incoherently offering Anson to go ahead.

Anson didn’t stand on ceremony. He knew if he stayed any longer, the two girls might stop breathing altogether. So, with a nod of thanks, he ordered six coffees, pulled out a fifty-dollar bill, and handed it to the cashier with a smile.

“Pay for theirs as well. Keep the change as a tip.”

The cashier shivered with excitement, a smile spreading across her face as she leaned forward, “I think working with Gus Van Sant is a great idea. I’m really looking forward to your next film.”

“Ha. Thanks.” Anson smiled, nodded at the now-stunned crowd in the coffee shop, and walked out with his tray of coffees.

Just before leaving, Anson called out.

“Cut!”

In Los Angeles, those words were like Cinderella’s midnight chime, breaking the spell and bringing the coffee shop back to life—

“Was that Anson?”

“Wait, was that really him?”

“Aaaaah!”

The small space was suddenly abuzz with excitement.

Anson didn’t stop, continuing straight ahead toward Sound City Studios.

Now, Anson finally understood why Edgar had called him early that morning, telling him to ignore the media.

“There’s no need to pay attention to them. It’s called manufacturing news.”

“No news? Just create some buzz. That’s their job.”

“Those headlines don’t mean anything; they’re just clickbait.”

When Anson asked what the news was about, Edgar had dodged the question, saying it wasn’t important. That only piqued Anson’s curiosity—

It was about “Elephant.”

Apparently, Edgar was worried that Anson might be anxious about the success of his next project and that the media’s hype wouldn’t help.

But Anson wasn’t worried about “Elephant’s” success. Even if he were, as a journalism student, Anson knew that in the age of the internet, media is all about the clicks. He wasn’t about to be bothered by headlines designed purely to attract attention.

Besides, he didn’t expect “Elephant” to earn him any acting nominations. To him, being part of the project and making a statement was more important than the film’s success.

And once the film was released, the audience would judge for themselves. Time would reveal the movie’s true value.

No need to rush.

When the media accused Anson of being too eager for success, who was really the one being impatient?

It’s like the half-glass-of-water theory—different people with different perspectives see the same situation in entirely different ways.

In other words, those who are overly ambitious see ambition, while actors might just see a film, a role, or a collaboration.

Hollywood was still the Hollywood Anson knew.

So Anson didn’t plan to respond—

Of course, there wasn’t really anything worth responding to in the first place.

Right now, Anson had more important things to deal with. After wrapping up “Elephant,” he rushed back to Los Angeles to get back into the recording studio.

Creak.

As he pushed open the studio door, he was immediately met with the sound of passionate debate.

“No, no, no. The cello doesn’t work here. The arrangement needs to be as simple as possible. The cello’s presence ruins the balance.”

“I think the arrangement is too simple. The guitar and bass chords are so basic, they sound monotonous. We can’t repeat the same four chords for the whole song…”

“Why not? How many Beatles classics are just simple, basic chords? Are you saying their music isn’t legendary?”

“I don’t even like the Beatles!”

“What?! How dare you!”

*Chapter 550: Back on Track*

Anson is back—

“So soon?”

Lily’s first reaction didn’t exactly seem welcoming.

Of course, that wasn’t really the case.

Just the day before, Connor and the others were worried that since Anson left for the film shoot without leaving a clear schedule, he might be gone for two or three months, or even longer. After all, none of them had ever made a movie before and were clueless about the production timeline.

So, did that mean their brief break might be indefinitely extended?

Waiting is like this: if you have a set deadline, it’s hard, but at least you can endure it because you see the finish line. But if there’s no deadline, the wait can become terrifying.

Like waiting for Godot.

However, the very next day, Anson returned, catching Lily and the others completely off guard—they didn’t know how to react.

Five days? Ten days?

“…Can we rest a little longer?” Connor asked, feeling that their vacation ended before they could really relax.

This was both funny and exasperating.

Plus, they had assumed that after finishing the movie, Anson would need some time to rest and adjust, delaying the recording sessions further.

But that wasn’t the case.

As soon as he got back, Anson shared an amazing new idea. From the set to the studio, from Portland to Los Angeles, everything seamlessly flowed together.

“Summer.”

“The entire concept of the album is about one summer.”

“Youth, growth, dreams, being eighteen, that summer where everything burns and runs wild.”

Not just Anson, but Lily, Connor, and Miles were instantly captivated by the new album theme, their memories flashing back to the summers of the past few years.

That’s who they were—

They always ran fiercely and defiantly, alone and crazily, even when everyone said “this road leads nowhere,” even when dreams kept crashing into reality, even when they started doubting themselves in the dead of night, their summer kept burning.

Maybe they were bruised and battered, maybe exhausted, maybe more bitter than happy, but they still didn’t regret it. They still missed those summers:

Like fools.

Their youth and growth were all unleashed in those summers without holding anything back.

This is not only the soul of the album but also the soul of the band.

In an instant, the entire concept and idea became vivid and three-dimensional.

And that still wasn’t everything.

“The album… starts with ‘Wake Me Up,’ that’s early summer; peaks with ‘Viva La Vida,’ that’s midsummer; and ends with ‘Wake Me Up When September Ends,’ that’s late summer.”

Even the album tracklist was now clear, and the whole concept emerged fully formed.

Lily and Connor were lost in the impact of it all, while Miles noticed the details and asked Anson if the last song was a new inspiration.

Anson shared the fragments of inspiration he had captured in Portland.

Miles suggested a supplementary idea: if the concept of summer is too straightforward and gets repeated over and over, it might not only seem obvious and simple but also shallow and boring, detracting from the depth of the idea.

“Maybe if we integrate the concept of summer into the arrangement, letting the audience feel the curve of youth and growth from early summer, to midsummer, to late summer, it would be great.”

Anson agreed with this.

So, “Wake Me Up When September Ends” replaced “Wake Me Up When Summer Ends,” with the album concept seamlessly woven throughout.

One idea sparked a chain of ideas.

Lily excitedly rubbed her hands together, eager to dive in, “Summer, summer, summer—how about we name our band ‘Summer’? Summer never ends.”

Connor enthusiastically raised both hands in agreement and added his own twist, “What about ‘Thirty Seconds to Summer’? Our band name could be ‘Thirty Seconds to Summer.’”

As he spoke, Connor stood up, mumbling under his breath.

“How do the Backstreet Boys introduce themselves again?”

“Hello, everyone, we are Thirty Seconds to Summer!”

Connor raised his right hand, stretched it out, turned his palm up with a little flourish, and even winked at the front.

Anson nearly burst out laughing and barely managed to control himself, “That’s not Backstreet Boys, it’s the Spice Girls!”

Miles couldn’t hold back either and laughed out loud.

Lily fell off her chair, laughing, “Connor, where are you looking? Are you okay? Did your eyes cramp? Oh, thank God you’re not wearing lipstick.”

Despite all the laughter, Anson indeed sparked some fresh ideas.

“How about ‘August 31st’ as the name?”

After the laughter subsided, everyone’s eyes turned back to Anson.

Lily asked, “Does that day have any special meaning?”

Anson spread his hands, “No special meaning. It’s just the last day of August. That’s all.”

“August 31st,” the last day of August, marking the end of summer vacation and the beginning of a new school year, is also the tail end of summer. They grasped at the final glimmer of youth, seizing one last chance to run wildly for their dreams.

No special meaning, because Anson didn’t want to give it any. Just as summer, dreams, and youth hold different shapes in everyone’s life, the band name leaves space for interpretation; but for every listener, it will naturally hold special significance.

Miles: “I vote yes.”

Connor: “No objections here.”

Lily: “Surprisingly, I like it.”

So, the decision was unanimous—

The band had a name.

The album had a concept.

The tracklist was set.

And the overarching arrangement and creative core were in place.

So, they returned to the studio—

The entire creation and recording process began flowing smoothly again, with endless bursts of inspiration.

However…

Sometimes, too much inspiration isn’t a good thing because it means different ideas clashing, different perspectives trying to find a point of convergence. Sometimes, it’s exciting, and sometimes, it’s not.

Today, just as he pushed open the studio door, the tense atmosphere hit Anson right in the face.

Dustin Thorn, the music producer who had personally persuaded Anson to sign with Warner Records, was also the producer of August 31st’s album.

As promised, Dustin hoped to maintain the band’s original style as much as possible, which was the whole reason they signed the band. But in practice, there were still many disagreements between Dustin and the band members on a professional level—

No personal feelings involved, just a pure discussion of professional opinions.

Especially Miles.

Which was unexpected.

Usually, the easygoing and polite Miles, with his classical music background and professional knowledge that rivaled Dustin’s, brought a distinct style that clashed with Dustin’s, often leading to sparks flying between them.

Sure enough, the day’s recording session began with the two of them at odds.

Anson paused.

Holding his coffee, he stood at the door, looking all innocent. He’d been worried that he’d overslept and was late to the recording session, but now it seemed being late wasn’t such a big deal. Avoiding getting caught in the crossfire was the top priority.

On the sofa by the door, a chubby young man, around twenty-something, sat upright, stiffening his back because of the argument in front of him, looking utterly lost and a bit pitiful:

He seemed to want to escape but missed the chance to do so.

His eyes were full of innocence.

Just then, Anson and the chubby guy noticed each other, and they exchanged a look.

Anson was taken aback, “They’re not fighting.”