The Best Actor in the Vase of Meiyu

Chapter 1769 Acapella
Ba, ba ba; ba, ba ba.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.

Mmm... mmm... oh...

Layer upon layer, clearly laid out yet intertwined, the melodies of different timbres, vocalizations, and resonances collide and blend gently and mysteriously, like countless streams converging into a rushing river, as the sunset paints the sky with vibrant colors—

The water shimmered and sparkled, a magnificent and dazzling sight, and the whole world began to spin.

Language simply cannot describe the feeling before my eyes. The music is still music, but it is no longer simple music. It lacks the grandeur and magnificence of instruments, as well as their diversity and layers. It relies solely on the sounds produced by the human body, yet one can truly feel the warmth within the notes.

It's not just about emotions; each person's state and fluctuations during the live performance are infused into their voice, colliding and evolving into musical notes through resonance.

Then, drop by drop, they converge into streams, then into rivers, and eventually into a vast ocean.

Those surging, those turbulent emotions, silently shine in every delicate detail of the notes, entering the body through the pores, impacting the soul, and awakening resonance.

Music, in the end, should be a release of emotions and a resonance of thoughts, an expression originating from humanity. A cappella, as an art form, perfectly showcases the colors and warmth of the soul, expressing all the complex emotions deep within the soul through notes, resonance, and singing.

Everything about it is different.

Furthermore, it wasn't a one-person performance.

Voices collide, cooperating back and forth, carefully exploring and searching for each other within the melody, performing with their souls and entangled with their emotions, building bonds little by little, and finally evolving into one voice without distinction, interpreting the most moving chapter in the notes.

A little. A little more. The blood begins to heat up, begins to boil, and it seems one can feel the surging passion breaking free of its shackles, burning fiercely and spreading unchecked.

The scattered, dazzling lights converged into a nebula, a halo, slowly enveloping Anson.

He stood alone in the center of the stage, bathed in the spotlight, as if the light of the whole world was falling on his shoulders, almost crushing him.

Covered in wounds and utterly exhausted.

However, he still stood stubbornly, head held high, singing wildly with all the strength from the depths of his soul.

"Maybe I should have screamed for help, maybe I should have ended it all, baby, it's all my fault, ADD."

"Maybe I'm a freak, maybe I didn't listen carefully, baby, it's all my fault for being an ADD."

Stumbling and staggering, teetering on the brink of collapse, it seemed unable to hold on any longer and could fall apart at any moment, vanishing in the slightest breeze.

Anson wandered and drifted on the stage, like a lost soul, fragmented and wandering among the notes and rhythms, lost in the vast universe.

"Sailing!"

That was a cry for help.

"Sailing!"

That was resistance.

"Sailing!"

That was release.

One cry after another, over and over again, they roared and shouted desperately in the endless despair and darkness. Their disordered steps seemed to be on the verge of collapse at any moment, but they persisted in the chaos and turmoil, refusing to fall or break down, stubbornly and defiantly fighting against the whole world.

Twisted. Grotesque. Painful.

Yet it blossoms amidst the tearing.

Then, with a turn, Anson looked directly into the camera. His clear and deep eyes, like a heartbreakingly blue ocean, stared straight into the camera, even breaking free of the screen's constraints, looking directly at every pair of eyes and every soul in front of the screen. All the melodies vanished in an instant.

The world fell silent, utterly still, utterly silent, as if it were the end of the world.

Even amidst the bustling streets of Manhattan, the distant sounds of engines, noise, arguments, and subways still linger in the air; but those sounds seem to be fading away, forming a vacuum centered on the large screen—a true silence, a true pause. *Snap*.

The red light turned green again, but this time, no one moved, and no one even honked their horn in protest.

At the crossroads, the crowd stood motionless, looking up at the deep, bright eyes on the screen, their hearts breaking silently.

Despair, bitterness, and sorrow slowly tore at my heart, shattering it into countless pieces that scattered across the ground.

On the screen, the a cappella and the singing stopped, letting the silence spread.

Off-screen, the hustle and bustle also ceased, and people quietly felt the silence, as if they had finally found a moment of peace amidst the daily grind.

Even through the screen, they formed a bond with Anson, as if they could touch his wounds and feel his breath.

The brief silence made the roar from the depths of the soul so clear and loud, surging and swirling endlessly, completely shattering all defenses.

Until Anson broke the silence, a soft humming came from deep within his throat—

"Hmph hmph hmph, hmph hmph hmm..."

"La la la, la la la oh..."

He stumbled backward, step by step, and fell backward. His swaying body made Blair and Karen hold their breath.

The next second, his heart stopped beating.

Staggering, Anson turned around and ran away from the a cappella crowd, heading towards the front of the stage, transforming into a whirlwind and rampaging through it.

Whoosh, whoosh, there was no time to react, and the figure had already rushed to the edge of the stage.

Huh!
In stunned disbelief and fear, Anson pushed off with both feet, his entire body soaring into the air, as if falling into an abyss and being swallowed by darkness.

The entire audience was stunned. Blair couldn't believe his eyes, and even forgot to think. His mind was a complete blank as he watched Anson soar into the air.

The camera pans down, looking up, silently watching Anson's legs soar through the air, but ultimately unable to escape the pull of gravity. He pauses briefly, then plummets rapidly.

I could almost clearly hear the surging and roaring wind, which transformed from sailing to soaring, but in the end, it disappeared into endless darkness.

Despair exploded in my heart.

In the boundless darkness, only Anson's whispered words echoed in the air, "Sailing... sailing..."

Is this how it all ends?
This is the end, this is the conclusion, this is... fate?
As everything was about to vanish into nothingness, the camera began to speed up, a mass of darkness began to flow backward, and the air surged violently. Anson's figure became clearer and clearer until his feet landed heavily on the camera lens.

A surge of air currents was stirred up.

boom!
A muffled thud struck my eardrums, breaking the silence.

Finally, the sound returned, breaking through the buzzing ringing in my ears, and the a cappella began to hum again, softly, gently, and lowly.

It was like a sound from beyond the heavens.

"Perhaps I should shout for help... perhaps I should end it all..."

The camera suddenly spun around Anson, rotating 360 degrees and 720 degrees continuously, one circle after another, forming a hurricane.

Anson stood still, humming softly, "Sailing."

Light yet resilient, gentle yet powerful, like a lighthouse resolutely illuminating the world amidst a hurricane.

(End of this chapter)