Chapitre 10: Folk poet
Renly's words, "This afternoon, I had a somewhat unsuccessful audition experience…" evoked a wave of curious sacrifice among the bar's audience. There were even voices shouting, "Renly, you're the best!"
Tom swiftly cast a glance at Steven and noticed his friend's expression darken once again, clearly displeased with Renly's audacious provocation. However, Tom found himself increasingly intrigued; an exceptional actor always needed some edges and sharpness. He felt that things were getting more interesting.
"But this audition gave me some inspiration, and I'm willing to share it with all of you here," Renly's gaze lightly brushed over Table Fourteen, then swept across the entire room, scrutinizing the indistinct faces hidden within the darkness. He continued with a jest, "I know I'm quite popular, and everyone is reminiscing about my previous fantastic performances…" His words ignited laughter throughout the crowd, "But today, please allow me to perform this special piece, freshly brewed."
Applause erupted, with all the spectators clapping and some even shouting words of encouragement for Renly. Stanley, standing by the bar, turned to Neil, his eyes questioning, "Do you know about this surprise?"
Neil merely shrugged his shoulders with palms up, indicating he had no idea. Stanley waved his hand as if shooing away a fly, disregarding Neil and once again focusing his gaze on the stage. Bathed in the light, Renly wore a cheerful smile, and the notes of the guitar strings danced within the sparkling golden cascade of light, as if a sprite had spread its wings.
Steven couldn't help but become momentarily lost in thought. He had expected Renly to discuss the content of the audition, to use the audience's support to apply pressure, or to exhibit his talent once again on such a platform. Yet, he never anticipated that the melody would be merrily woven by Renly's fingertips, with increasingly light-hearted musical notes carrying happiness and joy. Every listener instinctively tapped along to the beat.
This marked Steven's second misunderstanding of Renly.
The melody, like gushing springs, lingered throughout the bar. Renly lowered his gaze, intently focused on the guitar strings. A faint smile graced his lips, as if the entire world had reduced to just him. The rich voice intertwined with the musical notes on the staff, a warm intoxication, "I was Cleopatra, I was young and an actress. When you knelt by my mattress, and asked for my hand…"
The first line of the lyrics left Steven stunned in place. Cleopatra, also known as the Queen of Egypt. During the afternoon audition, Renly had performed a scene involving Mark Antony, Cleopatra's lifelong lover. Thus, this must be the "insight" Renly mentioned—he was singing a song about Cleopatra.
"But I was sad you asked it, as I laid in a black dress, with my father in a casket, I had no plans." Amid the cheerful melody, the lyrics felt like a melancholic narrative poem, elegant and poignant, imbued with a faint sadness and regret between the lines. This was Cleopatra's story, yet not the familiar Cleopatra portrayed by the world—the one Shakespeare described as a strumpet catastrophe.
"Ah…" a soft sigh escaped, and Renly's smile seemed to carry a touch of melancholy.
[
And I left the footprints, the mud stained on the carpet
And it hardened like my heart did when you left town
But I must admit it, that I would marry you in an instant
Damn your wife, I'd be your mistress just to have you around
]
Initially, Cleopatra had accepted Caesar's love, even when he had a wife. In the eyes of the world, she was a woman who stopped at nothing for power and gain, yet no one saw her true emotions. The love, akin to a moth to a flame, led her into irrevocable depths, forever burdened by infamy.
She was a woman, devoid of status and freedom in the society of her time, reliant solely on men. However, people often forgot this fact when judging her. Blaming a woman for a nation's downfall and historical mistakes was always easier.
"But I was late for this, late for that, late for the love of my life. And when I die alone, when I die alone, when I die I'll be on time." The guitar strings in Renly's hand suddenly stopped, and he hummed with a clear voice. A simple phrase, "late for", encapsulated countless heartaches and desolation. "When I die I'll be on time."
She missed everything—missed her life. The only thing she didn't miss was her death.
The joyful melody, bordering on delight, resumed, lingering in the ears. The persistent sadness, however, spread to the tip of the tongue, bitter and hard to swallow. The emotions, fleeting as a gentle breeze, swayed in the soft singing. Suddenly, they surged and seized the mind, causing an ache so sharp it stole one's breath away.
"While the church discouraged, any lust that burned within me. Yes my flesh, it was my currency, but I held true." The poetic words touched Renly's lips, heartbreakingly beautiful. The true sorrow wasn't a lack of freedom, but rather refusing to embrace it, imprisoning the soul within the flesh, like a lifeless husk. "So I drive a taxi, and the traffic distracts me
from the strangers in my backseat, they remind me of you"
Renly suddenly accelerated his strumming with his right hand. The melody grew increasingly joyful, like the swirling skirt beneath a flamenco dance, vivid and vibrant red unfurling into petals of splendor. It was both heart-pounding and breath-stopping, yet concealed within the jubilation was an indescribable poignancy. It was as if visible dust carried this silence onto everyone's shoulders, its heavy weight turning smiles into melancholic reflections.
[
But I was late for this, late for that, late for the love of my life
And when I die alone, when I die alone, when I die I'll be on time
]
The crystalline notes shimmered like morning dew reflecting the brilliant sunrise. The lyrical words collided between his lips, conjuring a surging turmoil of emotions that ached in the chest. With no embellishments, Renly relied solely on his voice to sing, yet it was grand and majestic, overshadowing even radiance itself.
Suddenly, tears streamed down Tom's face, an unexpected deluge. Everything had happened too suddenly, catching him unawares. Images of Mark Antony and Cleopatra floated inexplicably into his mind. In Shakespeare's other tragedy, "Antony and Cleopatra", Tom had always thought Antony's infatuation with Cleopatra's beauty had caused him to neglect his duties, leading to the downfall of Rome. Yet, this was fate. Two once beloved individuals, due to the wrong time and place, were ensnared by destiny's mistake, sacrificing a lifetime's happiness.
How tragic and poignant a phrase: 'sacrificing a lifetime's happiness'. Unbidden sighs and sadness took firm hold of their hearts.
"And the only gifts from my Lord were a birth and a divorce, but I've read this script and the costume fits, so I'll play my part." The guitar strings resumed their gentle melody, guiding thoughts to a different plane.
As it turned out, all of this was merely God's arrangement—a theatrical play, a mockery by fate. Absurdity, ridicule, sorrow, mockery—how pitiful, how helpless, how desolate. She was like a puppet, donning costumes, performing her role according to the script. But what about her own self?
"I was Cleopatra, I was taller than the rafters. But that's all in the past now, gone with the wind. Now a nurse in white shoes leads me back to my guestroom..." The melody gradually ascended. After Renly's singing soared to its peak, a tinge of desolation emerged. It was as if a few strokes of lingering twilight were left behind at the horizon. "It's a bed and a bathroom
and a place for the end." The mockery of fate had ultimately reached its destination. This time, she wouldn't miss it anymore.
Love—a word so simple yet so complex; freedom—so extravagant, yet so ordinary. The woman named Cleopatra had once pursued her inner desires recklessly, only to leave behind a lifetime of infamy. What was even more tragic was that she had ultimately missed out. She believed Caesar was her lifelong love, but he betrayed her. She thought Antony was her true home, yet he hurt her once again. On the path of destiny, she stumbled and fell, bruised and battered, only to be toyed with by fate, solitary in the end.
[
I won't be late for this, late for that, late for the love of my life
And when I die alone, when I die alone, when I die I'll be on time
]
The melody gradually dissipated in the air. Renly's lingering note carried a hint of magnetism, trailing like a long tail in the air. It was akin to fireflies falling through the darkness of night, leaving a distinct trail of light before growing fainter, until it vanished completely. The whole night once again retreated into boundless darkness.
"When I die alone, I'll be on time"
Tom wiped away the warmth from his eyes in disarray, but his tumultuous emotions couldn't be easily calmed. Memories of Renly's audition this afternoon resurfaced in his mind, the moment's burst of grandeur fermenting and settling in the melody just now. The complicated emotions in his chest lacked an accurate word to describe them, yet the resonance was undeniable, agitating within.
Soon, Tom realized he wasn't the only one. At this moment, many audience members seated in the bar gazed tearfully at the stage. They paid no heed to their disheveled appearances, fixated silently on Renly. Even the falling lights appeared unusually gentle.
These were true listeners, souls truly attuned to the music, who understood the story within Renly's singing, immersed and unable to extricate themselves from the music's grasp. No applause, no screams, no raucous cheers—there wasn't even a sound. Everyone quietly savored it, savoring the faint melancholy, the sorrow beneath the joyful melody, savoring the sagacity of a troubadour. Truly exceptional music possessed this kind of power.
L’AVIS DES CRÉATEURS 
Shallowman
Shallowman The Lumineers - Cleopatra
Please heed the following advice as it is very important for the world building and your overall enjoyment. The author has an interesting tendency to make protags in his stories to create songs as if on their own. Ex. Renly created a song "Globgobgabgalab", we all now that this song should already exist in the timeline of his first life, but here he takes it (plagiarizes it) and makes it public, right? No, he really creates the songs on his own, showcasing his talent not only for executing music pieces, but also creating them. So in the timeline of his first life there is no such song as "Globgobgabgalab", it is there in our Universe, not his. So, treat it as if he is the original author of songs. The songs belong to him, not the authors from our Universe.
We - Universe "A" (All the songs belong to familiar dudes and dudies)
Chu Jiashu - Universe "B" (All the songs belong to familiar dudes and dudies, except some are absent - don't exist there at all)
Renly Hall - Universe "C" (All the songs belong to familiar dudes and dudies, except few that were absent in Universe "B" and present in Universe "A" but now belong to Renly Hall as he sincerely created them from scratch)
So, the takeaway here is that Renly Hall is not a petty plagiarist, but a genuine artist who didn't know that the songs he created were moderately successful in Universe "A". He just created them without relying on his clairvoyance. The process of creating those songs is unique to each one of them and sets the mood for mini arcs. They are an important part for character development and serve to move the plotlines forward. So don't get confused when Renly starts singing Bon Iver's song right in front of him, while also getting compliments from Bon Iver for creating such a masterpiece.
P.S. Check out the music and video clips, they are amazing]]
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I hope you had cathartic moment reading this chupster, which is just one of many that will me you cry like a baby with snout on your face. The author is really good at pulling off climactic moments.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone