“Sorry, it seems like there’s been a misunderstanding.” Renly put the keyboard aside, stood up, and apologized to the rightful owner of the street performance stall in front of him.
Ed Sheeran seed montarily stunned, staring blankly at Renly. After a good few seconds, he finally exclaid, “Renly Hall? Jesus Christ!” Ed covered his mouth, his eyes full of disbelief. He couldn’t help but take two steps back, muttering a few curses under his breath before realizing his rudeness. He quickly stepped forward, saying, “I really love your music—no, I an, it’s an honour to play with you. No, what I ant was, Cleopatra is so wonderful, it gave back my creative drive. No, no, I an, I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you earlier…”
Ed, already a ss, was rambling incoherently and gasping for breath. He looked at Renly with a helpless expression. “I must look like a lunatic, right?”
Renly couldn’t help but laugh. “A lunatic? No. Neurotic? Yes.” His answer made Ed groan in frustration and lower his head in self-reflection. “You like my music? If I didn’t hear wrong just now, does that an I should feel a bit proud?”
“Haha.” Ed laughed heartily. “Of course, definitely, absolutely! Not just Cleopatra, but also the song just now, Ophelia… Jesus Christ!” Ed covered his cheeks with both hands. “I’m such an idiot, an absolute idiot. Ophelia’s style and lyrics are completely in the sa vein as Cleopatra’s, and I didn’t even notice that. God, I look like a complete fool now! I should’ve recognized you earlier. I an, the lyrics of Cleopatra gave so much inspiration—I’m insanely in love with that song… Wait, did we just perform Cleopatra together?”
Ed’s thoughts were jumping around, and Renly nodded with a smile. “That’s exactly why I stopped to listen. What did you think?” His teasing tone went unnoticed by Ed, who started pacing around in circles like an anxious ant on a hot pan, occasionally glancing at Renly before smacking his forehead in frustration, looking utterly annoyed with himself.
“Are you planning to keep pacing around, or are you going to count how much we made?” Renly pointed to the guitar case in front of them, which was about a third full of money, and raised an eyebrow.
“Of course, of course.” Ed finally stopped, suddenly rembering sothing, and stretched out his right hand. “Ed Sheeran, sorry for not introducing myself earlier.”
“Nice to et you, Ed.” Renly gave him a friendly handshake. “I think you’re a very talented singer—no flattery intended.”
That was the absolute truth. In his previous life, Renly had genuinely loved Ed’s music, from his debut album when he was still unknown to his latest release just before Renly’s rebirth. Ed’s albums had always been well-crafted, mainly focusing on folk and pop. He wasn’t the kind of singer with outstanding vocal skills—in fact, quite a few of his live performances were rather ssy—but his lyrics were beautifully poetic and infused with touching emotions, effortlessly captivating listeners.
However, Ed thought Renly was just being polite. Even so, he couldn’t help but want to scream with excitent. Clenching his fists tightly to keep from losing control, he muttered, “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God!” He could hardly believe he was talking to Renly—who even complinted him. More unbelievably, they had just perford together. “Thank you. That ans a lot to .”
Although Renly only had one song, Cleopatra, and was far from being a long-established artist—or even an independent musician—he was more like a crossover figure who dabbled occasionally, since his main career was acting. But that didn’t diminish Ed’s admiration for him in the slightest.
It wasn’t just about the music; it was also the underlying life philosophy in the lyrics and Renly’s actual way of living. That kind of modern minstrel spirit was exactly what Ed aspired to. “You remind of Don Quixote—in a good way, I an.” Ed’s brain was a chaotic ss, and the countless thoughts usually running through his mind were now impossible to articulate clearly.
“Haha, Don Quixote.” Renly chewed on the na thoughtfully. “To be honest, I definitely take that as a complint.”
Not in terms of music, but in terms of acting. Everyone thought he couldn’t do it, and everyone stood against him, but he still charged ahead on this path without hesitation—like Don Quixote battling windmills alone.
“Hearing your accent, shouldn’t you be in London pursuing your music career? What brings you to Los Angeles?” Renly was quite sensitive to accents. In his previous life, he wouldn’t have noticed, but now he could clearly hear the Yorkshire undertone in Ed’s accent. Besides, he was genuinely curious—wasn’t Ed supposed to rise to fa in the UK? His song The A Team made an instant impact on the UK charts.
Ed shrugged. “London, you know, the class divide is too rigid. I stayed there for a year and didn’t get anywhere.” Ed could also hear Renly’s London accent. As he said, the British arts scene was extrely harsh. Although there were stories of grassroots artists becoming stars—especially after the rise of shows like The X Factor and Britain’s Got Talent—they were still exceedingly rare. “So, I figured I’d co to Los Angeles and try my luck,” Ed said cautiously, pointing at Renly. “Just like you.”
Renly and Ed ca to the United States for different reasons, but there was no need to explain too much. In a way, they both ended up on the sa path. “How’s your luck been?”
“Whew…” Ed let out a long breath. “I’ve been here since April, doing opening sets at various bars, but… I’m still looking for my opportunity.”
He didn’t say much, but Renly could sense the frustration in his words. It reminded him of the independent artists back at Pioneer Village. “If you have ti, you’re welco to co to New York.” Renly searched his pockets and realized that he hadn’t brought anything with him for the awards ceremony—just six dollars and a penny from buying a burger earlier. He didn’t even have a business card on him. “Pioneer Village, in Greenwich Village. I work there and perform every night…”
“Yes, I know the place,” Ed interjected, noticing Renly’s curious glance. He quickly explained, “I watched your videos on YouTube and did so research.” That was one of the main reasons Ed admired Renly so much—the way he stripped away the comrcial aspects and simply sang at Pioneer Village. That unrestrained, proud, and free spirit embedded in his veins resonated perfectly with the lyrics of Cleopatra, forming a complete image of Renly in Ed’s mind—the image of soone he idolized.
What Ed didn’t ntion was that he had always wanted to visit Pioneer Village—not just because of Renly, but because it was a stage that countless independent singer-songwriters dread of performing on. However, his limited funds made it impossible for him to travel across the country to New York.
“You’re welco anyti at Pioneer Village. Uh… I’ll probably be back around late September.” Renly originally planned to say he’d be back tomorrow but then rembered the upcoming Toronto and Telluride film festivals, so he corrected himself. “After that, if nothing unexpected cos up, I should be there.”
Ed tried to maintain his composure, but his big smile gave away his genuine excitent. “Alright, I an—alright, perfect, absolutely!” Before he could start rambling again, Ed quickly changed the topic. “We should count tonight’s earnings. I’m not sure if I ntioned it earlier, but performing with you tonight has been an honour.”
“The honour’s mine,” Renly replied sincerely.
Yet inwardly, he couldn’t help but think, Yep, this is Los Angeles—where you can throw a brick and hit two future stars. Or at least potential stars. As the entertainnt capital of the world, the city constantly overflowed with people chasing their dreams—dreams of stardom or the so-called Arican Dream. The atmosphere was restless, raw, and unfiltered.
By comparison, Renly still preferred New York.
“Renly?” A timid voice called out, and Renly looked up to see three young people who looked like high school students. He recognized their faces—they were part of the dancing crowd from earlier.
Before Renly could ask, two of the boys unfolded a banner that boldly read:
“Renly Hall, The Best Actor in My Heart!”
Renly froze, caught completely off guard. While plenty of people could recognize him by now, and so could even call out his na, this mont felt entirely different. Tonight, he had just won an Emmy Award, officially stepping into Hollywood’s gates. From The Pacific to Buried, it had been more than a year since he truly beca an actor… but tonight, at this very mont, was the first ti he had ever truly seen his own fans—fans who were there to support him.
That mixture of reality and surrealness hit him hard, right in the chest. He opened his mouth to speak, but words felt pale and hollow. His emotions were even more overwhelming than when Tina Fey had announced the award. All the sounds seed stuck in his throat.
“Renly, your performance in the series was absolutely outstanding! You’re a born actor! Not just because of your brilliant performance, but also because of the effort you put into studying acting. I really, really admire you! Please keep going, okay?”
Hope found that all the words she had prepared in her mind had vanished. She rembered flipping through Vanity Fair and seeing how Rami, Jas, and other cast mbers praised Renly—speaking about the hardships and challenges during filming. That was what truly solidified her resolve to beco his fan. She had even written down everything she wanted to say, but now she couldn’t rember any of it.
“Renly! You were born to be an actor!” Hope shouted, her voice trembling with excitent.
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