"Chen Hugo! What the hell are you doing? Standing on stage zoning out what's wrong with you? Don't you know how long our band has waited for this opportunity? A single small mistake could ruin everything, and yet you're still standing there in a daze! Damn it!" Su Zinan's expression was extremely sour, his handsome eyes practically bulging out. Standing at 1.85 meters tall, his height was oppressive, leaving Hugo with no strength to resist, only able to stand there blankly.
It wasn't that Hugo couldn't move it was that he didn't want to move. What the hell was going on? Wasn't he in Los Angeles in 1992? Why was he suddenly back at the 2014 Midi Rock Music Festival? But the furious look on Su Zinan's face was so vivid that Hugo couldn't even tell whether this was a dream or reality.
"This is such an important opportunity for us. Have you forgotten? Chen Hugo, pull yourself together and get up on that stage. Perform with pride, just like we've done every time over the past ten years!" Su Zinan gripped Hugo's shoulders tightly, shaking him hard, speaking with a pleading tone.
But Hugo's head was a complete mess. His eyes instinctively searched the surroundings where were the other members of Death Or Glory? Where was Li Yibo? Gu Xiaoguai? Lixia? Why could he only see Su Zinan? Why were there only large swaths of blurry light all around him? Shadows moved about, but he could never see their faces clearly. Hugo wanted to open his mouth to ask something, but found his voice stuck. Vaguely, amid those lights and shadows, he saw Zhang Xiaoye's silhouette. But—"Xiaoye, weren't you dead?"
"This is our shot. We can't throw away another ten years. We can't afford to lose. This might be the last chance. Grab it, Hugo, grab it!" Su Zinan's firm and forceful voice kept echoing in Hugo's ears, but Hugo's gaze remained fixed on Zhang Xiaoye's figure he couldn't look away. Even if he wanted to turn his head to look at Su Zinan, he couldn't. Suddenly, Zhang Xiaoye smiled brightly, and that smile burst into a dazzling light, flooding and swallowing everything around. Hugo was instantly overwhelmed by panic.
As the blinding light flared and faded again, Hugo realized he was back home back in the home he hadn't returned to in ten years.
His mother was quietly sitting on the living room couch, weeping bitterly, then angrily blaming his father, "It's all your fault. Our son called home so many times, and you still refused to answer. Why are you so stubborn? He's our son, he came from my own flesh and blood."
His father sat silently in the study chair, not saying a word, just quietly staring at the tightly packed books on the bookshelf. He didn't speak, simply withstood the scolding from his wife.
"What, did Hugo commit murder or arson? He's such a good kid. From childhood to now, he's never refused our requests. But now he's finally found something he wants to do why can't you just let him? So many people today don't even have dreams. They just drift through life. Hugo not only has a dream, but he's also willing to chase it, to realize it, to fight for it. If even we don't support him, then who will?"
His mother's eyes were already swollen from crying, her face haggard. The food on the coffee table remained untouched. Hugo's heart ached at the sight. He wanted to say something to comfort her, but found that he couldn't make a sound; he wanted to step forward and give his mother a hug, but realized he couldn't move. Hugo could only weep silently in his heart, "Mom, it's my fault. I've been too willful, too selfish." If chasing a dream meant making his mother suffer, Hugo wasn't sure anymore if his choice was the right one.
His father still refused to speak, but his tall, strong back now seemed so lonely. The shoulders that once held up the entire household now showed clear traces of age. Perhaps, deep down, he too regretted his stubbornness regretted not speaking his true thoughts sooner. Whether he agreed or not, at least they should have had a chance to communicate.
Standing in place, Hugo suddenly began to hate himself. The people who truly loved him were right before him, yet he had hurt them so cruelly and relentlessly. Ten years he hadn't returned home in ten whole years. He once thought that was the price of pursuing a dream, but now he realized it was a selfish choice. There were many ways to communicate with his parents, but he had chosen to ignore them all.
"Dad, Mom, I was wrong." Hugo tried his hardest to move forward, wanting to apologize, wanting to hug his frail mother, wanting to embrace his lonely father. He truly realized his mistake. Pursuing dreams wasn't wrong but the method he chose was. And that method had led to irreversible consequences. Now, Hugo was filled with endless regret.
But suddenly, Su Zinan's voice once again roared from above, "Grab it! Grab it!"
The echoing voice rang in all directions, like a demonic chant drilling into his ears. Even covering them did nothing. Hugo jolted upright, sitting straight up in bed, gasping for breath. Cold sweat clung to his back like syrup, sliding down his forehead in thick streams, making his heart race wildly. Through his hazy vision, he could only see the dim outlines of the room no Su Zinan, no Zhang Xiaoye, no mother, no father. Only a faint blue glow flowed gently through the darkness.
Hugo threw off the covers and stepped barefoot onto the floor, yanking open the curtains in one motion. The chilly moonlight instantly poured in and filled the room. Outside the window, the familiar Sunset Boulevard came into view. This was Los Angeles in 1992.
Reality had returned to his body, and his mind slowly cleared. He and Joseph had just finished auditioning for A Few Good Men today. After returning, Hugo hadn't even had time to buy secondhand furniture. He could only borrow Alex's bedding, made the bed simply, washed up, and turned off the lights to sleep.
The amber streetlamps glowed like fireflies in the thick night, dotted along both sides of Sunset Boulevard, like a glowing river flowing forward, eventually merging into a sea of twinkling lights. Those shimmering orbs floated on the surface of that vast ocean, dazzling and blinding, yet making the surrounding darkness even more lonely. Beyond the lights, only the moonlight cast its dim glow. One could vaguely make out waves crashing against the beach. Occasionally, a car zoomed by, and the cheers and screams of people drifted freely on the sea breeze.
The night noisy, yet desolate.
Hugo let out a long sigh. He knew he had just been dreaming.
What had happened to the Death Or Glory band? Hugo calmed himself and pondered seriously. Had he really swapped souls with Hugo Lancaster, or had he simply replaced him? Did that mean Chen Hugo also died in 2014? If that were the case, what would happen to the band's performance? What about the ten years they waited, struggled, and fought so hard for? Putting aside the fact that all six of them had left home without looking back to chase their dreams, just considering the fact that they gave everything to pursue them was it all going to end up as nothing? Not to mention the parents who had waited so long for them to return.
Parents. Hugo thought of his own father and mother. He hadn't been home in ten years. Though they had stayed in contact, the image of his parents in Hugo's memory remained youthful. But now, they must have grown old. Perhaps gray strands had begun to show at their temples. If they knew he had died, how would they react?
A surge of guilt suddenly overwhelmed him, instantly swallowing Hugo whole. Tears came without warning. Standing in place, Hugo braced both hands on the window sill and clearly saw the teardrops falling one by one. Then his vision completely blurred, leaving only halos of light behind.
Ever since the transmigration, Hugo had been telling himself this was a chance a chance to realize his dreams. So he pulled himself together, auditioned for A River Runs Through It, and after failing, picked himself back up to shoot Scent of a Woman. Then today came the audition for A Few Good Men. Everything had happened so fast, so wonderfully. The things he once dreamed of had come true. Even though the journey was filled with hardship, even though he still had to work tirelessly, Hugo had always found joy in it.
But tonight, in the quiet of midnight, Hugo suddenly realized he wanted to go home. Not to his home in Los Angeles, but to his real home. He missed his bandmates from Death Or Glory. He missed his parents. Even if transmigration gave him a second chance at life, even if the happiness under the spotlight was within reach, the parents and friends from his former life were irreplaceable not even for a chance to stand at the peak of success.
For the first time, Hugo hated this inexplicable transmigration. He had to face a body ravaged by drugs, the series of negative fallout from the Razzies and Tracy, and the painful struggle of climbing his way back up as an actor without even a single friend by his side, let alone family.
If there were no friends, no family, Hugo didn't believe he could keep chasing his dreams all on his own.
Suddenly, Hugo started to feel afraid. Afraid that his bandmates and parents would suffer because of him. Afraid that he would be swallowed up by time in this 1992 Los Angeles and turn to ashes, leaving behind no proof that he ever existed in this world.
In this moment, Hugo felt utterly helpless an unprecedented sense of helplessness. He lifted his tear-filled eyes, but all around him were only endless halos of light, and nothing else to be found. In the empty room, there wasn't even a single item that could give Hugo a sense of warmth. The surrounding darkness was quietly melted by the bluish moonlight, cloaking everything in the room in a cold and luminous halo. Yet it only made Hugo feel bone-deep chill. One shiver after another.
....
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