The smile remained on his lips.
Anson maintained a relaxed tone. "Of course, we could sit down and have an in-depth discussion about whether it's appropriate for all the spotlight to be on one member; but there's an undeniable fact here."
"Indeed, without me, that performance might not have happened; but at the same time, without you all, I wouldn't have stopped in my tracks from the beginning."
"Did I ever tell you? The reason I stepped forward was because of the cello. It wasn't just any band or street performance; it was you."
As Anson said, they could sit down and discuss the relationship between individuals and the band. History has seen countless bands fall apart for the same reason—desire becomes an elusive and unpredictable force in the pursuit of fame, yet it often triggers countless events.
But there's no need for that—
After all, nothing has even begun yet. They don't even know if they can be considered a band. What's in front of them is merely an opportunity.
The key is whether they're ready to seize this opportunity.
Anson could tell that Lily and Miles were very eager, but Connor wasn't.
Connor seemed a bit quiet.
Anson gave a smile. "So, the decision is yours."
Lily was ready to speak up but noticed Miles's gaze. Following Miles's eyes to Anson, she saw that Anson's attention was on Connor.
Lily paused. "Connor?"
Connor was lost in his thoughts. Without warning, he lowered his head, his right foot anxiously shaking. "I, uh... I'm not sure."
"Connor!" Lily called out.
Connor gently shook his head. "I know, I understand. I want to go, I want to say yes, and that's why I'm here."
"But."
A moment of silence.
"I'm scared."
"I'm scared of reigniting hope only to be disappointed again. That... that hurts too much."
"Sometimes, I even wonder if it would be better to not have hope in the first place."
"I, uh, I want to be on stage. I want to keep performing. I love those moments when I can connect with the audience through music. It's not about the spotlight on me; it's about feeling a connection, knowing I'm not alone in the universe."
"I've already given up. I've convinced myself to return to peace, to stop dreaming. But now..."
Connor wiped his face hard and looked up, his eyes slightly red, a mixture of fear and longing, of hesitation and excitement—feelings that words could hardly express.
Connor looked at Anson and quietly asked, "What if we're disappointed again?"
Anson understood all too well. In his previous life, he had experienced disappointment time and time again until even hope became loathsome.
But no one can predict the future—not even Anson.
In the parallel world he was familiar with, he had never heard of Miles Anderson, Lily Watkins, or Connor Jenks.
So, "The Tonight Show" might be an opportunity, a turning point that could propel them to new heights; but it might also be a false hope, a brief moment in the spotlight, earning a few cheers and applause, only to be forgotten and abandoned once more, returning to the calm.
Life is cruel. It doesn't show mercy just because of who you are.
Anson let out a long breath.
"Connor, I'm not your answer. Lily isn't either, and neither is Miles. Everyone's life has its own confusion. We always hope to find answers in others, but at the end of the day, the only one who can answer your questions is yourself."
Anson didn't want to give a long speech or offer some motivational talk.
Life is long, full of endless possibilities. If you dare to take risks, you might see a vast world.
Life is short, slipping away before you even realize it. You should learn to seize every moment.
As for Connor's doubts, Anson had no answer. Just like that boy in New York, the answer has always been in their own hands.
One sentence left Connor stunned.
In his slightly reddened eyes, there was still a glimmer of tears—fear, anticipation, hesitation, and excitement, all tugging at him.
His head drooped again until he slowly exhaled a breath. The chaotic thoughts in his mind were difficult to sort out; then, he noticed a notebook under the coffee table with a hastily written line on it.
"I don't want to be your hero, and I don't want to be someone important. I just want to be an ordinary person, trying to live this life well."
It hit him.
Those words fell on his heart, burning quickly, almost scorching his soul.
Connor suddenly looked up. "Anson, sorry, I was just looking around. But... this, is this a song?"
Connor pulled the notebook out from under the coffee table and placed it in front of Anson, his eyes filled with curiosity and anticipation.
Anson glanced at it. "These are just some notes."
The inspiration came from that boy in New York.
The boy's words had echoed in Anson's mind over and over until he finally wrote them down, interpreting them in his own way.
Indeed, many people yearn to be superheroes, to make great achievements, to leave a legacy in history; but at the same time, there are also those who long for an ordinary life.
In his previous life, Anson had experienced too many ups and downs; this time, he just wanted to enjoy life. Even becoming an actor doesn't mean grandeur—acting in some roles, enjoying each filming experience, and leaving no regrets would be enough.
People often dislike being ordinary, but in reality, being ordinary is not easy, and simplicity is more precious than we imagine.
There's a common misconception about actors and singers—that those who stand in the spotlight are usually narcissistic, obsessed with fame, and chasing attention. But in truth, artists are also ordinary people. Performing is just a job, and they experience the same joys and sorrows as anyone else.
Moreover, although rare, there are indeed some artists who simply love performing, whether it's acting or music. It's not about the applause or the spotlight; it's a way of self-expression, a means of seeking connection and resonance. Not everything revolves around fame and fortune.
Of course, fame and fortune are important, very important, but not everything is tied to them.
Perhaps, the boy from New York felt this way, and so does Connor.
Anson looked at Connor, and he could see a certain purity in his eyes—a pure love for what he does. "If you'd like, it could become lyrics."
Connor's eyes lit up. "So, we could write a song. And then perform it on 'The Tonight Show'?"
Lily immediately caught the key point. "Connor, does this mean you're in?"
Connor shrugged lightly.
Miles, however, was already focused on that single line of lyrics, his brows slightly furrowed as if he was contemplating how to compose the music.
The atmosphere instantly lightened, like the warmth of spring spreading through the room.
Even Anson couldn't help but get excited. This was a new experience for him too. "So, are we ready to start creating a brand-new song?"
"Wait, wait, if we're a band, what should we call ourselves?"
"No, no, no, no name. The story of a chance encounter on the street—we should share that on the show, so we don't need a name."
"But we're about to perform on 'The Tonight Show.' Shouldn't we have a name?"
As they chattered and debated, the light of hope slowly began to shine down on them.