Bit by bit, it was unleashed completely.
Step by step, climbing to the peak.
Finally reaching the summit, Anson and the band members exchanged a glance and, with a sudden move, pressed down on the guitar strings, halting at the climax, ending the performance with grandeur.
The sound, cut off instantly.
The crowd, gasping for air, faces flushed, stared blankly at the four figures at the center. Their eyes brimmed with soaring passion, unable to return to reality, minds floating in the clouds, with their boiling blood still surging, suspended in midair.
Anson and the others were no exception.
Panting heavily, drenched in sweat, their bodies burning hot.
Yet, their eyes were bright, shining brilliantly.
Each of them looked like T-1000 Terminators emerging from molten lava, bathed in flames but unscathed.
Still wanting more!
In the next moment, Anson took a step forward, slung the guitar behind him, raised both hands high, and looked at the dense crowd before him.
He clapped his hands again—
"Ho! Hey!"
No instruments, no melody, like an a cappella, but revealing the raw essence of music, letting all the passion and frenzy from within explode outward.
Back and forth, the echo reverberated.
Camila was the first to raise her hands high, as if ready to release all the air and energy from her chest. Her mind was a roaring void.
"Ho! Hey!"
A four-beat rhythm.
Only now did the crowd have a chance to temporarily break free from the atmosphere, their heads slowly returning to earth like hot air balloons, feeling the melody pulsating and trembling in their hearts.
It was a release, a relaxation, and freedom.
"Ho! Hey!"
Two sets of four beats.
Gradually, the emotions and aftertastes rolled on the tips of their tongues, different flavors, different feelings, all surging up at once.
Echoing in the air, leaving endless afterglow.
Finally, it erupted into cheers—
Ah, ah, ahh!
A full burst of energy.
Only now did Anson and the others have time to take in the scene before them.
Directly in front, layers upon layers of rippling crowds stretched out endlessly. People were packed so tightly that traffic in the outer streets was completely gridlocked, with rows of cars stuck in a jam.
And that wasn't all.
Around this small street corner, the surrounding apartment buildings were crowded with people on balconies and at windows. Some even brought out their own instruments—
Violins, trombones, saxophones, French horns.
The variety was beyond imagination.
In this narrow street corner, the music bounced off the walls, creating an echo effect that spiraled overhead, transforming into a unique concert hall experience, and ultimately serving as a catalyst for the passion ignited.
Most astonishing of all, the subway exit was completely blocked, rendering it useless. Commuters from the rush hour had to exit from other stations, but out of curiosity, many returned, becoming part of the growing crowd.
A cycle.
This tiny street corner now held an uncountable number of people. Eight hundred? A thousand? Even more? There was no way to count.
The cheers and shouts reverberated endlessly, with no sign of stopping. Then Camila heard someone shout—
"Encore."
Camila snapped back to reality.
Yes, encore.
A performance like this couldn't end here—they wanted more.
The chants broke through, and Camila joined in with the crowd.
One voice, then another.
Gradually, the cheers transformed into a deep, inner calling, sweeping through the crowd like a tidal wave, weaving everyone together into one.
This scene, so grand, so magnificent.
Lily and Connor, both stared in disbelief at what they were witnessing—
Was this a coincidence?
It happened in New York, and now in Paris too.
When they let go of their obsessions, desires, and greed, returning to the purity of music, finding their passion and love for it, their music resonated and received an overwhelming response.
Thinking back, it was the same at Alexanderplatz in Berlin.
Time and again, they faced the same challenge and came to the same conclusion.
They had been chasing the dream of performing on a major stage, leaving the streets behind, truly standing before thousands of people under the spotlight.
Even though they had played on "The Tonight Show" and garnered national attention, that wasn't a real music stage—it was just a small stage for a talk show, recorded in a tiny studio.
But a real music stage is something different.
Leaving aside the massive concert stages that could hold tens of thousands, even a formal performance stage that could hold a thousand or two thousand people had always eluded them.
Did they desire it?
Of course.
That's why the European street tour had become more and more disheartening. They had spent too long on the streets and sincerely longed for a real stage. No motivational speeches or success formulas mattered—their desire for the stage was stronger than ever.
But today, their perspective had shifted.
Maybe they had placed too much importance on the stage, forgetting what truly mattered. Maybe they were chasing a grand dream so much that they forgot to enjoy what they already had.
Perhaps what they longed for had always been right in front of them, but they had been too blinded by greed and ambition to see it.
Looking around, they couldn't help but feel a surge of emotion.
Turning their heads, Lily and Connor looked at Miles, who was watching Anson with joy and amazement. They followed his gaze.
The joy and happiness were so simple, so pure, yet so radiant that it was impossible to look away.
So, was this the happiness and dream they had been chasing all along?
"Encore!"
"Encore!"
The cheers, deafening, swept through the crowd.
Anson turned to look at his bandmates, smiling broadly.
"What do you say?"
His eyes playfully challenged them: Can you handle it?
Miles shrugged lightly, as if to say, "Of course." He looked at Lily and Connor.
Connor, looking affronted as if insulted, quickly turned and grabbed his bass, joining Anson.
Lily wasn't about to be outdone, setting up her keyboard.
"Encore!"
The cheers and shouts continued, growing even louder.
The entire sky was ablaze.
Finally, the band was ready—
A bit unexpected, a bit sudden, but no matter. After so many street performances, they were used to handling anything thrown at them.
The four exchanged glances, then all eyes turned to Miles.
At this moment, what song could be more fitting than "Wake Me Up"?
Anson turned, raised his hand, and made a grasping motion in the air. The roaring crowd miraculously quieted down, like ripples slowly spreading outward. In just a moment, everyone fell silent, holding their breath. The deafening chants for an encore dissolved into a wave of anticipation.
"One, two, three..."
Under Anson's gaze, Miles took a deep breath and strummed the strings.