The studio erupted once again into cheers and applause.
One by one, the audience stood up, clapping to show their appreciation for Anson and Jay Leno. Their gestures conveyed more sincerity than any words could.
The audience for this recording was entirely different from the previous one.
Before entering the studio, while standing in line, word had spread among the waiting audience about the earlier recording featuring the cast of *Star Wars: Episode II*. Many expressed envy—after all, who could resist *Star Wars*?
However, as live audience mbers, they had no control over which episode they got to attend. Everything was randomly assigned by the show's producers.
When the recording began, and they realized they were there to see an independent band, sighs of disappointnt rippled through the crowd.
But now?
No, none of them were envious of the earlier audience. To be more precise, envy might still linger because, after all, it was *Star Wars*. But at this mont, no one was thinking about that. Their minds and hearts were filled with joy and happiness, completely imrsed in the present.
Even though it wasn't *Star Wars*, this recording experience was equally priceless.
Without a second thought, audience mbers stood up, clapping enthusiastically, eagerly awaiting the performance.
On stage, Anson stood up as well, turning and extending his right hand toward Jay Leno.
Jay blinked, montarily surprised, then chuckled when he understood Anson's gesture. "The show's not over yet. We still have your performance to close it out, and we'll see each other again backstage. Isn't it a bit early to say goodbye?"
"And it's monts like this that remind you're still new to this."
Though the caras were no longer rolling, Jay couldn't help but tease him.
Anson: …
Indeed, Anson lacked experience—this was his first talk show appearance, after all.
However, Anson had heard a bit about show recordings in his past life.
In situations like this, the studio would often be cleared, leaving only essential crew mbers like the caran, lighting techs, and sound engineers. Everyone else from the production team would call it a day and head ho.
The reasoning? Partly because the crew had already clocked out, but also because live performances could be unpredictable. Mistakes might happen, and sotis, multiple takes were required. In such cases, there was no need for non-essential personnel to stay late. The key staff would remain with the perforrs until they were satisfied with the final recording.
This approach had its pros and cons.
The downside was that without the energy of a live audience, the performance could lack sothing in terms of atmosphere.
The advantage? The artist could ensure that the broadcast version of their performance was the best possible, resulting in a polished final product.
When Jay had ntioned the possibility of mistakes earlier, Anson naturally associated it with the need for multiple takes.
But it seed… that wasn't the case here.
Still, Anson wasn't embarrassed. He glanced down at his outstretched hand, still hanging in the air, before looking back at Jay with sincerity.
"Are you sure, Mr. Leno? I don't think we've reached the level where we can just waltz into your dressing room yet."
A clever retort.
Jay imdiately got the joke.
Typically, for high-profile guests, Jay would et them backstage before the show. But today, there had been no such eting with Anson and the band.
Now, Anson was teasing Jay about it.
Jay wasn't offended. Instead, he tilted his head slightly and replied, "You've reached that level now."
Then, Jay shook Anson's hand.
The two exchanged a look and burst into laughter.
Jay followed up by saying, "If we had t earlier, the recording wouldn't have turned out the way it did. I like the energy we created today."
Anson confidently responded, "Next ti we et, there will be new sparks."
Jay paused, and then a broad smile spread across his face. "I'm looking forward to it."
They released their handshake.
Anson turned and headed toward the small stage to join Lily and the others, starting to tune their instrunts for the final performance.
The studio, while quieter, buzzed with a subtle excitent.
The audience, having just witnessed "Wake Up," and having been part of the entire recording, knew they had sothing to look forward to in the upcoming performance.
No one could predict what would happen next, but sohow, it felt like no matter what it was, it would be worth experiencing.
Blair, too, had settled down, her gaze drifting from one band mber to the next—
Connor. Miles. Lily.
And finally, Anson.
No matter what, Blair's attention inevitably landed on Anson.
Not long ago, Blair, along with the entire studio, had been entranced by "Wake Up." Back then, she had felt excitent, knowing what to expect—a sense of pride, exhilaration, and anticipation. Now, though she still felt anticipation, her emotions had shifted entirely. She was calm, collected.
It wasn't that her passion had faded; rather, it had settled into her veins, becoming a part of her.
Quietly, Blair watched Anson's profile. He was biting his guitar pick, testing the sound of the guitar strings, and syncing with the other three band mbers, completely absorbed and focused. It was as if the whole world consisted only of him and his guitar, along with his three companions. Life seed so simple.
In that mont, Blair could see through his exterior and truly feel the allure of this man.
The outer shell will eventually age and deteriorate. After passing its pri, it will no longer attract attention. People often think that being fickle is a man's privilege, but in truth, everyone is drawn to the new and tires of the old.
But charm doesn't fade.
Ti may dull one's appearance, but it can polish charm until it shines even brighter.
Thump. Thump.
Blair could clearly hear the sound of her own heartbeat. It wasn't wild or fierce, but steady and strong. In that instant, she realized deeply:
She had fallen.
The adjustnt didn't take long, and soon they were ready.
Visibly, Lily and Connor seed a bit nervous. Anson noticed too.
He turned to look at the three of them. "Hey. Look at ."
All their gazes turned toward him.
"We focus on each other, on the music, on the performance. This is our mont, got it?"
A brief pause.
"Then let's have a blast together."
As their eyes t, smiles began to spread across their faces. With a small nod, their racing hearts began to calm.
Anson's gaze traveled to each of them in turn:
Lily. Miles. Finally, Connor.
Anson gave a small nod, signaling Connor, who took a deep breath in understanding.
At that mont, the caras followed Anson's gaze and finally noticed that Connor was holding a fretless bass.
Surprise!
And remarkably, this performance would begin with a bass solo.
Just like in "Wake Up," the opening was already sothing unique.
Gently, Connor's fingertips plucked the strings, and the deep, resonant notes sent ripples through the air.
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