If the discussion turned into a battle between men and women, any topic could become heated. Seeing Oprah's animated expression, Hugo realized he had stepped on a landmine and quickly tried to explain, "No, that's not what I meant. I know every relationship requires effort, and that certain special occasions can help strengthen the bond."
"But what I meant is—why must it be tied to a specific date like February 14th, or something like a 100-day anniversary? Days like that don't inherently hold special meaning." Hugo clarified, speaking more quickly now to avoid being interrupted again. "I once heard a saying: as long as you've met the right person, every day is Valentine's Day."
The moment those words left his mouth, the audience erupted in screams before Oprah even had the chance to cut in. Her face lit up with delight. "Wow! Casanova! 'As long as you've met the right person, every day is Valentine's Day'—what a beautiful line. Enough to make any woman swoon."
Hugo burst out laughing. That wasn't at all what he intended. Somehow, he had suddenly been painted as the world's most romantic man. "All I meant was, if a man is willing to give to the woman he loves, then any day can become an anniversary. For example, if today I surprise my girlfriend by taking her on a hot air balloon ride over the ocean, then every December 28th after that could become a day to cherish. There's no need to tie it strictly to February 14th, right?"
"Great idea! Did anyone write that down?" Oprah teased, before turning back to him. "I understand your point. But think about it—most of the time men don't bother planning surprises, so women help you out by setting aside dates like Valentine's Day, birthdays, anniversaries, and so on. At least those days guarantee something special, don't they?"
"But the problem is," Hugo pressed on, "first of all, those days are when everyone crowds together, which ruins the meaning. Take Valentine's Day—you can barely book a dinner because every table is being fought over. But what's wrong with celebrating on the 13th or 15th? Doesn't it mean just as much?" He paused, then added with a sheepish smile, "And secondly, let's be honest—men can't always remember every anniversary. So if we make up for it on another day, shouldn't that count too?"
He glanced at the audience, and the men immediately roared in agreement, cheering loudly.
Oprah raised her voice over the commotion. "Well, if it's you saying it, maybe everything could be forgiven. 'As long as you've met the right person, every day is Valentine's Day.' Who could resist words that romantic?" She grinned. "Though honestly, Hugo, that's a line straight out of Yao Ruolong's ballad 'Happy Breakup.' But let's be real—life can't be Valentine's Day every day. Most men just use that as an excuse to dodge anniversaries. So yes, Valentine's should stay on February 14th. As for booking a restaurant? That's just about whether the man puts in the effort."
Hugo didn't argue. Instead, he pressed his hand to his chest, mimed being shot in the heart, and fell back dramatically, making everyone burst into laughter. Only then did he add, "Maybe from the very beginning, men and women just think differently."
"That's exactly why love is so unpredictable," Oprah chimed in, flashing a radiant smile. She was more than satisfied with the exchange. Even if she hadn't dug out much more about Hugo and Uma, the segment had turned into a lively debate on relationships—something bound to spark plenty of conversation when it aired.
"Now, back to what we were talking about earlier," Oprah said suddenly, catching Hugo off guard. "When you plan surprises, do you usually come up with a lot of ideas?"
Relieved she wasn't circling back to Uma, Hugo chuckled. "Not really. I don't usually have too many ideas—that's why I sometimes wish we didn't have to celebrate Valentine's Day at all."
"But if you were single on Valentine's Day, wouldn't you envy the couples celebrating?" Oprah countered with a laugh.
Hugo nodded. "People are contradictory by nature. Men complain Valentine's is a hassle; women complain when their expectations aren't met. But if you skip it altogether, or if you're single, then you feel a different kind of sadness."
"Have you ever tried surprising a girl by playing the guitar for her?" Oprah finally steered the conversation toward where she'd been aiming all along.
Hugo froze. Before he crossed into this world, he had actually done that—more than once. Memories of those days suddenly surfaced. Oprah, however, mistook his hesitation as evasion and laughed. "Come on, don't play dumb. You're such a talented singer, and women always melt when a man plays guitar or piano."
"Me? A singer?" Hugo chuckled at the unfamiliar label. "I play guitar pretty often, but I haven't sung all that much."
"Why not?" Oprah pressed, puzzled. "You sang the end-credit song for A Few Good Men—that performance showed everyone just how gifted you are."
"Because I'm an actor. I don't really get that many chances to sing. And honestly, I'm not much of a karaoke fan either," Hugo said, using the excuse to brush it off. He couldn't think of a better answer on the spot.
"I really think you should explore it more," Oprah urged warmly. "It could be your hidden talent. In Hollywood, everyone's got some special skill. Beyond acting, if you can establish yourself as a singer too, all the better. In fact…" She leaned forward eagerly. "Why not give us a little demonstration right here on the show today?"
"What? No, no, no—you never mentioned that beforehand!" Hugo was instantly flustered. Sure, he had performed on the streets, even stepped into recording studios. But The Oprah Winfrey Show was another matter entirely—over ten million viewers tuned in. He wasn't prepared to sing in front of such a massive audience. If it were with his band, Glory Or Death, he would've been thrilled. But alone? That was an entirely different challenge.
"A talent showcase—this is your talent showcase. Why not?" Oprah looked at Hugo's troubled expression, then turned toward the audience for support. "Friends, would anyone like to hear Hugo sing live?"
"Yes!" The roar of the crowd was deafening, followed by waves of cheers. The taping had already been going for half an hour, yet only now had the atmosphere reached its most feverish peak.
Oprah had weighed many possibilities, but getting Hugo to sing live was her ultimate goal. After A Few Good Men hit theaters, its end-credits song became a hot topic. Yet the media's reactions were divided. Some claimed Hugo was just dabbling in music, nothing more than a publicity stunt for the film, and besides, the track was only a cover. Others argued that a studio recording couldn't prove Hugo's real ability—that it was just hype. But there were also voices who insisted Hugo's musical talent was not to be underestimated.
So Oprah asked herself: how could she make this episode's highlight truly stand out? Not by focusing on his personal struggles, not by probing into tabloid gossip, but by coaxing Hugo into a live performance. Whether it turned out good or bad, it would still be the very first time Hugo revealed his singing talent on television. And that alone was enough.
Hugo had expected his singing to be mentioned, but he had not imagined this kind of setup. "Oh, Oprah, I didn't even bring my guitar," Hugo tried to deflect.
But he forgot—this was Oprah's stage. If she opened the topic, she had already prepared the trap. Sure enough, a guitar was brought out at once. That's when Hugo realized he was still a rookie in the entertainment world. He had stumbled into Oprah's snares several times already today. Lesson learned—next time, he needed to be more careful.
Hugo looked helplessly at the guitar handed over by the staff but hesitated to take it. Oprah, noticing, turned back to the audience. "Folks, this is your moment to scream."
And the crowd responded perfectly. They began chanting together, "Hugo! Hugo!" while clapping in unison. Soon, all one hundred and fifty audience members—along with the rest of the crew inside the studio—were clapping, shouting, and egging him on.
Watching from the side, Joseph couldn't help but smile and shake his head. This trap had clearly been crafted with care, and Hugo had walked right into it. Now there was no easy way out. Unless Hugo chose to act like a diva and flatly refuse—which he obviously wasn't in a position to do and more importantly, that simply wasn't who he was.
Indeed, that wasn't Hugo's nature. Hearing the chants, he couldn't help but grin. He muttered to himself: I took on the challenge of Rock Night, didn't I? So what's the big deal about singing in front of ten million people? Then he paused. Wait—ten million? Just how many is that again? Never mind. I can't actually see them. Right now, I only see fewer than two hundred people in front of me. Nothing to be afraid of!
So Hugo reached out his right hand and accepted the guitar. The crowd instantly erupted in thunderous cheers.
Cradling the guitar, Hugo settled onto the sofa, shifting to the front edge and resting the instrument across his knees. His fingers brushed confidently across the strings. "So then—whew… what kind of performance are you all hoping for?"
.....
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