The studio was deathly silent, a situation unprecedented on "The Oprah Winfrey Show" or any other talk show. A talk show, as the name implies, relies on dialogue and conversation to carry the entire program. But today, a void appeared in the studio. Everyone's gaze was locked on Hugo, watching him take three steps forward and then four smaller steps back. This wasn't a fashion show, and Hugo's steps weren't a model's walk, but the weight of those seven steps made everyone's heart tremble slightly.This silence wasn't frightening; instead, it caused the emotions of everyone in the studio to churn, climbing bit by bit toward a peak, waiting for a starting point to completely explode.Hugo sat down. He didn't say anything more; he just lowered his head and held the guitar. Then, his fingertips began to dance lightly across the taut strings. The clear guitar notes rang out like spring water. Soft morning sunlight enveloped the surface of the crystal-clear spring, and a hazy halo refracted moving light within the water droplets. The spring water embraced the sunlight as it meandered through the pebbles, its tinkling sound echoing in the lush green forest. A dense morning mist draped a veil over the emerald metasequoia forest, and sunlight pierced through the mist, scattering countless bits of broken gold onto the grass and wildflowers flanking the spring. The translucent, round dewdrops on the petals were charmingly lovely.Hugo's slender fingertips wove the world's most beautiful tapestry on those five ordinary strings. The light of magic leaped back and forth between his fingers; one could even see musical notes seemingly sprouting elven wings, dancing gracefully on Hugo's clean knuckles. Using the natural wood-colored guitar as a canvas, he conjured the most moving and brilliant brushstrokes, leading the entire audience into an Alice-like wonderland.The world quieted down, with only those fresh string sounds buzzing softly."You're not her, though I try to distinguish you. I'm at a loss, see, I've been searching for what once belonged to me. Then, I saw your eyes, I saw Alice watching me, so I'll try to find someone who fits me perfectly like she did."Hugo's voice wandered through the melody, humming out word after word, using musical notes to connect these otherwise meaningless words, and then depicting a real story—a story so simple yet detailed. Even though Hugo had only sung three lines of lyrics, the entire framework of the story appeared before their eyes.Hugo didn't use much technique; he simply performed these lyrics with the most genuine emotions from his heart. The chaotic thoughts in his mind transformed into lines of lyrics, merging with the melody beneath his fingertips, drawing Hugo into this story. That faint sorrow and deep pain, hidden within the notes, seeped out slowly like mist and smoke."I've wandered far from you, and I want to see you by my side again, darling, but things aren't that simple." Hugo's plain yet mellow voice was so moving, carrying an inexplicable sadness, like mint green or washed blue—bright yet melancholy, slowly blurring in the depths of the eyes."We never even tried, we never even talked, we never even painted a future. Whenever the pain hits, whenever we're apart, I'll miss you, I miss you."These lyrics, full of longing, regret, and earnestness, flowed slowly from Hugo's lips. Every modulation in his voice felt like a scorching sun, silently leaving its mark on the skin. Before people even noticed, the pain in their hearts suddenly struck.This was a most ordinary story. In a brand-new relationship, one is always unable to shake the shadow of the previous one. A man is always looking for his ex-girlfriend's shadow in his current girlfriend, which is something a girlfriend cannot tolerate. She vented her inner anger at him and then turned to leave.But in fact, the man wasn't doing well either. He felt as if he were suspended in mid-air, always trying to find a rope to save himself. He once thought his ex-girlfriend was that rope, but he overlooked the fact that the ground was actually beneath his feet. As long as he was willing to let go, he could start a new life on solid ground, but he didn't realize it. It wasn't until the person beside him turned to leave that he realized her harbor was moving away from him. Thus, he was back to being suspended in mid-air, unable to grab the rope and unable to land. Only then did he discover that he loved her, loved her deeply, and that his ex-girlfriend was nothing more than a phantom."She once belonged to me, I once belonged to her, we belonged to each other. If she cried, I would protect her, guarding her away from the approaching darkness.If I leave you, I want to see you by my side again, darling, but things aren't that simple, oh. We never even tried, we never even talked, we never even painted a future. Whenever the pain hits, whenever we're apart, I'll miss you, I miss you."Such stories play out almost every day: boyfriends jealous of ex-boyfriends, girlfriends jealous of ex-girlfriends. Memories are the greatest enemy of any relationship; every couple has a fatal foe—the ex-boyfriend or ex-girlfriend. But in reality, memories are beautiful precisely because they can no longer be changed and remain forever in the depths of the mind. What we can grasp is the present and the person beside us; what we can change is the present and ourselves. By clinging to memories, one can never move forward.That line, "I miss you," was plain and unremarkable. Hugo didn't deliberately emphasize his voice, yet he performed the inner melancholy, helplessness, regret, sadness, and longing with an effortless grace. In the morning sunlight, it stabbed fiercely into the heart. After the pain erupted in an instant, it swept over in an endless wave.Inexplicably, eyes began to grow warm. Hugo clearly wasn't being sentimental, and the tune wasn't sad; everything was as exquisite as transparent sunlight. Yet the churning emotions simply couldn't be controlled, slowly fermenting within Hugo's warm voice. All the excitement, all the anticipation, and all the passion vanished—not because of disappointment, but because they had completely merged into the melody in their ears, entering a world of their own memories, just like Alice's wonderland—a world only they knew, emotions only they understood."Don't give up on me, this isn't my moment. If you strike hard, then I'll realize, you left scars and turned away, just like a sunburn."The guitar notes continued to flow slowly, and Hugo's voice remained steady, but the musical notes began to surge. Hugo's mellow voice rose and fell slightly, and emotions completely exploded within these transitions.What kind of sadness was this? The plea of "Don't give up on me" stabbed deep into the softest part of the heart amidst the clear guitar notes. Don't leave; you only need to give me a harsh lesson, even hurting me is fine, as long as you don't leave. I will realize my own stupidity because of this pain. Looking at the scars you left on me, I will hold you tightly, knowing how deep my love for you is. So, don't leave me; just leave me a sunburn. I will keep this brand forever, but... don't give up on me.Love is so deep. Even though Hugo didn't deliberately raise the pitch or amplify the emotion, using only the simplest words and melody, he presented the inner weight in the simplest way possible."Don't give up on me, this isn't my moment. If you strike hard, then I'll realize, you turned away full of scars, just like a sunburn."The surge of emotion finally lost all control. Though smiles still hung on the corners of mouths, like basking in warm sunlight on a winter afternoon, tears just slid down. Reflecting the soft appearance of the sunlight, they trickled down cheeks. Waves of inner pain followed one after another, making it almost impossible to break free. This wasn't a screaming sorrow, but like a gecko trapped in amber, frozen in this moment, with a clown's makeup painted on the face—a laughing expression masking the inner grief."We never even tried, we never even talked, we never even painted a future. Whenever the pain hits, whenever we're apart, I'll miss you, I miss you."That smile froze at the corner of the mouth, and the moisture in the eyes reflected the studio lights, blurring into a whole halo, making Hugo, who was looking down and playing the guitar, look incredibly wonderful."I miss you," Oprah whispered, partially covering her face. Hot tears made her makeup look a mess, but she was unwilling to lower her head to hide it. Instead, she allowed her true feelings to show before the cameras. She hadn't expected such a situation, yet the tears on her cheeks were so real."I miss you," Joseph stood where he was and lowered his head, pressing his chin against his chest. He had to use this method to hide his reddened eyes. Although Joseph had heard Hugo sing several times before, he was still moved by Hugo's soul-shaking performance. Even with his eyes closed, he could feel the moisture beneath his eyelids."I miss you." The audience on site and the surrounding Staff Members—no one spoke, no one interrupted the beauty of this moment. Regardless of whether they resonated with Hugo's song or had thoughts about the story, no one could deny the peace and comfort of this instant. Body and mind entered a state of complete relaxation, allowing their emotions to wander freely with the guitar notes.Hugo's eyes were so focused, watching every touch of his fingertips on the guitar strings, listening to the melody bloom proudly in every stroke, feeling the lyrics undergo a chemical reaction within the melody to release his inner emotions... Hugo felt it so deeply; every note, every word, and every transition was so real. He could even feel his voice vibrating along with the strings, causing the emotions deep in his heart to tremble slightly.Music is such a magical power.
