Hugo stared at the receiver in his hand, feeling somewhat at a loss. In truth, his memories of family were indeed quite sparse; the scattered fragments in his mind could hardly summon up much more information. And today's call had further confirmed that the Lancaster family's relationships were extremely poor. He should have been relieved, yet for some reason, Hugo felt an emptiness in his heart.
"Hugo, Hugo!" Alex's voice called from nearby, snapping Hugo back to reality. He looked over blankly, and Alex repeated, "I was asking, do you still need to use the phone?"
"Oh, no, no need." Hugo handed the receiver to Alex, glanced around, then headed toward the front door, leaving the house. Afterward, he walked to the landing between the third and fourth floors and sat down on the steps.
Hugo had always felt he was an unfilial child. Putting aside how much effort his parents had spent raising him, the reason they opposed him forming a rock band was less because they thought it was frivolous, and more because they were worried about his future ability to survive in life. And indeed, that was the case—Death Or Glory had fought for ten years out in the world, always struggling at the very bottom of society. The dream of music sounded beautiful, but reality's cruelty never showed mercy.
Still, Hugo had never regretted choosing the path of music, because it was what he wanted to do. Even after giving ten years of his life to it, that was youth—reckless and headlong, battered and bloodied yet without regret. It was only a pity that in choosing his youth, he had hurt his parents.
Now, it seemed the same thing was happening again. Hugo couldn't help but smile bitterly—no wonder he had ended up transmigrating into Lancaster's body. Perhaps it was fate. Maybe Lancaster, too, had fallen out with his family over his dream of becoming an actor, which had caused the sharp deterioration in family relations and a complete break in contact with both parents.
But on second thought, that didn't seem entirely right. Lancaster might have run away from home, but from Adam's words earlier, it was clear they still had occasional contact. By contrast, his mother Lina was a forbidden topic in the house. Did that mean Lina and Adam were divorced? In the United States, that was hardly unusual. And perhaps the reason for the divorce was very ugly, maybe even something that had hurt Lancaster—hence the strained family dynamics.
Hugo rubbed his head. He truly had no clue about the Lancaster family's situation. Even if he wanted to make some changes, there was nowhere to start. He let out a long sigh. At that moment, he felt a certain loneliness. The joy, anxiety, and determination he'd felt after transmigrating had now all dissolved into a hollow emptiness. He began to miss his Death Or Glory bandmates.
The sound of "tap, tap…" footsteps came from behind. Hugo looked up sharply and saw Joseph's hesitant stride. Their eyes met; Joseph gave an awkward twitch of his mouth, turned as if to leave, but after a moment's hesitation, he walked down the stairs and sat beside Hugo.
"So, what happened?" Joseph asked. His tone was heavy, and he seemed distracted.
Hugo glanced at him. Joseph didn't look much better himself—the unresolved conflict between his brows was obvious. "I called my dad, and he ended up hanging up on me."
Hugo didn't elaborate, but even that one sentence was enough to paint a clear picture of how poorly the conversation had gone. Joseph gave a dry chuckle. "Not surprising."
After a whole year without communication, even the closest family bonds would grow distant. It was hard to imagine that a single phone call could yield much. Joseph already knew that Hugo's family ties weren't good, but he had always been just an observer and never intended to interfere and he still didn't. When he suggested Hugo call home for Thanksgiving, it had only been as a friend, thinking that letting things fester wasn't a good idea. But now, it seemed even the call hadn't brought any improvement.
"What about Thanksgiving?" Joseph asked next.
"I define Thanksgiving as a holiday for friends to express gratitude to one another," Hugo said solemnly. Since he couldn't spend it with family, friends were the best choice. "Maybe the person I should thank most is you. You wouldn't turn down my invitation, would you?"
Joseph looked at Hugo's smiling face, but couldn't get the corners of his own mouth to lift. His mood was so heavy it left him feeling a little depressed. "Hugo…" he began, but only spoke his name before falling silent again. Hugo didn't rush him, just waited quietly. After a few seconds, Joseph finally said with difficulty, "I'd like to ask you for a favor."
"As long as it's not shooting nude photos, sure," Hugo quipped casually, making the corner of Joseph's mouth twitch.
Joseph clearly had something weighing on him, and it seemed serious. He hesitated, choosing his words carefully, before finally speaking. "Can you lend me one million dollars?" As soon as the words were out, and before Hugo could react, Joseph quickly added, "I—I'll pay you back as soon as possible. I'm serious. If it weren't an emergency this time…"
"Alright." Hugo cut him off and agreed without hesitation. Not long ago, the first payment for A Few Good Men—one million dollars—had already been deposited. The rest of the fee would come after the movie's release.
Joseph knew this all too well, but Hugo had no suspicion that Joseph was scheming to get his money, because after a year of spending time together, Hugo knew Joseph was not that kind of person. He was willing to trust him. Besides, if Joseph truly harbored ulterior motives, then spending a million dollars to see a friend's true colors would be worth it.
Hugo's straightforwardness left Joseph speechless for a moment, just staring at Hugo in astonishment. In fact, countless thoughts were surging in Joseph's mind, with a pile of words stuck at his lips, yet unable to come out. He could only stare blankly at Hugo.
Hugo smiled faintly. "Give me your bank account, and I'll transfer it to you. Or do you want cash?" Not long ago, Hugo had still been in debt, so he had no right to write checks; he could only use a bank transfer or cash.
Only then did Joseph come back to his senses, swallowing hard to moisten his dry throat and bring his voice back. "I'll give you the account later." After speaking, he took a deep breath, calming his overly rapid heartbeat, and went on to explain, "Here's the thing—something urgent happened at home, and I… I need this money, but I don't know who else to turn to." Joseph realized his words were jumbled; after explaining for a while, he still hadn't made the situation clear. He could only take another deep breath and say helplessly, "Hugo, I'll pay you back as soon as I can."
"Joseph, I understand." Hugo didn't say anything polite, but instead patted Joseph's shoulder. Everyone encounters emergencies; no one wishes for them, but when they happen, a friend's helping hand becomes especially precious. "It just so happens I have the ability right now—otherwise I wouldn't be so decisive. Besides, it's not like this money is a gift. Remember to pay me back; I still plan to use it to buy a car."
For Hugo, after the one million came in, he hadn't even checked it, so it didn't feel real. It was just a string of numbers to him. Now that he was lending it to Joseph, it didn't feel like a large sum—he simply thought it was great to be able to help a friend.
Hugo's words didn't relax Joseph much, because he knew Hugo was just trying to comfort him. Still, Joseph didn't say anything more, knowing that any more thanks at this moment would be redundant. "I need to head back to Houston today. I wasn't planning to go back for Thanksgiving, but now…"
Joseph didn't finish the sentence, but Hugo knew—this sudden matter at home meant Joseph had to return to Houston to deal with it. Hugo nodded. "Have you bought the plane ticket yet?"
"I just decided after getting the call." Joseph shook his head. "I'm going to drive back."
"Are you crazy?" Hugo blurted out in surprise. "That's fifteen hundred miles—at least twenty-two hours." If it were a road trip, that'd be different, but Joseph was rushing home for an urgent matter, and driving alone for that distance would be dangerous. "You should check the airport. Today's only Tuesday; there should still be plenty of flights."
Joseph didn't speak. Obviously, with a million-dollar debt now hanging over him, it was hard to justify spending freely on a flight home. But Hugo could see his hesitation. "Hey, buddy, compared to a million dollars, a seven-hundred-dollar plane ticket is nothing. The interest alone would be more than that." Hugo's last joke made Joseph twitch the corner of his mouth.
Thinking it over, it was true—when you're already buried in debt, one more flea bite doesn't hurt. So Joseph didn't hesitate any further; he stood up and went back to his room to pack. Calling it packing was an overstatement—he just grabbed his wallet and a jacket, then came out quickly. When he saw Hugo sitting on the steps, his pace slowed briefly, but then he walked down. However, when he reached the third floor, he stopped, turned back, and looked up. "Hugo."
"What?"
"Aren't you afraid I'll run off with the money?" Joseph knew his behavior today was far from normal.
This was, in fact, the first time Joseph had ever mentioned his family matters to Hugo. The key point was that he wasn't prepared, so he hadn't said much at all—just some vague, half-true remarks. It was hardly convincing. But Hugo hadn't asked about the purpose of the loan, hadn't asked for a guarantee or IOU, and hadn't even discussed interest rates—he had simply offered his support. Joseph felt a little uneasy about that.
Hugo's light chuckle floated up. "That's your freedom." There was no explanation, no elaboration, no reproach—just this light sentence, yet it landed on Joseph's heart with the weight of a thousand pounds.
If someone asked Hugo what the value of trust was, Hugo would answer: at the very least, a million dollars couldn't buy it.