Chapter 192: Donation

Chapter 192: Chapter 192: Donation

The two of them lay on the straw mat, hovering over draft paper and pondering repeatedly.

Irene couldn’t remember the complete lyrics, so she suggested imagery based on feeling—"like standing on a mountaintop shouting" or "like the freedom of breaking chains"—while Britney, with a musician’s sensitivity, transformed these images into precise lyrics and adjusted the rise and fall of the melody to make the emotions fuller.

Their collaboration was incredibly smooth. If an outsider were to watch, they certainly wouldn’t guess that Irene had never written a song before.

In the room, the melody of the electronic keyboard was at times impassioned and at others gentle, with their discussions and humming intertwined, as if the sea breeze outside the window had also become part of the melody.

Before they knew it, the sky had darkened. When Nicolas came by carrying a few sea fish, this was the scene he saw: sheet music covered the tablecloth, the two of them had their heads together, repeatedly polishing the chorus of "Roar" in front of the electronic keyboard, and Britney’s eyes shone with a steadfast light he had never seen before.

"Looks like you two are really engrossed in your conversation," Nicolas said with a smile, lifting the fish in his hand. "I caught a few grouper. How about we grill them tonight to replenish your inspiration?"

Irene and Britney exchanged a smile, their eyes filled with a sense of accomplishment. The rough drafts of the three songs had basically taken shape, balancing a smooth transition with the current atmosphere of the times. All of this was the result of the two of them brainstorming and creating together. There was no one-sided contribution, only mutual trust and resonance.

"Great," Britney stood up with a smile. "I’m just getting hungry. After we eat, we’ll continue polishing the details and try to get the demo done as soon as possible."

On the morning three days later, the airport at Port Royal Bay was still shrouded in a light mist. Britney clutched the USB drive containing the demo, dressed in a simple white T-shirt and jeans, her eyes filled with anticipation for the future.

"Irene, thank you so, so much." She hugged Irene tightly. "The company has heard these three songs, and everyone is very excited, especially that last one, ’Roar.’ They’re urging me to go back and record it for early promotion. When the album is released, I’ll definitely send it to you right away. These three songs are absolutely going to stun everyone."

Irene patted her back with a smile. "Have a safe trip, and call me anytime if you have any problems. Believe me, your transformation will definitely be a success."

Nicolas and Edward had also come to see her off. Edward carried Britney’s suitcase, his face filled with reluctance. "Remember to let me know when you arrive in Los Angeles safely. I’ll come find you as soon as I finish handling things here."

As the plane took off, Britney waved from behind the porthole until the silhouette of the island became a mere speck on the horizon.

Meanwhile, back in the United States, the White House had issued multiple official statements confirming that the attacks were orchestrated by an organization led by Osama bin Laden, with the goal of creating panic and protesting US foreign policy by striking key American landmarks.

President Bush delivered a national address, announcing the launch of a "Global War on Terror," freezing assets related to the terrorist organization, and promising to make every effort to search for survivors, comfort the families of the victims, and strengthen security measures at key facilities such as airports and ports nationwide.

This news spread across the globe via television and radio. Tourists at Port Royal Bay also learned the details through the hotel’s satellite TV, and the original chatter gradually turned into discussions about the anti-terrorism operation.

Irene sat in the hotel lobby, watching the official statements playing on the news, when a thought suddenly popped into her head.

She took out her phone and dialed Shelly. "Shelly, contact Chen Shiyu later. After you meet up, contact the Red Cross in Los Angeles. In the name of the production crew and myself, donate a sum of money and relevant survival supplies, focusing on compensation for the victims’ families and post-disaster reconstruction. Also, contact my lawyer to ensure the donation process is open and transparent, and send me the details later."

"Alright, Irene. Even if you hadn’t brought it up, I was just about to ask you about this. I have a lot of things to deal with here and probably won’t be able to come to where you are for a while. Take care of yourself." Shelly’s voice carried a hint of heaviness.

"The atmosphere in Los Angeles is very somber right now. Many companies are organizing donations, so relevant supplies will be in short supply, but I will get it done as soon as possible."

Irene thought for a moment. Donating money and supplies is all about speed. If this period passes, the impact will be greatly diminished. "If there are difficulties with supplies, you can have Chen Shiyu procure them from China. He is quite familiar with things there, and I believe they will cooperate actively."

Irene had truly seen plenty of corporate donations in her past life. Many companies even relied on such donations to gain public recognition, with both their corporate reputation and sales skyrocketing as a result.

After all, Echo Pictures was just a small film production company. Even if they wanted to use this method to gain fame, it would be difficult to recoup the costs. Rather than making a big fuss over the donation amount, it would be better to think of other ways to blaze a new trail. Suddenly, she thought of another method.

After hanging up the phone, Irene accompanied her parents to continue touring around the island.

The coconut groves, beaches, and blue seas that had seemed breathtaking before had gradually lost their novelty after nearly a month. Her parents were getting on in years, and after staying for so long, they began to miss the environment back home. Eleanor often grumbled, "The garden at home is still more comfortable. The sun here is too scorching, and there’s no one to talk to."

Francis, meanwhile, was always thinking about his wine cellar, and the thoughts he revealed during occasional chats were also about hoping to return as soon as possible.

What was even more unexpected was that the production crew’s original ten-day vacation was extended to a month due to the US government’s anti-terrorism security requirements. Airport security nationwide was upgraded, cross-regional travel was restricted, and large-scale gatherings such as film shoots were also ordered to be suspended.

When Irene received the call from Jerry, she was taking a walk on the beach. "There’s no way around it. The government says they need to ensure public safety, and all location filming must wait until the security level is lowered before it can resume. We have no choice but to head back to Los Angeles first and wait for notice to restart filming."

Even though they were just filming in the Caribbean Bay and it had absolutely nothing to do with the United States, at a time like this, she didn’t dare to go against the current.

With no other choice, Irene had to arrange for the crew to pack up their equipment and book tickets back to Los Angeles.

On the day they left Port Royal Bay, the sky was still a brilliant blue, but no one was in the mood to enjoy the scenery.

The staff members expected to stay behind carried their luggage, their faces full of exhaustion and uncertainty about the future. After all, no one knew how long this anti-terrorism operation would last, or how long the film production would be delayed.

When the plane landed at Los Angeles International Airport, Irene clearly felt the change in atmosphere.

Armed military police were standing guard at the airport entrance, and all passengers had to undergo strict security checks. Luggage was opened for inspection, body scans were conducted, and the process was several times more tedious than before.

In the departure hall, the televisions were still looping anti-terrorism propaganda and memorial activities for the victims. Most people had somber expressions on their faces. The laughter and chatter of the past were rarely heard.