From Flower Vase to Film Emperor in Hollywood

A long-sleeved, indigo blue shirt paired with khaki casual shorts, his golden-brown, slightly curled short hair danced unrestrainedly in the breeze. His broad shoulders and narrow waist, comparable to a model's, exuded a unique Italian charm. With his appearance, the passing sunlight and breeze seemed to become wilder and cooler.

Stepping out of the car and standing still, he casually draped a light gray jacket over his shoulder with his right hand. He possessed the nonchalant ease of someone just returning from a Mediterranean vacation, yet an elegance and sophistication flowed from his every gesture. He had the kind of aura that would allow him to effortlessly command attention even if he crashed an upper-class party.

Because of his sunglasses, his eyes were hidden, adding a touch of mystery.

Nicholas was slightly stunned—

Instinctively, his index finger pressed the shutter.

Once was enough. He hadn't yet identified the person, and he should control himself, not waste film casually. But imperceptibly, his index finger pressed down again and again.

Twice. Three times.

Before he even realized it, his index finger had rapidly pressed the shutter in a series of quick bursts, trying to capture the moment when the sunlight and breeze lingered on that figure's shoulders, causing his heart to surge.

Indeed, this was Hollywood, a gathering place for handsome men and beautiful women. There were always younger, better-looking people emerging. Whether they were just pretty faces or talented actors, pleasing sights constantly bombarded the eyes.

However, after truly becoming accustomed to this kind of visual feast, one would realize that some good looks were just that—good looks. A superficial kind of beauty, a literal kind of beauty. But other good looks possessed power—a three-dimensional, vivid, and lively kind of beauty.

The former were countless.

The latter were one in a million.

And at this moment?

Thump. Thump thump thump thump.

His wildly beating heart and the roaring in his temples had already reacted, using film to record the moment, turning an instant into eternity.

Then.

Anson Wood.

A name flashed into his mind.

Reporters had all seen Anson, or at least they thought they had. Even if they hadn't seen that episode of 'Friends,' they should have seen the photos in the 'Los Angeles Times.' No one would say they hadn't seen him.

But.

"Seen" and "seen" were two different things.

Occasionally seeing him on TV or in a magazine, occasionally brushing past him on the street, formally meeting him face-to-face… these were all different kinds of "seen."

They had never seen the real Anson.

Plus, with those sunglasses, almost half of his already small face was covered, hiding his eyes and eyebrows, making him even more unrecognizable.

Even if Anson was standing right in front of them, they wouldn't recognize him.

Nicholas was only acting on a hunch, a guess, unable to be certain. But his intuition was very strong; perhaps this was the little lamb they had been waiting for.

An idea took root and sprouted.

Click.

After regaining his senses, Nicholas pressed the shutter again.

Stepping forward, he rushed to secure a position.

The next second.

Click, click, click…

Overwhelmingly, flashes of light burst forth with incredible energy, baring their fangs and brandishing their claws, surging towards the figure before them. They couldn't even confirm the person's identity before eagerly pouncing on the little lamb like the Big Bad Wolf, opening their bloody mouths and charging forward with all their might.

A sea of silver completely devoured the sunlight.

Film was not a problem at this moment at all; the sound of shutters rising and falling erupted in full force.

"Anson! Anson, Anson, Anson!"

The clamorous shouts collided completely, making eardrums faintly ache.

Abruptly, the figure stopped beside the car door, not needing to move forward at all. The reporters had already surrounded him.

Nicholas was in the forefront, the first to rush in front of Anson.

"Anson?"

An emergency stop. Nicholas aimed his camera lens at Anson, only then realizing Anson's height. He towered over them, a head taller, making these reporters gathered in groups of twos and threes look like little dwarves, causing Nicholas to slightly raise his head to look up.

Then, Nicholas saw Anson take off his sunglasses, using his height advantage to scan the crowd rushing towards him like zombies, and a hint of astonishment and joy appeared.

"So many people."

He said.

Nicholas was slightly stunned. What… what kind of reaction was this?

But watching Anson's slightly upturned lips and the lightness twinkling in his eyes, that heartfelt admiration made Nicholas smile as well.

Nicholas couldn't help but turn his head to look behind him, reflexively replying, "Are there?"

Immediately afterward, a chuckle came from his ear, "Ha, it seems I need to witness a real grand occasion."

Anson had seen so-called grand occasions before. In his previous life during the May Day, National Day, and Spring Festival holidays, he had not only seen them but also experienced them. Those were truly seas of people, dwarfing any other event in comparison.

But the difference was that in those crowds, he was just one member, like a drop of water; while in the crowd before him, he was at the center of the storm.

Only by truly experiencing it firsthand could one feel the wave of heat and madness rushing towards them. Amazement couldn't help but escape his lips.

—So many people.

That was his true thought.

Nicholas couldn't help but smile. It was difficult for him to accurately describe his feelings, but his smile just couldn't help but turn upwards. Anyway, such a reaction had never happened before, and thinking about it seriously, it made quite a lot of sense.

But Nicholas was still seasoned, not forgetting his job. He needed to confirm his identity and then start the interview for the news. "Anson?"

Anson was earnestly serious, "No, I'm not."

Nicholas: …

Others: …

A brief moment of stunned silence actually appeared on the scene. The sound of collective brain crashes could be clearly heard, and question marks were about to overflow, tightly gripping their throats.

The questions that had already reached Nicholas's lips were abruptly cut off, automatically muted.

Wait, had they made a mistake? This young man in front of them wasn't Anson at all?

This…

However, a voice suddenly broke the brief stalemate before them, "But, you are Anson, Anson Wood."

Anson didn't show the embarrassment of being exposed, revealing a polite smile, "Ah, I almost got away with it."

Nicholas: ? ? ? This works?

Anson wasn't too disappointed, gently exhaling a breath, and then displaying a polite and gentlemanly perfect smile, "Yes, I am Wood, Anson Wood."

Generous and natural, upright and frank, from surname to name, there was a power in it.

The reporters before him, they had been slightly tricked by Anson. They originally thought they would feel anger and humiliation, or absurdity and frustration.

However, they didn't.

That gaze, that smile, those words, were like a spring breeze, replacing it with a lightness, a joy, a humor. The harmless prank silently dissolved the tense atmosphere.

Smiles climbed onto their lips.

Although they didn't laugh out loud, it was clear that the scene before them was slightly different from what they had imagined.

At this time, Nicholas was still seasoned, immediately realizing Anson's cleverness. A small trick, silently taking control of the initiative.

But Nicholas didn't have time to think carefully about how Anson was different from his expectations. He was only thinking about immediately regaining the initiative, "Anson, may I ask, have you heard the rumors that Brad Pitt is trying to kick you out of the 'Friends' cast?"