From Flower Vase to Film Emperor in Hollywood

Buzz, buzz, buzz—the engine roared, continuously pounding against my eardrums as the car slowly passed under the arched gate of "Warner Bros.," and the view at the intersection directly ahead suddenly opened up.

Blue sky, white clouds, lush greenery, and a glimpse of a blue lake hidden behind the trees, reflecting the golden sunlight of California.

I floored the accelerator, catching a glimpse of the Disney Studios sign in the corner of my eye, but before I could take a closer look, the soaring speed had already left it behind.

My scattered thoughts had just begun to gather when a turn revealed a large amusement park ride suspended above the trees, accompanied by a burst of laughter and screams, flashing across the sky and disappearing behind the trees in the blink of an eye, turning into streaks of light in the howling wind.

So…

What I just passed should have been Universal Studios, and the audition is at Burbank, the largest film studio in Los Angeles?

Everything finally became real.

2000, Los Angeles, Hollywood.

Although smartphones hadn't appeared yet, streaming media was nowhere to be found, social networks were still a professional term in communication studies, and AI hadn't sparked a new wave of discussion.

But it also meant that the film industry hadn't entered the age of superheroes yet, and the classics of commerce and art were still waiting for an explosion.

This is the City of Angels.

Opportunities are everywhere.

Maybe this time he can seize it and live out his own colors.

I floored the accelerator, and the dazzling California scenery turned into a halo of light, quickly flashing past the corner of my eye, until the oncoming traffic blocked the way, and then Anson realized he had entered the city.

Here was the intersection of North Highland Avenue and Hollywood Boulevard. Looking to the right, I could see the familiar Chinese Theatre standing not far away, but, strangely, the Kodak Theatre/Dolby Theatre, which would later become widely known, was still a busy construction site.

"Hey, cool sports car!"

Whistles, laughter, and shouts echoed at the intersection.

Anson glanced at the car's navigation system, which was like a book from heaven, and his eyes went dark. Although in 2000 the car's navigation system had made great strides, it was still not perfect. The map was completely at the level of a geological survey cross-section, with a bunch of incomprehensible symbols marked on a flat map.

For him, the car's navigation system was not very similar to a paper map, but exactly the same.

So, Anson rolled down the car window and offered a smile.

"Excuse me, how do I get to Melrose Avenue?"

Swish, swish, swish.

The surrounding gazes gathered rustlingly, one or two people couldn't help but tiptoe and crane their necks, some looking at the car, others looking at the person, their eyes filled with suppressed excitement and bustling liveliness.

Anson leaned out slightly.

"Hey, I'm not Edward, and you're not Vivian."

Boom!

A burst of laughter.

Obviously, Anson's teasing of the classic scene from "Pretty Woman" resonated with them.

Then, an actor dressed as the Scarecrow from "The Wizard of Oz," who stood on Hollywood Boulevard and took pictures with tourists, walked out of the crowd and pointed in the north-south direction.

After passing Melrose Avenue, the next block was Anson's residence, a detached villa located at the intersection of North Highland Avenue and Oak Avenue.

This two-story villa, covering twenty units, has a front yard with pine trees and a fountain, as well as a small garden covered with ivy. Over the cream-colored low wall, you can see the lounge chairs and barbecue grill in the garden.

Typical Spanish-style decoration, the intricate patterns of blue and red tiles intertwined to create a low-key luxury, mosaic decorations can also be seen on the dark green windows, and a small angel's brass statue washbasin and a vine-covered swing are also quietly hidden in a green area.

Spacious, bright.

Low-key, luxurious.

Unfortunately, this is not Anson's own property, he is just a tenant.

Although this is not Beverly Hills or West Hollywood, it is still located in the heart of Los Angeles. A monthly rent of two thousand dollars in 2000 was already an unimaginable price; however, Anson does not live here alone.

On the first floor, there are two bedrooms, as well as a living room, kitchen, dining room, and storage room, etc.

On the second floor, there are three bedrooms, two bathrooms, and an entertainment room.

There are five residents here.

Among them, Anson uses the master bedroom on the second floor alone, the only large room with a private bathroom.

A group of young people with different dreams and goals live together, with the atmosphere of a college fraternity, looking for their place in the glitz of Hollywood, but able to find another kind of fun.

Opening the door, I saw a figure lying motionless on the ground in a starfish shape directly in front of the door, with his right hand on his head and his left leg folded. He looked as if he was imitating the classic dance pose in Madonna's music video, staring wide-eyed, with a look of unwillingness to die.

If you didn't know what was going on, you might break out in a cold sweat as you entered the door, thinking you had entered the wrong set.

This scene, this situation, the first reaction would be to think it was a medical emergency, or even worse, a corpse situation, and you might not be able to find the correct phone buttons to dial 911.

Anson… was the same.

A shock!

My heart skipped a beat, and I took a step forward subconsciously, quickly looking around. It was a beat later that I came back to my senses, the familiar memories in the original owner's mind awakened, the reins of reason returned to my palm, and the smile on the corner of my mouth rose helplessly. I walked straight past the "corpse" in front of me.

"Chris, what's wrong, the audition didn't go well?"

Chris—Chris Evans, who would become the famous "Captain America" in the future, was not so strong at this time, but he could already vaguely see the effects of fitness. His collagen-filled face had a bit of baby fat, and he was wearing a "Star Trek" T-shirt, looking like he had just run out of the "American Pie" set.

This is roommate number one.

Dear book friends, the entertainment newbie author begs for collection! Don't raise books, because the current recommendation slots are directly linked to the number of follow-up readers. Newcomers in the new book period are not easy, and Seven Cat sincerely hopes that all book friends will participate more. Thank you, thank you!