From Flower Vase to Film Emperor in Hollywood

#104 - Sleepy Girl

In short!

Everything is going smoothly, the summer film season is in full swing, and the television industry is experiencing another round of upheaval due to the high salaries of "Friends."

Meanwhile, Anson is setting off for San Francisco, about to embark on his first adventure in film shooting.

Without a manager or assistant, Anson packs his bags and sets off on his journey.

If he wasn't worried about his driving skills, Anson would have even considered driving to San Francisco himself; but taking a plane is also an experience, and this is the first time he's left Los Angeles since transmigrating, so he's equally excited.

It feels like opening another game map, with a wave of freshness washing over him.

Moreover, he gets to work with Julie Andrews, which is a little exciting.

But…

Anson turns his head to look at the head on his left shoulder, which is pressing down heavily.

Only those who have truly experienced it know how heavy a head can be.

Even with the in-flight announcements and the rustling noises in the cabin, he still can't wake up the head that's playing chess in dreamland.

Forget about her image, that look is completely worthy of being in the top ten of black history, completely banned, and it's best if no one ever finds out.

Anson thinks she might be enjoying delicious food in her dream.

He swallows the words that were already on the tip of his tongue and can't help but chuckle.

When boarding, Anson wasn't in a hurry, waiting until all the other passengers had boarded before heading in.

He entered the cabin without obstruction and found that the window seat inside was already occupied, and the occupant was fully prepared to enter their own little world.

She was wearing a New York Yankees baseball cap, pulling the brim low to cover her face, but a cascade of dark brown hair fell down like a waterfall.

She folded her sports jacket and placed it on her shoulder, then leaned towards the cabin wall, creating a pillow, closing her eyes and falling asleep smoothly.

It was obvious she came prepared.

Moreover.

Considering that the flight from Los Angeles to San Francisco is only ninety minutes, she still took the time to fall asleep immediately after boarding.

It was clear that she must be very, very tired.

Anson didn't disturb her.

But he didn't expect that as soon as the plane took off, a jolt caused her head to slide towards Anson's side, the baseball cap precariously slipping little by little.

Anson was worried that she would lean on him, and was considering whether he should remind her, but the girl noticed before her head touched Anson's shoulder, mumbled "Sorry" in a low voice, readjusted her posture, and then leaned back towards the window, continuing to play chess with the Duke of Zhou without even opening her eyes.

Once, twice… three times is enough.

When the girl slid over for the third time, she was almost in a semi-comatose state, completely unable to control herself, and then the entire weight of her head was pressed onto Anson's shoulder.

Not only were her eyes closed, but her mouth was also open.

A head of smooth hair swept back and forth like seaweed, obscuring most of her face.

From the dense strands of hair, one could catch a glimpse of the contours of her features, and even in such a disheveled state, she still exuded a delicate and charming aura, snoring softly like a kitten sleeping soundly.

She probably wouldn't react even if she was thrown out of the cabin now, free-falling into the embrace of Mother Earth, truly reuniting with the Duke of Zhou.

Anson wasn't sure what she had been through, but she was having a rare good sleep, and they were about to land soon, so he might as well let this little girl sleep a little longer.

— Clunk.

The plane landed.

The entire cabin shook violently, and the girl flew out, about to crash into the back of the seat in front of her.

Anson quickly reached out, blocking her with one hand in front and protecting her with the other, in a flurry of activity.

The girl's dream world must have also experienced an earthquake, and she finally woke up groggily, opening her eyes to find herself in a firm, warm embrace, thinking "How comfortable," and trying to stretch.

She realized what was happening a beat too late.

Embrace?

Something's not right.

"Ah!"

The girl exclaimed, seeing the jawline of a man in her blurry vision, and reflexively pulled away, clenching her fists.

"What are you doing?"

Anson knew that his actions could easily cause misunderstandings, so he remained as he was, slowly raised his hands, didn't argue, and simply replied with one word, "Protection."

Girl: ? ? ?

Her head, still waking up, hadn't been able to process it yet.

She paused slightly before coming to her senses, and she seemed to remember something.

She slowly raised her head, and then she saw those clear blue eyes, not avoiding, not dodging, not ashamed, not nervous, using eye contact to communicate.

The girl looked at the man in front of her, then looked down at herself, and her mind became a little clearer.

Things didn't seem as bad as she had imagined.

She raised her head again, her tense emotions relaxed slightly, but the girl remained vigilant.

"What happened?"

Anson still didn't speak, the corners of his mouth lifted slightly, and he pointed to the area on his left shoulder.

Girl: ? ? ?

Following his finger, the girl saw a dark stain on Anson's shoulder T-shirt.

Her sluggish brain froze, and after a beat, she finally realized what had happened.

A terrible thought entered her mind, and feelings of shame, annoyance, depression, and despair surged from the soles of her feet to her scalp.

"Oh, Jesus Christ."

The girl subconsciously raised her hand and wiped the corner of her mouth, the back of her hand wet.

She closed her eyes in despair, now finally understanding what had just happened.

"Sorry.

God, I'm sorry."

The girl was flustered, not knowing what to do, and then simply picked up her coat, using it as a rag, and began to wipe Anson's shoulder—

Like scrubbing a back.

After scrubbing, the girl realized that it couldn't be wiped clean at all, her eyes slightly moist, revealing a hint of sadness, and then she simply used two index fingers together to gently and meticulously scrub a small area.

But.

It was useless.

The girl raised her head and glanced at Anson, her watery eyes immediately meeting Anson's eyes, capturing a faint smile.

"Wah…"

With a cry, the girl burst into tears, burying her face in her hands, sobbing softly.

Anson: ? ? ?

This time, it was Anson's turn to be full of question marks.

He hadn't said anything; moreover, he hadn't done anything, what was going on?

Anson panicked a little, blinking his eyes and glancing around anxiously.

At this time, he could notice that all the surrounding eyes were cast over.

Anson quickly raised his hands to show his innocence, shaking his head repeatedly: he really didn't do anything.

Really.