From Flower Vase to Film Emperor in Hollywood

If possible, if necessary, Anson wouldn't mind drawing a clear line, maintaining distance between kinship and family, cautiously concealing the truth of the soul beneath this skin, continuing to play the role of Anson Wood, and cooperating with the performance.

However, just like in "The Truman Show," emotions break free from constraints, and freedom and truth begin to take root and sprout. They still need to take a step and embrace their own truth, because this is the only way to freedom.

Thus.

Anson turned to look at Lucas.

"Lucas, are you worried about losing me?"

The more cruel and bloody truth is that they have already lost him.

What Lucas sees now is just a shell, and beneath that shell is a different soul, a scarred and exhausted soul.

If they knew this fact, what would they do?

Lucas couldn't breathe, his soul sliding bit by bit into the dark abyss, falling into despair, all reason and firmness torn to shreds.

He tried to defend, tried to refute, tried to deny, he tried to grasp something but had no target. The biting and cold night seeped into his blood through his pores, quietly spreading beneath his skin.

In the end, Lucas still had no way, he surrendered.

"Anson, stay… (Stay-With-Me)…"

Lucas squeezed out a sentence from his throat, only to find his voice terribly hoarse.

Lucas panicked, never having been so flustered. The nightmare deep in his memory firmly grasped his ankle, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't shake it off.

This was a Lucas that Anson had never seen before—

Sweating profusely, his face pale, his uneasy pupils trembling slightly, the apprehension and anxiety deep in his soul tearing at his flesh.

Instantly, it also choked Anson's breath.

At this moment, Anson was the first to calm down, because he really didn't know what was happening.

Ignorance is also fearlessness.

"Lucas, I'm here." Anson's voice grabbed Lucas's soul, standing firm in the night breeze.

Lucas carefully examined Anson, vigorously wiped his cheeks, let himself sober up a bit, and when he looked at Anson again, a touch of obscurity flowed in his eyes.

"You don't remember anything?"

Anson shook his head.

Lucas was stunned, and then, gently, softly exhaled a breath, as if exhaling all the foul air in his chest, "Maybe, not remembering is a good thing. We have been trying our best to make you forget that thing, pretending that it never happened."

Anson, "But it happened, right?"

"Although I don't remember, you remember."

"You remember, Mom remembers, Dad remembers, and this thing is also a shadow for you. Look at you, maybe you are the victims, maybe we should say it."

Lucas blurted out painfully, "No."

"I can't let you experience that kind of pain again. Since you have forgotten, there is no need to mention it again. Isn't it good to bury those memories forever?"

Silence, spreading, settling.

Then.

Anson's voice quietly surged in the night, "But those ghosts hidden in the memories have never disappeared, and are slowly surfacing."

"Ignoring it doesn't mean it doesn't exist."

After speaking, Anson didn't continue to urge, and became quiet again.

Lucas buried his face in his hands, falling into a painful struggle.

Finally, he found a trace of reason in the chaos, firmly grasped it, raised his head again, and looked at Anson, with a hint of fragility in his eyes that he had never shown before.

"Anson, are you sure? That is a Pandora's box."

Anson shook his head, "No, Lucas, I'm not sure. I have no way to be sure of anything, because I know nothing, and I don't know what will happen next."

"But, you are here, aren't you?"

This sentence seemed to sting Lucas, he closed his eyes in a panic, those pains and struggles were so real and so turbulent.

Anson was stunned, he didn't know what he had said wrong, wasn't what he just said normal? What exactly happened to Lucas?

This time, Anson didn't speak, but gave Lucas some space, waiting patiently, the world became quiet again.

When waiting for the silence to be broken again, this time it was Lucas.

"That year, you were nine years old."

"I heard that a large mobile carnival came to Brooklyn, and you pestered Mom and Dad to take you, but they didn't have time because of work, so they refused you."

"So, you came to pester me."

"You know that if you are stubborn, you will refuse to accept 'no' as an answer."

"I guess, if I also refused, you might sneak over there by yourself, so I decided that instead of letting you sneak away from home alone, I would take you with me, at least I could guarantee your safety."

"Then, we hid it from Mom and Dad, and the two of us sneaked out."

The beginning of the story was slightly unexpected.

But the smile on the corner of Anson's mouth gently raised, sure enough, it was very in line with the original owner's character, and Lucas was as familiar as ever.

Anson, "Was that carnival fun?"

Lucas was stunned, "What?"

Anson, "I said, was that carnival fun?"

Lucas smiled dumbly, only Anson would be curious about these details.

"Fun."

"It was the 1990s, and mobile carnivals were slowly being eliminated by the times. When we could go to Disneyland, when we could see the world through the TV, when we could play video games, that kind of gypsy carnival lost its charm."

"But precisely because of this, we had never seen such a scene before, everything was new."

"I still remember, you held my hand tightly, your eyes kept turning, looking at that for a while, and this for another, it was just like Alice entering the rabbit hole in her adventure."

Anson nodded lightly, "Sounds very much like my style."

Lucas twitched the corner of his mouth, "Not just you, I was also overwhelmed. It's just because it was dazzling, everything in front of me was too wonderful and too colorful, I was also looking at it in a daze, and I accidentally let go of your hand."

The words stopped abruptly here, Lucas seemed to forget to breathe.

Anson noticed.

The answer to the story behind, without asking, seemed to be predictable.

"Lucas, that's not your fault, I was just too playful." Anson tried to speak.

But Lucas shook his head, "No, it's my fault, I shouldn't have taken you out, thinking I could take care of everything; I shouldn't have let go of your hand, it's all my fault, and then I lost you."

Lost?

What does it mean to be lost?

Like tearing off a band-aid from a wound, everything needs to be quick and accurate.

Lucas gritted his teeth and revealed the truth in one breath, "You disappeared. I couldn't find you, the police came and still couldn't find you, you just disappeared."