From Flower Vase to Film Emperor in Hollywood

Outside the middle school gates, a hubbub of noise filled the air—

Right in front of the main gate was an oval flower bed, brimming with roses and lilacs, with two semi-circular staircases winding along either side, leading up to the street.

San Francisco was built on a hillside, a typical mountain city; the downtown area even had steep slopes where you couldn't see the top even when looking up. Over half the buildings were built on hillsides, so balancing the horizontal line of the buildings became crucial. Structures that used staircases to balance the foundations, like the school in front of them, were common and typical for residents living here.

At this moment, the students were gathered at the school entrance, breathing in the fresh morning air.

Michael was no exception.

Having just arrived at the school gate, he didn't rush into the school to prepare for class. Instead, like the other students, he lingered around the flower bed.

He was wearing the school's standardized uniform: a sky-blue shirt, a navy-blue blazer, and light-gray trousers. Everyone was the same; no one could be an exception.

But the same clothes, on different hangers, had completely different effects. Broad shoulders and long legs made the ordinary uniform appear dashing and heroic. A quick glance couldn't help but pause briefly, but it soon moved on with a disappointed expression.

He had a bowl cut, resembling the Beatles' arrival in America in 1964. If it were that year, this hairstyle might have won the girls' favor, but that was forty years ago.

Moreover, his head was slightly lowered, and his thick bangs not only obscured his eyes but also made it difficult to see the features of his face. His shoulders were slightly hunched inward, giving him a slightly hunched back, and his entire demeanor was introverted, introverted, and even more introverted.

What a waste of a good hanger.

That wasn't all. You could immediately see the book he was flipping through, leaning against the wall, reading in the morning sunlight—

Hello???

Tell me, besides show-offs and otaku, which sixteen-year-old middle school student would always have a book in hand, reading outside of class?

Pretentious!

He was really too pretentious!

A quick glance was all it took; no one wanted to linger. They didn't even have time to take a serious look before dismissing him.

If—just hypothetically—if someone were to really calm down and take a closer look, I'm afraid…they would be even more disappointed.

Michael was carrying a shoulder bag, adorned with various badges: NASA, guitars, sheet music, Bob Dylan, the Grateful Dead, the Beach Boys, whales, and so on.

An old-fashioned Walkman was hanging on the outside of the bag, with headphones connected to his ears. Everything seemed like layers of armor, isolating him from the world.

Every strand of hair, every cell, was conveying the aura of a freak.

Then, he saw those scenes, frowning slightly as if seeing demons and monsters—

The cheerleading squad, led by Lana, was rehearsing cheers at the gate.

Lana's boyfriend, Josh, rushed over, but instead of choosing the stairs, he took an unconventional route, leaping onto the flower bed and using the other students already sitting there as crutches, 'climbing' along the edge of the flower bed.

"Hey, Josh!"

"What's he doing!"

"He's crazy."

"What are you doing!"

"He really likes to show off."

Amidst complaints and吐槽, Josh spread his arms like he was walking on a balance beam, basking in the attention, and even started wiggling his butt, trying to win more whistles and applause.

Noisy.

Extremely noisy.

Michael couldn't help but frown slightly.

Then, Vice Principal Ms. Gita appeared, sweeping through.

"Get down, everyone get down."

"Jeremiah, hurry up, you should know better than to do this."

"Go inside, don't keep lingering at the gate. San Francisco's morning rush hour isn't even this exaggerated."

Following Ms. Gita's footsteps, Michael's eyes lit up slightly—

Finally, they're here.

Every morning, Mia would come to their house and call Michael's sister, Lily, to go to school together on electric scooters, but he was always curious why they had so much to talk about, leaving earlier than him but arriving later.

Mia and Lily were greeting Ms. Gita.

Michael's gaze couldn't leave Mia.

Mia had a head of hair comparable to a lion's mane: curly, frizzy, dry, like seaweed, growing more and more with each wash, as if her hair had a life of its own, expanding more and more, about to devour her in the blink of an eye.

Any gaze passing by would have its attention stolen by her hair before even seeing her.

She wore heavy black-rimmed glasses, and caterpillar-like eyebrows pressed heavily on the glasses, completely obscuring the light in her eyes.

However,

He could see her smile.

Even greeting Ms. Gita kindly before she even passed by, "Good morning, Ms. Gita."

Bright, friendly, radiant.

Michael's gaze couldn't help but pause.

Ms. Gita stopped, "Good morning, Lily." Then she looked at Mia, "Good morning…Lily's friend."

The smile on Mia's lips faltered slightly, freezing at that curve.

Pfft.

The smile on Michael's lips lifted slightly. Although the music in his ears was thumping and he was still holding the book in his hand, his attention was no longer there.

Chuckling softly, Michael then realized that his gaze might be too direct, perhaps noticed by others. He quickly restrained his smile, lowered his eyes, and somewhat flusteredly concealed the emotions he had inadvertently revealed.

However,

He still couldn't resist.

His eyes lifted again, looking towards that figure, quietly watching, pouring all his heart and soul into it, an expression conveying all the stories.

—Gary noticed.

Even if it was just a fleeting glimpse on the monitor, he still noticed.

More precisely, it was precisely because it was fleeting that it was so stunning.

"Cut!"

Gary shouted loudly.

The entire crew's noise disappeared as if someone had pressed the pause button.

Tension spread.

They all knew the difficulty of this scene, and they also knew its importance. If they made a mistake and had to reshoot, they might miss the morning's natural light, truly racing against the clock.

This scene, clearly not finished yet, was interrupted by Gary ahead of time, so who made the mistake?

Glimpses were quickly exchanged, but no one dared to speak, even their breathing had stopped. One or two secretly looked towards Gary, anxiously awaiting a verdict, fearing that they were the ones who had made the mistake.

Then, Gary's voice came from behind the monitor.

"Anson?"

Whew, everyone breathed a sigh of relief, glad that they hadn't made a mistake. But who was that unlucky Anson, where was he? Silence lasted less than half a second before gazes restlessly searched around, with a hint of…schadenfreude.

Fifth update.