From Flower Vase to Film Emperor in Hollywood

Decisive, resolute, and straightforward.

Joan Carter turned and left without any hesitation.

Johnny was stunned, standing there helplessly, calling out, "Joan... Joan..."

But nothing could stop Joan Carter's steps, not even a second's pause. This plunged Johnny into panic, deep fear, and unease.

Up ahead, in the audience, a burst of jeering and booing erupted. They didn't care what happened to Joan Carter. They bought tickets to watch a performance, so why should they be treated like this?

Boo!

Boo!

The booing and whistling were accompanied by mocking laughter.

These sounds surrounded Johnny, and he knew he had messed up. He knew things were completely out of control, but he didn't know how to fix it.

Dizziness. Throbbing pain. Anxiety.

His temples were pounding, his heart leaped into his throat, and his steps swayed, defying gravity. A roar surged in his ears.

Johnny could barely stand. He felt like his head might explode at any second. Deep in his dry throat, something seemed to be stirring, ready to break free. He couldn't breathe, he even forgot to breathe, spinning around like a headless fly, the world spinning around him.

A wave of heat, a sense of emptiness. He was drenched in sweat, his back completely soaked, and his forehead covered in perspiration. His focus began to blur.

The bright, dazzling lights ahead diffused across his pupils, and the faces of the dark mass of the audience gradually blurred, until only a wave of laughter remained—

Haha, haha!

It seemed to mock his naivety and innocence, to mock his recklessness and impulsiveness. Those distorted faces morphed into black holes.

Rushing towards him.

"Joan!"

Amidst the chaos, Johnny only had time to grab a lifeline, his mind torn between hesitation and anxiety, clinging tightly to a thread of thought.

The body is always honest.

Before his brain could process a clear thought, his feet were already stumbling after Joan Carter, chasing after her, not caring about the performance in progress.

Because he was too eager and impulsive, Johnny completely lost control of his body. His chaotic steps nearly caused him to fall. Instinctively, he grabbed the curtain, grabbed others on the side stage, as if grabbing a lifeline, barely managing to steady himself, but not bothering to adjust, he continued forward relentlessly.

Boo!

The booing in the theater completely erupted. Joan Carter leaving was bad enough, but they didn't expect Johnny to leave too. The audience's dissatisfaction exploded.

Chaos, on the verge of spiraling out of control—

However, the two singers didn't need to continue.

"Cut!"

Mangold ended the filming.

The air fell silent.

The audience in the theater stopped booing, and each of them quietly sat back down obediently. They were extras, temporary actors, and they didn't know much about the crew, listening to commands and cooperating throughout the performance. Now that the director said filming was over, they sat back in their chairs, waiting for the next instruction.

But there were no instructions.

The crew members looked at each other silently, like chickens. They were witnessing it again—

So, what is the truth?

What did Anson experience last night? Did this actor at the top of the pyramid get carried away in his drunken revelry, or was he acting recklessly like a spoiled child?

Besides Anson, no one knows the truth; but, does the truth matter?

Sometimes, the truth is the only thing that matters, no matter the cost to pursue it; but sometimes, the truth isn't that important.

For example, right now.

Regardless of what Anson experienced last night, the Anson before them didn't delay the crew's work. Not only did he not delay it, but he also delivered an amazing performance.

Soulful and heartfelt, blurring the lines between reality and fiction.

Those sweet and intoxicating moments, those impulsive and reckless actions, that sincerity and passion, that innocence and foolishness, that unease and fear.

Mixed and delicate, rich and contradictory, pulling and entangling each other, spinning in the alcohol, trying his best to control the reins of reason but ultimately failing, rushing to heaven one second but falling into hell the next, the ups and downs of joy and bewilderment intertwined, like a roller coaster.

Not just Reese, every crew member present was lost in the song "As Time Goes By."

Originally, this should have been a romantic melody of Joan Carter and her ex-husband's love story, but it turned into a heartbreaking melody of Johnny hitting a wall after his confession.

So, how should they view Johnny, and how should they view Joan Carter?

...Finally, a sigh.

The surging thoughts turned into a soft sigh, all the complexities in their chests pouring out. No one was wrong, only the timing was wrong. Meeting the right person at the wrong time is the result.

At this moment, does anyone still care what happened to Anson last night?

Perhaps, the rumors afterward were correct.

Last night, Anson didn't indulge in pleasure and revelry, but was preparing for his role, getting into character. At a time when "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind" achieved great success, he was still diligently immersed in his work. Fame and fortune weren't as important as imagined; he simply loved performing.

In the bizarre and dazzling world of fame and fortune, there isn't only endless darkness.

However, some people still didn't believe it. The "realists" stubbornly chose to believe in the darkness, believing that cruelty and coldness were the truth of the real world.

Who says all this is impossible?

Anson was drunk and reveling last night, and Anson performed excellently today. These two things don't conflict, do they? Some actors just have innate talent...

Wait, something doesn't seem right.

If they deny that Anson was preparing for the performance last night, purely lost in the glamour of fame and fortune, does that mean admitting Anson's acting talent? Does that mean admitting Anson is more than just a pretty face? Does that mean admitting that Anson is actually a more outstanding actor than anyone imagined?

If they admit that Anson was preparing for the performance last night, a late bloomer, diligent and eager to learn, even as a pretty face, he diligently made great progress on the path of acting. Even if his talent was insufficient, he completed a wonderful performance through hard work, eventually becoming an admirable true actor?

This...

What's going on?

Whether they admit it or deny it, whether they believe the rumors or pursue the truth, the conclusions they lead to don't seem quite right.

Is this some kind of clever magic trick, twisting and turning to lead everyone into a trap?

The realists:...

Were momentarily speechless. For them, this was unacceptable, but what was worse, they didn't know which was more unacceptable?

Is Anson an innately talented actor who can still shine on the big screen even when lost in the world of fame and fortune, or is Anson a sincere actor who makes up for his shortcomings through hard work, continuing to pursue his dreams even in the world of fame and fortune?

So, should they choose to believe the former or the latter?

But why do they have the feeling that no matter which they choose to believe, they are all a bunch of losers?